First, I want to say thank you for such a positive reception to the first part of this story! It was meant to be a one shot, but I was convinced to expand it. I'm excited to delve deeper into Donna's journey with changing careers, and what our favorite couple's life is going to look like. This will likely be in three parts, so there will be at least one more installment to follow down the line.

I'm going to be an actress.

That's what she told Harvey when they first met, and she meant it. That's how she always answered when people asked her what she did- no doubt, no hesitation. And for their first year at the DA's office, she kept her word. Because she was Donna, her secretarial work was done in no time, and Harvey always knew that if she took an 11 AM lunch, she was going to an audition. She learned her lines as she rearranged his calendar. On the weekends, she took the occasional acting class, since she now had a salary to pay for them.

And then months went by. A million auditions, a million rejections. And at work? A million people saying, "how did we survive before you?"

She craved the validation.

It got harder and harder to walk into an audition room, no matter how prepared she was, knowing whether she got the job or not had nothing to do with her. There was no control. No stability. But at Harvey's desk, the paychecks came in every two weeks, on the dot, and she never had to wonder whether she was doing a good enough job- because it was clear that she was.

She couldn't pinpoint one specific day that things shifted, but over time, she stopped telling people she was an actress and instead said, "I work at the District Attorney's office" (and after that, "I work at Gordon, Schmidt, and Van Dyke"). Being a struggling artist wasn't glamorous, and in New York, if you said you were an actress, people would think yeah, you and everyone else in this bar. But working at a law firm? They would be impressed. She was treated differently.

She liked feeling important. She liked being indispensable.

So the years went by and little by little, she lost parts of the artist she used to be. She still did her hair and makeup in the morning, stepped into a costume to walk the halls of the firm, and she was able to convince any client to do what was needed. Being Donna The Indispensable, Donna (a Name and a Title All in One), Donna Who Knew Everything- became a role she had honed and crafted within an inch of its life.

I like the way you operate. Never let them see you sweat.

In a way, she had always been performing.

"You're up early for a Saturday."

She hadn't noticed Harvey coming into the living room, and she turned to see him holding two cups of coffee. She smiled as he joined her on the couch, setting her cup on the table in front of her.

"Couldn't sleep."

She glanced at the clock- 7:30- but she had gotten out of bed hours ago, opting to pace the living room so she wouldn't wake Harvey up.

"Thinking about what you want to do?"

"Something like that. It's harder than I expected. Having options."

She had gotten so used to the routine she'd found, the work she did, that when presented with the chance to do anything she wanted- she didn't have a clue where to start. After their conversation last night, she hadn't slept well.

He put his coffee mug on the table and opened his arms, wordlessly inviting her in. Things like this still surprised her sometimes. She had programmed herself for over a decade about him, too- seeking Harvey for comfort was off limits, and she was still undoing that in her brain.

"You know," he said, resting his chin above her head, "I never told you what I thought of that play you did."

"Merchant of Venice? That was years ago."

"I know. And I know I told you that I enjoyed it-"

"I believe your words were, 'It was long, but…'"

"Okay, so I'm not a Shakespeare guy, but I enjoyed you in it."

She laughed into his chest. "Fine. I'll take it."

"But I never told you why. You were powerful, but you were vulnerable, too. You had so much strength, but also… sadness. You were playing a character, but I was also seeing you. No games. No bullshit. And I remember thinking that people spend a whole lifetime trying to learn how to do what you did. I just…thought you should know."

She looked up at him, shocked that he even remembered her performance. "Thank you, Harvey."

What really makes me special is my intuition, and my empathy, and my heart.

Everyone wishes they could say the right thing at the right time, and you are the one woman in the universe who says the right thing every time.

You could look at it like you chose to give a piece of yourself.

You should be a philosopher.

And who's to say I'm not?

What Harvey had found so valuable about working with her wasn't making a calendar or organizing his files, it was her innate ability to understand peoples' needs. And when she and Benjamin made The Donna, it was the right instinct. Take the things that only she seemed to be able to do and make them available to people. But the execution wasn't there. It lacked the thing that made her the most unique- her heart. But maybe there was another way for her to do what the computer couldn't- and she was about to spend some time figuring out what, exactly, that was.

She used to spend her Saturday mornings with a packed schedule. Yoga, shopping, the occasional brunch with Rachel- but most importantly, busy. She operated better without too much free time. Relaxing meant thinking and thinking meant allowing the unhappiness, the unfulfilled feeling that haunted her, to have weight.

Harvey was different. He liked to start his weekends slowly, not plagued with a need for productivity. When they first started dating and waking up together on a weekend, it took time to balance each other out- she got him to take adventures, and he slowed her down when she wound herself too tightly.

Today, she fought the urge to get up and get moving and stayed right where she was, nestled in his arms with his hand drawing circles on her back. Later, they could make plans and lists and think about New York real estate. But this morning, she was sitting in the hope that her answer was coming, and it was okay if it took a while to get there.