Author's Notes: Firstly. OMG. This was also hiding in my Drive. Sorry guys... "faceplant:

One of the things that sticks with me the most, is the scene between Louis and Harvey about he and Donna's trifle situation with the grapefruit. It is a rare moment into their real relationship that we don't often get to see. And somehow it sewed up how I thought their relationship existed at it's core, before all of the drama and feeling and emotional mud of the plot started to make you question it. It's also rare to think that Harvey is the calm mediator outside of their work.

. . . .

LIFE

Chapter 12

. . . .

Harvey slept remarkably well, for an adult orphan.

He figured that it probably had something to do with the precious woman he had ensconced into his life over a decade ago. One that was now moulded to his side, warming him from the cold and pushing away the doubt, the uncertainty, and the unwavering moments in his character. She always had guided him towards the light in those times that he found the edges of dark just past the greys.

His head was starting to weigh with a heaviness, in suddenly understanding how important she was, now. She always had been, especially after his Father had passed. His brother, was still removed even in their evenness as siblings and his duties as a Father.

Save for Jessica, and Mike of course; always there, like passing ships in the night,

She, Donna, was the very top shelf of his personal liquor cabinet.

And this day, this abrupt passing of a gradual stranger only finished off the point.

Donna was his everything. And he had been a lucky man to even keep her this long.

And now, in the grey light of his Mother's funeral it only highlighted the fact.

He rose from the bed, stretching out the kinks in his neck - emotional tension, some said, existed in the base of the head and upper shoulders. He remembered that from one of Louis' rants about a healthier body to breed a healthier mind. He could feel it, or something akin to an understanding in his own form, those pops and the cracks of 'positive' ions in his blood and muscles as he pulled at his bad shoulder with a stifled groan.

She was beside him in an instant, her red hair sliding onto one side as if to drape over his left shoulder, her chin choosing to poke over his collarbone and rest against the moles there. He smiled instantly at the touch. She was physically stifling him, unlike her usual self, and most likely because she had been away from him for so long, that she still felt the need, not only in herself, but in his recently addled state.

His grin hung limply to one side as he felt her large eyes raise up towards him, an arm snaking around his waist to steady herself against his held form.

"Morning," She greeted warmly, waiting for his matched reply, as his lips descended on hers, kissing her lazily before moving back to her side as she lifted herself off of the bed.

His head turned, eyes watching her as she walked to a nearby chair, picking up the lumpy sweater she had carefully set aside the night before.

He enjoyed watching her. The way she walked, the naturalness that he'd only been party to for a year or so. He had been so used to her being upright and bossy and purposeful over those years, but he'd seldom seen the fluid grace with which she ran her own day to day until they had made a try for their now stable life of half domesticity and half catered to their own individual needs. It calmed him in a way that hung with an inevitability. Everything about her calmed him, really.

Well, everything except for her thoroughly entertaining mouth, of course.

And today she'd be on her best behaviour, much to his disappointment.

"Marcus said that the car's going to be here around one o'clock." She notified him.

He suppressed a sigh. And all at once she felt like the old Donna again. Rigid. Structured. A supporting aid.

"Can't I just drive my car?" He offered limply. He hated not being in control of his own situation. The idea of him ponying up the restraint to be with a bunch of people he hadn't seen in donkey's years already left an unsavoury taste in his mouth. Add to that the idea that he couldn't flee the scene at any given time had him on the edge of disgruntled.

For most people, seeing everyone from your past meant the inevitable dread of having to play up your successes, your accomplishments. Your status in the world. Harvey wasn't that kind of man. He had earnt his successes, and his successes held themselves up against any childhood pitfalls there may have been. Including his parents break-up, and any rumours that lay there after. He just...he didn't care for the environment, less so when it revolved around his Mother passing.

