Assent, and Regret
Episode tag to 2.05 'Break Point.' The night before it happens, Harvey has three visitors: Donna, Mike, and Jessica. A speculative attempt to explain what, exactly, happened.

This takes place the night before Jessica fires Donna.

Somehow, he wasn't at all surprised to see her at his door.

There were no words exchanged, no meaningless pleasantries of "Good evening" or "nice to see you" - or even, "come in." Harvey simply left the door open as he walked back inside his condo. This was not a conversation he wanted to have.

The ghost of the angry words they'd exchanged earlier haunted him, now:

Lying to me doesn't protect me. It betrays me.

Maybe you shouldn't be my boss anymore!

I'm not going to fire you. I might kill you, but I'm not going to fire you.

Ha. Who was he kidding? Donna could muay thai his ass five ways to Friday before he might even lift a finger. It was one of the quirks he had always admired about her.

He heard the click of her heels as she followed him to the kitchen.

"Harvey," she said, soft and a little ragged, "I didn't come here for round two."

The tone made him flinch. Donna sounded defeated; Donna never sounded defeated.

"I don't know what to say," she confessed, perching onto one of his bar stools. One hand smoothed the length of her skirt. His eyes lingered on the movement, on the play of her fingers against the silk, before he forced himself to turn away and busy himself with pouring two glasses of scotch. He could already feel a dull pressure in his head from the scotch he'd already consumed, but somehow his mind was sure that more alcohol was the answer.

"What can I say?" Donna said.

Anger rose up in his chest, constricted his throat.

"I'm sorry," Harvey said, to the glass white tiles of his kitchen backsplash.

"I'm sorry?" she repeated, incredulous.

He turned back around, his movements clipped. "That would be a good start."

He waited for the response he was expecting, for the fire to light in her eyes, for indignation to tighten her features, for her sarcastic, "Oh you did not just."

But all she did was look at him sadly, and somehow, that hurt even more.

Feeling a bit confused and oddly empty, Harvey pushed the glass across the breakfast island. Her fingers intercepted, and out of habit, they clinked glasses together, a hollow cheers to nothing.

The alcohol burned his throat.

"We had an agreement," Donna said finally, into the silence.

They had.

"We said we'd keep our professional and personal lives separate, that no matter what happened at work, we'd still be friends afterwards. That no matter how crappy a day at the office, we'd still get a drink together."

He gestured at the glasses between them.

Donna was quiet for a few seconds. "I guess we should've known the agreement would never hold up."

The words were deliberately provocative, and all logic was telling Harvey that he shouldn't fall for it...but: "Hey. I proposed that deal."

"Oh then it must be a good one."

"New York's best closer," he said the words with no feeling.

"Nice try, hotshot."

For just a second, things felt almost normal. And yet Harvey couldn't quite let it go there, not yet.

"You're prevaricating."

"I'd prefer the term 'defusing the tension', but if prefer otherwise, then by all means."

"I don't," he said, annoyed. It wasn't that simple.

She had always had an uncanny knack of reading his mind. Yet she, who knew him so well, couldn't understand this? He had been seconds away from perjuring himself. And why? Because after all the times he had trusted her, she hadn't trusted him to do the right thing. She hadn't trusted him to be able to protect them both.

Harvey leveled his gaze at her, and wondered at the irony that he, a Harvard trained attorney, the best goddamn closer in New York, prized protégé of Jessica Pearson and Cameron Dennis both, couldn't find the words to speak to his own assistant. Because in truth, the problem was that she was so much more than simple labels: executive assistant, friend, confidant.

But these were all things that they had never said to one another, since that night so many years ago, when they had first struck their deal over glasses of rich 1981 pinot noir and bitter aftertaste of what could never be.

Maybe Donna was right. Maybe it was a stupid agreement.

Harvey opened his mouth - to say what, he still wasn't quite sure - and just then there was an insistent knock on the door.

"Harvey? Harvey, it's Mike," came the muffled words.

"Not now," Harvey snapped, his eyes still on Donna.

She was looking back at him, her eyes filled with the unsaid, almost a wish for the moment that had almost been - almost a thankful prayer, that it hadn't.

"Let me in," his associate insisted.

"I'm sleeping," Harvey said.

"What? No you're not, you're talking," Mike sounded bewildered.

"That was polite for 'go away.'"

"Actually, it really wasn't."

Donna gave a small half-shrug, as if in agreement.

"Mike," Harvey half-growled the warning as he finally tore his eyes from Donna and marched toward the door. "I swear to - "

"It's about Hardman," Mike shouted, just as Harvey pulled open the door.

Harvey crossed his arms and regarded him.

"Can I uh, can I come in?" Mike said, sheepishly.

"No."

"Harvey, you have to listen to me," Mike said, "It's as Spock says. 'Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'"

He furrowed his brow. "That's from the reboot. It doesn't count."

"What, really? But Leonard Nimoy was still in that movie," Mike said, "Anyway you're missing the point. Think about it. When is Donna ever wrong? When has she ever made a mistake?"

Never.

Ever.

"There's no way in hell she would've missed that memo."

And it was suddenly obvious.

1. Ms. Leighton had never written the memo.

2. In their last phone call, Lawrence Kemp had sworn that he had never seen the memo. Why would he lie after they had already settled?

3. And even if there had been a memo, Donna would never have missed it. As she'd said during their earlier argument, she didn't remember ever seeing it.

He had been so angry that Donna hadn't trusted him, that he had forgotten to trust her, and to trust her and her amazing skill.

"Tanner," Harvey said, disgusted, "But that doesn't explain how that memo was in our files."

"Hardman could have planted it."

"That's a big accusation," Donna said.

Mike's reaction to the revelation of her presence was almost comical. His eyes bugged, his mouth dropped open, and he promptly dropped all the papers he had been holding in his hand.

