Hi guys! I've been debating for a while whether to post this fic at all, the idea has been sitting in my head since this time last year, following the Louis-mugged storyline when I thought how interesting it could have been had it been Darvey that we're at the center and this story sat, half-written in my files for about 5 months. I wouldn't have finished or even posted had it not been for (the other) Jess (@woahrafferty/takeyourside) convincing me, along with the kind words of a few others who read my stories!

That being said, I hope you like what I've written in the end :)

*Trigger Warning: violence/assault. It's fairly angsty and intense so if that's not for you than neither is this story!

———

It's been a long day.

Hell, it's been a long week.

Donna had been the latest of Faye Richardson's victims, the vulture of a woman choosing to pick them apart one by one. Setting her sights on a single member of the team which she viewed as the worst of the offenders and lure out their vulnerabilities until they were all at their weakest, an easy target to take out.

She had been particularly cruel with the COO.

Her digging went beyond professional, pulling from her personal life, past and present, and creating a character profile for the red head which even she knew to be untrue. However, the constant accusations and the watchful eye that Richardson had been keeping over every damn move she made had put Donna under a considerable amount of pressure. Suddenly doubting her own capability and qualification in her career.

The non-stop jibes about her and Harvey's now official relationship had also gotten in on her. And she couldn't help but resent the fact that he never took any of the heat for their "unprofessional relationship." It was always Donna on the receiving end of crude remarks, always Donna's character that got dragged through the mud. All Harvey received was the odd raised eye brow and even sometimes a look of approval from their fellow colleagues.

Whereas she was beginning to feel like the inscription on her door read "Harvey Specter's Girlfriend" and not COO.

And though Faye had had to leave the firm for at least a week, (and with a bit of luck possibly longer) to deal with a more urgent situation across town. Her presence still looms threateningly over Donna, afraid to put a toe out of line and give her any more fuel to make her life miserable.

She gave a heavy sigh, glancing at the time, her eyes already feeling like they could fall out of her head at the early hour of 8pm. Gathering up a couple of folders, she shuffled out of her office and in the direction of Harvey's, almost wishing he'd insist they go home, although she knows she'd refuse the offer.

Donna doesn't bother knocking as she enters his space, his gaze lifting from his desk to try and catch hers but she keeps her eyes low, planting the documents on his workspace, and mumbling, "I need these signed."

"No problem," he smiles, he knows all she's been through with Faye, guilt hanging heavy on his shoulders, aware that most of the heat she receives comes as a result of their current and past relationship, "you look like you need a drink."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she bites, and there's no humor in her tone like there usually would be.

He grimaces and rises from his chair, rounding the desk and leaning on the edge as he takes her in, "Just that you've had a stressful week and I think you deserve a break."

"Yeah, well I don't have the luxury of doing whatever I want."

He's slightly taken aback by her remark but shakes it off nonetheless, remembering how patient she was with him during his hell-week with Faye.

Reaching forward his hand lands on her shoulder, and he stands to come level with her, she catches his eye for the first time that night and he sees moisture gathering in the corners.

"Hey, don't do this to yourself –"

She runs a hand through her hair and shakes her head in frustration, knowing deep down he's only trying to help and that her anger is misplaced.

His lips are on hers before she has the chance to respond and for a moment it feels so good, she wants lose herself in that feeling, the only cure to her heartache but also just as much the cause.

She pulls back, "Harvey, stop."

"Faye isn't here for the next week, we're safe." Presuming that to be the cause of her protest, his hand goes to her cheek, coaxing her back to him as his mouth finds her jawline in a gentle caress.

Donna pushes back, "I said stop." She hisses more urgently and he freezes, dropping his hand to hers, but she doesn't return the hold.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" he trails off, she won't look at him and it's driving him insane.

She tries to walk away but he keeps his hold, gentle but firm.

"Look at me." He prompts, but she doesn't.

"Harvey let me go." She breathes.

He knows he should leave it, but years of letting her walk away in moments like this have his mind screaming at him to do something, "Come on, let's go home, you need –"

"Don't tell me what I need!" she snaps, jerking her hand away.

They stare at each other for a moment, a wall of tension building before them, both having the power to stop it but neither making the move.

"I'm going home." She turns on her heel, the word sting on her tongue because they both know she doesn't mean to his place, the place that has become her home.

"Don-"

"Just sign the goddamn documents." She snaps, and swings the door closed behind her.

