Hi everyone! So this hugeee story came from a tweet from Ali, that inspired us both. Originally I didn't intend on writing this as I thought she planned to and shared the ideas with her, but we decided to both write our own versions as we both liked the other's ideas so much and wanted to read both!!

This story is completed but as it's so long I decided to post it in two installments rather than one large oneshot. So here's part one, I hope you enjoy! X

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It may come as a surprise to many, considering his trademark womanizing reputation but Harvey Specter doesn't do strip clubs.

He just doesn't see the appeal, maybe because he's never had to work for the attention of women anyway, always finding he has his pick of the litter on any evening spent on the town. So why bothering paying when the same comes your way free of charge?

But when Marcus, his younger and soon-to-be married brother asked him to organize his bachelor party in the city, a strip club seemed like the most obvious option. So, he made a reservation for dinner at Marcus' favorite restaurant in the city and booked them a private performance at one of the most popular clubs in New York, dreading the day he'd have to set foot inside, accompanied by Marcus' rowdy friends no less.

The dinner was just about bearable, each and every member of the party finding some way to piss him off or irritate him before dessert. Harvey spending most of the meal in silence thinking about how he wished his dad could still be here for moments like this, how this night would've been one to look forward to, were Gordon Specter still around to experience it. A part of him resented Marcus, for choosing to get married so soon after the unexpected death of their late father, although Gordon had never been as close to his younger son, as he had been to Harvey.

So, he sat at the end of the table, nursing his scotch and laughing along to jokes he didn't really hear, wondering if this night, which he should be enjoying, would ever end, so he could return home, to his hollow home, alone.

A little over an hour later they departed from the restaurant, the crowd of young intoxicated men eager to get to the main event, stumbling down the street as they decided to walk the short distance to their next destination. Harvey hangs to the back of the group, rolling his eyes as they slur and trip over themselves. Until finally, they arrive at the front of the club.

Stepping inside, he takes in his surroundings, as a hostess dressed in a figure hugging black mini-dress leads them to their assigned area. It's dark, the lighting similar to that of nightclub, the air swimming with artificial smoke, clouding his vision and making him second guess how much he had to drink at the restaurant. The venue seems fairly empty for a Friday night, with most of the private performance stages unoccupied, a small crowd of brooding men seated in front of the main stage, leering at the dancers and nursing their drinks.

Harvey resigns himself to a chair at the back, as they settle into their party area, unbuttoning another of his shirt buttons as the heat begins to get to him. They order another round of drinks, and just as the hostess is strutting away, the curtains pull back, spotlights dancing in crisscross motions around the room, the group cheering and whistling as a silhouetted character makes her way out before them, dragging a wooden chair along behind her.

A sultry voice emits from the speakers as the spotlights illuminate their first performer, "Welcome Specter party, allow me to introduce you to your entertainment for this evening, Skye," the woman drops herself down onto the chair in a seductive manner, lips parted and long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, covering more skin than the lingerie she was clad in, next a woman with a brown bob and sleek fringe made her way across the floor, "next up, we have Bambi," the voice came again, introducing this second girl, the group whistling and jeering loudly, while Harvey remained silent, watching on with a blank expression.

He was contemplating taking a trip to the restroom, just to pass the time, but as he stood to leave a third figure graced the stage, stepping up onto the podium with both arms raised above her head, "And last but not least, meet; Scarlet."

The spotlights travelled up the length of her creamy legs, porcelain skin almost glowing in the amplified stage lights, his eyes followed suit, gradually growing wider as he trailed his way past the pale blue slip and towards her face.

His jaw nearly hit the floor.

Fiery tendrils of curly red hair fell to just below her collar bone, blood stained lips pursed, her hazel eyes seemed to flash a striking green as the lights moved around her, igniting the constellations of freckles visible over the extent of her toned body.

Their eyes met in a fleeting gaze, causing him to take a sharp inhale of breath, a small seductive smile playing on her lips as she looked him up and down, before returning her attention to the boisterous crowd before her, and beginning her performance.

