A/N: I started this last August, forgot about it, rediscovered it a few weeks ago and decided I was proud of the part I'd written and wanted to continue! I hope you guys like it!

Both Sides Now

She lied in the dark, his deep breaths filling the air around her, stopping her from feeling completely alone. She tried not to get annoyed with his peaceful slumber, completely undisturbed and fulfilling. His ability to succumb immediately to deep sleep never failed to impress her. When insomnia hit him, it would hit him hard for sure but his sleep was mostly incredibly impressive.

She trailed her fingers delicately along his arm which was securing her waist to the mattress—as though she'd float away if he wasn't there. Which was partially true, he was the person who made her feel safest. There were many a time she could've floated away if not for him. The Liberty Rail case came to mind. Even though they weren't together, he tied her to the ground when she thought she was going to lose it all, determined to keep her with him, not letting anything steal her away.

She felt her mind begin to wander, entering the pain of forbidden 'I love yous' and goodbyes that grab you by the throat, leaving you gasping for air as you begin to slip under.

She batted it away, the pain too much to bear for her sleep-deprived mind. Instead, she let herself wander down the avenue of their romance. Harvey's pleading with her to talk to him more, making her a better person. That was their thing, bettering each other. They helped themselves by helping the other to deal with any messy emotions thrown their way. Disapproving fathers, condescending special masters, legal misdoings and mistakes.

Donna found herself once again entering an undesirable territory of thought and, deciding enough was enough, she carefully pushed Harvey's arm aside to let herself out of the bed. She felt an instant loss without him, a missing warmth and security when their bodies weren't fused together.

For that's all she wanted, to stay touching forever. The excitement of naked skin touching naked skin that hadn't waned since his arrival – both physically and emotionally – at her door on that memorable night. Discovering each other, feeling each other's warmth, every tiny mark and bump on their bodies belonging to one another. Losing themselves in the combination of love and lust that took over them, overwhelming bouts of euphoria followed by a peace that felt like home as they lay entangled in each other's limbs.

Though it wasn't just the sensual touches she craved. A hand on the small of her back as he leant around her to reach for a glass, a hand on her thigh when they sat on the couch before falling into each other's embrace, a finger trailing her hair after tucking it behind her ear. Every small touch was just as addictive as any love-making, any embracing.

Pushing herself out of the bed, she reached for her satin nightdress. It was thrown over the arm of the chair, just about visible in the dark of the night. She slid it over her body, shivering ever so slightly at its cool touch against her skin.

Slowly and quietly, the redhead crept from her bedroom to her bathroom, carefully closing the door behind her. She gazed into the mirror, met by clouds of darkness beneath her eyes that were in stark contrast to her pale skin. She looked even more colourless under the harsh white light, almost looking unwell as her hollow cheeks and eyes were shadowed.

Donna didn't like to dwell on the past, it wasn't somewhere she often found herself residing. She liked to lock her focus on the present, and the future at times, appreciating all she had. The man who made her world go around, who brought out the best in her and put up with her even when she failed to be completely honest with him.

Yet, sometimes, without warning, she found herself falling into it—the past—at a speed impossible to control. In more ways than one, she felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole: not knowing what to expect and uncertain of what she'll find. A toxic concoction of guilt, shame and heartbreak that was poisonous to the soul and cast a shadow over the happiness she'd found.

She cursed herself for not seeing it coming every single time. It had been a cycle for years, feeling on her feet but slipping into memories that brought immense heaviness to her heart, blindsided by her own mind. Waves of pain and misery that shouldn't have a space in her heart but found a way in nonetheless, creeping in like a thief in the night.

.

Tears and fears and feeling proud, to say I love you right out loud.

"You know I love you, Donna."

And then he was gone, robbing her of her sanity and composure.

She sunk back down to the couch, her breathing shallow and mouth dry as the words echoed around her mind. Did she know? She knew he cared about her, that he loved having her around, but to love her was a mighty statement and Donna wasn't sure he knew the gravity of it.

Maybe he did? But if so, why did he leave? Why make the declaration and send her spiralling just to walk away? Could he really have known just what that carried?

She gulped down the remaining contents of her wine glass and then did the same with his, the warmth spilling down her throat and comforting her like a hug in a dark, empty room.

