I know that I haven't updated in a while and this is kind of a half-assed update but it sets up for a lot of future things that will be happening.

The elevator ride to the top floor is a long one and he thinks about all of the things that have been said over the last few days. He's said everything short of I love you to all the people he wants to tell those words to, and yet he's still hardly said anything at all. He rehearses in his head exactly what he's going to say to the woman that he mistakenly asked to marry him, but everything that he pictures himself saying sends her into a fit of tears. He doesn't really imagine that there's any way to avoid her crying. How does he tell a woman who wants to spend her life with him that he doesn't feel the same?

When the elevator comes to a stop, he realizes that Scottie has dinner cooking on the stove and not a care in the world. He checks the time on his phone to note that it is way passed the time that she should be concerned about when he's coming home, and double checks his phone for any text messages from one woman in particular. He enters the condo dejected that Donna didn't text him, the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders.

He's giving it all up for a woman who might not even be into this just as much as he is, despite his desperation to constantly keep her close. In a sense, he wonders if trying to be with her long ago would have brought much different results and, as he prepares a forlorn speech in his head with only half points, considers the fact that he had done nothing but incessantly waste time. What could possibly keep her closer than actually being in a relationship with her? After all of the times he's heard her say the words "I have a date, Harvey" and he had been forced to conceptualize it on principle rather than turn a pursuit into his actuality. In retrospect, had he been thinking clearly, she would have been in his bed long ago and they would have been the cheesy stereotype of a romantic relationship while pressing the boundaries in the in between with prank wars and fights that would undoubtedly lead to earth-shattering sex. He supposes had he actually attempted to think it through at all he wouldn't be preparing a weak argument against a woman who could probably show him up in the courtroom as he is moments away from battling out for what is probably his biggest weakness.

Yet, before he can even get any words out Scottie is giving him a tight lipped smile that speaks volumes on a subject that they've never actually broached. The lawyer who is probably the only one who could battle him out toe to toe, lash for lash, looks at him with such love and bliss that he feels sick to his stomach for happening to lead her on for so long and for, ultimately, betraying her for a woman who is his absolute counterpart in every single way. Donna laughs at his jokes, makes jokes at his expense in a manner that seems to just skate right over degrading him, teams up with him during a prank war, and keeps him in line just when he's about to go into the gray area. But as Scottie stands before him all long legged and barefoot, making him dinner like she's some sort of 1950's housewife (the housewife that was obedient and subordinate right before the rise of independence and power), Harvey feels guilt. He can't quite place his finger on where exactly the guilt resonates.

"You're home," Scottie states, dryly.

It occurs to him that her statement is not quite accusatory, not quite surprised, and he realizes then that his guilt stems not from his action just an hour ago but to his action a year ago – the one where he looked her in the eye and said he wanted her in his life as some pansy scheme to keep her from leaving. He wants her in his life, but he failed to be precise enough to say that he didn't want his life entwined with hers, failed to realize that he wasn't settling in love but was settling for companionship. And he swallows hard, hardly thinking of what was never said between him and his faithful secretary, hardly thinking of anything but what needs to be said between him and the woman before him. He should have known better really when he failed to look at her, failed to picture a future upon seeing her.

Harvey, although an idiot, is not stupid, therefore he is terrified of the smile Scottie offers him as though she isn't the slightest bit concerned with where exactly he has been. He is concerned about what she may say when he tells her exactly what has happened, but he feels like he should tell her. He swallows and nods his greeting, the guilt written all over his face.

"Scottie," he starts, fingers grasping onto the back of the couch, "Can you sit down? I have to tell you something. It's important."

"I have to tell you something, too," Scottie replies enthusiastically as she turns to face him.

"Don't do that," he says gently. He knows she's trying to counteract whatever he's saying by ignoring the tone he used. He shakes his head, annoyed at her ability to pretend that whatever he says just isn't important. "Scottie, this is important."

"Oh," she says like it finally registers, "Okay."

Scottie, who once reminded him of home-cooked meals and sunshine, now looks at him with a dastardly detached gaze that reminds him of competition and the cut throat habits of lawyers who couldn't possibly be a companion. He silently asks himself what he was thinking, aligning his personal life with an enemy who even when they are on the same side is hardly on his side. When she sits haphazardly on the arm of the chair in the living room Harvey can quickly deduce that she is, in fact, calculating a response as though this is going to be a battle of wits rather than an actuality for their future.