And suddenly, Harvey Specter no longer resented strip clubs.

Sinking back down into his chair, he watched in silence, awestruck as he watched her move, observed the captivating way she owned the stage, how her eyes would trail over to his briefly throughout the act, and just for a split second he thought he could see something or someone different. In those stolen moment's she didn't seem like a character, and he didn't feel like a spectator, they were just two strangers, feeling those first sparks of a connection, as they caught each other's eyes from across the room.

Before he knew it, the music began to fade, as the three women made their way downstage for a bow, met with applause and loud cheers from the drunk party. The blonde and brunette made their way down the steps at either side of the stage, beginning to mingle among the men, while the redhead, Scarlet, as she had been introduced, turned to make her way into the wings, a move which had Harvey jolting out of his chair.

"Hey, where are you going?" one of Marcus' douchebag friends called after her, clearly as infatuated with her as Harvey was.

"Sorry boys," she replied with a smirk that rose goosebumps at the nape of Harvey's neck, she tapped at her wrist, "I'm off the clock, it's been fun though." He didn't miss the way she chanced a glance in his direction, before strutting off the stage.

The young lawyer collapsed back into his chair, slumping down in a sulk. Just as soon as she'd walked on to that stage, she seemed to have vanished, breaking that spell she cast over him and returning him to his previous poor mood.

He bids his farewells to the rest of the party, concocting a lie about an emergency client meeting first thing tomorrow morning, and leaving behind enough cash for two more rounds. The group doesn't protest, Marcus far too caught up in the excitement of the night and the blonde currently giving him a lap dance to care. So, he slinks away, heading towards the exit, when something stops him in his tracks.

A heavy door leading to what he suspects to be the backstage area of the venue opens only a crack with a heavy moan, a familiar face slipping through, now dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt, leather jacket slung over her shoulder. Her striking red hair pulled back in a half-up-half-down style that highlights the curve of her face. She's closing the door over again, delicately, as though afraid it may make another sound, although it would be barely audible over the blaring music. Taking a cautious glance back through where she came before and shutting it completely with a sigh. Her shoulders slumping with relief.

He's rooted to the spot, just as mesmerized by her now as he had been watching her perform, even in the most mundane of situations, he was captivated by her every move. It takes him a moment to catch up to reality, suddenly realizing she's headed for the exit, scrambling to follow her as she disappears onto the street.

He casts his eyes around frantically as he stumbles out into the night, catching sight of her across the deserted street. His feet carrying him in her direction without a thought as to how inappropriate this may seem.

"Hey!" He calls, succeeding in grabbing her attention, as she stops, turning with a look of surprise gracing her beautiful features, "Hi." He tries again, calmly this time, having caught up to her.

"Eh, hi, you're that guy.. from the bachelor party, right? The one sulking in the recliner at the back?" She quips, feigning confidence, though he body language tells a different story, she's slouching forward slightly, head bowed, a light flush of pink in her cheeks, nothing at all like the character he'd witnessed on stage.

"That's me," he chuckles, extending a hand, "My name's Harvey, and I presume yours isn't actually Scarlet?" He returns the favour with a jibe of his own.

"Donna," she introduces herself, taking his hand and shaking it, the brush of his fingertips against the palm of her hand as they pull apart stirring something strange up inside her, "nice to meet you, hope you enjoyed the show."

"I didn't think I was going to, but then you changed my mind." He replies, and she blinks in surprise, "And I was em, wondering, if you'd maybe let me take you for a drink? Spare me from spending the rest of the night with that group of assholes?"

"Listen pal, I don't know what movie you think you're currently living in, but I'm a stripper, not a hooker. And if you think you're the first to try that line on me you've got another thing coming." She bites, crossing her arms in disapproval, eyes narrowing.

"No - I well - that's not - I wasn't implying -" he stutters, genuinely taken aback by the accusation.

He's still stumbling when out of nowhere she doubles over in laughter, a bubbling sort of giggle that makes him smile despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Shit, pull it together Specter, you can't let yourself fall this fast.

