Summary: Third part of the vignette/shorts series. 'FUTURES' & 'FUTURES - Wrong Turns'

I wrote this all to Dustin O'Halloran on Spotify (Toplist) Check it out. You may or may not get the vibe, but I like to encourage music and literature all the same.

Futures -

'From the Ground back up'

By Atheniandream

And sometimes, there is a progressive step to the change of ones future.

She understands that now. They are drawn together like flames and drawn apart by hesitation.

But they exist together, just the same.

.

.

"I'm afraid it's presenting itself as stage 2 at this point." The woman says, calmly looking between them.

"The cancer?" Donna asks, clinically. Perfunctory; like she's in the middle of a job interview and trying to impress with her full attention.

"Yes. It's best that we start treatment immediately if it's going to have any impact on the mass. Which means leaving work..yesterday, I'm afraid."

"I...right." She nods, looking to Harvey beside her. His face is solid and somehow slightly grey-tinged. She notes that his throat is completely tight, constricted. She lowers her eyes to the way his hands are immovably frozen and clasped together as he looks down into a disconnected blind spot. He is so very far away...

The doctor's voice breaks her out of her daze.

"I'm sorry?" She blinks.

The woman half-smiles, repeating. "I believe the consultant has briefed you on how this is likely to unfold? The treatment? The risks and details of surgery."

"I...yes. They have. And I did my research, so we...uh. We know what's coming." She nods, her eyes flicking to Harvey, straightening against the feeling of itchy corduroy grey fabric.

"Is there anything you feel you need to ask me?" The woman leans forward, examining the two of them with a kind consideration.

She looks to Harvey again. He's not moved an inch in the twenty minutes they've been in there. He won't even look at her. She doesn't really blame him at this point, but being left out in the dark by herself is niggling at her ability to be strong for herself.

"No. Thank you Doctor." She smiles, the expression tight against her tired face.

"We'll be in touch over the next twenty four hours to arrange the times for you to come in."

"Thankyou." She nods.

When she goes to stand, she watches his rigid form animate itself, pulling the door open for her. Still no recollection. Still avoiding her eyes.

She wonders if he's going to hit a wall before they've even left the hospital. Visions of her ending up on a gurney lecturing him about good hospital etiquette, the words ringing through his ears as he silently and furiously holds his hand flood her head.

When they slide into the car, her patience has worn out into a wafer thin strand of contempt.

When she turns to him, chewing at her inside lip, she's realises he's mashing his teeth together, his chin pinkering as his face lifts into a grimace, before his top lip flattens, biting his bottom one just to keep the pressure in.

"Harvey?" She says, the tension flooding out of her as she instantly reaches for his hand.

It's an alien gesture. But it's all she really has at this point.

"I can't...lose you, too." He struggles through a tight breath, his eyebrows sinking at the edges, the doubt laced in them.

Her stomach sinks when he finally does look at her.

Harvey never cried at his father's funeral.

After the initial shock of finding out, of her telling him, he'd played at strong for his family, for his brother who wasn't coping and for the memory of a man that he so dearly cherished.

And here he was, looking at her like she was being dropped into the ocean.

"Harvey...I'm not going anywhere yet." She says, trying to keep his gaze.

He says nothing, instead shaking his head minutely and looking away to the other side of the car. She watches him exhale sharply, noticing the watery light-bearing tear fall from an eyelash to trickle down his cheek right across the plane of his cheekbone.

She wants to wipe it away…but she wouldn't dare.

"Besides, if I go, who's going to pick up your laundry and kick your ass?" She comments tenderly.

He laughs, looking to her then, his face streaming. Hers now, too.

"You jerk," She remarks, wiping her face then. "You're such a baby," She chides, nudging him with her shoulder, watching as he looks, thoughtfully at their fingers, closed around one another with a protectiveness.

She's just not sure who's protecting who anymore.

"I can't handle it anymore!" She shouts across the room at him.

"What?" He frowns, shutting the front door behind him.

"I'm not having any more of your children!" She says, huffing afterwards, a slight redness on her face at the outburst.

He makes a face at that, a humour lying there somewhere in the back. Her referring to theirs kids as solely his. He knows that she loves them dearly, but he'll always be referred to as 'the one the with the sperm' when she's feels her chips are down. "Hey honey I'm home," He says, dryly, hanging up his coat.

"I mean it. I can't-" She's interrupted by three little redheads, three girls rushing past her from the corridor into the lounge. She just looks at him with emphasis, as he regards her with tiredly amused eyes.

