Heyyyy, welcome to part 2! Thanks for all the lovely reviews so far!

Warning: this half of the story touches on some possibly triggering themes, (nothing graphic) but you've been warned.

——————

Four days later…

He hasn't heard from her since she fled the park and to say he's under performing at work would be an understatement. It's strange, how less than a week ago he'd been dreading that obligatory pilgrimage to the strip club, not realising the change it would make to him on such a personal level. He can't function for lack of her, he can't sleep soundly for uncertainty as to whether she's safe, he can't concentrate when everything reminds him of her, and he definitely can't go on this way for much longer.

He trudges through the front door of his penthouse apartment, dropping his suit jacket to the floor and loosening the tie encasing his neck. Passing the kitchen without a second glance, the cause of his absence of appetite obvious and yet another side effect of her. He collapses onto his bed, spread eagle on his stomach, an exhaustion caused by days thinking only of her, tossing and turning every night while checking his phone at intervals. Somehow, he manages to slip into a light sleep, the blood-red sky of dusk turning a deep navy as he dozes, the evening slipping away from him and melting into another lonely night.

Until suddenly he hears it.

One of the sounds he'd been on alert for since the moment she'd walked away.

A sharp series of frantic knocks at the panel of his door, jolting him from his slumber and into a confused half consciousness that he's half convinced is a dream, hurtling himself in the direction of the entrance, head spinning from the sudden awakening.

He nearly pulls the door off its hinges when he finally undoes the lock, throwing it open to reveal her.

The first thing he notices is that she'd wearing his coat, the one he'd loaned to her in the park, it's draped over her shoulders, arms not within the sleeves, covering her top half. She's wearing a 'costume' a navy-blue slip dress that could only be from part of an act. As his eyes travel up her body he's suddenly struck with the realisation that she's trembling like a leaf, knees nearly knocking as one hand grips the door frame for support. There are tear tracks cutting through the heavy make-up, streaming through the glitter on her face.

He only truly becomes grounded in the moment when he notices the small cut just beneath her eye, driving him to scan the rest of her with urgency, a dark pattern of shadowy bruising on the exposed parts of her chest and shoulders, and bleeding graze on both her knees.

He's locked in a stunned silence, logic willing him to do something but shock rendering him still, gaping at her unable to form a coherent thought or sentence, never mind help.

"Harvey, you were right, I'm s-sorry." She says in an unsteady tone, her eyes filling with a fresh set of tears, a wave of shame washing over her.

"Christ, Donna, come in." he steps aside, finally finding his voice, the distressed sound of hers booting him into action. She hobbles forward, clearly trying to disguise her shaking as she follows him to the living area, he takes another look at her dishevelled state, beginning to ramble in panic, "Sit down, what happened? Are you okay? Sorry – that's a stupid question you're clearly n-"

"Harvey, slow down." She soothes, placing a shaky hand over his wrist to calm his frantic movements, and it seems so backwards, that while she may be in need she has this instinct to comfort him, the notion seeming so natural to her. A slight tug is all it takes from her to guide him towards the sofa, both of them easing down into the leather.

There's silence for a moment as they both take time to compose themselves, taking in the strangeness yet familiarity of the situation, sitting side by side in his home.

Catching his breath, he finally speaks again, "The first aid kit – it's just in the cupboard." He mumbles, rushing over the kitchen before returning to her side, undoing the buckles and rooting through it, "Can you tell me what happened?" his question is much gentler this time around, his voice smooth with underlying concern.

She tenses at the inevitable inquiry, shuffling in place and taking an antiseptic wipe from him to clean the scrapes to her knees.

Her silence is telling so he tries a different approach, hoping for at least a yes or no from her, "Was it him?"

There's a hesitation there before she nods, although he could have guessed as much, the confirmation still makes him heady with rage.

"Another argument?"

"Of sorts." She whispers, hissing when he dabs some cream onto the small cuts. The ambiguity in her answer grates on him.

"What do you mean?" it comes out as more of a snap than intended, frustration shining through and overshadowing its cause – being his concern for her safety. So, he frowns when she winces at the remark, recoiling into herself.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come." There's a waver present in her voice that tells him she's on the verge of tears, so he takes her hand delicately, urging her to stay with him, both physically and emotionally.

"Donna."

It does things to her, that specially branded way he says her name, how it can mean everything and nothing all at once.

"I'm scared." She whispers.

"Of him? Because I promise I won't let –"

"No," she stops his train of thought, "Of telling you. I'm scared of opening up."

It's a feeling he can relate to and his hand travels from hers to the expanse of her lower back, tracing a soothing trail up the length of her spine.

"It's okay," he breathes, feeling her lean towards him under the pull of his touch, "Just tell me, you know I care."