"I'm just kidding, you don't for one second strike me as the kind of guy with those intentions, and believe me I've had multiple run-ins with the type," he frowns at the throwaway comment, her downplaying of something far more serious saddening him momentarily, before she catches her breath, still giggling, and continues, "I just wanted to see you squirm, and let me tell you, it didn't disappoint - the look on your face - it was priceless."

He shakes his head incredulously, "You're not just a pretty face, are you?"

She tucks a lose curl behind her ear, a shy smile so different to the one she'd worn on stage, spreading across her lips, "No, I'm not."

Their eyes meet, that same tension ignited between them as when they had looked each other's way for the first time that night. Her lips falling open at the intensity of him, how she suddenly felt as though she could fall into those dark brown eyes and remain happily lost in there forever.

Gathering herself, she clears her throat, ending the moment, "So, hot shot, how about those drinks?"

He takes her to one of his favourite bars, a small yet classy little corner of the city. He often frequented it back during his DA days, secretly hoping to impress her, and also thinking it to be the perfect spot for them, much more toned down, quiet and secluse, in comparison with the heavy, over bearing nature of the club they'd just left.

As they approach he notices her stop, staring up at the name of the bar with an amused smile on her face, "Citizen? I don't believe it! I used to waitress here, back when I first moved to the city!" she exclaims, grabbing his forearm.

The unexpected touch gaslights another set of sparks beneath his skin, equally as taken with how cute she is when she's excited like this, so different from the first version of her he'd laid eyes on, yet somehow, even more intriguing.

"It's one of my favourite places in town, although come to think of it, it's been quite some time since I last visited." he replies as he holds the door open, nodding his head to signal for her to go first, a small glimmer behind her eyes showing her appreciation.

The bar, while busy, is quiet and reserved as usual, customers scattered across the threshold at lowly lit tables, whispered conversations and breathy laughs creating a murmured score, combined with the smooth jazz that hummed through the old dusty speakers.

"I'd forgotten how peaceful it always was here," She says, scanning around the large room as they slip into a booth, "well, most of the time anyway – every so often we used to get a crowd of lawyers in here, from the DA's office, celebrating a big win or a new promotion, those nights were always more chaotic."

Harvey chokes out a laugh, "So our paths have crossed before," he says, his tone bordering on smug, "I may or may not have been one of those rowdy lawyers."

"Seriously?" She gapes, "Funny to think we may have spoken before."

"No, we definitely didn't," he confirms, and for a moment she looks disappointed, before, "There's no way I'd forget meeting someone like you."

Her breath hitches without permission, wetting her lips in an attempt to ground herself, "Someone like me?" she questions, not sure what she expects in answer.

He only nods, staring back at her with a perpetual longing, trying to keep up with every racing emotion. He's never experienced this before, this brand of infatuation, it's like she imprinted herself on him the moment their gazes met for the first time, a permanent mark that seems to buzz with life at every glance, every word, every touch.

They're interrupted before he can further explain, the waiter clearing his throat and presenting them with a bottle of red and two glasses, the pair thanking him quietly.

"You recognise any of the staff here?" he asks, trying to change the subject, suddenly feeling the heat of the direction their conversation was headed.

"No actually, but a lot of the others that I worked with here were in between jobs, or just using it as a start-off point to help them get on their feet, similar to myself." She explains.

"You said you worked here when you first came to the city, do you mind my asking what brought you here?"

"No not at all," She begins, taking a short sip of wine, "I'm an actress – well, trying to be – I moved here just after I finished my degree in Performing Arts at Yale, originally, I thought I'd head straight for the west coast, become a Hollywood star, but in college I just fell head over heels in love with theatre."

"I see." he nods along, genuinely interested, he can easily picture her on stage – not the small, musty one she'd performed on earlier that night, but a Broadway stage – big enough to house her personality and presence. Although he found himself saddened by the fact of her reality, wondering what led her to her current profession.

