1. thanks to the anon on curious cat for inspiring this fic! Sorry if something similar has been done, I'm completely unaware if it has.

2. sorry I've been a bit M.I.A. I do have more to tell for Upside Down but I've been really struggling to write, plagued by self-doubt and hate for my work.

3. I hope you like this, thanks for reading!

Inseverable

As she made her way to the elevators, her mind was focussing on the bottle of wine she was looking forward to after one of the slowest, most boring days she could've possibly imagined. She took long strides as she anticipated escaping the walls that she'd been trapped in for 11 hours, ready to slip off her shoes and relax into her couch with her favourite Thai takeout.

She needn't press the call button when she arrived, though, doors opening as though they knew she was already there, the person inside having timed their journey impeccably.

Yet, when they revealed who was inside and the state they were in, all thoughts of going home dissipated. His tie loosened as it hung around his unbuttoned collar, suit entirely dishevelled, hair uncharacteristically messy, bloodied lip and defeated expression as he lifted his head to meet her.

"Harvey, what happened?" Her breath catching after her question and her concern echoing in the area where they stood.

"Nothing, I'm fine." He wasn't, it was obvious from his appearance alone that he wasn't. He left the elevator, moving past her as he headed for his office, seeking out his safe haven. He could hear her footsteps behind him as her heels collided with the floor, trying to catch him up. "Go home, Donna."

"No." She protested with a stubbornness that was brought on by her worry. "I'm going to grab the first aid kit," she announced, changing direction and leaving Harvey to sigh before continuing to his office.

He poured himself a scotch, downing it and revelling in the heat pouring down his throat, warming his insides. He poured another, one to savour as he slumped down into the couch. He twirled the glass in his hand, trying to erase the memory and feelings that accompanied it, wanting to forget that it had even happened.

He closed his eyes and expelled a breath as he remembered the feeling of the metal pressing against his scalp through his hair. He felt his jaw clench as he fought against it, trying desperately to shake off the cocktail of fear, anxiety and shame that circulated his body, coursing through his veins and flooding his system.

"Hey," he heard, eyes opening to see the owner of the soft voice. The one person whom he let see his vulnerability but also couldn't bear to. She was approaching him, long slow strides as her hands clutched the kit. She sat on the coffee table ahead of him, placing the first aid things down beside her, rifling through it as she crossed one leg over the other.

"Donna, you don't need," he begun. He didn't finish, her face whipping up to meet his, telling him she wanted to help him – he knew arguing wasn't worth it. She gave him a soft smile before turning back to the kit, wetting a cotton ball with ointment.

She pressed it against his lip, Harvey flinching at the sting that came with its touch.

"Stay still," she instructed as she pressed again, the attorney hissing and flinching once again – earning himself a look of warning from the redhead.

"It hurts," was his line of defence. Donna met his words with a roll of her eyes and a scoff.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't got into a fight then it wouldn't hurt." She spoke with a smirk, eyes finding his in the lowly lit office. He pursed his lips, eyes communicating with hers in the way that only they knew, the way they'd always known. A connection rooted deep in their cores, inseverable no matter what their heads tried to tell them their hearts didn't want.

"What happened?" The concern in her voice had returned, seeping through to her eyes, searching his for answers.

"It was nothing." He wet his lips before raising his glass, sipping the amber liquid.

"Harvey…" She was Donna, she knew it wasn't nothing. A silence engulfed them as she waited for him to tell her, waiting with baited breath as her eyes scanned his face.

"I was mugged," he mumbled, eyes fixed on his tumbler. Donna felt her breath catch upon hearing the confession, a sympathy overwhelming her senses as she latched onto his pain in the way she always could.

"I don't need your pity, Donna." He could read her like a book, even when she thought he couldn't. He mightn't have been the most emotionally in tune but with her it had always been different. She gave him a small smile, eyes drifting down to the cotton ball in her grasp.

"Where else are you hurt?" She asked as she studied the quickly forming bruise on the side of his face.

"You really don't have to do this," he reminded. He didn't want her to see him battered and bruised, he wasn't proud of it.

"I want to. I want to help," because it's you.

"My side," he told her, giving in to her unrelenting determination to be there for him. She always was, whenever he needed her, by his side in a flash and picking up the pieces. She looked down to his body before returning to his gaze, eyes widening and brows rising in a flash, her face remaining serious as she hinted that he needed to show her.

Passing her his drink, Harvey shifted in his seat. He removed his jacket before his fingers begun to fiddle with his shirt buttons, an awkwardness filling the space around them. This hadn't happened since they did that. Donna was unsure where to look, fiddling with things in the kit next to her as she tried to lessen the tension.

He cleared his throat to get her attention, shirt unbuttoned and his defined abs on show. She suppressed her reaction, breathing suddenly heavy as she refrained from staring. She edged closer, looking at his face as she clutched the edge of his shirt and begun to push it back to reveal the already prominent bruising on his right, graze marks running through it.

She studied it with pursed lips before grabbing more cotton wool and ointment, moving to dab it on him. He responded with a hiss as she did it, his skin tender and the alcohol stinging his open wounds.

"Sorry," she whispered as she did it again but dabbed more gently. She was quick, knowing he'd want the discomfort over as soon as possible and, frankly, she'd felt increasingly tense since his shirt had been open.

"I know you won't, but you should go to the hospital." She stated, eyes scanning his injuries as she was met by an expected sigh. "You could have a broken rib," she continued as she reached for an antiseptic cream.

"I don't," he said adamantly despite knowing she was right. She delicately wiped the cream against his broken skin, careful not to press too hard.

"Donna," he muttered and she lifted her face, their eyes meeting and gazes locking. They were close, too close, closer than they'd been for a long time and their breaths mingled in the space between. Donna could've sworn she could taste the scotch without even touching his lips, her eyes falling on them as she thought about it.

He wanted to kiss her. Scrap that, he wanted to devour her. He wanted to dive in and never looks back, but he knew he couldn't. At least, he told himself he couldn't. Once the floodgates were open there'd be no way to put it all back, nothing would be the same, and if everything were to fall apart, he would never forgive himself.

So, he shuffled in his seat, widening the gap between them. Donna moved back faster than an escaping prey, mentally kicking herself for thinking it could possibly be. She stared at the tube as she screwed the cap back on, desperately draining her eyes of disappointment before he could see it.

"Thanks," he smiled softly and he knew he caught her attention because she did the same. There was no substance to it, though, a hollowness residing in her eyes.

"Do you want me to call Ray for you?" She asked and he nodded. Placing her hands on her knees, Donna stood up, grabbed her handbag and coat from the arm chair behind where she'd sat and slid the garment on.

"I mean it," she didn't expect it, catching her off guard. "Thank you."

He did, he really did.