"He barely spoke to me since the incident on Sunday," she murmurs, her head tilted back against the headrest of the chair and her eyes cast to the ceiling as though the events of the last few days were on display there, "Then tonight…" Her next intake of breath is almost like a gasp, her chest rising in an erratic movement, "He came into my dressing room and tried to act like nothing was wrong," she continues, "But I wasn't playing along, so he started to turn more aggressive."

It's Harvey's turn to take a steadying breath, moving closer to her as a silent sign of support.

"He wanted… " she pauses, unable to bare rehashing the details and opting for a shorter way out, "Long story short, he wanted to have sex with me, and when I said no… I'm sure you can guess what I'm implying." She finishes curtly, as though this weren't a big deal at all.

"Donna, I – " he's stumped by her casual tone, staring incredulously at her, "Did he -?"

"No," she states abruptly, "I stopped him, hence…" she gestures to injuries, before slumping back in the seat, and while clearly upset she's doing her best to mask it.

"I'm so sorry, you must've been so scared –" A shrill laugh is the reply that meets his concern, "Harvey, I work in a strip club, I deal with unwanted advances more often than I'd care to admit, it's not a huge deal, but I couldn't stay there, he's not the same as some handsy customer." Donna huffs out a sigh, she knows it's not right but men treating her like shit is something she'd become accustomed to, yet every attack on her innocence still managed to leave its hidden mark beneath the surface.

He shakes his head, saddened by her normalising of the way she's been treated, "Don," he coaxes her to look at him, unwilling to let this slide, "Look at me, what happened isn't okay – and the way him and these other men have treated you is wrong, do you understand that? You're worth so much more than this."

A whimper catches in her throat despite her best efforts to stop it, she'd never allowed herself to think too deeply into any of these instances, knowing to do so could be a dangerous game to play. But having someone like Harvey, a man whom she's grown to trust over such a short period of time, tell her she deserves better – it hits a sore nerve, and her eyes are swelling with tears she didn't know she needed to cry.

He sits with her while she cries, saying nothing but not needing to. His presence enough reassurance to her, and all she's ever wanted. To have someone, friend or more sit by her side through the difficult times, to tell her what she needed to hear and pick up the pieces when she falls apart.

He's all she's longed for rolled up in one.

As she begins to calm, he moves to clean the cut beneath her eye, gently swiping the remnants of moister from her lashes as he works. He murmurs something about making up the spare bed, coaxing her to follow.

"You take my bed, the pull-out couch isn't comfortable, and you need the sleep more than I do," he reasons, riffling through his shelves for a sweater and a pair of boxer shorts, not wanting her to have to stay trapped in that costume, "I'll get you a glass of water, are you hungry?"

She shakes her head no as he leaves her to change, returning to find her perched on the opposite side of the bed from which he usually favours. He hands the glass to her and she thanks him with a watery smile, taking a sip before placing it down.

"Do you feel tired?" he asks, sitting next to her.

"Exhausted."

He nods, beginning to feel the pull of tiredness himself, knowing she's here and safe somewhat lulling him back into a sense of security that allows for sound sleeping.

Harvey rises from his spot, "I'll let you get to bed then, but if you need anything –"

"Will you stay?" she blurts out the request and it shocks her just as much as it does him, wanting him to stay because while she's never experienced care like this, it's suddenly all she craves, like someone deprived of water, never wanting to be far from it again.

"Of course," his tone doesn't portray his surprise, instead he crawls to the other side settling his head on the pillow facing her as she lies back, her movements still slightly unsteady, "You know you're safe here, with me, don't you?" "Yes, I'm just a little shaken still…" Donna admits, lying opposite him with her face turned to his.

"And you know, no matter how I feel about you, I'd never push anything on you, I just want to be here for you." He knows she's aware but needs to make sure especially considering her past with men.

His remark catches her off guard, the thoughtfulness of the reassurance throwing her for a loop and flooding her with a sensation she can't remember the last time she experienced. There's been so many unkind men in her life, women too – that moments like this seemed lost in fiction or day dreams, never to be lived through.

"I do." She says breathily, doe eyed in the darkness of the bedroom, "Could you…" she thinks better of the request, trailing off.

"What is it?" he asks, more than eager to do anything for her.

"No, nothing, it's silly."

"If it'll make you feel better, then it's definitely not silly." He smirks, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the tone of conversation.

"Could you hold me?" her voice is barely above a whisper, the words nothing but a small squeak, but he doesn't bother to answer, shuffling closer to her as she mirrors him, until she's slipping into crook of his shoulder, head resting along his chest as his arm hooks around her body, he can feel her shallow breathing as her body moves against his.

"Try to get some rest." He encourages, drawing a lazy pattern up and down her arm.

To most others, their current situation may have seemed like an impossibly difficult and awkward one. Fraught with sexual tension and longing to go further. And while those feelings were there, they didn't dominate. It was something that confused them both, how they were content to give into each other's needs in other ways that some may say are even more intimate than the conventional means.