XXX

She heads out into the night air of New York with a toxic cocktail of anger, guilt and hurt swirling in her stomach. Deep down, she knows the way she treated him was wrong, blinded by the stress of the past week and the jealousy of the exemption to scandal he seems to have as the man. Nevertheless, she knows he trade places with her in a heartbeat if it saved her the strain.

She needs a drink.

Donna doesn't call a cab, slinging her purse over her shoulder and folding her arms across her chest in a guarded manner. She takes a turn to the left, wanting to stray from the usual, and not caring where she ended up, just as long as they had wine, and the reassurance that no one would find her.

The need to disappear for a couple of hours and just blow off some steam was over whelming.

Reluctantly she fishes her phone from her pocket, already two missed calls from Harvey.

She strides forward, not looking where she's going as her thumb hovers over the call button, his smiling face staring back at her from her screensaver makes her heart twist with hurt. And suddenly all she wants his him.

She's about to hit call when out of nowhere a rough grip to the scruff of her coat stops her in her tracks, dragging her backwards with a sharp tug, the collar of her coat and dress tightening around her throat harshly and choking her monetarily. She digs her heels in on instinct but before she can get her bearings she's flung to the ground.

The redhead lands hard on her bare knees, she wheezes in a breath, her throat sore from the impact of the pull. The grazing of her palms and legs beginning to burn, they're on some side alley, judging by the narrow space and trash cans in the vicinity.

Donna chances a glance over her shoulder, a figure in all black moving behind her before a voice breaks the silence.

"Get up."

But she can't register the command, her mind still catching up with what just happened and before she can even try to obey she feels a hand fisting at the back of her head, pulling her roughly to her feet and slamming her against the wall, her front pressed to the cold stone. She shrieks, finally finding her voice, a cry for help on the tip of her tongue before a cool metal presses into her shoulder, his grip going to her wrist instead of her hair and pulling her arm behind her in a vice like hold.

"I dare you to make one more sound." He grumbles against her, his breath hot and repulsive.

She can't help the terrified whimper that slips without her permission and suddenly he's flipping her around so that they're face to face.

"You're a pretty thing aren't you." His mouth to close to hers as it trails from her jaw to her neck, a move she'd rejected from Harvey earlier that evening, now wishing she hadn't, wanting nothing more than to be back there, safe, with him.

He releases the hold on her wrist and drags the hand up her thigh and under her skirt instead, groping roughly.

She bites back a yelp of pain at the ministrations of his mouth on her neck, too petrified by the press of the gun at her side to struggle, although her body screams at her to fight back. Her insides begin to burn in terror at where exactly this is leading and how exactly she's meant to escape it.

Thankfully, voices carry from the neighboring street and the sound seems to startle him, pulling back momentarily to survey the surroundings.

She takes the chance, bringing up her elbow and sharply clocking him on the chin, followed by another blow to the stomach. He doubles over and she attempts to flee, scrambling in her heels, until she feels a grip on her ankle.

Donna falls flat on her face, her skin grazing under the gravel and God knows what else on the alleyway floor, a blinding pain in her left arm almost knocking her clean out.

She tries to get to her feet unsuccessfully as he lands a kick to her stomach, winding her completely, a strained scream pushed from her lungs.

She just about hears him demand she hand over her phone and purse. With shaky hands she takes the strap of her handbag from her shoulder, fumbling for her phone which she'd managed to return to her pocket in the first throws of the attack.

He snatches them up, and she remains on the ground, too terrified of the consequences should she move.

Cautiously, she turns her head to the side to watch him as he riffles through her purse, glancing at the lock screen of her phone.

"Who's Harvey?" Donna think's she hears him sneer and she catches sight of her phone screen, lit up with his name, no doubt calling for the hundredth time. It makes her heart burn.

She's pulled to her knees with no warning, he says something about having any other cash on her to which she shakes her head, choking back a violent sob.

There's a piercing pain stemming from the side of her temple and then it all goes dark.

XXX

She blinks.

It takes all the energy she has.

It's still dark.

She's freezing.

Suddenly aware that her coat is gone.

A light spitting of rain falling from the night's sky.

Her eyes open fully.

She's not sure how long she's been lying here for, sprawled out on her stomach the way he left her.

The absence of her coat makes her stomach lurch and for a moment she thinks the worst, before realising that the rest of her clothes are still intact. However, the possibility of what could have been rocks her to her core.

She whines as she shifts to her side, her head throbbing and so many other parts of her body crying out in pain that she's not sure which to give attention to.

Her left arm feels limp, even the smallest of movements causing pain.

