Fragments

Category: Drama/angst

Summary: Harvey and Donna clash over what their life in Seattle is going to look but a sinister attack at their old firm leaves them in danger of losing everything.

AN: This is based off a twitter prompt that I decided not to write, thanks Jess ;) It's just a one-shot. Little bit different, so I hope it works and isn't too confusing!

'What do you want me to say Donna, I thought we agreed to do this together.'

'We did, we are-'

Harvey groans, the echo of her anger ringing in time with a high pitched whine. It pierces through his skull blocking a futile attempt to prise open his eyes. Everything feels heavy like he's sunk under water, trapped listening to the disjointed fight as it keeps glitching, their words bouncing back and forth caught in the haze of his confusion.

'Then what? Now we're married you don't want to work with me anymore, is that it?'

'Not everything is about you, Harvey.'

'Well this sure as hell is.'

He winces, his lungs expelling a dry cough that sends pain searing up through his side, the instinct to move buried beneath sharp stabbing pins and needles. His eyelids clamp further shut, droplets of sweat beading across his brow and dripping down the side of his face. He feels hot and cold all over, a warmth licking his cheek and he grits his jaw, fighting against a sudden pull of exhaustion..

'Where are you going?'

'The firm. The movers called, there's something wrong with the paperwork they need another signature.'

'Harvey-'

'We can talk about this when I get back. That's if you still want to go to Seattle at all.'

He startles, breathing in sharply through his nose- not sure how long he was out; a few seconds, minutes maybe... but the smell of smoke hits him, dredging a sense of panic through his chest. Something isn't right. He needs to get up, at least try- and he struggles to peel his eyes open, flickers of orange blurring his vision. There's a distant crackle, the sound pulling his focus to the small spot fires sparking through the darkness.

He sits up too fast, his hand flying back over crunching glass that cuts deep into his palm. A ragged curse grinds out, a dizzying nausea making his vision swim as he removes the pieces washed in blood and he takes a breathe- two, as he blinks in the charred walls and what's left of the fallen supports and chaos surrounding him.

It's gone, all of it- barely recognizable.

They're been an explosion. He can still feel the heat on his back, the impact as he'd been thrown forward, and a sudden surge of memories plough through him.

"Donna, what are you doing here?"

He eyes puffy had been red and puffy as she'd stormed into his office and he'd placed down the clipboard in his hands, her words snapping and laced with annoyance.

'Making sure you don't think I tried to sabotage this.'

He didn't. Of course he didn't but he'd been pissed and wanting, needing to bait her.

'Are you sure because there's nobody goddamn here.'

It's a Saturday. The place had been empty, quiet, save for the rise of their angry voices.

'Can we just talk about this like adults please?'

'Right now the only thing I'm doing is finding out where the hell everyone is.'

He'd walked out, left her standing there and his stomach churns with fear- his whole body shaking as he grips the nearest thing to help him up. His palm leaves a bloodied hand print in its wake, the warmth squelching through his fingers as he tries to orientate himself around the smoldering debris.

"Donna?!"

He coughs against the bellow of smoke, his heart hammering wildly in his chest as twinge ripples through his shoulder. He curses the old injury, red seeping into his shirt as he grips his arm to smother the pain, unsteady steps made worse by gut wrenching guilt.

'I told you I'd never let anything happen to you, and I won't, ever.'

He can't lose her, can't have their last words to each other be ones fueled by anger and his breath rips painfully through his throat, tears that have nothing to do with strong chemicals stinging his eyes. She shouldn't have even been here. Neither of them should, the sick realization that this wan't just a coincidence leaving a bitter, vile taste in his mouth. It was planned, luring him in- nobody around... payback for something, Malik or Forstman. His mind spins in a free-fall but when he does find out who's responsible he's going to tear them apart limb by goddamn fucking limb.

If anything happens to Donna, if she's hurt or-

He can't finish the thought, he legs ready to buckle under the strain of it.

'Donna, the thought of you going to prison makes me want to drop to my knees.'

He stumbles at what used to be her desk- the thing now blown to shit and he wretches into his sleeve, coughing up blooms of soot and dust. If it weren't for the light streaming in, the window's still miraculously intact, he wouldn't be able to see a damn thing and he staggers through the broken glass at the foot of what used to be his office.

"Don-" he stops, swallowing her name as he spots her crumpled body in-between the broken furniture and singed record covers. He's never been so terrified to act, fear causing everything to shut down and it takes every ounce of strength he has to push through it, his heart jamming in his throat as he kneels at her side. She's out cold, her face washed white beneath the dirt and grime, and he forces shaking fingers to her neck desperately searching for a pulse.

'Look, I need you.'

'Need?'

'Need.'

