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Empty Sky
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"I think Mike is telling Harvey we're leaving," Rachel mutters, sipping on her drink.
At the altar, her maid of honor had let the tears flow and make-up retouches had been required. She and Donna returned from the bathroom a few minutes ago, taking up residence next to the champagne fountain.
Despite Donna being adamant they were tears of joy, Rachel knew better.
Glancing up, she waits for a response, but her friend's face remains impassive as she faces the wedding reception, looking anywhere but at the two men on the opposite side of the room. "I think you should forgive him," she then whispers, momentarily regretting that she and her new husband will move across the country in a few days when their best friends are battling their biggest rift yet. "He loves you, you know."
At the word 'love', Donna's insides churn and anger rises. The images that light up in her mind she quickly dims, unwilling to be reminded of the origin of her reaction. "Yeah, well, he has a fucked up way of showing it."
"Donna…" She places her hand, now adorned with a sparkling new wedding ring, over her friend's, hoping to alleviate the scorn the redhead is throwing off. "You can't keep ignoring each other."
"We can, Rachel. After tonight, I'll probably never see him again, so that will make everything a lot easier."
"Aren't you taking us to the airport on Sunday?"
"I am." Suddenly, a surge of adrenaline rushes through Donna's veins, and she narrows her gaze. "Why?"
"Because… I think Mike asked Harvey to take us as well."
"Rachel…"
"I know. I'm sorry. He asked before I had a chance to tell him you were taking us."
A fresh wave of agony washes over her. Luckily, by now she's gotten so used to the sorrow, it doesn't even faze her anymore. "Fine."
"I just think you guys need to make up. You can't just walk away from all that history."
Funny. She never thought she'd have to. "Watch me."
With exaggerated purpose, Harvey tears Donna's letter of resignation in two and hands it to her. It must have taken her off guard, because she asks if he's sure about the gesture.
He is surer than he's ever been. He shouldn't even have considered Paula's demand. But he'd been so hellbent on making it work between them, he had treated Donna as collateral damage.
The thought alone makes his blood run like acid in his veins. How could he have been so stupid, so blind? It doesn't matter. He's righted the situation already. One part, anyway.
All he needs is for Donna to forgive him. And how could she not? He made the biggest sacrifice possible tonight, so there's no reason why she shouldn't come back to him. She just has to.
So, he clarifies in two words how his relationship with Paula has become a casualty of whatever he and Donna are—not the other way around. "It's over," he says. And he finds he is at peace with that knowledge. But the demise of yet another relationship still cuts into a part of him he thought he'd conquered: being emotionally available, allowing someone in while sharing intimacies and romance. He thought he was doing so well, but once again, he's failed miserably. He reasons irreconcilable differences as the cause and leaves it at that, afraid of what he might find if he looks too closely at what's truly in his heart—or who. Even without looking—or perhaps because he's unwilling to look—the pain in his chest expands, and it must show.
"Are you okay?"
He will be. He knows as much. However, being at peace with his sacrifice hinges on one condition. "Will you come back?"
Her eyes seem to soften, and there's really only one answer he expects, conveyed even by a nod or the smallest of smiles. But the silence stretches while his heart rate spikes. Then she lowers her head.
"Donna?" Panic surges through him as an eternity passes.
With haunted eyes, she meets his gaze and shakes her head. "No."
The word ricochets off her hallway walls and settles deep within his soul. Harvey is tired. So tired. Tired of fighting, of keeping everybody happy when his own happiness has been unknown to him for so long.
He sacrificed everything tonight, and, for once, things will work out for him, goddammit. So, he heaves a defiant sigh, forced to play the familiar game where they pretend to push the other away when in reality they don't know how to be without the other.
They tried that before. It didn't work. "Don—"
"No, Harvey." There is a harshness in her tone that makes the repeated syllable slice like a sharpened knife, and he recoils. "I trusted you to fight for me. But instead you chose someone else. And we'll both have to live with that decision."
Fine. If she wants the gloves back on, he'll step into the ring with her, because he's not losing her, too. "I told you, we broke up. I chose you, Donna. What more do you want from me?"