Tears start to fall though she knows this isn't the time, she needs to get out of here and with great effort she wobbles to her feet.

No idea of the time or even of her whereabouts she wanders back towards the main street. Thankfully recognizing her surroundings and beginning a slow pace back towards the firm, the only place that feels safe now.

The street is quiet and even those who do see her pretend they don't. Shame burns in her cheeks as she wonders how she must look, what others must think of her, and it's all she can contemplate until she reaches the doorstep of their building.

The security desk is empty and it makes her blood boil, what the hell are they getting paid for if they're never at their goddamn post. She leans against the desk and slips off her heels, suddenly becoming too much of a task to walk in as she pushes off in the direction of the elevator.

She's just going through the motions to get to a safe space, not yet allowing her mind to spiral in frenzy of what just happened. A numbness in her brain and body that frightens her but leaves her somewhat thankful, it's only delaying the inevitable crash landing but she allows it to lull her into a false sense of security that everything is okay.

Nothing's changed.

She's got a one-track mind as the elevator rises her to the fiftieth floor.

Harvey.

Why did she pick a fight with him?

Why didn't she stay with him?

Why did she push him away?

Is this what she gets? Some sort of twisted karma for treating him in a way that she knows he didn't deserve. Worse still she knows he isn't even mad at her, their argument was completely one sided.

As the numbers climb higher she begins to lose all composure. What ifs? And Maybes battering her from the inside out.

She could have died. She could have left him behind thinking that she didn't want him anymore, that she blamed him, and she hates herself for it.

Even in the depths of a crisis her concern is directed at him and not herself.

An echo of the elevator ding reaches her ears, and she drags herself off the floor, not sure she even remembers sitting down.

Her body is damp, cold and she's not certain if it's sweat or rain water, her hair matted and curling at the ends. Every breath feels like a chore and she wonders how she survives this.

How she ever feels safe again when even inside the confines of her second home, her heart races and her lungs fail her.

The numbness is fading, the pain in her body unbearable, from the ache in her arm, and the stabbing between her ribs, right down to the tiny grazes on knees and face, grime and shards of gravel still stuck there.

She reaches her office the wall clock reading something around 12am but her vision is unclear. She knows she should reach straight for the phone, call Harvey, call anyone for help. But she just about manages to collapse onto the sofa, a drowsiness laid deep in her bones though her mind is wide awake and turning at a pace she can't keep up with. Reliving flashes of assault as her injuries seem to light up and burn more fervently at the memory of each unwanted touch.

XXX

Harvey had lost track of the number of calls he'd placed to Donna over the past few hours. Hitting her name on loop, with pleading text messages sandwiched between. He'd gone to her place first, presuming it would be her first port of call despite the fact that she hadn't spent a night there in over a month.

When his knocking met no answer, he used his key, finding her apartment lifeless and untouched.

Part of him felt relieved in that moment, coming to the conclusion that she really did go back to his place, their place. But yet again when he arrived at the penthouse, he found no trace of her.

His nerves hit peak, as he rang multiple different venues he thought she might have landed in, her favorite bars, a friend of hers house, even placing a call to Samantha and Louis, though neither had seen her since earlier that day.

He waits it out until around 11:30pm, still calling but receiving no answer. Pacing the length of their home and growing more agitated as the minutes tick past. He can't bear the waiting any longer, a strange combination of anger and concern boiling to the surface as he grabs the keys to one of his own cars and heads out the door, not sure exactly where he's going.

His subconscious takes the wheel and Harvey finds himself in the firm's under ground parking lot. Absentmindedly he wanders to the elevator, almost certain he won't find her here, and why would he?

They're meant to feel closer now that they're together, so why, lately, does it feel like she's turned from crystal clear glass in his embrace, to grains of sand slipping through his fingers, always on the move?

Before he can step inside a voice calls from behind, "Harvey!" He turns to catch sight Louis, rushing toward him, looking incredibly flustered, red in the face, "I couldn't sit still after you called, I thought I'd come back and check up to see if she was still here, you haven't been able to reach her yet."

"No," the admission sits low in his chest, worry and accompanied by a rising sense of anger building in his mind, it seems so selfish, disappearing like this and leaving him without a trace or so much as a text message, and while he knows it may be irrational, something could have happened, and as long as that's a possibility, he can't rest.

"You check our floor, I'll go one down, in case she's there." Louis says as they step into the elevator, and all he can manage in response is a quick nod.