"Hey." He says, pulling at her wrap around sweater, her stubborn and ornery presence softening to his practised touch.

"You know what you told me when we first got together?" He asks pointedly.

"The first or the second first time?" She enquires, trying to best him.

He's too old for that game. "The second. And think clearly." He says, a stern reminder on his face.

"That I wanted four kids? Two of them athletes and two of them actors." Her face falls then, in remembrance, rolling her eyes despite his look of victory. "But-" She raises a finger in protest, and drops it just as quick when he touches her.

"No butts." He says, his hands smoothing down her hips, his thumbs pressing into her hip bones with the slightest bit of pressure.

"No there's a big butt, Harvey Specter."

"You know it turns me on when you say my name that," He growls, planting a kiss to her neck. "Even when there's a 'butt' before it..."

"I'm serious." She protests again; even with her arms limp to her sides and that acceptance of his affection. "I'm forty five." She grumbles.

"So am I. And I'm...deadly serious." He says, planting another kiss, this time on her collarbone; his teeth grazing her .

"So. No more children?" She offers lightly.

"No more." He agrees. "Speaking of more, hows the little one?" He asks, slumping a little against her, his head tilting to see his girls all sat on the lounge rug beside the television as it emits a colourful array of fast paced and mind-numbing imagery.

"He's sleeping. He's nothing like the others." She remarks, looking at him pointedly.

"That's because those three are all you." He says smugly.

"Well someone had to carry on the redhead Paulsen gene," She says, her fingers falling gently into his hair.

"I think we've done that now, don't you?"

"Maybe."

A year later, a miracle fifth child is born. The parents are stunned. The grandparents, elated. Mike pokes fun at them for the entire nine months. Harvey merely shrugs, unwavered by their small firm of offspring.

Packing up her box,

No matter, how important the reasons.

Was very sad.

He would't look at her, wouldn't even watch. She couldn't blame him. Understood even, as she picked up a mont blanc pen, the memory of the recipient and the day of the occasion flashing past her minds eye. She had complained. And he had complied. Such was their relationship. She smiled to herself, if only a little sadly.

When she opened the last draw...there it was. Silver. War-beaten. Symbolic of so many things.

She felt her breath hitch at the sudden potent feeling it invoked.

For a second she felt polarised and abhorrent to it, unable to have it in her life anymore; until, the feeling of it's departure matured in her mind. Her fingers closed around it. Slowly she lowered it into the box along with the rest of her condensed life at the firm.

The last piece.

She walked into his office, her coat on. Her box and bag ready and waiting.

The room was low lit against the looming night outside and the creeping shadows that played in the room.

"Harvey...I'm just about to leave." She said, standing tall with a finality about her.

"Right." He nodded vaguely, looking out the window.

She nodded back in reply, her eyes searching the room. "Your assistant will be here in the morning to take over. Everything is prepped."

"Yeah." He said, looking slowly and vaguely over his shoulder. "Thankyou."

She was finally in a place where she didn't feel she need to teach him anything anymore. Regardless of whether he should be told or not.

It was just...not her job anymore. She straightened, something liberating about the notion.

She could ask him why he wouldn't look at her. But she had been released from the need to.

"Goodbye Harvey." She said, before turning on her heel, pausing to throw her bag over her shoulder and pick up the thirteen years worth of memories in a brown cardboard box.

Every step towards the elevator felt like a break away from something she never knew was too heavy against her. She pressed the button, tapping a toe until the doors open. She lowered her heavier-than-last-time box onto the floor by her feet, the lobby sliding slowly away from her vision.

A hand slid between the last inch, pulling the doors back.

Her head fell to the side in quiet disbelief as he got into the elevator with her, pressing the 'stop' button, the doors shutting them away from the rest of the world.

"I don't know how to fix this." He said, his expression between emotions.

"You can't fix what's not broken, Harvey." She told him.

"I'm broken." He said, matter of factly.

She felt it like a flood hitting her; her chest clenching as the gasp of a sob fell out between them against the rise of anger at the contradiction in her. "I know." She gasped, looking at him, her shoulders dropping. "And I have tried so hardfix you," She whispered, her voice barely audible, exposed and raw as her eyes, heavy and blinking furiously at the swell of salted water clouding them looked back at him. "But only you can do that."

Her face streamed violently with tears in the matter of a moment, her breath hitching.

"I don't know how to just...be in love with you." He admitted, his face strained.