"I'm sorry, Harvey. You chose too late."
"Donna, please," he utters, exasperated and terrified. He needs her to listen, to accept his apology so they can move on and go back to the way things were. "Can I come in? Let's talk about this."
She watches him wrestle to keep his arms by his side, his fingers fidgeting nervously as he waits for her reply. Every scenario plays before her eyes, and none give her the outcome she craves. So, she chews her lip, fighting rising emotions, then shakes her head again. "No." Tears well, and she lowers her gaze, stepping back inside without giving him a second glance.
The door closes softly, but it sounds like a wrecking ball, destroying a decade and a half with a single click of a lock.
He stands in her hallway for another decade or several minutes as reality slowly seeps into his already muddied consciousness, and a barrage of thoughts floods his badgered mind. She's no longer his COO. Does that mean he'll have to navigate his job, his life, without her input now? Surely, they're still friends. Right? They've been through tougher storms. They can withstand a small hurricane. They can. Period.
As he stumbles onto the sidewalk, dazed from the shitshow that is his life, he feels lost. The world he finds himself in has developed into one gigantic maze, and he keeps running into a dead-end. Years pass, and there is still no exit in sight. For peace of mind. For a tiny bit of some goddamned happiness.
Dropping himself in the backseat of a taxi he manages to hail, he thinks he might cry. But he's numb from the excitement. All he needs is a drink and a shower and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, everything will be fine again.
This is only a bump in the road. One way or another, she'll be back in her office tomorrow. He simply can't accept an alternative scenario.
•
Donna sinks against the door, palms covering her face as tears stream down her cheeks.
Until now, she hadn't cried a single tear, convinced her decision to leave had been justified. But seeing Harvey made it real; him the embodiment of what she was walking away from.
As he stood before her, sorrow written in the lines of his face and the slouch of his shoulders, there was no doubt in her mind she loved him. Which caused the feeling of being abandoned, by the one person she thought would always be there for her, to slice extra deep and steal a piece of her heart.
When she had kissed him, desperation had fueled her actions, terrified she was losing him to someone with a questionable moral compass, someone… unworthy. Yet, he'd still chosen his former therapist over her, and in the end, it was an ever-present longing for something they would never be that pushed her to say 'no'.
Even now, denying him tears her soul in two. She had only managed to do so once before, and it had gutted her then, too. Perhaps it's her desire to please, to be liked, or possibly, it's as simple as wanting him to be happy. Whatever her intentions, her happiness has to come first for a change.
And now that she has chosen herself, she feels like the tightrope she's been walking has gotten slashed and it's only a matter of time before she'll plummet to her death.
As everything around her darkens, she pulls her limbs in tighter, as if to brace for impact. But no impact occurs, and she remains suspended in air. Which, she thinks, is a fate far worse than dying.
"I can't believe you guys are leaving New York," Harvey mumbles, disbelief making him shake his head. The newlyweds' bombshell rattles him to the core. And what lousy timing, too. Not only has he lost Donna, he's also losing his best friend, and the notion makes him swallow against a cluster of emotions he is in no shape to dissect.
"I know it's sudden, but the opportunity was just too good to pass over," Mike explains, keeping a close eye on the slightest shift in Harvey's demeanor.
"No, I get it. I probably would have done the same," he muses, thinking how appealing the whole idea of starting over somewhere else seems at the moment.
A silence settles between them, and Mike catches Harvey's wandering gaze—not at all surprised to find it land on the redhead chatting with his new wife.
"Just give it time," he offers, knowing how stubborn his friends can be.
"I don't think time is gonna make a difference. She's made her decision, and knowing Donna, there's no changing her mind." His throat closes up again, and he washes it clear with a large gulp of scotch. "I really fucked things up this time," he mutters into his glass.
"She'll come around. She always does."
There are no words he'd rather believe in right now, but carrying hope only sets him up for further pain, so he shoots it down. "I doubt it."
After two days of her office remaining empty, Harvey's patience is running low. She's had plenty of time to cool down, but she can't keep shutting him out like this. So, instead of calling again—and getting her voicemail again—he instructs Ray to take him to her apartment for a face-to-face encounter.