But she knows he felt something. When he was sat beside her, his big chocolate eyes gazing into her hazel ones, there was something she hadn't seen for years. It was a glimmer, a sparkle, one that felt inviting and enticing yet completely terrifying because it ignited a hunger she'd suppressed for so long.

She spent so long telling herself that the feelings would go away and even longer telling herself that they had but, truthfully, they were as pertinent as ever. Her entire body felt wracked with the guilt of loving him.

She didn't make it to bed, waking up at 3am only to be lying on the couch, legs curled up and the bottle significantly emptier than she expected it to be. Sitting up caused her head to spin, her brain still fuzzy from the intoxication, and she slowly stood, stumbling to her bedroom and slumping down onto her bed.

The inevitable headache was a problem for the morning. Right then, all she wanted to do was fall asleep and forget about the man whose grasp on her heart might never release.

.

And if you care, don't let them know. Don't give yourself away.

"I want something more."

"What do you mean more?"

It stung because she thought that he might finally be ready, that he wanted more and he was able to give it to her. She had hope. Hope for happiness, hope for them, and he knocked it straight out of her with those hesitant, fearful eyes and that concerned tone of voice.

Maybe he wasn't ready or maybe he didn't want that, and maybe she would never know and that was making it all the more difficult. She didn't know if she would ever move on from him, the Harvey shaped space in her heart marked as a permanent part of who she is.

It hurt to realise that when she finally opened the door in search of something more, he slammed it shut again, leaving her too worried to even try and open a window.

Crying over him was her least favourite pastime but, that evening, standing beneath the steady stream of warm water, every inch of her exposed, she didn't feel bad about the tears that slipped down her face and left the taste of salt between her lips.

She got out of the shower feeling puffy-eyed, wrapping her towel around her body to keep out the cool air, the impending headache beginning to tingle. Her nose felt stuffy and her head felt clouded, her brain scrambling to find a more that Harvey might be able to give her.

.

And if you care, don't let them know.

"I've been seeing Paula Agard and not as my therapist anymore."

When the cold night air hit her lips, she found a surge of life run through her. Unexplainable, really, as she tried to wonder why it hit her so much more than on other occasions. Perhaps the scotch she'd found herself alliancing with had warmed her more than usual. Maybe the heaviness of her heart led to a greater shock. It was possible she'd gotten overly comfortable in her office, staying there longer than was necessary, using it as a place of solitude.

Nonetheless, she could feel the bitter chill like a spirit entering her body. 'Maybe that was it,' she thought to herself in an attempt to divert her mind from its depressive path. She tried to chuckle but what came out was more a quiet groan.

She'd made the choice to walk home, needing the time to clear her head and feel more real than she would in the back of a car. Her heels were new and pinching the sides of her feet, causing a redness that was only worsening with each step but the night-time streets of Manhattan were a breath of fresh air away from Pearson Specter Litt.

It was busy, life filling the streets and people trapped in the bubbles of their lives everywhere she looked. A tall, dark-haired man rushing in the opposite direction to her, face etched with stress and talking on the phone he clutched tightly against his ear. Taxis with passengers coming and going faster than imaginable, black cars with dark windows that sped through the city, taking their passengers to meetings and events.

She saw a blonde woman waiting by a lamppost with a large grin plastered across her face and Donna found her mind wandering to the precise woman she wanted to forget.

Paula.

Harvey dating Scottie or calling Zoe had never blown her out of the water this much. It felt like more. Maybe because she hadn't seen it coming and she hated herself for that, hated that her emotions stopped her from reading everyone else around her.

It reminded her why it was so important that she could read everyone, thinking about how many times she'd have been hurt before if she couldn't. Yet this just managed to slip right by her, too focussed on wanting something more that was beyond her grasp. It was even further out of reach now.

Maybe it felt like more because she knew so much about him. She was his goddamn therapist, she knew him. The idea that his new girlfriend could know him as much as she did unsettled Donna, anxiety finding its place in the pit of her stomach when she thought about it. Perhaps he could be himself around Paula too and, while she so badly wanted to be happy for him for that, it made Donna feel less than. Paula knew him and had him, she knew him and might never have him.