His stomach lurches the urge to be sick heaving up through in his throat. He can't do this with out her- any of it, but the faint flutter beneath his touch doesn't curb his rush of panic. She's too still, a faint blue tinge starting to crest her lips and and he covers her mouth feeling nothing against his hand- she's not breathing.

"Shit, Donna..." he tries to make room getting over her as best he can, flattening his palms against her chest and pushing down in quick succession. He times every press until he moves to breathe for her, forcing oxygen back into her lungs. She doesn't respond and he repeats the process again and again, stuck in the hellish loop as electrical sparks continue whirring filling the room with more smoke.

He doesn't care, not a chance in hell he's going to leave her.

"Goddammit, breathe..." he pleads with her, ready to yell or scream- anything to keep the sob building in his throat contained, "you are not leaving me, not over something that happens here... that's what you goddamn said-"

He's at her mouth again when she gasps suddenly, choking on the rush of air.

'You saying you're coming back to me?"

'Yes. I am .'

He rolls her over, relief slamming his eyes shut but it's short-lived when her coughing to turns into a rasp, her body still limp beneath his hand. He needs her awake to tell him where she's hurt and he taps the side of cheek desperate to rouse her. "Don- come on, please."

Nothing.

Screw it, he doesn't have any a choice. They can't stay here and he slips his arms beneath her, grinding his jaw as he scoops her against him. The pain makes his head spin but he wobbles his way through it, adrenaline and determination keeping his legs from giving out as he scrambles over the broken remains of the office which used to mean everything to him. Not just because of his career but because of Donna, all the moments they shared here, and his chest sinks as he passes by her destroyed cubicle.

'Oh what a shock, you can't keep a girls name straight in your head.'

'Only yours Debbie. You see that's funny because your name is Donna.'

The lights flicker and sparks catch his exposed skin but his only focus is keeping Donna away from them. She doesn't stir, oblivious to the danger as he navigates their way through the charred remains- praying the lifts are still operational. There's no possible way he can carry them both down fifty flights of stairs but there aren't any alarms ringing, no sprinklers going off and he heaves with relief when the button pushes in with an orange glow.

Maybe the system was damaged in the blast he doesn't know or really care as he steps inside the carriage leaning both his and Donna's weight against the wall. It's a relief to his aching muscles and his eyes drift shut needing to rest, just for a second- the darkness soothing as it washes over him. He doesn't want to give into it but can feel himself stating to slip when Donna shifts suddenly- her pained moan firing up every one of his senses.

She tries to pull herself upright and he adjusts with the weak struggle worried he won't be able to hold her. "Donna, hey... it's okay," he presses his lips to her hair trying to settle her, "your safe...I've got you." Her palm finds his chest with a small whimper, her head burying into his shoulder and he steals strength form the soft steady breathing at his neck.

She's alive.

That's all that matters right now.

They reach the ground, the doors sliding open to a barrage of authorities cordoning off the foyer but his relief shits into panic as two paramedics rush a stretcher towards him. He doesn't care how much pain her weight is causing him he's not ready to let go- scared if he does it will be the last memory he has of holding her.

"Sir please, you need to let us take her."

He blinks at the woman- the disorder swirling around, but reason snaps back at her second prompt and his feet kick forward. Donna mumbles something incoherent as he lowers her, fumbling to cling onto his shirt and takes hold of her hand with a squeeze paling at the crimson staining her dress. It takes him a minute to realize that it's his blood, the flow still stemming from his palm as the paramedic gently guides him back.

She starts firing questions and he doesn't know if it's from shock or the fear of letting Donna go but his vision starts to tunnel, the dark haze impossible to fight as the building that used to be his kingdom closes in and around him one last time.

.

.

.

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'Donna, you haven't let me down once in twelve years... and you didn't start now.'

Harvey snaps awake, the sound of his own voice ringing in his ears as the vacant walls and smell of disinfectant brings his memory flooding back in a rush. He's up so fast he doesn't even see Gretchen, not until her hand forces him back down relieving the white hot pain shooting through his shoulder.

"Easy there Bruce Wayne, Red's doing just fine." She fixes him with the reassurance, wearing her authority as she hovers over him. He stills, gaining a hold of himself and her fingers lacing around the marble necklace hanging loosely at her chest.

When she'd gotten the call from Louis she'd immediately thought something was wrong with Sheila or the baby but the real reason for his rambling had hit just as hard. He'd wanted to be here himself, and would be if it weren't for Lucy and her still recovering mother but Gretchen had taken on the duty without hesitation, arriving to find both Specter's had been admitted but were fairing well given the circumstances.

Donna had been slightly worse off, broken ribs attributing to the doctor's concerns, but the scans hadn't shown any internal injuries. They were incredibly lucky. Although she suspects that was only part of it- knowing the former NYC lawyer would have moved heaven and earth to get his new wife the help she'd needed.