XXX Her eyes crack open and she's staring at a familiar ceiling, it takes a moment for the pain to register but when it does it's merciless. She moans out her agony, the worst of which residing in her arm and ribs, trying to find the will to stand, to reach for the phone, but all she can do is lay motionless, trapped in her skin.

Panic creeps in on her, the notion that she'll be stuck here, alone, until the morning, until someone finds her. A sob claws at her chest and the movement hurts her ribs but she can't stop them coming. Like fear and pain battling for dominance, and she loses either way.

Suddenly the distant call of the elevator rings out through the silence of the firm. She can't see who it is but she doesn't care, she'd accept aid from anyone right now, even Faye Richardson herself.

With a heaving breath, she croaks, "Hello?"

The vibration of the sound in her head makes her temple throb harder but she tries again, "Help, please," she whimpers, attempting to lift her head off the cushioned furniture and catch whoever it is but her view is obscured.

She hears the door swing open swiftly and sniffles a cry of relief, letting her eyes squeeze shut as footsteps approach her.

"Donna what the hell are you still doing here, I've been going out of my mind-"

The sound of his voice catches her off guard but she recoils at the tone of rage, the booming yell triggering a harsh pounding in her head. But as he gets closer, and the relief of finding her sobers him, he notices there's something wrong, sees the marks on her skin, the defeated way she's sprawled out on the couch. When she can't find the words to respond, his frustration and worry take the reigns.

A touch to her shoulder startles her more than she could have expected herself and she yelps despite herself, recoiling from it. Suddenly realizing that she doesn't want to be touched, yet craves that comfort all the same.

The response frightens him, retracting his hand to hover above her, trying to some how make sense of the situation.

"Don, what happened?" He asks, voice dropping to barely above a whisper, he can feel the breath catching in his chest as panic takes hold.

"Mugged-" is all she can manage, before more cries of relief and shame wash over her.

"Shh, you're alright now," he attempts to soothe, hands hovering over her body not sure what to do, a slight tremble visible in his limbs, fury at whoever did this to her radiating off his body "Can you tell me where you're hurt?" He tries to keep his voice level, not portray the turmoil he feels inside, to stay calm for the sake of helping her.

She wants to scream 'everywhere' but knows she needs to be reasonable, rasping instead, "Head, ribs, left arm."

He nods but she catches his eyes wandering over her face neck and chest, surely concerned for the marks left there.

"Harvey- my purse - he took it - my phone, ID," suddenly her eyes snap wide, as she gasps, "there were files, important ones. I couldn't stop him -"

He tries to shush her but her breathing continues to accelerate, "Donna, don't worry about -"

Her voice had risen another octave when she spoke again, "He has my address, m-my name, where w-we work all of my information, what if-"

"Donna stop!" He's firm with the command, and she bites her bottom lip to stop it shaking, "just put that out of your mind for the moment, okay? Trust me, it's going to be okay."

She takes a shaky intake of air, stifling a sob, his hand going to brush her hair and she finds herself leaning into the warmth of his skin this time, no longer afraid of the contact.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital," he explains, hesitating to touch her after her last reaction, "is it ok if I lift you, you don't look fit to walk?"

"I don't need -" she sits forward with great effort, a strained groan escaping her throat without her permission, "I'll be fine just take me home please."

He shakes his head at her stubbornness, "no, you're hurt and I'm not taking any chances, Louis is downstairs, he can call his friends at the station, get them to take your statement."

She seems panicked at the idea, "Statement - I - Harvey I don't wa-"

"Donna, you know as well as I do that you have to do this."

"You'll stay with me?"

"I promise." He trails a hand down her back comfortingly, "now, will you please let me carry you?"

Donna nods and braces her body, letting his hands slip under her back and legs, failing to disguise a slight flinch.

"You okay?" He asks as they make their way towards the elevator, her body curled into his.

No.

The truth doesn't make it far enough, a short nod her only answer, before her eyes are screwing shut and her head is buried in his chest, the soft cotton of his shirt.

The elevator takes an age to arrive, and he watches her closely as she begins to relax slowly, less tension in her body, her breathing slowly but surely evening. It's a relief to him, not quite sure how much longer he could have kept himself together watching her that way, although he knows there's likely more to come.

As he steps them forward into the carriage, he hears her mumble "Let me down, I can manage."

"I'd really prefer-" he tries.

He doesn't get a chance to express his concern before she's slipping out of his hold and onto unsteady feet, and while she tries to hide it he catches the grimace on her face, and the way her legs wobble.