Once thoughts of this relationship re-entered Donna's head, they weren't going anywhere, like an itch she couldn't scratch that buried its way beneath the surface. That night, after finding comfort in half a bottle of wine—she originally reached for scotch but taking the bottle in her hand reminded her of everything she didn't have—and crawling into bed, she tossed and turned and thought of them. When she finally began to doze off, her last thoughts were pondering her life had she never met him in that bar, not finishing the drink his fellow ADA bought him. She wondered whether she would be happier if she had no idea who he was because she couldn't miss him if she didn't know him. She couldn't have fallen so hard and built her walls so high if she didn't know he was out there.

But now old friends, they're acting strange, and they shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed.

Rachel noticed. Donna didn't notice that she noticed, though, too wrapped up in thoughts of what they had planned.

"Hey," Rachel smiled from the doorway of Donna's office, catching her off guard. "I was thinking about grabbing a coffee from that cute new shop down the road if you want to join?"

Donna was grateful for the offer but her company wouldn't be what it usually was and she found herself politely declining.

"You know, you're allowed to be upset about it," Rachel attempted to assure Donna, walking into the office and closer to Donna's desk.

"I'm not upset," Donna stated firmly but neither woman was fooled. She was hurting, and the pain pierced sharply through her words. There was no denying that Donna was completely hung up on the idea of Harvey being happy with Paula.

"Okay, you're not upset," Rachel said. "But you are hurting, Donna, and there's no point denying it because you're my friend and I can tell." Her voice was soft but there was an underlying firmness. "It's okay that it bothers you."

"Thanks, Rach," Donna smiled. For all her protests, it did feel nice to know someone was in her corner and that she wasn't mad for missing what was never hers to hold.

"Want me to bring you something back? Soy latte with a splash of vanilla?" Rachel offered and Donna had to fight against the breath that caught in her throat.

"Caramel, please," she muttered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, thank you," Donna said. Truthfully, she'd been avoiding the vanilla because every time she tasted it, it made her think of him. Not only him, Paula, too. The coffee was bitter and dull without it but it was easier than wondering whether Paula made Harvey happier than she every would or ever could, and she hated that.

Rachel began to make her way out of the office before pausing, turning back to her friend.

"And Donna, you know I'm always here," she said and Donna didn't know how she stopped herself breaking down there and then. She nodded and thanked, watching Rachel leave before making a beeline for the bathroom.

She felt stupid, frankly, but when you feel like your everything is slipping away, knowing you still have something makes it all seem a little bit easier.

.

I really don't know love at all.

"I'm sorry, Harvey… I just had to know."

She didn't regret it, not one bit.

Now she was remembering, sitting in the file-room late at night, seeking solace in a room that wasn't filled with him. Savouring his taste, the soft touch of his lips on hers, the way he definitely leant in but didn't go back for more. His short strands of hair between her fingers, the goosebumps she felt on his neck, his hot breath tickling her lip when they pulled apart. It still felt so real, so present, and yet it was a moment firmly in the past that she had a feeling she'd never experience again.

But he didn't kiss her back, not in the way she was searching for. He leaned in closer and indulged in the taste of her but when she pulled away, he stood there frozen, confused.

She realises she was wrong, that he's with Paula, that he might see that kiss as cheating… but he didn't do anything wrong, it was all on her. And maybe it was selfish but she needed it because it was killing her not knowing.

Only, she wasn't sure that she knew any more afterwards. It raised more questions because the circumstances weren't right. She was worried and stressed and pining after him, watching every door and every window slam shut in her face and she had no choice. She couldn't wait, because waiting could seal her fate and then she'd be forever miserable—and she's tired of feeling miserable.

God, feeling miserable almost made her as bad as all the men Harvey's mother brought home.

She knew it was more complicated than that, that relationships aren't black and white and cheating isn't just marriage wrecking on a basic level. She knew because it wasn't about that for her, it was a concoction of pain and loneliness and exhaustion, and a need to feel wanted. A longing for hands roaming her skin, making her feel like she was it, the only one. She wanted someone to hold her, to love her, and that's why Rachel's texts struck a nerve.

Mark didn't ask her to go over because she was the one, he asked her to go over because his relationship was failing and he wanted a release of his own. To feel free, to experience a different kind of ecstasy, to see if something was still there.