Donna had left him to his thoughts, another indication that perhaps she could still read him as well as ever. As quickly as his mind drifted back into focus her voice came to the fore. "If you want to drive, then drive. But I think you should be there for your brother, and his family, by riding with them." She offered, sitting beside him. "And I'm going to need to gradually drink my way through questions of exactly who I am today, and no doubt you probably need to do that tenfold. So I figure...we pay our respects, get quietly drunk in the background - I may or may not have hidden a hip flask in my suitcase for amber emergencies - and then we come back here, and sleep it off. Drive home in the morning, or whenever we wake up?" She reasoned lightly.

His face softened then, reading her proposal over in his mind. "Good work, Councillor." He greeted softly, as his right side lent into hers.

"Maybe it would be good to drink and not have to worry?" She added suggestively.

"Hmm," He shrugged warmly, distracted by her closeness.

"And if it all falls to shit, or you don't feel like it...we'll just come back here." She offered lightly.

"Okay." He nodded, a half smile attempting to break out along his face.

This was it.

Like entering into the bullpit all over again.

. . . . . .

He had plodded down the stairs of his brother's house to the same racket that he came in on; children running about him, his brother walking out of the kitchen and his wife Katie moving silently in the background.

The evocative wave of toast and bacon wafted through the hallway, roping in his senses and lashing that acid taste in his throat.

"Hey Dickhead,"

His eyes flicked to his brother, taking off his coat and planting himself in his own doorstep as Donna squeezed past him, her hand dragging against Harvey's side with a naturalness as she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Hey Asshole," Harvey replied, mildly distracted with his other half disappearing away from him with a luring sway of her hips.

"Did Donna tell you the line-up?" Marcus asked, standing before him.

"Yeah, about that. You didn't have to tell my," He took a breath, stalling his words.

"Your what?" Marcus asked, smirking uncontrollable.

"My…'other half'….the itinerary for today." He ignored his bother's looks, focussing on his own point. "You could've just told me." He noted.

"I figured you'd disagree." The young man shrugged, his hands folded into his jean pockets.

"I did." Harvey remarked, the dryness of truth in his words.

He could tell in an instant that his honesty was about to rile that already strained relationship of theirs. "Harvey," He brother planted his name, his wide gait only stopping the word further in its tracks. "Can't you...for once, just….follow my lead?" Marcus fired at his older Brother.

Harvey swallowed, Donna's earlier words still ringing in his head like a church bell.

"...Fine." He sighed heavily, subduing the need to roll his eyes. "Whatever you want." He shrugged.

Markus judged his brother, observing the sudden turnaround for its legitimacy. After a moment he smiled evenly. "Thank you, Harvey."

"You better have some strong coffee," He warned, softening slightly.

"Follow me." Marcus indicated, leading the way.

. . . . .

Somewhere in between bacon and eggs, and children running about the kitchen; inane chatter that merged into genuine amusement and storytelling over coffee,

Harvey became distracted, with the coppery light that he had been carrying around with him.

He'd seen Donna interact many people over the years. He had loved the charismatic way that she won over clients, and roped in those around her with an effortlessness. But with his Brother, with his Father, every single time she charmed them to the point that he would have to answer for it.

Why have you not snagged her?

What are you waiting for?

She won't wait around forever Harvey. Seal the deal...

But now he had. And inexplicably, she had. And after everything, still she was the warmest part of a room. Always a performer, and yet all whilst being somehow gracious with the application of such a thing.

He leant forward, watching with mirth as his brother and sister in law sat, held by Donna's vibrant story about another one of Louis Litt's bad decisions.

He smiled when her eyes flicked to his mid sentence, acknowledging his attention of her, before she rounded towards the conclusion.

He picked up his coffee cup, just to hide his growing smile as she neared that inevitable punchline, that he'd heard twice before, but oddly wasn't yet sick of.

She really was a keeper, he thought to himself.

. . . . .