"So, New York seemed like the obvious place to start, but auditions have been few and far between – and that's only for small roles and minor productions. It's the type of industry where it's all about who you know, and unfortunately I don't have a lot of friends." There's a note of sadness in her tone, one which strikes a chord and a response his rolling off his tongue before he can think twice.

"Well, you've got me," he assures, "and I hate to break it to you but you're stuck with me now."

Donna laughs wholeheartedly, "You won't hear me complaining, Harvey." she smiles back at him, a watery smile, appreciating the promise more than he knows. If loneliness could kill, she wouldn't even be here to have this conversation, "It's strange that you can still feel so isolated and alone in a city this big."

He feels a pang of empathy that hits hard, he may have close allies within the working world, but he's never been good with relationships, both platonic and romantic, that sense of crowded loneliness, something he can relate to, "What about your family, don't you see them much?"

She shifts uneasily in her seat, deciding whether or not to tell the truth, but something about his presence seems to put her mind at rest, she doesn't feel nervous about opening up to him, as she usually does with others, so she lets the feeling flow, "My family don't approve of my current profession. I only got into this business because there just wasn't enough money in waitressing… I didn't tell them at first, but my sister decided one day that she was going to pay me a surprise visit, I had given her my address – I live in one of the apartments above the club – she happened to arrive on an evening that I was performing and well, I'm sure you can guess what happened. I haven't heard from her or my Mom since, my Dad calls from time to time, but it always ends in an argument, him trying to convince me to give it up and come home. But I just feel like I'd be giving up on my dream if I did, even though I'm not exactly living it now."

He sits for a few beats in stunned silence, before reaching for her hand and giving it a tight squeeze, "I'm sorry," he mumbles, not knowing what else say, understanding all too well that when it comes to family angst, sometimes all you need is someone to sympathize with you, "If it makes you feel any better, I haven't got the best relationship with my family either."

Donna frowns, her beautiful features distorted by curiosity as she returns the touch, her thumb brushing along back of his hand, then withdrawing, almost overwhelming to her, "How so?"

They talk for another hour or two, Harvey opening up about his father's recent passing, his tumultuous relationship with his mother and brother, and how exactly he ended up in the club at all. They share stories of their days since moving to the city, both happy and horrible moments, laughing and commiserating, falling into an easy rhythm in each other's company, a rise and fall melody which has them entranced, as minutes slip into hours.

It isn't long before they're the only ones left in the bar, late night melting into early morning as the lights beginning to flicker in signal of closing time, interrupting their trance and bringing them back to earth with a stab.

"Oh shit, I didn't realise how late it was, I should probably get going, my bo –" she stammers, correcting herself hurriedly, "the others will be wondering where I am." Her cheeks flush as she shrugs her jacket over her shoulders, seemingly flustered.

Harvey nods, unable to take his mind off her slip up, was she going to say boyfriend? He felt as though he'd just heard her life's story, yet she never mentioned a relationship. He tries to put the thoughts from his head as he stands to follow her outside.

"I'll walk you home." He offers.

"You really don't have to…" she protests, hoping he'll insist.

"I'd like to, I wouldn't want to leave you on your own."

Her heart swells at his consideration, and it feels like an age since anyone's been this kind to her, having grown accustomed to rude, pushy customers and colleagues who could be just as nasty.

"Thank you."

The majority of the short walk back to the club passes in silence, it's as though she'd closed in on herself. The closer they got to the club, the less she spoke, and the more her body language seemed to change, her shoulders curling in, her head bowed, hands fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt.

It doesn't sit right with him, the sudden change of attitude, thinking back to how agitated she'd seemed in the bar when she noticed the time. He spends a large portion of their journey debating whether or not to inquire about it, until they arrive, his chance lost, standing side by side across the street from where they started.

"Thanks again for tonight, it was really nice to get out and I loved talking to you." She says, turning to face him.

"I loved talking to you too, thanks for taking a chance on a sulky-customer." He jokes, and she almost laughs, her face suddenly falling as though the effort was too much.

"Can I give you my number?" he asks, fishing into his pocket for his card.

"Sure." She accepts the small piece of paper, their hands brushing once again.

