Agent 00?

Category: Action/Romance

Summary: Harvey and Donna are thrown into a world of chaos when the charity gala they're attending is taken under siege.

AN: There was a comment on twitter in reference to Harvey looking like the next James Bond and this story has been stuck in my head ever since! Thank you to Jess_darveymylove for being my beta :) I welcome all constructive criticism because I wasn't planning on writing another action fic but here we are :P

They stand at the foot of the stage, a few paces apart to keep things relaxed, but Harvey's barely listening to the MC's speech as it draws in the crowd. His eyes are glued to Donna, slipping over the gold lace draped around her curves, the dress that's had him memorized all night. In a sea of designer gowns hers is the only one he's noticed, the smile she's been wearing calling him like a beacon and putting everything else to shame.

Even the elaborate hall hasn't registered his interest, Louis harping on about the architecture going in one ear and out the other ever since the moment he'd spotted her. She'd insisted on getting ready at hers, catching him completely off guard, and he'd approached her with a tightness wrapped around his words, joking about turning her right back around and heading to his condo. She'd responded with a playful gleam, telling him they need a life outside his bedroom as well, and he's still only half in agreement.

Unfortunately the biennial charity gala is a permanent fixture in his calendar, the exclusivity reaching out to a deep pocketed higher society. It's essentially a ground for networking that's landed him several big clients over the years and to slip out would be considered a social faux pas, not to mention impossible given the attention they've been receiving- his pride swelling at people's interest in the stunning redhead on his arm.

He'd attended the event stag previously but has had no hesitation introducing her as his girlfriend, much to the dismay of several female acquaintances who have been circling with closed-minded opinions. The majority of the gossip though has been harmless and she plays it all down because she's Donna, but that only seems to charm people's curiosity more. If he was here to poach clients he has no doubt she'd have them signing in minutes, and he isn't deterred when she suddenly catches his gaze with a pointed look.

Stop staring.

His answering grin easily disarms the warning, stirring a modest blush along her cheeks that in his eyes makes her even more captivating. She doesn't need a $3000 dress to steal his attention. He's seen her look just at devastating waking up in one of his old shirts but her 'guy' really out did himself this time, and he isn't sure whether to thank the tailor or be jealous there's another man out there that's so in-tune with her body. It's a thought he doesn't care to deliberate on and a round of applause snaps him away from it, his hands joining in automatically. It helps curbs the impulse to reach out and touch her, his eyes straying from the opening at her thigh up to the formidable smirk she's chasting him with. Of course she knows exactly what he's thinking, and for the sake of avoiding a potentially embarrassing situation he steps closer bringing himself inline with her so his gaze is forced ahead to the stage.

He searches for a distraction, steering away from the wildly inappropriate things he'd do if they were in private, and there's a movement behind the MC that-

The room plunges into darkness cutting the observation short, surprised gasps filling the blackness, and his hand winds around Donna's waist on instinct ushering her forward with an uncoordinated stumble. His elbow hits the edge of something hard but he ignores the flash of pain, paranoia fabricating a danger that may or may not exist. He thought he saw a gun and that's what's important. He's not willing to taking any chances, feeling his way blindly through the crushed velvet curtains as Donna trips up in front of him.

The lights flicker on suddenly, a resonating gunshot dispersing the chaotic chatter, and his heart slams violently into his chest until he realizes they're still cast in a shadow; they can move without being seen and his fingers squeeze Donna's waist with silent encouragement, her steps wavering as she drops to an open crawl space beneath beneath the podium.

He doesn't like it, the tight entrance making him feel claustrophobic, but she's already wriggling her way through and he doesn't hesitate. She trusted him a few moments ago and now it's his turn, his ears straining to hear the muffled demands being shouted above them. The demands for surrender spin through his head leading him to the conclusion it's a heist of some-sort, and whoever the group are they're not amateurs. Every guest in the room is cut off; no cellphones, nothing so much as nail scissors that could be used as a weapon thanks to the security procedures. What was meant to keep them safe may have just screwed them but he doesn't linger on the negative thoughts, focusing on finding a way through the cobweb covered beams jutting out at his shoulders.