He didn't want to love her, he wanted to fuck her. Donna knew that wouldn't make her feel any better, and the ramifications that it would result it would make her feel even worse, and god is she glad she walked away.

Though she still isn't lying in someone's arms, feeling loved, feeling wanted. Doing what was right didn't make her happy. She was sitting alone while the photocopier whirred and whizzed, printing documents that could've waited until morning but didn't because the idea of going home was haunting her. Going home to an empty bed, on her own, knowing that the man she loved—her soulmate—was lying in the arms of another woman.

When the machine fell to silence, she carried her documents back to her office with a heavy heart, pouring herself a scotch because everything about it screams him, and them, and theirs. And she didn't want to forget him tonight. Forgetting never worked, loving him did.

.

"Hey," Harvey said, finding Donna in the kitchen. She was perching on a stool at the breakfast counter, clutching a steaming mug when she turned to face him.

"Hey," she replied softly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He noticed the heaviness of her eyes and how they seemed to scream exhaustion, how her skin looked paler than usual, her voice slightly croaky.

"You didn't, don't worry," he smiled, placing a hand on the top of her back. His fingers brushed gently against the exposed, cool skin. "Can't sleep?" He asked and she shook her head.

"Thought I'd have a camomile tea," she told him, nodding to her mug before taking it to her lips and sipping on its contents.

Harvey left her side, going to a cupboard to get a glass which he filled with water, gulping it down to soothe his dry and tired mouth. He looked at Donna as she sat staring into space, eyes lacking any life, an underlying sadness presenting itself to him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Oh, nothing, I'm fine," she told him with a nod and a forced smile that told him she wasn't.

"Hey, I thought we agreed to tell each other how we feel?" He reminded. Communication was a problem for both of them and they both knew they needed to be more open to make their relationship work. It was one of the things that held them back for so long and neither wanted to lose the happiness they'd found.

"I know," Donna said before taking a deep breath. "I was just… thinking."

"What about?" He asked and, while she didn't really want to talk about it, she knew that she should and that he only asked because he cared. And she spent too many years fretting over him not caring about her like that to take him for granted.

"What ifs," she told him, watching as he furrowed his brows. "I hate thinking about them, I know, but sometimes I just… can't help it. Or I think about all the times I thought I couldn't be happy because…" She trailed off, staring at his concerned face and feeling eternally grateful to have him. "Because I thought we could never have this."

"You don't need to worry, Donna," Harvey said comfortingly, hand reaching across the counter to rest on hers.

"I know," she replied confidently because she did know. Donna knew that in spite of how haunted she felt, ghosts of her pain looming around every mental corner, what they had was real and happy and true, and they had each other. "And I know it's pointless because we're happy now but it just creeps up on me."

There was a silence around them. It wasn't uncomfortable, just quiet. Harvey didn't know what to say but knew she had more to say and wanted to hear it, and Donna… well, she was trying to tackle the temptation to repress her feelings and her fears. It was a lifelong habit and habits are hard to break.

"You know, that's why being able to read people makes life so much easier," she confessed, sipping from her mug before continuing. "If I know what they're thinking or feeling, things won't come as a shock," she told him and he had a hunch he knew where this might be going.

"You didn't know I was seeing Paula," he said and just hearing the name sent a shiver down Donna's spine.

"No, I didn't," she confirmed. She didn't say anymore about it. Not because she was being reluctant to communicate her feelings, but because they'd had that conversation once before and once was enough for her so far. Sure, she was a big part of their lives, but it was a time too dark for Donna to dwell on and Harvey understood that.

"But me and you," he began, catching her attention, her eyes lifting from her mug. "We're the real deal. You don't need to predict what I'm going to do or who I'm going to chase after. It's you. And I never want to hurt you, and I won't lie to you, or lose your money…" he knew that last one could lead to a bite back if she was feeling defensive but she accepted it was a fair truth. "Missing a detail, not intuiting everything, it won't lead to you getting hurt, not by me. It just makes you human, Donna, and I love you even more for that."

Donna's eyes were watering, a smile growing across her face and a glimmer returning to her eyes.

"You're such a sap," she chuckled.

"And you love that about me," Harvey smirked, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

"I do."