Spiral

Category: Angst/romance

Summary: Harvey loses everything and Donna blames herself causing both of them to spiral.

Warnings: contains references to alcohol abuse.

AN: idk what's happening anymore. I don't know whether to feel excited or just give up haha but with one ep left here's my lsst ditch attempt to make sense of it all XD

･ﾟ: *･ﾟ* :･ﾟ:･ﾟ

Harvey knocks on the door to Donna's apartment, hand shaking -not for the first time but maybe the last- as he raps impatiently.

He has nothing left to lose.

Hardman took his licence, his job- the entire world out from under him and yet he still has everything just a hair's breadth from his rasping knuckles. He needs Donna but more than that he needs for this fucked up situation not to ruin them. They both screwed up and are out in the ocean drowning apart from each other, it doesn't make sense not to cling to the same life raft.

He knocks again, this time louder for all the good it will do. Thomas warned him she's on a downward spiral, right before the CEO handed over his key to her place. She broke up with him immediately after the hearing, a reflexive action that might not even stick but it makes no difference. He's as worried as he is angry, though if he's honest the frustration is directed more at himself. He was pushing so hard to make her happy, all because his ego was bruised and he was desperate to hide the fact. He'd actually been ready to touch on the subject of his feelings when Thomas had suddenly been thrust in his face.

Maybe part of him even genuinely wanted something easy and uncomplicated for her -christ knows that isnt him- but he's here anyway and he's not leaving. She might have lost faith in him for a few seconds somewhere back there but the moment the committee made their ruling, she handed in her resignation and threw her life away too. If he'd had any doubts about her loyality they vanished as soon as Louis broke the news.

Of course he'd been deliberating his own demise at the time so it took him a few days to get his shit together. Ironically, mostly at Thomas' insistence. The suprise visit had been unwelcome but Thomas had seen what everyone else has known for years; that together he and Donna are a force to be reckoned with but alone they have a tendency to self-destruct and the thought of her doing that drives his hand down to pull the key out of his pocket.

He's not really in any better shape. Didn't bother shaving before coming over, left his pressed shirts and suits in the wardrobe. Right now, for the first time in his life, that's not who he is anymore and it feels oddly poetic that he's here wearing the vulnerability for Donna to read.

Whoever he is- he can't be that person without her and he doesn't want to be.

The metal twists in the lock and he pushes cautiously, aware he's breaching her privacy but with his standing of scrupulous ethics at the moment- fuck it. He's never been able to center his morals where Donna's concerned and instinct urges him into the darkened apartment. It's mid-afternoon but the blinds are drawn, the only source of light coming from a lamp in the corner and it takes him a moment to spot her, his heart stalling at her sprawled out form on the couch.

His gaze zeros in on the two bottle's of whiskey riding the table- not Macallen, a cheaper brand he can't identify. One empty and the second lapping the underside of its label.

"Shit."

He bites out the curse stumbling his way across to her. He's been hitting the booze hard but not like this. His motivator has been regret and hints of depression, the need to ease the panic churning and rising in his chest. This is black-out drinking to erase guilt, avoid facing choices. He knows because like him she never loses control and if he ever did this would probably be the result.

"Donna?" He crouches next to her palming her flushed skin. She's shivering but clammy beneath his touch and his gaze travels passed the old t-shirt to her exposed legs. It's the middle of summer, no reason to be cold save for the substantial amount of alcohol wreaking havoc on her body.

"Donna, wake up-" he shakes her shoulder, sliding his hand back up to check her pulse. It's fast and erratic matching his own and he hesitates not sure what to do when she suddenly jerks away from him.

"Mmm... go 'way."

The words slurr heavily into the cushion cutting straight through him but he's not even sure she's lucid enough to realise it's him.

"Hey..." he pushes again, "how long have you been drinking Jimi Hendrix?" The quip slides roughly from his throat. The how much obvious but she either doesn't hear him or deliberately ignores the question.

"Donna?" His hand lands back at her neck, his thumb grazing the damp tendrils of hair sticking to her skin. She's starting to scare him and his voice is firmer as he nudges her again. "Donna, I'm calling an ambulance." It isn't an idle threat. She could have alcohol poisoning and he's reaching for his phone when she suddenly flings onto her side, the little color she had left washing from her face.

He knows the look, can practically see her stomach recoil but she slumps back down before giving into the urge to throw up and he wedges his arm under her body pulling her upright. She mumbles something incoherent but there's no way in hell he's leaving her like this. The state she's in she could end up passing out and choking on her vomit. It's a sobering thought -at least to him- and he lifts her jostling her weight as he carries her toward the bathroom. Anyone else and he'd throw them straight in the shower but because it's Donna he's more delicate, laying her gently in the bath so he can test the temperature of the water first. The hose is detachable and he takes it down running the luke-warm stream over his fingers.

She's going to kill him but it's this or the emergency room and he directs the spray at her wincing when she startles awake with a gasp. Her mouth snaps shut swallowing a rush of nausea and she clambers out of the tub landing hard on her knees and heaving violently over the toilet bowl. He feels a tug of sympathy as he turns off the shower, letting the nosel hang as he crouches down pulling the hair back from her face. With any luck she won't remember half of this in the morning because he fully intends on staying- as long as necessary to make sure she never feels the need to do this to herself again.

It's nearly a full hour before she's able to right herself without the movement stirring her stomach and a twinge aches in his shoulder as he shifts, brushing his hand lightly against her arm. "You okay?"