Donna makes it look easy, her smaller frame able to slip through where he keeps getting stuck, and he's close to making a comment about exercises in futility when he remembers her theater knowledge, why she seems to have a clear idea of where they'e heading, and he bites down his reservations, arms twitching with relief when she uncovers a maintenance exit. It's about 2/3rds smaller than a regular door and she goes first because it would be impossible to maneuver around her but he follows quickly, not wanting her alone on the other side, his body jarring through the snug fit until he's able to stand at full height beside her.

It's pitch back and she feels around for a cord, pulling it with a tug and illuminating a dim rusty globe. The space isn't much bigger than a closet housing a few old podiums and tools but it's a moment's reprieve, a chance to catch her breath as she stares at him with wide eyes. "How did you know?"

He opens his mouth to answer but replaces the failed explanation with a shake of his head. He didn't, not exactly. Had he been looking anywhere else at that particular second, or chosen to ignore his instincts, they'd still be back there and he's grateful they both managed to get out in time but not completely able to conceal his worry. Even with the darkness cast across her features she looks unnaturally pale and he takes her hand with a small squeeze, "you okay?"

The concern feels misplaced given the situation they left everybody in and she swallows roughly, afraid to say what she's thinking. "Harvey..."

His name trails off into silence, her face twisting with more uncertainty and he can see she's scared. He is too but they're in a position to help, they just have to smart about what they do next. "We'll find a phone, call the police... it's going to be alright."

It's an empty reassurance. He can't know for sure they'll be safe until then but she clings to it anyway steeling herself against small waves of panic rising up. Right now they're not the ones in danger and the thought calms her as he moves to the door, testing it with a sigh.

"Locked."

He throws the observation back over his shoulder, watching as she reaches up into her hair sliding out two pins. It takes him a moment to figure out what she's doing and an involuntary smirk tugs at his lips. "Why am I not surprised you know how to pick a lock?"

"Because I'm Donna." She finds her voice more confidently hooking up an eyebrow as she ushers him out of the way, slipping the bent metal into the keyhole. It's not as easy as they make it look in the movies and it takes a good five to ten minutes before she manages to find a rhythm, Harvey keeping silent despite an ever-so-slight bounce back and forth on his heels.

When she finally has the inner mechanism lined up she turns the handle with a satisfying click.

He can't say he isn't impressed but the relief is fleeting and he quickly replaces her grip with his own, his expression edged with whatever authority he can muster. There's no reason for both of them to go. Arguably it's smarter if one of them stays behind but she cuts off the reasoning before he's able to defend it.

"I'm coming." She's adamant, reading the intent behind his muscling around her but there's no way in hell she's letting him leave alone. Her worry aside, he'd be stuck at the first locked door he came across. "You need me."

"Need?" He queries out of habit more than anything. What he needs is for her to be safe, not running around putting herself in danger trying to protect him. "Donna, I can handle it."

She tries to stem her irritation knowing he's only acting like an idiot out of concern but that's even more reason for her to go with him, to make sure he doesn't do anything rash. They work because they're a team and she softens her expression, gently thumbing the crook of his elbow to sway him. "I'll be careful."

His doubt expels in a heavy sigh but the echo of a gunshot renders him still, the hairs on his neck standing alert and on edge. He can't control what's happening in there and it's killing him but at least if Donna's with him he can make sure nothing happens to her. "Stay behind me."

He's firm with the compromise and she nods, praying no one was hurt as she breathes out- wincing as bright light floods the room.

He's cautious with his steps but there's no one else in sight, the small corridor looking to be a level below where the hall is situated. From what she can tell it's a passageway used for stage access and storage only, which means if they want a phone they're going to need to go up.

He reaches the sames conclusion leading them to the neon running man hovering above the stairwell, his gaze dropping to the security panel that's flashing green. It means they're probably going to need a pass to get beyond the ground level, leaving them limited to where they can and can't search for help, and he checks the theory once they're inside, climbing back down from the second floor with an agitated glance at the numbers painted on the wall. "That's our only way out."