The car was cramped, when after much deliberation, Donna had ignored his protest and offered to squeeze in the back with Katie and the kids, giving him the passenger seat beside his brother. Regardless, he still felt like the stifled one. He preferred to drive, so yet, even with the best case scenario he felt an irritability claw at him. The only thing he could do from not going crazy was to focus on the inane chatter in the car. It seemed to quash this rising feeling, until the blacked out funeral car pulled sleekly in front of them.

He didn't know where to look, his temperature seeming to push into a cold sweat. He swallowed thickly through an acid taste in his mouth, trying to avoid the rising feeling inside himself.

He didn't want to be like this anymore.

He wanted to feel relaxed around his family. Able to put the past behind him and be around them.

He just didn't know if it was too late or not…

He knew one thing,

He'd never have a relationship with the woman that brought him into this world.

The woman who now lay, in a wooden box, no less than fourteen feet in front of him.

He felt eyes on him, as he tried to slow his breath, looking out the passenger window for anything that could catch his eye and distract him in front of all of these people.

He double blinked when Donna had opened his car door suddenly, her perceptive gaze shooting down at him, as he checked himself, his hand moving to the seat belt clasp, clicking himself out of position.

They had arrived, it seemed.

He rose out of the car slowly, the cemetery where his Father lay glaring at him in a mixture of apple green leaves and cold marble headstones.

His chest caught, a tightness pulling at his lungs and his breath as his head started to swim.

"Harvey,"

He felt Donna take his hand, her unusual silence breaking against the moment. It took a second for his eyes to connect with hers, a pensive frown drenching his face as he concentrated on his breathing.

Her brow furrowed, giving him rise to suspect that he looked as bad as he felt, as she pulled him to one side, ignoring looks from his Brother as he led his girls away.

He was meant to have been a pallbearer.

He was meant to help carry her.

He…

"Harvey," Donna pulled him to one side, out of the way of the general flow of traffic, her hands sliding down the panels of his face as his eyes, now bloodshot and watery looked into hers. "Just breathe." She demanded, her voice barely audible between them.

"I...I can't," He stuttered, the thrum of his heartbeat overtaking the control in his voice as his eyes flicked between hers.

He was starting to panic now. Genuine panic at the worst possible time. It was one thing to have an episode at work, and to be able to move away from that to somewhere more private. It was another thing, for him to be having a panic attack in the open air, at his mother's funeral in front of everyone that used to know him.

In a flash he felt Donna's shoulders grasp his, rougher than she usually would, her eyes serious and demonstrative. "Harvey. I love you. And I know this is really hard for you...but you need to try and focus, okay? Otherwise you're going to get upset, and then angry, and then you're going to say things you don't mean."

"Donna," He managed through gritted teeth, the energy to argue with her lost in this abrupt tidal wave of paralysed feeling.

She changed tact, fishing in her pocket for a moment, before she pulled out the winning flask, undoing the screw top and handing it to him. "Drink." She commanded, watching as his shaky hand attempted to take the metal flask, before his face turned a greenish colour and he muttered, "I can't," Before bounding past her in four large steps past a few bushes.

She paused, before hearing the distinct wretch, as she followed him, sighing heavily at the sight of him.

It was the first time in his life, that Harvey Specter had been genuinely vulnerable in her presence.

She took a silent sigh of relief that for once, it had nothing to do with her, until the reminder followed that once again, that it had all to do with his Mother. A woman who could never change the status quo from this day forth.

She stepped slowly towards his hunched form as he coughed, shaking his head before spitting unceremoniously on the ground. He slowly raised his head to standing, before turning reluctantly towards her waiting form.

He felt like an asshole. A sick, emotionally weak asshole.

She smiled gently, trying to remove the piteous look on her face as she held out the flask.

"Wash your mouth out." She said, observing the colour float back to his cheeks.

He smirked, tiredness finding his eyes as he swilled with the alcohol, that bitter and richly thick taste dashing the bile and acid wash his mouth had succumbed to, before spitting that out too, and taking a large swig to stay.

"Better?" She asked, perfunctory despite knowing the real answer.

"No." He replied honestly, his shoulders heaving with shrug.