The bangs on her door match his frustration, and when she answers, annoyance barrels off her in powerful waves. He momentarily forgets why they are fighting, but he instinctively responds to her belligerence by puffing his chest, when all he wants to do is apologize and hug it out.
She crosses her arms defiantly. "What, Harvey?"
"Can we talk about this?" Exasperation colors his tone, although he meant to sound compassionate. Somehow, the higher the stakes, the less composure he can muster. Then again, he can't deny his life is hanging in the balance.
Donna squares her shoulders. "There's nothing to talk about. I have a new job. Come to think of it, I don't believe I ever thanked you for it. Or maybe I should thank Paula. After all, without her, we wouldn't be here, right now."
Hearing his ex-girlfriend's name roll off her tongue leaves a foul taste in his mouth. He grinds his molars in response, counting to three. "The firm needs you."
"Right. The firm." Screw him and his goddamn firm. No way in hell he'll guilt-trip her into coming back. How dare he even try? "Well, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm done catering to the firm's needs," she says, emphasizing 'firm' when they both know she means his sorry ass. "I need to look out for my own needs, because clearly, nobody else will."
"How long are you going to keep punishing me, huh? I made a goddamn mistake, Donna. But so did you!"
Watching his frustration rise tickles her with perverted pleasure. At least she's not solitary in her suffering. Whatever. He can be mad all he wants. Her mind is made up. And not being his subordinate also means she no longer has to put up with his tantrums. So, with a malevolent smile, she calmly says, "Mistakes have consequences. Goodbye, Harvey," and proceeds to slam the door.
Except Harvey's foot prevents her from accomplishing her dramatic goal.
"My relationship just ended. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" he belts, fury etched in the harsh lines on his face.
Taken aback by his frustrated anger, Donna considers his question and finds no good reason to hold back her own disdain. She chews on her lip and the truth she's been dying to speak ever since he told her whom he was dating. As the discomfort of the memory forces her to break eye contact, she stares at the floor, shifting her weight nervously, then murmurs, "Well, if you ask me, you never should've dated in the first place."
Frowning, Harvey withdraws. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She locks eyes with him, wondering if he's serious. "It means that she was your goddamn therapist!"
"So?"
"The fact you don't see anything wrong with that says it all, doesn't it." She shakes her head. "You really don't see it, do you?"
"See what?" he asks, disgruntled.
Torn between let's-just-forget'ing him and explaining his subconscious intentions, she figures it might be the last time she'll have the opportunity, so why not? More importantly, it'll be pretty goddamn satisfying to lift some things off her chest. "You know what therapists do? They help you figure out your emotions so you can cope with them, and they help you navigate difficult situations in your life." She pauses to see if he's following yet, but when he keeps blinking guilelessly, looking for her to get to the point, she continues. "Who always explained your feelings to you? Who made you see what was really going on when you couldn't see it for yourself? Who made sure you attended your father's funeral? Who was there to make sure you got on that plane to Boston so you could reconcile with your mother?" She swallows. "Who knows you better than anyone?"
As his anger morphs into flat-out terror and a silence consumes the air between them, Donna lets a tear escape. "You tell yourself whatever you want, but you were never really dating Paula, Harvey. And now we'll both have to live with your choices."
Nailed to the floor, he doesn't know left from right. "Donna…"
"No. Go back to your shitty therapist; beg her forgiveness; tell her I'm out of your life. Because I am."
This time when she slams the door, Harvey lets her.
The elevator ride up to his condo takes forever as his stomach churns and clenches. He has to keep himself from retching, the panic attack that started in Donna's hallway rapidly nearing its peak.
When he steps through his front door and is ready to make a beeline for the bathroom, he realizes the fireplace is burning and there's a figure standing in his kitchen. The surprise is enough to temporarily draw his attention away from the anxiety as the shape comes into focus.
"Paula?"
"I'm sorry. I came to return these," she says, pointing at the set of keys on his kitchen island.