There's an awkward pause, neither sure what to do or say next, Harvey not wanting to push her by leaning in for a hug or kiss, but also not sure how else to say goodbye.

She takes the reigns, placing a hand on her shoulder and reaching up to press a kiss against his cheek, it's a gentle caress, the brush of her lips against the stubble of his jaw so slight, yet throwing them both slightly off balance all at once.

"Well, goodnight." Harvey rasps, finding his voice suddenly hoarse.

"Yeah, goodnight…" She says quietly as she pulls away, glancing over her shoulder towards the club, she shifts her weight from foot to foot, wringing her hands, a nervous quality protruding from her, not yet moving away from him, despite having said goodbye, as though trying to delay their parting.

It doesn't sit right with him, her change in demeanour upon their walk back here, her current aura of anxiousness reminding him of how she'd seemed so tense as she'd exited the backstage area of the club earlier that night. He frowns, the question that'd been on the tip of his tongue earlier suddenly rising to the forefront of his mind again, and all at once she begins to turn, making to cross the street.

He catches her wrist gently, cuffing it with his hand, a loose grip to catch her attention. The tremble of her hand clear as he holds it, her skin slightly clammy.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, dipping his head down slightly to make eye contact, eyebrows furrowed as he scrutinizes her face.

Donna's eyes stare back at him wide and glazed over, finding herself overcome with that same urge to open up to him, tell him how much she wishes she never had to go back within those walls, or face the people that haunted that space. To admit it all, every difficulty she'd faced at the hands of that place and its patrons over the past couple of years.

Her lips part as though to speak, but before a sound can form –

"Donna?" a gruff voice calls from across the way, he feels her jump with a fright, whipping her hand away from his touch in the process, as both their heads swing round to locate the source of the sound.

"Where the hell have you been?" he's standing within the threshold of the side entrance, one hand braced against the door frame while the other is hooked in the unoccupied belt loop of his jeans.

Harvey finds himself puffing out his chest, standing an inch or two taller, ready to berate the stranger for speaking to her in that way, but before the argument rises within him, Donna is hurrying across the street, approaching the man who'd called her. Leaving Harvey both confused and frustrated, watching as she comes face to face with him, a hushed and brief conversation as she attempts to stand up for herself, before she's ducking beneath his arm and heading back inside, disappearing from view.

He doesn't get the chance to defend her, staring dumbfounded as the door is swung shut behind them.

Two Days Later…

The events of their night play on his mind endlessly over the next forty-eight hours, reliving their conversation, having absorbed every last drop of her, what she said, how she looked, every touch, even the slightest of brushes. However, he finds himself stuck, the way their evening ended weighing him down as he thinks it over for the umpteenth time that morning.

A part of him had been hurt by the abrupt and somewhat strange parting, that man who'd all but ordered her inside, the look on her face when she'd heard his voice flashing behind his eyes at the thought. But mostly he felt this heavy sense of worry, the whole interaction throwing him for a loop, trying to put two and two together – drawing from her change of attitude once they left the bar, her closed body language and shaky hands, how she'd seemed as though she wanted to delay her return for as long as possible, yet still felt the need to hurry back home. A protective urge rises in him, one he's never really felt for anyone outside of his immediate family before. As he begins to wonder was she okay last night, how would she have answered his question? Was her hesitancy a cry for help? Is she okay now?

Regret strikes him, wishing he'd asked for her number so he could call, rather than giving his that night.

Despite the fact that it's early on a Sunday morning, Harvey drags himself to the office, craving the distraction that work brings. Yet only after only half an hour of staring blankly at some documents for who knows what client – his phone buzzes to life. The sound of the vibration against the glass table startles him, sitting up right suddenly and knocking a stack of files to the ground. Ignoring the mess, he reaches for the phone, an unknown number flashing across the screen as he hastily swipes to answer.

"Harvey?" The sound of her hushed voice through the phone line makes his pulse quicken.

"Hey Donna, yeah it's me." He races through the reply, suddenly feeling unusually flustered.