"You're gonna get through this, Harvey." She promised him.

"Either that or I'm gonna throw up on my Mother's grave." He remarked heavily, a lingering humour in the edges of his deep voice.

"Yeah. Or that." She quipped, giving him a look as she held out her hand. He smirked at her inappropriate humour, taking her hand in his, the other sliding the metal flask into his jacket pocket.

. . . . .

"Hey Brother, where'd you get to?"

"Hey, sorry...I...needed to pee." He lied, shrugging off the emptiness in his stomach and the still lingering cold moisture around his shirt collar.

"We're about to start." Marcus countered, examining his brother's slightly withdrawn reply.

"Okay." He breathed, indicating for his Marcus to lead the way.

There were a lot of people he didn't know gathered around the site of his Father's grave. One face pointed out to him in particular.

He was greyer than he had been.

But he wouldn't forget the man's face if his life depended on it.

He felt a sharp flash of annoyance prickle up his spine and settle in his face, all previous feelings of sickness abating itself to replace this new focus.

Bobby.

This man had destroyed his family.

He had helped ruin his childhood.

He felt Donna's hand squeeze his, as his attention flicked to her. Her face was serious now, sharp and acutely attuned to his one thought. She shook her head minutely, auburn hair twitching and eyes watching as his impulse slid to the back on her silent request.

He didn't want to embarrass her. She had done so much and she didn't deserve that. Anything he had to say he would say to him, alone, when the time was right.

He flicked his eyes to the Priest, an older woman in the usual robes began to speak as his head tuned out into a dissonance.

If he made it out alive today, then it would be a sheer miracle.

. . . . .

The jolt had been the very small wooden coffin, carried by a few people he barely recognised, rising above the mount.

He was glad that Marcus had opted against them carrying the coffin.

The sight of it, caused many in the congregation to whimper, sobs flooding around him. His eyes flicked to his Brother, holding a crying Katie, as his own eyes twitched out a tear or two. His jaw flexed, drawing in a tighter than usual breath, as he focused on a middle distance where the graveyard rose onto a knowl of sorts. Avoiding her photo. Avoiding her memory.

But not matter how hard he tried, his eyes wouldn't stop gravitating back to the sight of the oak and brass irregular shaped hexagon as it drew nearer. And nearer. And nearer. Until it was less than eight feet away from Donna's left leg.

He was suddenly gripped by the feeling of his chest tightening again, the fear of a public episode flooding his veins with adrenaline. He snapped his eyes shut, forcing out a breath as his impulse to clench his fists was laboured by Donna's hand firmly in his.

He felt a hand grasp at his suited arm, his eyes flicking to the worried look in her eyes. He looked at her, his heart beginning to race again. He tried to distract himself, in the tempered sound of the Priest's farewell, and the slight wind that knocked around the sea of black. The one thing that held him were the two hazel eyes boring into his. He had forgotten for years that they weren't dark brown like his, until the night that he had finally woken up to her, and seen her peel and eyelid just to witness the little flecks of bottle and moss green that streaked through a coffee coloured brown. He stilled a fraction in recounting his findings, the rhythm of his breath levelling as her own breath matched against his. He probably looked like such a loser, stuck in some sort of distraction instead of embracing his surroundings. But it was his Mother. And his ineptness trumped his manners. He wasn't physically or mentally or even emotionally able to deal with any part of this situation.

He felt the trickle of one tear start to fall as his Mother's coffin started to lower, disconnecting from Donna he watched his Mother disappear under them and into the ground.

And almost as quickly as the news had broke,

Was she laid to rest in the ground.

"The time has come, where Bobby, Lily's Partner in life, would like to say a few words."

He blinked, all feeling stripping itself away as his eyes bored into the eyes of the man that taken his life from him. He stifled the pent up feeling in his gut as it began to churn, as the congregation focused their collected attention on the greying man out front.