"Just because you love someone, it doesn't mean you're meant to be with them, Harvey."

"I know." He nods. "Stay anyway."

"I can't. He loves me. And this time...I can't choose you. I'm...sorry."

It's the first time she'd ever apologised in her life. The origin of it was so alien to her.

He shook his head, stiffening against her refusal. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She smiled at him in reply, her face falling as she quashed the swell of emotion pushing the tears down her face. The ache of un-endedness tearing at them was ripe in space between them.

He didn't once reach for her. Or try to kiss her. Or even pick up the box.

When the elevator doors opened, he didn't get out. But he watched her intently. Watched her walking, very comfortably away,

From him.

In the right direction this time.

He's 100% sure it's her. Even after ten years.

"Donna?" He says, leaning over a pile of books. So much for late Christmas shopping.

She looks different. Her hair is straighter and shorter and not quite as red as he remembers it being. There are a few creases around her her almond eyes, as she scrutinizes him. Double checking.

"Harvey…Hi." She says, stepping back slightly, hugging her red trenchcoat around her. She double takes then, as they both navigate around the table filled with books. He pauses, quashing the impulse to lean in - a usually natural gesture for old friends - and instead shoves his hands firmly into his pockets. He watches her hands wring slightly, her fingers delicate, raven polished as they always had been and…

Ringless.

"You wanna get a cup of coffee? Catch up?" He finds the words coming out, his breathing hitching soon after.

"Sure." She says, a brighter smile appearing on her face.

They wind up at a diner, the nearest choice. It's the kind of coincidence that makes his gut mulsh and turn at the thought, as he holds the door open for her.

He realises then that they both seem far too old to be sat in a diner.

They quietly walk to the table assigned to them by a faceless server. He watches her fidget in her seat, before her eyes roam over him, snapping back into a long since held habit of hers.

"You look…" She starts.

"Grey?" He offers, a mildly playful smirk on his lips.

"I was going to say, distinguished. And...very neat. Even for you." She observes, narrowing her eyes. "Who dresses you these days?"

"I had to start looking out for myself after you'd gone." He says. The words come out a little sharper than he'd meant them to.

She nods, a small, concentrated smile with a thought to linger there. "Hows Jessica?" She asks him.

"Enjoying retirement. She checks in."

"I heard. Specter, Litt & Ross." She says, before the tipple of an afterthought interupts his almost reply. "I'm glad though...that it's worked out. For all three of you. Rachel's enjoying it, too?" She asks.

"Yeah. She's quick." He wonders if she already knows the answer to that question.

"She's doing well?" She nods, her features softening. He notes a reservation in her words. Not the same bubbly redhead who overtook a conversation in a whirlwind and could cut you down to size in half the time. She seemed...more laid back. Different. Achingly so.

"She learnt from the best." He says, the weight of emphasis obvious.

"You're looking after her, though?"

"Are you kidding? She's got the three of us in her pocket. She'll be a managing Partner in no time."

"Now that, I'd like to see…" She smiles.

"Do you two still-"

"Yeah." She interrupts, looking over to the server for attention. Or maybe its to avoid his eyes.

"So. Not too far away then. I thought that if you'd kept in touch with her, that you might have-"

"Harvey," She protests lightly, but firmly.

"I was at least owed that, Donna." He says, quietly, if not pointedly.

"I know." She sighs, playing with the ends of her menu. "I had to...cut the apron strings."

"You were never my mom..." He says, rolling his eyes.

"You know what I mean. I had to...let go. For a while."

"It's been ten years. Not even a birthday card?" He asks. He's hurt. He's not afraid to admit it.

She had been everything he'd never had. And then she just...left. Disappeared.

"Things...happened, Harvey. I had kids. And moved and…"

"How old?" He asks, straining a breath.

"Ten and Eight." She smiles. "Boy and a Girl."

"Redheads?" He asks.

"No. But wonderful kids. A handful. But...worth it."

Worth leaving him, it appears.

"Mike doesn't tell me anything. Rachel doesn't...tell me anything. Like they're not allowed to mention you?"

"I'm sorry, I...I needed space, Harvey. And then, I just got lost in it all."

"Yeah? I missed you." He says then, leaning in.

"I missed you too." She says.

He can see her eyes shine a little at that.

"So...you're still married?"He asks, clasping his hands together.

"No." Her gaze falls.

"Oh." He replies, her answer laying him flat down for a moment. "I'm sorry." He says, his mouth quirking up at the edges.