He reaches out a hand to steady her and pleads "Donna-"

"Don't -" she snaps, withdrawing from his reach, just about and the harshness of her tone leaves him taken aback, "leave me be."

"I just -"

"Please just don't touch me for a minute I need -" but she doesn't finish her sentence, puffing out a short gust of breath, her jaw quivering and her eyes shut.

He shakes his head, perplexed, she's done a complete one-eighty on him in the last five minutes, how did she go from 'stay with me' to 'don't touch me' in such a short space of time.

His face softens when a second wave empathy strikes him, a deeper realization of what she's been through, combined with what he knows about her own strong will, pointing towards the fact that this isn't an unusual response to a difficult situation or trauma.

He resigns to it for the moment, giving her some space while remaining close all the while, watching as she leans defeatedly on the metal hand bar with her right arm, her left still tucked timidly against her stomach.

The elevator comes to a halt earlier than expected on the 48th floor, but he's unsurprised to see Louis Litt on the other side, his round face glancing between the pair, crumpling at the sight of a disheveled and hurt Donna.

"Jesus what happened?" He asks stepping forward into the carriage his face turning that flustered shade of red.

"Donna was mugged." The words almost catch in his throat but he manages them nonetheless, watching as she keeps her head bowed, avoiding his line of sight.

"Oh my god," his tone becoming hushed, sympathetic as he takes a step closer, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder, and Harvey feels an inordinate amount of jealousy at the fact that she doesn't reject it, but instead leans in, allowing Louis Litt of all people to engulf her in a gentle hug, careful not to hold to tightly, "you're safe now, I know what you're going through."

She sniffles quietly into his shoulder as Harvey bristles, jaw clenching in an envy that he wishes he could swallow, wishing he knew what to say and do, the way Louis does, but he can't help but think, why give in to him and not me.

They arrive in the car park and Harvey expresses his plans to take her to the hospital, and his hopes that she may be able to give her statement there. Louis offering straight off the bat to contact his connections in the NYPD to take her statement and handle her case. Donna remaining uncharacteristically quiet throughout the exchange, and withdrawing to the passenger seat of the car before the conversation had even come to a close.

XXX

They leave the hospital in the early hours of the morning after what feels like an eternity, most of which Harvey had spent exiled outside closed doors or behind drawn curtains. Donna having completely closed in on herself, leaving him completely in the dark as to the details of what happened, but judging from her injuries, he's not totally sure he could handle them.

A fractured left wrist, bruised ribs and a concussion, and that's excluding the lacerations to her legs and face, caused by what Harvey would suspect to be a fall.

Their drive to his penthouse passes in a haze of uncomfortable silence, Donna keeping her head turned to the window of the passenger seat, staring blankly as the city unfolds in a blur of light. He finds himself gripping the steering wheel hard, as though if he squeezed with enough power, it may release the tension between them, as if the information she's with held from him was stored within its leather confines.

A harsh sigh from her breaks the silence and pulls him back to reality, glancing over to her in intervals as she seems to attempt to melt back into the chair, "You okay?"

No, I'm not.

Just three little words, so simple to say yet so hard to admit, and she finds herself lying once again.

"Fine." She grumbles and when she feels his hand land on hers as it rest in her lap, she forgets herself for a moment, soaking up the touch before she's shifting in her chair and moving her hand out of reach.

"Donna, it's normal to feel scared and upset after something like - " he lets the end of his sentiment hang but she's jumping in with out hesitation.

"Don't tell me how I should or shouldn't feel, you don't know." She bites, and he huffs out a sigh.

"Then help me to," he replies and it's gentle, no frustration or impatience conveyed there despite how he may truly feel, "I can't help if you won't let me."

His words echo in the thickness of silence, and though she doesn't respond, she feels her self soften slightly at the request, suddenly overwhelmed by an insurmountable level of guilt. For their fight earlier that evening, for how she'd spoken to him, for shutting him out at the hospital and for making him feel like she doesn't want him near her.

The thoughts turn in her head at a sickening rate as they park, he gives her her space as they head through the lobby and towards the elevator bank, and as the stand in wait of a the metal carriage, she finds herself reaching a hand out to take his, feeling a jolt of guilt as he hesitates, reading her body language before accepting the gesture and linking his fingers in hers.

He reluctantly drops her hand to unlock the front door, giving it a small squeeze before doing so and holding the door open for her to enter first. They walk to the kitchen and living area side by side, Donna slowing behind him and coming to lean against the counter as she slips out of her shoes, her mind still whirring with a tumultuous amount of pain and guilt. She can feel his eyes on her, studying her, trying to assess how to handle her and she hates it.