"Lily used to say...death is just an expression. That...none of us really leave." He started. "Lily and I had a rocky start, but...throughout that she taught me, that sometimes, you just have to live the life you want to live. And she did. She was...an...incredible artist. And and amazing teacher...and I'm sure her sons will vouch, that no matter what the struggles may have been, that she put all she had into being an amazing Mother and Grandmother. I loved her dearly. And...I'm not going to see her passing as anything other than what she would want it to be...an expression. Of her Love, and her Art."

Harvey held his frown, noticing how the man's eyes hooked at his for a moment, before he fell back in line with others he didn't recognise.

What a load of crap, he thought to himself.

Another web of lies to spin around the so-called truth...

Donna didn't know how to deal with the situation. She felt trapped, and singular and unlike herself. She was proud of Harvey, for so far, keeping himself upright, and not letting the situation tear at him unnecessarily. But in all honesty, it was a funeral, and a heavy blow to Harvey's emotional development.

Things would forever be unsaid, never resolved as far as he and his Mother were concerned.

When it came to either of their parents, there would always be bad blood there.

She noticed, on the walk back to the car that very few people spoke to Harvey. He was a veritable stranger to them all. Either that, or he was the cliche; a kid who made it out and off to the big smoke, to inevitably succumb to the stereotype of a man that had made it, and shunned his past so far behind him that it and them had become a vague memory dredged up especially for today. She could understand that, coming from a small town herself. People had expected things from her, too. The stark difference was that she had had to contend with question after question of how she had become successful in a job she never set out to do. Until recently, she would always remain a secret failure, kept from the dreams of her youth.

Harvey wasn't like that. But maybe he too, had suffered as a result.

She realised then, how lucky she was to have had the time with her parents.

. . . . . . .

The car had been even quieter, on the way to the wake.

He dreaded this part even more, with the wake being at his Mother's house. A house she'd shared with the man that helped ruin them all.

It would be a hard pill to swallow, he realised, as he watched them pull up to a colonial looking property alongside dozens of other cars.

He opened the door, robotically reaching for Donna's hand as she slid off of the backseat, his other sliding into his pocket.

People must have arrived much earlier, as many people already seemed to be inside, giving rise to the niggling confirmation that Marcus had driven far too slowly on their way over. He had meant to offer to drive, but his brother seemed withdrawn, shutdown and rightfully so, given the circumstances. As they climbed the few stairs, they entered the door that remained ajar, the faint sound of music drifting into the hall, and a full spread, lining a large and eclectically decorated lounge.

As they turned the corner, a familiar face half smiled at him.

"I thought it was you," She chimed, pulling Harvey into an automatic hug. Donna observed with interest at this slightly younger woman, a blonde with wavy hair and a free and easy look to her regarding the man beside her.

"Sarah!" Harvey chimed, his face taken aback as he examined this evident 'blast from the past'. "You've grown up...finally," He exclaimed.

"Ha that's funny...because you're old now." She joked, giving him a smirk that seemed to run in the family, before her face sobered. "I'm so sorry about your Mom." She said, her face twisting into one of pure sympathy.

"Thanks." He nodded, before Donna's presence engaged the mannerable side of him. "This is Donna...my…" He paused for a second, realising that it was indeed the first time he'd ever referred to her in his family's company. "Partner. Donna, this is Sarah, my Dad's brother's daughter."

"Also known as 'cousin'?" Sarah chimed in, giving Harvey a withering look. "Hey. Nice to meet you." She smiled, holding out her hand for Donna. "The cousin that used to beat your ass at basketball every thanksgiving." She reminded him with a wicked smile.

"Yeah," Harvey snorted, a relaxedness appearing all of a sudden. "Cuz' every time I made a pass you'd feign an injury or kick me in the balls!" He accused.

"Potato Potahto." She rolled her eyes with a feigned effort before smiling easily.

"Nice to meet you." Donna smiled, looking to the younger woman. She understood the resemblance, and the artistic fluidity of his Father with his own worn in smirk. The Specter charm didn't seem to be restricted to just Harvey and his Brother.