"Don't be. He...uh. He died...about eleven months ago." She says, her fingers pressing into the cold plastic covered table.

"Donna, I…"

"Don't. Really. We had ten great years together. So," She says, changing the subject. "Enough about me. How are you?"

"I'm...sailing along. Same old." He shrugs, the gussy about him as he sits back against vinyl.

"No wife?" She asks, a sudden flash of Donna the bloodhound. Like an oncoming train pretending to be a bicycle...

"Girlfriend. You wouldn't approve." He smirks. If only she knew...

"How old is she, Harvey?" She asks, that sharpness in her tact. She gives him that famous look of hers.

He throws it straight back. "Twenty-nine."

She laughs then, rolling her eyes at his unchanged behaviour. "You're incorigible, you know that?"

"I'm something. So she tells me."

"That you are." Her words are interrupted by the vibrating of her phone against the table top. She pauses, looking at the message.

"I have to go," She says, her face falling. "I'm late for a meeting." She says, her eyes finding his.

"Don't go."

"I have to, Harvey."

"Have dinner with me tonight." He presses, sitting forward to meet her eyes intently.

"I have two kids to look after, Harvey." She sighs, rolling her eyes.

"So, get a sitter." He says, the demand clear in his words.

"Harvey."

"Donna."

There's that look again. Alive like a flame, it grows between them. That spar, that interchange. Like fighting without needing the words.

"Okay," She relents, smiling. "I'll ask Rachel or Mike."

"Why not try both? Those two in a room is a bunch of fun..."

"They didn't have wisdom we had." She smiles ruefully, the knowledge of their long time ended affair that crumbled in a way theirs hadn't.

"Or the no strings sex." He adds.

"Oh, I think there were strings. Don't you?" She says, shaking her head at him. After all these years it's possible he still doesn't get them.

"I'll see you later. If you stand me up, I now know that they know where you live, so."

"I'm not gonna stand you up. Because this isn't a date." She says pointedly, rising to stand.

"Like hell it isn't." He says. He watches the shock in her eyes, smirking arrogantly, the satisfaction at watching her buckle on his still handsome face. "I'll see you later." He says, sitting back.

"Okay." She says, unconvinced.

"Don't say okay." He says, his slightly icy words stopping her in her tracks. "Say you'll see me later." He says smirking, unwavered by her blase attitude.

"I'll see you tonight Harvey." She smiles, rolling her eyes all the way to the door.

All in one spontaneous hour,

He feels twenty years younger.

They don't spend a day apart for almost three months after.

It's the happiest he's ever been in his life.

It's his first day at the DA's office. He's feeling pumped, ready for a fight. Ready to lay the groundwork of his soon-to-be illustrious career as a New York Lawyer. He gussies in the elevator, feeling confident and sharp in his new suit - that Jessica had forced him to buy - and was ready to hit the ground running without too much encouragement. He wanders the broken sea of people, milling about the corridors, until he reaches his destination, the office that would be his for the foreseeable future. At least until he got his first promotion.

"You're late." A voice calls next to him, jumping him out of his skin.

"What?" He half-grunts, looking up to the gaze of a very amused woman. "No I'm not."

"You were supposed to be in court an hour ago." She remarks, cocking her hip.

He blinks at the leggy redheaded creature, as she flits between him and the desk that's supposed to be his. "Who are-"

She interrupts his vague asking of a question. "I'm Donna. You're Harvey Specter, and you're late."

"Yes. No. What?" He says, confused.

"Cameron, as in Dennis, left a message for you, to tell you that you're late, and you're supposed to be overseeing his latest case today, so if you don't hurry, you'll be more than the half hour late you already are. And he gets pissed when people are late."

"Right. And you are?"

"I told you. Donna." She huffs, handing him a file of papers. He frowns, taking them.

"My…"

"Assistant?" She answers, glaring at him suspiciously.

"That's all you had to say."

"No. You also needed to know my name." She says.

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm about to make your life ten times easier, and your workload half as complicated." She says with a confident smile. He notes the way she pouts at him, against large concentrated brown eyes, hiding that muddy hint of green in them under vibrant red bangs.

"Right. I'll be sure to make a note of that." He says, his face falling out into a slow smile.

"Go!" She barks at him, jutting out her chin at him.

"You don't have to shout!" He remarks, smirking at her.

He smiles all the way to the courthouse, filled with that feeling you get when everythings hurriedly falling into place.

And he daydreams for the next two weeks about those legs and that smile.

Hope you enjoy! Got a big fic coming soon... A -