"Scottie," he repeats, somewhat forcefully. He swallows, it burns all the way down, and he says, "I slept with Donna. I'm in love with her. I don't know why I never realized it, but I can't marry you when I'm in love with her. I guess it's always just been a matter of time before we figured this out and we were both just too stubborn to let it happen."

He doesn't look Scottie directly in the eye as he says this. He doesn't know if it's because he doesn't respect her anymore or if it's because he can't stomach this version of himself. He chalks it up to the latter despite the fact that he hates what he's done but loves who he has done it with. She narrows her gaze and that's when he looks directly at her.

"I'll go to a hotel for a few nights, maybe a week, just long enough for you to figure things out, to get situated. Take a few days off if you have to," he pauses to tighten his grasp on the couch. He thinks that maybe he sees a tear slide down her cheek and the softer side of him feels like he has an obligation to wipe her tears away. He doesn't deserve to make her feel better when he's caused them. He also doesn't deserve to be so incredibly unhappy just for the sake of her happiness. "Scottie, I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry," Scottie says, "You're not even the slightest bit sorry you had sex with her."

He pauses then considering all of the repercussions he might endure if he actually takes her bait, and if he does take it he knows that it probably makes him a masochist because he won't stand a chance on getting another word in. But, most of all, he can't lie to her and he can't let her go on thinking that there might be a chance he regrets being with Donna for even a second because if word got back to her then he would never hear the end of it. He rolls his shoulders like he's gearing up for a fight and bites the bullet.

"I'm not sorry for doing it," he admits with a light shake of his head. He takes a step back to put more distance between them so he can get into the bedroom and pack a suitcase, but he knows this isn't going to be a pretty picture. He's partially terrified that he's going to come back to find his apartment trashed. He thinks he shouldn't be any more honest than he already has been. "I am sorry for the way it happened though. I shouldn't have cheated on you."

"Why did you do it then, Harvey? Why not end things with me before running to her?" He hesitates then because he knows he can't truthfully answer that without hating himself, without completely understanding why she would possibly hate him. He lightly shakes his head. "No," she says suddenly, like she's pieced it all together, "you didn't. You didn't truly think that…"

He looks at her, long and hard, challenging her to finish her thought because he knows he deserves for her to say it. He deserves for her to put everything out there in the air, the universe deserves to judge him for his decision. He swallows then and gives her one, firm nod. "Yes."

She's pacing in the living room like she could brutally murder him at any given moment. He begins looking around the room for anything she could use as a weapon, trying to decide what the ruthless Dana Scott would think as the best source of weaponry in the space of the apartment. He would guess that she would immediately go for that butcher's knife on the counter, covered in raw chicken just in case the stabbing doesn't kill him and he'd alternatively die of a blood infection. He cringes then as the sound of her shoe hitting the floor rattles him back to the conversation. It's then and only then that he realizes she had been aiming for his head.

"You really thought that you could fuck her and if the two of you decided that it just didn't make sense you could come back to me like it never happened? That's horrible, Harvey, you're a terrible person. I can't believe this. I always thought you played in the grey areas of the law but your moral compass is so off kilter that you've become a cheater? Where else do you do your cheating, Harvey? Huh? How long has this been going on behind my back?"

"It was only the one time, I swear," he says. The inflection in his voice makes him feel like he's only saying what always gets said. He sighs and drags a hand through his hair, backing towards the bedroom so subtly then he thinks she won't even notice. "I know that's what always gets said, but it's true. The first time we had sex was three hours ago at her apartment to see if there was anything between us, if it would be too weird for us to try."

"She knew? She knew this was the plan all along?" Scottie accuses. He doesn't say anything, doesn't even make a noticeable change in his demeanor, yet Scottie seems to get the answer she is looking for. "You are both terrible people. Just awful. You deserve each other. You're disgusting, Harvey."

She stalks, barefoot, in the opposite direction as him and he immediately fears that she's going for the knife. He briefly recalls that one time years ago before Scottie returned that Donna convinced him to join her at the Broadway production of Chicago and that damn catchy song echoes in his brain: He walked into my knife. He walked into my knife 10 times. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as his heel slides backwards on the floor, conceding to Scottie's words and not bothering to argue with her. She grabs a wine glass from the cabinet and opens the refrigerator door for the already opened bottle of white wine.