"I better go find my kid...I think he's sticking his fingers in all the dips." She said. "Don't forget to drink your portion of the free bar." She insisted, gliding away into the crowd before either could respond.

It took a beat, before Donna was glaring at him with purpose.

"Cousins, huh?" She offered, an incredulous looking forming on her face.

"Don't even," He started, giving her a stare that edged at playful.

"If I find out your tongue has been anywhere near her, I'm going to drop you like a anchor." She warned, a sharp humour in her pointed features.

"You once called us 'cousins'...at Christmas time, if I remember." He countered, his arms sliding against hers.

"You had hurt me. I got fired. I was...deflecting." She reasoned, a sharp shrug of her dainty frame.

"Potato, Potahto." He fake-yawned, before his eyes zoned in on the aforementioned 'free' bar.

"Free Bar?" He offered. "I could definitely use a drink." He admitted.

"You had me at 'free'." She smirked, letting him lead the way.

. . . . . .

He had managed about an hour of being casually accosted by distant relatives before people he actually didn't want to speak to started to flood in. Lucky for him, he'd already had three double whiskies - some horrendous mix of bottom shelf liquor that his Father would have been disgusted at - and a beer to numb all emotional impulses.

The real task was the very sobering moments when Donna needed the bathroom, and had taken a break from her camel like constitution to leave him to his own devices.

"Harvey."

The distinct voice ripped him from his slightly drunk reverie, as his eyes looked up, charting the aged face of a man whose features he'd sooner forget.

"Bobby."

"Listen, I think it's time that we...put this all behind us. I've been with your Mother for over twenty years, I think you owe it to me to-"

"Now you listen to me." Harvey interrupted, his shoulders setting with a tension. "I don't owe you a goddamned thing. And the fact that you're standing in front of me, with that self righteous bullshit look on your face, only tells me one thing. You don't give a shit that you ruined my family, and helped break my father's heart."

"Now you listen to me, Harvey." The man started, tension rising in his voice.

"On contrary Bobby, I don't have to listen to a god damned thing you say…" He spat, bearing down on the older man in front of him. "And for that matter-"

With a lightning reflex, his brother slid in between them, yanking Harvey's suit jacket to pull him to the side.

"Okay, you? Come with me. Right now." He demanded sharply, pulling Harvey with him in the boldest of moves.

Harvey's shoulders slumped then, completely taken aback, before quietly following his brother out into a back room of the house.

"Look, Marcus," He began tiredly, sensing a shift as he turned to him, the smallest sense of apology in his voice.

"No Harvey, you look! You come here, have a go at Bobby, in his own house? After we've just put Mom in the ground?" He clarifies, outrage riding his face.

"For the record, he accosted me," He noted, spitefully. "And he's an asshole, Marcus! Why can you not see that?" He shot the words, his eyes widening underneath furrowed brows.

"You know what I see? I see a man back there who's been there for us...for Mom, when you weren't." Marcus replied.

"Excuse me?" Harvey blinked, double taking his brother's words, with anger rising like bile in his throat.

"You think you can just waltz in here with your fancy life, and expect to be adored, when you can't even be a big brother to me and support me on the day of my Mother's funeral?"

"She was my Mother, too, Marc." He reminded him, huffing at the lecturing tone in his little brother's voice.

"Then maybe you should have treated her like she was."

It was a low blow. He recoiled slightly, reigning in the volume of his voice.

"Look, I'm sorry if you felt like you were alone today. But I...am trying to process the passing of someone, who to me, died a long time ago." He admitted.

"Don't you dare say that." Marcus spat, revolted at the mere thought.

"Markus, she stopped being my Mother the moment I found out what she did. And she didn't do me the service of making up for that afterward."

"Because you wouldn't let her!" He barked.

Harvey swallowed, watching as his brothers arm lashed through the air with an objection.