"Hi…" she greets in a whisper, barely audible through the speaker, "I hope I'm not interrupting or anything." She sounds breathless, as though she called him in the spur of the moment.

"No, not at all, I was actually hoping you'd call."

"Really? I was just –" there's a pause, the sound of shuffling in the background, a muffled voice and then the closing of a door.

"Hello? You still there?" he calls, curious as to why she suddenly fell silent.

"Yes, sorry. Bad connection I think." He knows it's a lie, not in the least bit convinced.

"Is everything okay? I thought you seemed a bit off on Friday night after I walked you home."

There's another brief pause, and he's almost sure he can hear the wheels in her mind turning, deciding whether or not to tell him the truth.

"Not really… I was wondering if you were free… I'd really like to get out of here for a while." She gives a heaving sigh, as though relieved to have finally gotten out what she'd wanted to say.

"I can be there in twenty minutes." He assures her, already standing, brushing down the creases in his black V-neck sweater.

"Thank you." She breathes, "I'll meet you outside." And then she's hanging up, as he hurriedly leaves the office.

——————

Harvey gets there in fifteen, parking his car just the street from the side entrance she'd enter through last night. Glancing around he detects no trace of her, leaning back against the hood of the car and resigning himself to waiting. His patience lasts less than two minutes, his mind running away with a million different ideas as to what could be wrong. Before he can think it through his feet carry him to the door, trying the handle and by some twist of fate he finds it unlocked.

Stepping forward into a long hallway, he quietly shuts the door behind him, plunging himself into darkness, the corridor lit only by dim lamps that line the walls, casting an orangey glow around the space. He jumps at the sound of stifled voices, making his stomach flip as it dawns on him that he's intruding, the notion of how crazy he'll seem for just letting himself in driving him to turn back to the door. Without warning, a loud shout stops him dead in his tracks, the disturbance followed by more yelling, two voices raise at one another in the distance.

It's enough to make him turn, listening closely as he navigates his way up the stairs, trailing after the sound of the argument, straining to hear what's being said.

"You think you're something special don't you!" A male voice shouts, as Harvey comes to a stop just a few feet away from the room that he suspects the row is taking place, "Well, all you are is high class whore."

"You have no right to speak to me like that," his breath catches as he recognises Donna's voice, the slight waver in her high-pitched yell making his heart skip a beat and driving him closer to the door, "I could walk out of here, and what would you do then? You said it yourself, this place would be nothing without me."

He spots her through the slightly open door, sitting in a worn wooden chair with her leather jacket slung over the back, her face flushed with rage and if he's not mistaken, tear tracks running down her cheeks.

He gives a sinister chuckle, approaching her and coming into view, staring down at her, "I've heard all this before Donna, you don't have the balls to leave and you know it, and if you ever did you know exactly what would happen –" "Enough Ryan!" she suddenly cries, jumping from her seat and coming face to face with her boss, her limbs trembling, as Harvey holds his breath, "That's it, I'm done!"

She reaches behind her to grab the jacket, but Ryan reaches forward, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her flush against him, a yelp of pain slips out at the strength of the grip, her face turning to the side as she recoils from him.

"Let g-"

"Shut up, and sit the fuck down." He growls through gritted teeth, pushing her roughly back down into the chair, missing the seat and landing her on the ground, but just as he's about to speak again, the door swings open with a bang.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harvey fumes, grabbing the asshole by the collar of his jacket and slamming him back against the far wall.

"Harvey!" Donna shrieks, but he won't turn, eyes fixed on Ryan.

"Ah so this is the guy you've been sneaking around with behind my back?"

"Don't talk to her like that." Harvey bites, with another shove against the wall, he glances over his shoulder, seeing her stagger to her feet, "Are you okay?"

Donna doesn't answer, a strange concoction of emotions wound tightly in her stomach, shame that Harvey saw what he did, anger at Ryan but also at Harvey for his intrusion, but mixed in is relief that he was there to intervene, remembering far too clearly what happened the last time Ryan had been this aggressive.