She rests her elbow on the toilet seat collapsing her head into her palm. She doesn't understand why he's here. Why he would even want to speak to her and this definitely isn't how she imagined facing him for the first time, causing frustration to mix with her embarassment. "Just go, Harvey."

He expects more. Especially since he just spent the last hour holding her hair while she bore the consequences of drinking too much and he firms his expression. "We both know that's not happening."

She winces screwing her eyes shut, his pity only adding to her guilt. "This is the last thing you need right now."

She's what he needs but he doesn't say it, his lips parting with a tired sigh, "Donna-"

"Harvey, you lost everything because of me-" she snaps, tears burning her gaze as she forces herself to look at him. There's no anger in his eyes, only concern, and it just makes everything worse.

"I lost my licence because Hardman is an asshole." He reasons removing the blame from either of them. They both broke the rules... something they have to live with but she's no more responsible than he is and he should have made a point of telling her sooner, should have taken his head out of his ass to realise what really matters.

"As long as I still have you, I can deal with the rest." He means it, with every ounce of fight he has left and he slowly breathes out the emotion trapped in his throat, "so next time you want to write yourself off, how about calling me first?"

She's slightly taken aback by the easy tone, the fact he isn't here to shame her and it losens the knot in her stomach, the crippling dread thats been balling since the committee handed down their verdict. She honestly thought he would never forgive her and to have him sit there declaring the opposite makes her dizzy with relief. "You didn't call... and I thought-"

She swallows hard and his own guilt rears.

"I should have, I just... needed some time."

It's not unreasonable and the pounding in her head says she jumped to the wrong conclusions far too quickly but that still doesn't explain why he came over or what led him to seek her out. "You knew I was here."

He nods, deciding there's no point in lying. All that's ever done is made things worse between them and he's here to try and fix things not create new problems. "Thomas gave me your key.." he hesitates, hand falling to rest against his thigh, "he was worried about you. Apoligised, which he didn't have to."

She closes her eyes briefly, appreciating they're more or less both on the same page. Thomas didn't do anything wrong. He'd offered to lie to protect her and she'd repayed the gesture by breaking up with him. She couldn't ask him to compromise himself but couldn't stay with him knowing the relationship would be a continual reminder of the choices she'd made. She'd had to end it and the fact he went to Harvey just intensifies her guilt.

"I..." she opens her mouth to tell him she's sorry, that she would give anything to take it all back but can't find the words. He's always maintained apologies are useless anyway. They don't change things; not unless they're uttered so rarely they hold some sort of impact. "I need to shower."

She doesn't, not for his benefit but it might make her feel better and he helps her up in two minds about leaving when she trembles from the strain. "You want me to-"

No.

She screams the response in her head having already lost enough dignity but all that comes out is croaky reassurance. He nods and she wonders if maybe she'll get lucky and he'll leave all together.

He doesn't.

When she staggers out in her robe he's there on the couch with a glass of water, two pieces of dry toast and a coffee. All three items turn her stomach and she heads toward the kitchen when his voice stops her.

"You should wait before taking any painkillers."

Annoyingly he's right, the worry still evident in his voice, and she stalls holding herself as she stands behind him.

A week ago Thomas was in the same spot declaring he'd do anything she asked of him and she'd wanted to recoil from the intensity. Now Harvey's there, the same ambiguity that's always been between them resting heavily in the air, and she's inexplicably drawn to the comfort. She shouldn't have tried to force things with Thomas, should have trusted her instincts but she didn't and as a result everything is completely wrong and fucked up.

He turns at her quiet sob- the sound breaking him and he can't sit stationary, pushing himself up to stand in front of her. He's never been able to handle seeing her cry and his own gaze tears up, his body moving before she can read the vulnerability in his expression. All he's ever needed is for her to be okay, happy, and he he wraps his arms around her trying to blanket the guilt and regret she's feeling.

"I'm so sorry Harvey." This time she does part with the apology, the words filled with remorse and she knows it has an affect because he draws back sweeping his hand across the dampness wetting her cheeks.

His eyes are still misty and he breathes out roughly. He's sorry too but not for the same reasons. Holding her like this feels right, natural, and he shouldn't have waited so long- it shouldn't have taken this for him to realise it.

He could tell her, try to explain it -probably fuck it all up- or he can just show her and his tongue darts out across his lower lip in anticipation. He gives her time to read the move, pull away if that's what she wants, but she doesn't and he leans in teasing her mouth with a soft kiss.

She tastes like he remembers- familiar and he slides his hand down to the curve of her waist bunching the fabric of her robe. They shouldn't take things any further, not without talking first but that never seems to get them far anyway and there's confirmation in her slight whimper, though the need makes him hesitate leaving an inch of space between them as he clears his throat.

"Don't take it back." She speaks first, her tone pleading and his expression softens.

"I'm not taking anything back..." he says gently, tugging her closer until their noses are almost brushing. "It's just.. now, probably isn't the best time."

He's right, her head's still swimming from the acohol she consumed- whatever managed to stay down- and she nods relived his isn't running. She wants him, it's always been him and when he separates them entwining their hands she follows without question to her bedroom.

They climb ontop of the covers, his arms finding their way around her and she leans her head on his chest with a sigh. She has no idea what's next for them, how they're ever going to recover professionally but they'll find their way back to the top somehow.

Together.