A stillness comes to settle over the pair, as their minds continue to roar on, both believing the other to be asleep after a short period of time. Harvey's eyes start to droop soon enough, his brain still working as he dozes off, when out of the quiet –

"He's done it before."

He feels her body stiffen alongside his, her fingers digging lightly into the material of his t-shirt. Almost sure he knows what she means yet not wanting to believe it to be true, he doesn't reply or push her, pulling her closer to him instead a sign of strength, when unexpectedly she speaks again.

"And I haven't always been able to stop him."

"Donna." He sighs, overcome by her revelation.

"Why did I let him treat me like that." She whines, curling into a ball at his side.

"Listen to me," he urges, watching her unravel before him and feeling helpless as to how to slow her, "This has nothing to do with what you did or didn't do, okay? He took advantage of his position above you, he is in the wrong here, not you. Do you hear me?" he's stern in his advice, but it's what she needs to hear.

She peeks up at him, revealing her face but she's not crying, and the fact only unnerves him further. She feels as though she's past the point of tears, wanting only to move away from this part of her life, while also knowing her experiences are not something you can bury and be done with. However, this way of opening up is what frightens her, feeling a rush of relief crossed with fear in her veins as he attempts to comfort her.

"You don't know how much you mean to me." The sentiment tumbles from her lips, as a hand reaches out to trace the contours of his jaw.

Looking back at her now that growing feeling of closeness seems to come to a head, an inexplicable need to keep her near him at all times overwhelming him as he pulls her close again, burying his face in her hair.

"Actually, I think I do."

Donna gives a small breathy laugh, the only comfort she craves is his company, yet he feels this incessant need to do more.

"I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, so you don't ever have to feel scared like that again, okay?"

She feels completely submerged in his care, almost drowning in the kindness of his words, but if this is what faith feels like, she's never coming up for air again.

"Why?" the question is hushed, yet seems to echo in the silence of the room.

"You know why." He mumbles, and she's certain she can feel his temperature rise beneath her.

He gives a sigh at her silence, deciding that no matter how irrational it may seem, she needs to hear it, and he needs her to know it.

"You know I love you Donna."

He doesn't receive a reply, stunning her into a head spinning quiet that isn't broken until they're both lightly snoring, sleeping peacefully for the first time in too long in each other's arms.

Two days later…

This was the moment he'd spent the better part of the last forty-eight hours preparing for. He stalled on bated breath outside the back entrance to the strip club where this whirlwind of a journey began, rehearsing in his head, something he often did before a take-down but would never admit to.

He hadn't told Donna, of course. Knowing she'd try to stop him, although she'd been less than half her usual self, something he'd noticed while she'd been staying with him. An arrangement she'd tried to protest to, having woken the following morning ashamed and embarrassed, ready to return to the club, which, as far as he was concerned, wasn't an option. Taking a centring breath, he opened the door, always unlocked. Following the path he remembers from his last encounter with this club.

He hears a conversation coming from the office room he'd last found Donna arguing with her boss in. Recognising the sound of Ryan's voice and picking up the pace as he approaches. The conversation seems to be one sided, and it's only then that he realizes the man behind to door must be on the phone.

"…Yeah well I don't give a shit, she's been MIA for the past couple of days and the regulars are starting to ask questions – no it's not that I can't run this place without her it's just – " he goes quiet for a few moments breathing heavily down the phone line, as the murmured voice on the other end hums dimly in the silence of the room.

Ryan gives an agitated sigh, "I swear to God when I get my hands on her –"

"Finish that sentence." Harvey fumes, abruptly entering the room and almost winding the other man, he drops the phone, standing from his chair as he gathers himself, "Finish it, I dare you." "What the fuck do you want?" The slender man leers, attempting to act unintimidated but failing miserably.

"This," Harvey begins, as he drops the first of many files on the asshole's desk, "Is a letter for your resignation to your superior, whom I presume you just got off the phone with, now before you tie yourself up in knots, let me explain exactly why you're going to sign it." One by one he slides folders onto the desk, calmly, a small smirk of satisfaction threatening to crack his steely demeanour, "Consider this a brief history of every shady thing you've ever done, including but not limited to tax evasion, drug possession and the mistreatment of employees… so here's what's going to happen." Harvey leans his two palms flat down on the wooden surface, staring his opponent down as he glares back with a mixture of fear and hatred.

"I'll give you two choices," he says quietly although his voice is laced with a fiery aggression, "One, you don't sign that letter, and I take you to court over every single offence you've ever committed, and I'm not sure if you've heard, but I don't lose." He pauses for a moment to watch him stew, relishing the revenge he's taking on Donna's behalf, "Two, you sign that letter and make yourself scarce, in which case all of this disappears - unless, of course you ever attempt to contact, approach or even come anywhere near Donna Paulsen again, if you do… I'm sure you can put two and two together."