He is glad for the low lighting. The blood that drained from his face after Donna knocked the wind out of him never returned. And in addition to what he's sure is a deathlike pallor, his forehead keeps producing a thin layer of cold sweat he can't seem to shake. The same chill runs through his veins, making his hands tremble and his leg unsteady. So, he stumbles to the counter and grabs a glass from the cupboard. Water. Yeah, water always helps with the dry-heaving.
Taking him in, the loosened tie, the disheveled hair, alarm bells ring. "Harvey, are you alright?" For a fleeting second, she wonders if he's upset about their breakup, and hope rises in her chest. It's the reason she waited around to catch him tonight. Perhaps, with therapy, they can overcome their differences. Besides, he was a patient first, she tells herself, and some therapeutic guidance seems imperative at the moment.
For Harvey, that British lilt is the last thing he needs, but he's spiraling and he'll take whatever life raft is available. "Donna left the firm."
Disillusionment settles in her stomach at hearing the woman's name. How foolish to have imagined they might stand a chance. "What do you mean? I thought you said you hadn't accepted her resignation?" She moves towards him, but when he flinches under her touch, she shies away.
"Well, I guess I was too late." With the weight of the consequences of his actions pulling him down, he hangs his head between his shoulders.
"Would you like me to stay?" For a second, she thinks he'll say yes. But he shakes his head, and there's only so much rejection she can take, so she swiftly gathers her things. She's almost out the door when he speaks.
"She suggested I was only dating you because I wanted to be dating her."
"Were you?"
"I don't know."
As much as she wishes he hadn't brought it up, it's the truth she denied from the day he showed up at her doorstep in that fancy Ferrari. This was never about her, and yet she chose to believe it was. If he and Donna care so much about each other, she truly hopes they'll find a way to be together. But it's time to cut her losses. "I wish you the best, Harvey."
"You too, Paula."
The sound of her footsteps dissipates as blind hatred for his own shortcomings momentarily consumes him, molding itself into a wrapper of anxiety he easily succumbs to. How the hell did he get into this mess? And how in the world is he going to find a way out?
Donna's tired feet heave a sigh of gratitude as she perches herself at her designated table. The seats are all empty, people dancing, getting drinks. The party is winding down, but she feels accomplished in having pulled it off on really short notice.
And all while successfully avoiding Harvey the entire evening.
Aside from the walk down the aisle and their positions next to the couple during the ceremony, she managed to occupy herself with entertaining others. In doing so, she lost count of the amount of times Harvey's stare had landed on her. So, even though she physically kept her distance, she felt his presence all goddamn night long. And she has a headache to prove it.
Wishing she had healing hands, she rubs her temples gently.
Harvey. Mike and Rachel leaving. Her entire life is foreign to her, all of her past anchors no longer in place, and the idea tingles her skin with a nervousness that makes her question her chosen future. But as she runs down her list of motives, there's only one she keeps returning to: the overwhelming urge to separate herself from Harvey—something she would never have been able to achieve as long as they worked together. Or remained 'friends'. Because, if she chooses to forgive him and return to the firm, they'll be right back where they started, ignoring the magnitude of this moment as if it hadn't happened, and she simply can't bear the thought.
No. It's over.
As she closes her eyes briefly to focus on some deep breathing and moves her fingers to massage her foot, a dark voice startles her. His dark voice.
She nearly grunts from frustration.
"This seat taken?"
With a solemn look on his face, he stands with two glasses of scotch in his hand, as if he knows exactly what she desires most—the same thing he apparently does: something stronger than champagne. She can't decide whether to be glad or sad as she is yet again reminded of how in tune they always are. She settles on being a little of both. She then tells herself she needs the drink he's offering more than she wants to not talk to him.
"You don't give up easily, do you?" she says, accepting the glass he hands her, and of course, he takes it as an invitation to sit down.
"How long have you known me? When have I ever given up on something important to me?"
She meets his sorrowful stare, unblinking, and knows exactly why he's come to see her. It's not just their situation that's bothering him tonight. But he has lost the privilege of crying on her shoulder. With no energy for another quarrel, her gaze drops as she says, "I'm sorry Rachel and Mike are leaving, Harvey, but I'm not coming back to the firm."
Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head before schooling his features to keep the frustration from showing. But to her trained eye, the emotions are impossible to hide.
"Why not?"
His arrogance in behaving as if she is overreacting repulses her while simultaneously fueling the conviction she'd chosen wisely. How does he not see the real reason she's hurting? "How can I ever trust you again after you threw me under the bus like that? After everything we've been through, after everything I've done for you?" Her throat swells and tears prick her eyes. "How would you feel if the roles were reversed?"
He runs a hand over the shame and regret he is sure washes over his face while his stomach twists in a painful knot. For the first time since everything went to shit, he can look beyond his own agony and into hers. God, he's been a jerk. He hadn't been able to admit that before, blinded by what he had lost. But with his life shifting under him, he sees exactly what matters most, and he will beg if he has to. "I'd feel horrible, Donna. I'm so sorry. I never should have gone to Stu. I never should have made you feel like you—"
A deep inhale of air loosens some of the tension in his chest. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he sits forward, bared and ready to share an insight he's carried since the night she resigned—one which magnitude he'd been unable to grasp. Until now. "Like you weren't the most important person in my life. Because you are. You always have been. And just because I got sidetracked doesn't mean that fact is any less true. But you have to forgive me, Donna. I know you lost faith in me, but please give me a chance to earn it back." Before he is aware of reaching out, his hand envelops hers, and abruptly he has to worry if she'll pull away. But she holds his gaze, so he waits.
Stunned by his sudden revelation and his touch, Donna scrambles to form a reply, his eyes shining bright with a vulnerability that's making her forget she speaks English. She is the most important person in his life—a fact she had often wondered about but could never confirm. And now he has. Does that mean—
"You know it's customary for the maid of honor and best man to dance, right?"
Mike's voice thunders through the moment, and she tears her eyes away from Harvey—who, equally caught off guard, withdraws his palm—praying her facade gives nothing away about the inner turmoil kicking up a storm below the surface.
"You guys wanna join us on the dance floor?" Mike adds, a beaming Rachel at his side. And Donna doesn't have to be Donna to know the joy comes from seeing her and Harvey speaking again. She's also pretty sure Harvey won't object. But her aching feet will, and she's still mad at him, and she had made up her mind about staying mad, so damn them all for making her question that resolve.
"Please?" Rachel begs. "It would mean the world to me."
The new bride's royal smile melts away some of her hesitation. What harm can it do? On top of that, she's intrigued by Harvey's confession; her brain busy having repeated the words he spoke until they became a mantra. The most important person in my life.
As three pairs of eyes bore into her, like she's the only one with the power to make this decision, Donna expels a decisive breath, then glances back at Harvey. "We can't ignore a custom, now can we?"
His face lights up like a fourth of July night, but she knows he's tempering his excitement around her emotional minefield, and she feels a sense of delighted relief in the knowledge he'll keep his eagerness in check. Knowing him, he'll double down the minute she gives him an inch. And she's not sure her heart is ready for that yet.
He may call himself Superman, but he's her Kryptonite. And he damn well knows it.
With the happy couple walking ahead, they find their way onto the dance floor amidst surprised looks from several of their closest friends. She ignores them, needing her focus in the moment.
As his arm slips around her waist and their bodies meet, she reluctantly leans into his touch, afraid his nearness will dissolve her boundaries like boiling water melts ice. Luckily, the music is upbeat, and he twirls her away, only to catch her in his warm embrace moments later. And isn't that the perfect metaphor for what they've become.
Without warning, the melody changes to a much slower rhythm, and before she has an opportunity to object, he draws her near, chests grazing, cheeks almost meeting. She knows she should oppose this situation—stick with her commitment. But her walls are crumbling slowly, and she capitulates to his determination. Plus, if she wants to know more about the depth of those three little words that have become like an earworm she can't shake—most important person—they'll have to engage in conversation at some point.