This isn't them. For years she helped him learn the value of expressing your feelings to those who care about you, of asking for help, and now here she is, throwing it all back in his face.

"What do you need?" He asks catching her by surprise, doe eyed as she looks up at him from across the room, "something to eat? A bath maybe, or do you just want to sleep?" He's kind in his offers and her heart swells painfully.

When she doesn't reply tilts his head, watching as she grips the counter with her right hand as though for dear life, he can see her shoulders trembling slightly from across the kitchen, "Are you okay?" It seems like a stupid question, but at this point he's not sure what else to say.

"No." She breathes out the admission, suddenly feeling a significant weight off her chest.

Something breaks inside her at the look on his face, a figurative dam seems to shatter and she's crumbling along with it. It's always been her way to be strong, her instinct telling her to push what hurts aside, 'if you can't see it, it can't hurt you', but it's nothing but a lie. A false reassurance that's left her to fend for herself in difficult situations but not this time. She can't hide from him, and what really surprises her, is that she doesn't want to.

"I'm so sorry," she finds herself crying, forcing herself to look him in the eye as she does, and his face drops at the outburst, his feet carrying him towards her, "I'm sorry for the way I treated you tonight, I - I feel so terrible, about the way I spoke to you and pushed you away, it was selfish and all I could think about was how - how I wish I hadn't left, none of this would have happened and -"

"Hey, shh, that's enough," he soothes, rushing forward to her, he wants to hold her but need her to give him the cue, and before he knows it, she's burying her face in his chest and he wraps her arms around her waist, "you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, none of this is your fault."

"I was scared I was going to die, I thought he was going to- he -" she stumbles over her words, to voice it makes it real, it puts an end to the denial.

"Listen to me," he begins, "I want you to talk to me, so that I can help but if you're not ready and you don't want to talk about it yet, that's okay."

"I don't want to talk about it, but I need to." She sniffles.

"Then I'm here, no judgement." He strokes the back of her head smoothing her hair down.

"I love you so much." Her voice more even now, stronger.

"I love you too, so much."

They get ready for bed first, after she refuses his offer of something to eat, curling up in one of his old sweaters and slipping under the sheets next to him, still talking things over, an hour later.

"He had me up against the wall, and he was just touching me - everywhere, I thought he was going to - it felt like - I don't want to say it out loud." She admits but he nods his understanding at the words left unsaid, clenching his fist beneath the duvet as a small way to channel his rage at her attacker.

"I hit him, in the face and the stomach and tried to get away but he caught me, knocked me down, that's when he took my purse and phone. Then I think he must have hit me over the head because I felt pain here and it all went dark." She raises a shaky hand to the small cut at her hairline, releasing a heavy breath as she comes to the end of her story.

He doesn't say anything at first, just pulls her closer, a kiss to her cheek as they snuggle further into the pillows at their backs, but his silence sits uneasily with her and she shifts slightly in his hold, hoping he gets the message.

"I'm so goddamn angry," he mumbles, and she's sure she can feel the tension radiating from his chest, "why did it have to be you."

"I don't know," she replies, it's a question that's played on her mind over the past few hours, but she can't seem to find an answer.

She sighs sadly and he senses there's something else, another worry hanging over her.

"You still feel scared?" He prompts, trying to get to the root of the problem, stroking a comforting pattern up and down the length of her arm.

"Honestly, yes, but not in the way you'd expect," he frowns to show his lack of understanding, so she elaborates, "It's work, I just don't want anyone finding out, I'm already under so much heat at the moment, I'm not sure I can handle the added scandal - and I lost those files, they had privilege information - how do you think Faye's going to like that."

"Slow down," he encourages, "you don't need to be thinking about any of that right now, okay? One step at a time. Work can wait until the morning, and even then I'll handle this, you're taking at least two days off, more if I can manage to keep you away."

"Doctors orders?" She grimaces.

"No, Harvey's orders." And he's met with a roll of her eyes.

"Just trust me to handle this okay, all that matters now, is that you take some time, recover and rest."

"Okay." She finds herself relenting, not because she really wants to, but because deep down she knows he's right.

"I'm here, every step of the way." He assures.

"Every step." She repeats.

"Always."

——

A/N: Phewwww I know this story isn't everyone's cup of tea I just had to get it out of my head!

I've contemplated writing a part 2, aftermath to this, but wanted to see the reaction first! So please let me know what you thought and if that's something you'd like :)

Much love!! X