There's an eerie silence that settles over the room as the offers sink in, although Harvey's almost certain he can feel the adrenaline buzzing beneath his skin.

"What's it going to be?"

There's a moment of hesitation in which Ryan eyes the folders, sweat breaking out on his forehead, and suddenly he's reaching for a pen, filling out the required spaces on the resignation letter.

"Good choice." Harvey scoffs while gathering the files, turning on his heel as he pulls the door open confidently.

"And Ryan," he calls, watching as the older man runs a hand through his greasy hair, "You ever so much as look her way again and prison will be the last thing you'll have to worry about."

And with that he's slamming the door behind him, exiting the club for what he knows will be the last time, and feeling a renewed sense of self at the thought of finally freeing Donna from her past.

—————

She finds him in a lonely booth at the back of the diner. Smirking into his coffee cup, a flutter of wings in her stomach triggered almost every time she lays eyes on him. Donna had been surprised when he'd text to ask her out for coffee, considering they'd woken up in the same apartment that morning and would see one another again that evening, meeting during the day seemed peculiar to her, the notion that someone would want to spend that much time in her company was foreign.

She'd agreed to stay with him until she could find another job or gather together enough money to rent someplace else, refusing his offer to help her get started, no matter how she felt about him, the strong-willed woman stood her ground, vowing never to take financial aid from others again after her situation with Ryan.

"Harvey," she greets as she slides over the red leather chair across from him, "Long-time no see." She jokes.

"What can I say, I have attachment issues." He jibes back.

"So, what was so important that it couldn't wait until tonight?" she asks nervously, he notices how she wrings her hands stiffly.

"It's good news," he assures, "You won't have to worry about Ryan any more, he's out of the picture." She responds with an incredulous chuckle, "What'd you do? Hire a hit man?"

"I don't need a hitman to do my work for me," he says puffing out his chest sarcastically, "No – I did things my way, I dug into his past, turns out he's a fairly shady guy… you don't need to know the details, but long story short, he's not going to be working there anymore, and if he knows what's good for him, he'll be staying away from you." Donna can only stare back, stunned by the lengths he was willing to go to in order to help her. Her mind floods with every memory of him that she's so neatly collected in her subconscious over the past week or so, overcome by an insurmountable sense of gratitude and adoration – no not adoration –

"You know I love you, Donna."

She'd wracked her brain to find her response, expecting find it hidden in the deepest crevices of her mind, yet here it was, plain and simple. She loves him, for every reason and for none at all. It may be rash, or naïve but she's been those things before and this isn't that.

Tears are welling in her eyes as she struggles to put a coherent sentence together.

"There's something else, I also got in contact with a talent agency who just so happen to be willing to meet with you and see if they want to take you on. It's not much, but it's the best I could do and it's a start." "Harvey, if anything, this is too much, I can't believe you've done all this for me –" "Just wait, let me finish, because I need to make something clear," He asks of her, rolling his shoulders back to release the tension, "I don't want to lose you, Donna. But I'm not like those other men you would've met through the club, or your boss, and I'm not looking to manipulate you into going out with me… however, I do have feelings for you, I care a lot about you, and while I'm not necessarily expecting a date, I'd really like it if we could stay friends. I need you in my life in some shape or form, I feel different since I met you and I like the man I am around you." She sits back, taking a moment to soak up what he's saying before finally answering, "That's a shame," she sighs dramatically, "Because I had my eye on this restaurant called Del Posto and I was hoping you could get a reservation for us some time…" she quirks an eyebrow at him, watching as his face lights up, before she carefully slides out of her seat turning to go in a teasing matter, "But I guess if you just want to be friends, I can live with that." She pouts sarcastically as he shakes his head with a grin, boosting himself out of booth to follow her through the exit and on to the street.

Following her out onto the bright morning bustle of the street, he catches her wrist to grab her attention, almost laughing at the faux look of surprise she casts him, no doubt a clever quip on the tip of her tongue, but he doesn't give her the chance. Crashing his lips down on hers as his arms move just below her waist, pulling her closer. It takes a second for her to catch up, but once she does her hands are on the nape of his neck, smoothing her fingers over the soft hair at the back of his head and inviting him nearer, having never wanted to feel closer to someone in all her life.

They pull back after what feels like seconds but in reality amounts to much longer, breathing heavily as they mirror each other's grins.

"That settles that then." He laughs, stroking a strand of hair out of her face.

"Well there's one more loose end that needs tying up," She exhales, cupping his jaw in her hands, "I love you too Harvey."

And before she knows it he's kissing her again, both losing and finding themselves within their shared intimacy, feeling as though they've never been without each other, and praying that they never will be again.

The end.

XXX

Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing, I love to hear your thoughts! Hope you enjoyed this story and the second installment lived up to expectations!

Much love xx