"You're not going to bother saying anything?" She says suddenly, setting the bottle down hard on the counter.

He sighs and shakes his head. "What's the point? It's all true. You're right."

She laughs loudly, the noise echoing throughout the apartment, and the sound follows him as he goes into the bedroom to pack a bag and a couple of his suits. He gets a bag out of the closet and packs a week worth of boxer briefs, undershirts, socks, a cashmere sweater, nine button up shirts, toothbrush, toothpaste, hair gel and mousse before getting his suit bag and putting five suits in a bag. Something tells him that tomorrow he will regret not taking his time with his suit decision but right now he just wants to get out.

He grabs his wool coat and turns to her as she sips from her glass of wine. He says, "It's better that we do this now rather than ten years from now."

"I'm not going to forgive you for this," she says.

He nods before leaving to head to a hotel not far from the office.

Nine months from now, Harvey looms over Scottie's hospital bed as she cradles a baby in the crook of her elbow. He doesn't sit in the chair beside her bed, just idles wordlessly somewhere near the foot of the bed as she smiles at the newborn. He's happy, really he is, but when he looks at her, looks at the pair before him, he can't help feeling guilty. He shuffles his feet beneath him and swallows nervously.

"He's beautiful," Harvey comments.

Scottie can't even look away from the baby and says, "Yeah, he really is. He's better looking than you ever were."

Harvey pauses trying to decipher her words. He thinks, and here I thought I was at my prime. Slowly, he comes to the conclusion that her words are in jest. He laughs light heartedly. He buries his hands deep into his pockets and instead says, "Well, look at his bloodline."

"Are you hitting on me?" She teases suddenly, lifting her gaze to his. He laughs quietly, mostly out of nervousness. Is she attractive? Yes. That's never really been their problem. "Harvey, I'm kidding."

"Right," he says, a small nod attached to the end of his word.

She smiles then, sadly, and says, "You never did understand my sense of humor."

"What can I say?" He asks, "I think I'm the funniest one in the room."

"Most times you are," she agrees. She turns her eyes back to the baby in her arms. He thinks she looks good given the fact that she was in labor for 36 hours and hasn't slept in two days. He remembers when they were young and pulling all-nighters to come out on top. He realizes then that he doesn't even know the baby's name and that he hasn't even bothered to ask. "How are things with you, Harvey?"

"I'm just trying to figure things out," he admits, "It's…complicated."

"No, it's not," Scottie disagrees, "Stop overthinking it and realize that you're more in love with her than you've ever been with anything. That includes that damn sport I don't understand."

"How did you know I was talking about her?" He asks, eyebrows furrowing. He doesn't know how to tell the woman he betrayed that all of the complications he has with the woman he betrayed her with are centered on her, around the possibility that she might be lying to him. He had to come see for himself that the baby is absolutely not his.

"Because you've been very careful not to mention her since you've been here," she explains, "Don't keep yourself from mentioning her for my benefit. I have my hands full with another guy here, I'm not hurting anymore."

"Her father's dying. Her mother's sick. She's taking care of them. I'm without her for the first time in over a decade and I'm going crazy at work. I just don't hear from her much and I'm worried," he says, eyes falling to the floor in shame.

Scottie nods in understanding and says, "You should go to her, be there for her. She needs you, Harvey, just like you've always needed her."

He's quiet for a long moment, thinking about the advice she's given him. He never thought she would give him sound advice in regards to another woman, let alone about Donna. He smiles tightly and tells her of his gratitude, the 'thanks' rolling off of his tongue sounding more genuine than anything else he's probably ever said to her. She nods and looks back at her child. He makes to leave the room and as his hand touches the door handle he realizes that he never really congratulated her.

"Congratulations," he says, "I'm happy for you."

For some reason, it never occurred to Donna beforehand that anything could go wrong in regards to their plan actually playing out. She feels like a child again, naïve in thinking that a man would actually leave a woman for her. Especially a man unable to commit to anyone up until recently. His midlife crisis resembles the opposite of every man, unable to commit to anything until now.

Everything in her apartment reminds her of him suddenly, despite years of building up this space separate from him. She needs to get out, needs to stop looking at her bed like hours ago is a distant memory or something she made up in her head. She finds her sweater, grabs her phone and her keys before making her way out into the street for a walk. She opts for hailing a cab to Central Park rather than walking across town.