Harvey rolled his eyes.

"Donna, oh, hi," Mike stammered, his eyes suddenly flying from Donna to Harvey and back, "Uh - did I - did I interrupt something?"

Oh, now the kid suddenly cared about decorum.

"Hardman," Harvey prompted.

"Right. Uh," Mike cleared his throat, and smiled weakly at Donna, "We suspected that Louis gave Hardman the heads up that something was wrong, but when I think back on our conversation - " and he tapped the side of his head, "I've replayed every word, Harvey. Every word we ever said when Louis was within a hundred feet. We never mentioned any specific details."

"And yet Hardman knew exactly what was going on," Harvey finished the thought.

"So yes, he might not have planted the document. It's improbable, but when you consider the alternative..."

"It must be the truth," Harvey said slowly. His mind was racing with possibilities. "So now the question is: how do we prove it in court?"

:::

The third and final knock on his door came at close to 4 in the morning.

"Harvey? It's Jessica."

"Donna, put on my calendar, 'Shop for a new condo,'" Harvey muttered, as he stumbled up from the couch. After two hours of racking his brain for solutions - and with the scotch providing a hefty barrier to clear thinking - he was not in the mood for further entertainment of guests.

Resigned, he pulled open the door.

"You've looked better," Jessica said, by way of greeting.

He was sure he had. The bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, and rumpled clothes probably were doing him no favors.

"And you're as categorically stunning as always," Harvey sighed, and it was somehow truth. Despite the absurdity of the hour, Jessica looked as poised and perfectly together as ever.

"May I come in?"

"It's already a party."

"You've been drinking."

"I said it was a party."

Jessica paused as Donna and Mike came into view. His associate was slumped against the couch, tie loosened, head bowed over a stack of folders and files, a highlighter jutting out of the corner of his mouth, and seemingly oblivious to the world around him. Donna was still at the breakfast bar, her fingers a blur across the laptop keyboard.

"So I see," Jessica said, and pursed her lips.

Harvey looked at her rather tiredly, wondering if he should kick everyone out if Jessica was here to admonish him for one thing or another.

"We have a theory," he said, as he put his hands in his pockets. It was a habit, one he wasn't always aware of doing when he was around Jessica. Donna had once told him that he did that whenever he pitched something and was waiting for her response.

"You've come to the realization that the memo is fake, and that Daniel planted it into our file room."

Donna's furious typing came to an abrupt stop, Mike's highlighter fell out of his teeth.

"Hmm," Harvey said thoughtfully.

She arched an eyebrow. "Have you forgotten who I am?"

"Athena?"

"Nice," Jessica said dryly. "Donna, how did you destroy the memo?"

"I shredded it."

"But I unplugged the shredder," Mike sounded indignant, wounded, even.

"I replugged it, puppy."

Jessica's eyes gleamed. "Perfect."

Puzzled by the triumph in her eyes, Harvey tilted his head to one side as he tried to piece the entire situation together. And then he realized: that was exactly it.

"Identification dots," he said.

"It's a shot in the dark," Jessica said, "but it would be utterly damning."

"Do you think he would be smart enough to have taken preventative measures?"

"You have the best PI in the world. Any printer Tanner could have possibly have access to - Vanessa will find it."

"But what if Hardman printed it on the firm's printers? Then we'd have no way of tying the memo to Tanner."

"Then our security cameras would have footage. He wouldn't have."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Mike said, sounding like he had every intention of interrupting, "but I'm getting the feeling that there's something to be excited about here."

"You want to enlighten him, or should I?" Harvey directed the question to Jessica.

She gave him a look, something that read along the lines of he's your puppy and Harvey, I'm sure the goddamn kid is just fantastic, but I refuse to interact with him more than is strictly necessary.

All right then. "Every laser printer leaves a unique mark on every print," Harvey said, "These identification dots are invisible to the naked eye, but can be read and decoded with a special LED. If we could piece the document back together, we'd be able to identify the printer it came from. My PI will be able to track down every printer Tanner's ever laid his dirty little hands on and their identification code."

"But the memo's in a million pieces by now," Mike said.

"Don't exaggerate. It's in possibly a hundred pieces, mixed in with several thousand other pieces." Harvey smiled pleasantly. "How are you with puzzles?"

Mike groaned. "You do realize this will take only about forever?"

"He's not wrong," Jessica said, sounding like it physically hurt to acknowledge that fact, "We'll need to buy some time."

"Throw them off, make them think we're helpless," Harvey agreed.

"I think," Donna said slowly, "I know the answer to that."

She met his eyes, and he understood at once.

"No," he said. Because even if it were fake, he couldn't imagine ever -

"Harvey."

"No," he repeated, feeling something icy cold grip around his heart.

It was a monumental risk, a monumental risk to her professional aspirations, to her reputation. And yet she looked at him, and in her resolute gaze, her beautiful hazel eyes, he saw that she intended to honor their agreement.

Their professional and personal lives were separate. Firing her was the strategic move to make.

Damn the agreement, Harvey wanted to snap. He couldn't, he wouldn't.

But they had an agreement, an agreement that had governed their relations for the past decade, and he realized now what he should have realized earlier: that she was willing to sacrifice everything for him. That was why she had destroyed the memo in the first place.

To protect him.

"Goddamn it, Donna," he said instead, and in the three words was assent.

Assent, and regret.

End

Author's Note: I'm just shooting in the dark here. My brain refuses to accept the fact that Harvey would strong-arm Jessica into keeping Mike, and then let Donna go. Just. No. I'm sure this entire story will be invalidated by 2.06. Come on, Thursday!

I apologize for my terrible summary; I figured ambiguity was safer than a possible spoiler. Thank you for reading. :)