It all hits her at once.

How she'd wasted the last two years in this place, at the will of her boss and by association her customers. How she'd somehow lost herself. That any chance of her dreams coming true had faded away, despite her mantra that by remaining in New York she was giving herself the best chance. And now, she's let herself down again, relying on a man who she'd met in this Godforsaken place. Every last realisation seems to attack her from the inside out, and with as much courage as she can muster she turns on her heel and dodges out the door, thundering down the stairs and flinging the front door open, with no intention of ever returning.

She crosses the street, stopping on the side walk across the way and wrapping her arms across her chest, eyes screwed so tightly shut it hurts. The sound of the old door opening and closing behind her reaches her ears, and she flinches, knowing it'll be Harvey, part of her wanting to hide from him, part of her wanting to give herself completely.

"Hey," he greets gently, but she doesn't look up, she needs to distance herself, she shakes her head, "please, let me help you."

That's all it takes, because while she longs to resist the urge to lean on him, she doesn't have enough energy left to go on alone, drained by her years of isolation, of having no one. A slight nod of her head is all she gives, feeling his hand rest delicately on her shoulder, the hesitancy in the touch almost makes her smile, because she knows it's only a testament to how much he must care. He guides her to the car in silence, opening the door for her as she slips inside.

He doesn't say anything as he starts up the car, pulling out into the road before he's finally clearing his throat, "I know of a diner that does nice breakfasts, you feel like something to eat?"

She appreciates his choice not to press the subject of what just happened – not yet. Knowing they both are still reeling from the events that unfolded. However, the tears stinging in her eyes tell her that perhaps a restaurant isn't the best place to go, still feeling extremely overwhelmed and flustered.

"I'd rather not, I think I need some air, I'm just a bit – I feel kind of –" she stumbles to admit her feelings, hands beginning to shake again as she even contemplates the consequences of what just happened.

"Hey, it's alright," he reaches a hand over and grabs hers, giving it a small squeeze before returning to the steering wheel, "We can go to the park, I know a spot that's always nice and quiet at this time on a Sunday. Just try and relax, we'll figure this out." Donna exhales a soft cry at the kindness of his reassurance, "thank you Harvey, so much." She sniffles, unconsciously rubbing her upper arms, red marks put there by Ryan's rough grip beginning to burn angrily.

"You don't have to say thank you," he catches a glimpse of her feeling the sore marks, "Does it hurt?" he asks timidly.

"Only a little…" she replies unconvincingly as they pull up near the park, she shakily undoes her seatbelt, reaching to open her car door once parked, but he gets there first, pulling it open for her, a tight smile her only gesture of thanks.

They walk quietly for a while, Harvey noticing how she's crossed her arms tightly across her chest, as though to disguise the marks on her arms. Without asking, he removes his light jacket, placing it over her shoulders. She accepts without argument, visibly relaxing as she slips her hands through the sleeves. They stroll for another while before reaching a small bandstand at a lonely corner of the park, he points to a bench perched beneath it as much as to signal that this is the place he was talking about.

"So, are you ready to talk about it?" Harvey croaks, his voice unexpectedly choked.

"There's nothing to say, you saw…" she trails off, dipping her chin into her chest.

"Is he your boss?" he digs his finger nails into his trousers at the memory, trying to supress his instinct to fly off the handle at the way she's been treated.

Donna nods slowly, "It's a long story."

"I've got all the time in the world… for you." He adds with a second thought, watching as her eyes seem to brighten ever so slightly.

"He's my boss, he owns the club. When I first started working for him, he was so good to me, like a friend, and sometimes we'd flirt… anyway, I told him all my plans to become an actress, and he offered to hook me up with some of his connections in the industry, promised me this and that…" she shakes her head, giving a bitter laugh.

"We went out a few times, and he helped me out with money, gave me a loan and offered to rent a room to me above the club. I was naïve, I thought he cared about me, but the reality was that he saw how popular I was with the customers, how good I was behind the scenes – that place would've closed down by now had I not stepped in to help with the running of it – and he used me."