"I want to see her." He cuts through the silence, the words hoarse as he throws back the blanket- calmer but still just as determined to make it happen. Gretchen doesn't try to stop him but stands blocking his way and a sigh grates against his raw throat, guilt hardening his expression. Anyone else and he wouldn't dare show the vulnerability but there's something about the woman's no shit attitude that he feels he has to reason with. "They did this to get at me."

"Yes they did." She answers curtly, turning to palm the jug beside his bed. She'd been on the phone to the police while she'd waited, offering what information she could and receiving just as little in return but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what would have motivated the attack. The man has enemies in high places, too many, but her expression softens as she fills the plastic cup to its brim. "Doesn't mean you should go blaming yourself-" she adds, extending the water across to him, "all you did today was prove you're a worthy husband but boy are you going to cop it when Red's awake."

He flinches not able to take comfort in whatever heroics she thinks took place. The instinct to protect Donna's life above his own has always come as naturally as breathing and the truth is, if it hadn't been for him she wouldn't have been in danger at all. "Where is she?" He presses firmly, his injured hand- the one swabbed with bandages like he's goddamn Mickey mouse, flopping in his lap.

His jaw locks in place to disguise the pain and she breathes an inward sigh of relief. The doctor had warned her to look out for any strange behavior, memory loss, uncharacteristic mood swings but he's the same old stubborn hardass he's always been and her lips quirk as she moves around the bed pulling over the wheelchair she'd negotiated, having seen this one coming a mile away.

"What, no seat warmer?" He quips, grunting as he slides over the edge of the mattress standing on shaky legs. They steady out of sheer willpower, his pride dismissing the need for help. "I can manage."

"And have your backside offend half the hospital staff-" she nods at his gown with a stern look, "park it, pretty boy."

He tries acting mildly offended but it doesn't take- a faint smirk appearing at the woman's sass as he eases himself down. She's the only other person aside from Donna who's balls might just be bigger than his and he leans back, adjusting himself as she wheels him out of the room. The hall is quiet and he briefly wonders what time it is, having no idea, but the curiosity falls away as the throb in his hand and shoulder become more noticeable.

Whatever painkillers he's on they aren't doing shit and a sheen of sweat breaks across his brow as the long corridor and dim lights start to trigger fragmented memories; waking up to smoke, the charred walls blistering with heat, his desperation to find Donna in the chaos. It makes his stomach clench with nausea, too many years of wasted opportunities bubbling to the surface.

'You know I love you Donna.'

'Love me how?'

He swallows hard trying to banish the regret coiling up as they pull to a stop. In the past he'd held back- afraid of his emotions, but he isn't scared to face them now and uses both hands to wheel inside not even registering the hot flash of pain that bites down his side.

"I'll give you two a minute." Gretchen offers from the doorway, suspecting it will be longer. The doctors told her Donna won't be awake for several more hours and she knows Harvey won't leave until then. She also knows that any hope of him resting is bound by these four walls and she watches him lock the chair beside his wife, too consumed to notice as she leaves them be.

The gentle rise and fall of Donna's chest makes his heart stutter and he takes her hand gently, bowing his head against the warmth. He's not expecting a reaction, his exhaustion blanketing the hope but his pulse skips when her fingers stir around his, a faint 'missed you' croaking from her in a breathy whisper.

Moisture pricks his gaze and she might not be able to see it but he forces a smile through the tears welling up. "Me too..." he utters softly, soaking in everything he can.

'Today's your lucky day.'

'Why's that?'

'Because it's the day you get to meet Donna.'

Sometimes it feels like he's been missing her his whole life and he sinks his cheek against her palm watching her eyelids flicker. She's trying but he doesn't need her to, preferring she focus on getting better instead. "Sleep, it's okay..." he urges, stroking his thumb lightly over her knuckles, "I'll be here."

Her face relaxes and it's only a few moments before her breathing evens out and he makes a promise to himself; that they'll never walk away from each other angry again and that if she wants a fresh start in Seattle he'll give it to her no more questions asked.

She was right.

It isn't just about him it's about them starting a new life together, and he exhales leaning back against the drawers beside her bed.

'You make me laugh, you make me cry, you make me crazy... but most of all, you make me happy.'

'You've changed me, you've changed my life forever.'

Their wedding night- her smile shoots through his exhaustion, his own vowels humming in the silence. He just wants to watch her but can feel his eyes growing heavy and he blinks them open, repeating the cycle until he physically can't anymore... the thrall of tiredness becoming too hard to ignore.

'I love you Harvey Specter.'

'I love you, Donna Paulsen.'

It's the last memory that washes over him and he follows it into the darkness comforted by the fact that they'll make more tomorrow and every day after- whether it be here, Seattle or somewhere else. They're in this for the long run and he finally lets himself drift off, safe in the knowledge that so long as Donna's with him and she's okay he will be too.

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