"You wouldn't let her, and you had the balls to blame that on her?" He accused, giving his brother a pointed look. "She was a person, Harvey. A person who made a bad choice. Yeah sure, she broke up her marriage. But it was HER marriage to break. Not mine. And not Yours."

"She devastated our Father!" He barks. "You didn't see it, Mark. You didn't see the way she left him broken. But I did. I had to step up because-"

"Because….what, Harvey?"

"Because I didn't have a Mother or a Father. I had friend who's wife cheated on him, and longed for the day she came back!"

He realised it.

Only then.

She never came back.

He had been ripped from the womb so long ago, a first, a second and now...a third time.

His Mother was never coming back. He had lost her all over again, and maybe now it was all making some kind of sense.

His Mother was never coming back,

His Mother….

He sighed, the inevitable last gut punch of truth hitting him with it's full force, as tears started to fall.

It was time. Time to let it all go.

"I can't take back the fact that I never got over what she did," He sighed, shaking his head at the fact. "And I'm sorry, if...you felt alienated by that. I never wanted that for you like it had been for me." He insisted.

"Why do you think I tried so hard, Harvey?" Marcus reasoned, a heaviness finding his tone. "Why do you think that she tried SO hard to get to you, still?"

"I just…" He paused, the force of his absence washing over him. "I couldn't see...how we could ever go back." He admitted, his vision beginning to blur. "What she did...it forced me to grow up, too fast to try and keep us all there, and with Bobby around corner every five minutes I just...I hit a wall, Marc." He exclaimed, slumping onto a nearby couch, his Mother's paintings staring down at him from every wall.

"She spoke about you a lot. She regretted a lot." Marcus said, sliding down to sit next to his brother.

"I just...I wish she had...told him...the moment that it wasn't right."

"Who? Dad?" His brother guessed.

"Instead of letting stagnation rip through our home. Our family." He shrugged, his hands falling into his lap.

"I know." Marcus agreed, sighing against the sudden calm. "I think we did better, though." He noted, looking to his brother then.

"I think you did the best." He admitted, looking to his younger sibling.

"I just forgave her, Harvey." He shrugged. "And with Katie, I try every single day." He admitted, his face twisting into an understanding of his own. "But you," He regarded, tapping his brother's shoulder. "You certainly hit the jackpot with Donna."

"I did, didn't I." He half smiled, looking around them both.

She had that way of impressing the people around him.

For that matter, where had she gotten too?

"I'm glad you didn't fuck it up, brother."

"Yeah...Me too." Harvey smirked.

"So...kids now, then?" Marcus offered, a playfulness in the question.

"Oh...uh, I don't know." He retreated, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

"You're not getting any younger, Harvey." Markus half-sang, that boyish cheekiness etched on his face.

"Jerk." He said, berating him. He knew that his brother was only joking, but this time it hit a little close to the mark. "Honestly?" Harvey considered, pausing for a moment. "It's a...sticking point. I don't know how to ask her. She may have...lost that opportunity because of me."

"A kid's a kid, Harvey. In any form."

It was true. He already had a thirty year old child in Mike Ross...

"But maybe...I'm not meant to be a Dad? It took me eleven years to work up to telling Donna how I felt. To even ask her out."

"Are you kidding me?" Marcus blinks, scoffing at the mere insinuation of such a thing. "After everything that's happened she's still just your girlfriend?"

"No! But…"

"But what?" His brother pressed, giving him a challenging look.

"I don't want to...rush things. It's only been a year. Officially."

He knew it was a stupid thing to say, just by the way his brother laughed in his face. "You need to get that situation locked down. Brother."

He rolled his eyes.

His brother could be such a jackass sometimes.

. . . . . .

Harvey had found Donna, in the corner of the lounge, accosted by several of his cousins in the middle of a series of jokes about his past, when he decided that they should make their exit. He wasn't ready to talk to Bobby, but he could at least acknowledge not to aggravate the man in his own house. They had called a cab, taking a spare key from his brother.