She pauses for a moment, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "But the problem was, I started to get restless, he wasn't making good on any of his promises to me, and as time went on he started to become more controlling and aggressive. He'd lose it if I went out somewhere without telling him – I tried to end it with him so many times, but he just won't accept it –" her voice was on a slow rise, as a cry caught in her throat, "He basically hasn't given me a choice but to stick around, I still owe him money, and he'll never pay me enough to pay him back, I have nowhere to go, and I'm just so terrified of h-" she falls apart, unable to continue, and without a second thought his arms are around her, pulling her into his side and holding her close as she sobs.

When the cries begin to soften, he finally dares to speak, "Has he em – has he hurt you before, like today?" the question is softly spoken.

He feels her nod against his chest, and a roaring rage rises inside him, so loud he imagine she can hear it vibrating through his bones.

"I haven't wanted to be with him in a very long time, in fact – I never wanted to, he manipulated me, and he holds it all over my head to this day... if I refuse to – to sleep with him, he gets aggressive, so most of the time I just go along with what he wants, because I'm afraid of what would happen if I didn't." The admission sits heavy in the space between.

"Jesus, Donna," he breathes, brushing a hand through her hair, "there's no way you're going back there."

"I have to."

"No, absolutely not, I'll pay for a hotel room for you, or you can stay in my guest room but you are not going anywhere near –" She snaps away from his hold suddenly, retracting herself from his touch and standing, "Harvey, I appreciate your concern but this is nothing to do with you, I can't –"

"Why can't you?" he presses, standing to follow her as she walks away, "Donna, I care about you, I may only just have met you, but I do care, more than I've ever cared for anyone in my life."

His words catch her off guard, stopping her in her tracks.

"I don't want to lose you, okay?" he says, catching up to her and standing just behind, holding his breath as he awaits her response.

"Harvey I've never felt so close to someone after such a short period of time but…" she turns her head, looking back over her shoulder, "I just can't bring myself to trust another man who promises me the world."

His shoulders slump at the heart-breaking revelation and it's all it takes for her to know he understands. The intensity of their stare triggers a landslide of emotions within her, this connection they seem to have formed from such little time in each other's company is so new yet feels ancient, as though it already existed, set out for them long before they even knew what love was. It sometimes feels as though they're seeing themselves reflected back in the other's gaze.

He's more myself than I am.

The old quote from a favourite classic of hers rings out like a mournful note in her mind, and she knows he feels the same. They see something that belongs to them in the other, a magnetic pull attracting them only to reject the connection at close contact. She wants him, and she knows he wants her too, but she's too wounded to trust him, no matter how much she longs to enjoy the shock of that fall. She starts forward, forcing herself to take every step.

"Wait," he's calling and she stops, unable to resist the temptation of him, "You have my number from the card, the one I gave you also has my work and home address, so please, if you need me just –"

She's flinging her arms around him before he can finish, hooking them around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace, face buried in the crook of his shoulder, and it takes him a moment to respond, but when he does, there's a certainty in her that she's never been held like this before, never experienced this brand of adrenaline that shoots straight to the heart, not the head.

"I don't want to," Donna begins, her words spoken in a soft whisper as she leans back, "but I have to go."

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand run through the red locks to the end, "Donna, I'm in so deep here, I think I – I lo-" he stops short, not wanting to pressure or frighten her, but she's hanging off his every word, wishing he'd keep talking, yet silently begging him to stop, "Don't do this to me, I need you."

"Need?" she squeaks, allowing her heart to go there for a moment.

"Need."

"I'm sorry Harvey, maybe someday this will be right, and I wish I could but – I'm sorry." And then she's turning, hurrying away before he can draw breath to reply, and leaving him, heart wide open, without her to share it with.

XXX

Heyyyy! Hope you liked this first installment, chapter is already written and will be posted around the same time tomorrow.

P.s I haven't forgotten about Push and Pull or Don't, they'll be getting the much needed attention they deserve shortly x

Please let me know what you think and what you think might happen next...