As Donna settles in his arms, Harvey is on his toes, careful to track even the smallest of changes in her mood. So far—not counting the slight hesitation he felt just now—she's been on board. Or merely indulging him. He isn't sure. But it's better than getting a door slammed in his face, and he'll take any victory he can get. "I really am sorry, Donna."
"I know," she breathes.
Something deep inside of her comes undone. Forgiveness, she thinks, and she trails her gaze from his eyes to his tie, noticing how the Windsor knot sits perfectly, right below his Adam's apple. And she feels like she has nothing left to lose. "But Harvey… if I'm the most important person in your life, why don't you…" She pauses, the next words loaded with a question she isn't certain they're ready for, and yet, it's the only one she wants answered.
"Want more?"
Surprised he knew what she meant—then again, maybe not surprised at all—she nods her head, lips tightly pressed together.
It's something he's debated from the moment he left her place after their last showdown, coming up with a single answer. "We both know I'm not very good at relationships."
His gaze is unwavering, a mix of sadness and resignation in the lines around his eyes. Donna swallows warily as he continues, positive she can't handle another one of his rejections, no matter how much he softens the blow.
"I'd screw it up." A soft shake of his head indicates that recent events fortify his conviction. "I could never risk losing you that way." He snorts when the words have left his lips. "Guess I still have."
As far as rejections go, this is the most ambiguous one to date. And the manner in which his voice breaks, laced with grief, she thinks, enough is enough.
Dancing with him, his big arms surrounding her, his cologne descending like a fog around her senses, she disengages the hand he's holding and gently snakes both arms around his neck. When his palms land on her waist tentatively, she says, "What if I told you, you hadn't?"
She feels hopeful fingertips dig into the fabric. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you're not the only one who has difficulty finding a lasting connection. But we've always been connected."
"We have."
Gazing into his eyes, which grow darker by the second, she wonders if he'll ever catch up with her. Until then, she'll keep lighting the way. "I'll forgive you, Harvey. On one condition."
He stays silent, his shoulder tensing as if he stopped breathing altogether.
"Kiss me."
Infused by a sudden surge of adrenaline, Harvey withdraws an inch, enough to get a good look at her face, and finds nothing but sincerity in her eyes. Not only has he been absolved of his mistake, she's offering him everything he never dreamed he'd have but had always craved: herself. As his heart leaps, he lowers his head until he feels her breath on his face. Then he closes the distance until their lips meet.
The kiss is soft and cautious, at first. Without the foul after-taste of dating someone else while she kisses him and having the advantage of knowing a kiss was to come at all, he relishes the encounter, because Donna tastes like bliss. Her arms reach higher, drawing him in, and he gladly lets her take the reins. Especially when she nibbles on his lower lip and slips her tongue into his mouth.
For a fleeting moment, he remembers where they are and starts counting the number of eyes probably focused on them right now. But instead of caring about the audience, he wraps his arms around her frame until he locks her in his embrace.
By the time they break apart, the song has changed and the current one is nearing its end. Donna's thumb grazes over his mouth and chin, likely wiping away the remnants of her lipstick, and he smiles. "I thought you didn't feel anything."
"Let's just say, I felt more than I was able to admit without putting you in a difficult position."
"So, you did feel something?" He smirks, a warmth bubbling up around his heart as she confirms to have once again put his needs above her own.
"I did. But you were so mad. I couldn't—"
He shuts her up the only way he knows how, and the same way he hopes he gets to shut her up from now on—by claiming her mouth with his own until she relaxes in his arms and he can safely let go.
When they part, big eyes filled with hope glance up at him. "I'm sorry. You threw me for a loop, and I got so caught up in the consequences for my relationship, I didn't stop to think about my feelings."
"It's okay, Harvey."
"No, it's not. I'm sorry it took me so long, Donna. I'm sorry me dating Paula got you hurt. And I think you were right. I guess, deep down, I've always known I wanted to be with you. I just wasn't ready. But I think I am, now."
Her eyes brighten as her smile widens. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he echoes, an unfamiliar feeling grabbing hold of his heart. He thinks, this is what love is.
Donna looks up, into his eyes. He stares back at her, smiling softly. They sway together. The song ends. Another begins. And still they dance.