It took about ten minutes of a cab ride, before the words had started to fill his head.

"So. My brother...thinks that-"

Her words covered his, as she leant in to accentuate the interruption.

"You better sure as hell not continue that with what I think you're thinking of continuing it with…" She reamed off, that omniscient stare of hers folding over him.

"Okay...what exactly...am I thinking?" He offered, his head tilting against her strangeness.

"You know what." She accused, pointing a finger at him. "Something that you should be 'proposing' in your own time, and as your own decision, rather than because your brother freaked you out…"

His eyes lit up then, joining together her meaning. So she had heard. It figured. No doubt the entire wake had heard his fight with Marcus, and that in and of itself would have been a red flag to Donna. She was the epitome of a spy.

He re-adjusted his posture, a coyness overcoming him at the very thought of finally broaching this particular subject with her. "I was just…taking my time with you." He reasoned, shrugging in favour of counting the quickly passing rows of suburban houses.

"Is that what we're calling this now? Taking our time?" She played, giving him a look.

"I didn't want to ruin it." He reasoned. "I heard that marriage ruins perfectly functional relationships." He remarked, looking to her.

"I...happen to share your sentiment." She agreed, her words painting the air the most interesting colour.

"Really?" He frowned, checking the legitimacy of her reply.

"Really." She nodded soundly, her lips sliding into a comfortable smile.

"But, for legal reasons, I have considered it. On occasion." He admitted.

"Oh. You've…'considered' it. Have you?" She emphasised, poking fun at him deliberately.

He gave her a withering look, his face bending at her expression.

"I just...I don't want to push this in a direction it doesn't need to go just yet." He explained.

"And what about what I want?" She offered incredulously.

His shoulders slumped in response. Now she was just being ridiculous. "Donna...you know, that if you ask for anything in the world, I'd give you it without even blinking an eye." He reminded her.

"Yes. And whilst that is rather virtuous and romantic on several levels - coming from you - occasionally, a girl likes to be...surprised. A little more than impromptu shopping surprised." She added, her hand sliding against his to only further plant her point.

"Right." He nodded, taking a mental note.

"Now, I'm not saying I want that. I love you. And I'm comfortable with us, so it doesn't have to be a...thing. But on the other side of that, I have wanted to get married in the past. To be someone else's other person."

"You are someone else's other person." He countered, his face nearing hers for the way the words make him feel, drunk on more than just secret liquor and family woes.

"But for that to be an actual tangible thing, Harvey. I want to be…"

"A Specter?" He guessed.

"Yes! Well...kind of...yeah." She answered, backtracking against what he supposed were her own inadequacies.

"Why don't you just...'take' my name? Try it on. See how it feels for a while?" He offered. The idea in and of itself was attractive enough a proposal. Sans the proposal...

"What? like a Marni bag?" She remarked, her eyes narrowing with a sense of disbelief.

"Why not?" He shrugged non-committally. "You've practically been a Specter this entire time anyway. My money is yours. We live together. In what used to resemble my apartment..." He quipped, watching the way in which her face changed to accusation like the flick of a switch.

"And, although you don't run my work life anymore, you sure as shit catered for every aspect of it - and don't think I don't know when you call Amy for an update," He noted, giving her one of those looks. "So...use it. Specter looks good on you, anyway." He smiled evenly, his comment laced with double meaning.

"Harvey, this isn't exactly making me feel confident in our future."

"Oh, you know what I mean!" He huffed, giving her a look that bordered on flippant annoyance.

"Well I suppose, if you put enough custard on something, eventually it's gonna look like custard." She reasoned, smirking with a wickedness.

"Are you comparing my proud family name to custard?" He accused, frowning obtusely.

"What? What's wrong with custard?" She asked, blanket confusion riding her face as a well placed distraction tactic.

He laughed then. It was the only way to deal with her obscure referencing.

Especially when they now thoroughly propped up her arguments.

It was official. He needed to see a woman,

About a ring.

And soon.

. . . . . . .