She suspected as much but it doesn't make her any less nervous, knowing there are bound to be people armed on the other side. It would be a pretty shitty heist if there weren't and she smooths down her dress trying to make herself look the part in case they do they get caught. So long as she's in character she's confident she can talk her way out of almost anything and she watches Harvey brush the dust from his suit, her eyes trailing the movement of his hands with a smirk.

He catches the inquisitive stare and stalls, confusion drawing his brows together. "What?"

"Nothing." She bites the inside of her cheek with a step forward, helping to straighten his bow-tie. With all hell breaking loose it's not such a stretch to paint him in as the next 007 but the white jacket is pretty much a lost cause, caked with smudges of dirt and he's going to have to lose it, but she steals a moment to mourn the loss. "Just... indulging a little fantasy."

He raises an eyebrow, watching in fascination as her cheeks speckle with pink. "So the Bond thing gotcha huh?" He teases, shrugging out of the jacket.

She opens her mouth in protest, drawing up to where he's seemingly far too pleased with himself, and she shakes her head with a tight smile. "I was thinking more John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever."

"No you weren't-" he challenges, letting his cockiness slide down a notch, "because you've seen me dance." Her expression relaxes slightly, a soft chuckle parting her lips and he flings the fabric over the rail ready to abandon it completely. While he's never set out to imitate anyone he won't deny taking inspiration from certain suave, sophisticated espionage movies and he rolls up his sleeves baiting the hook. "I assume that make you Tiffany Case in this scenario?"

She rolls her eyes knowing he's only picking a redheaded Bond girl to wind her up, alluding that her hair color is all she's limited to when they both know it's not. "We really need to work on your character associations." Lana Lang, Iceman, Butch and Sundance- he really does get it backwards sometimes but the casualness falls from her expression as she steps closer to him. While he likes to pretend he's Superman, he isn't, but he is loyal and protective to fault, something he needs to try and reign in if they do run into any kind of trouble. "Promise me you won't be a hero."

He lifts his hands settling them against her arms and circling a sigh around his mouth. He has no intention of taking any risks but he can't lie and say he won't do anything in his power to protect her. She's the most the important person in his life and he presses a chaste kiss to her forehead, careful with his reassurance. "It's going to be okay."

The answer is evasive and not what she's looking for but he's already moving and she knows he'll be more focused if she acts complicit. It might not be the best strategy but it's the one she has, and she keeps her promise staying behind him as they exit the stairwell.

The only sound is the click of the door as Harvey pulls it shut and her eyes trail the lavish corridor, the expensive artwork and antiques she'd previously admired giving the stillness an eerie feel. She tries to place their surroundings as they walk quickly in search of a phone. It could have easily once been a private school or theater, not the banquet hall it is now, but the layout doesn't become any more apparent as they wind their way through, her heels teetering when Harvey's stops suddenly.

He pulls her back around the corner before she can ask any questions, his arms locking firmly around her waist, and she leans against his chest keeping perfectly still.

A second later the sound of footsteps shuffle passed, making her swallow nervously, and it's only when the tail end of a shadow sweeps by that she feels Harvey relax, his breath rushing hotly against her ear. "You know, under different circumstances..."

"Don't." She chides, still reeling with adrenaline as he heeds the warning releasing his hold.

He doesn't stray far slipping his hand into hers with a gentle tug and she has no choice but to collect herself and follow, feeling a wave of relief when they spot a door up ahead. He reaches it first, rattling it with a frustrated sigh and she steadies herself as best she can slipping two more pins from her hair, ignoring his almost comical look.

He's on the verge of voicing his curiosity, wondering how many clips she has tucked away up there, but instead he angles himself as a shield casting his gaze down the hall for any signs of movement. All jokes aside he's never seen her wearing it like that before and it's just one of the reasons he's been captivated tonight. In recent years she's taken to having it long and straight in the office and the softness of it, the loose curls framing her face make him murmur the musings out loud. "I like it like that." He throws the comment over his shoulder and to hell with it, in for a penny in for a pound.

"Everything, I mean you look..." he shakes his head, breathing in sharply and finding it ridiculous he can't even settle on the right words with his back turned, but her light teasing puts him at ease.

"And here I thought you hadn't noticed?" She only falters for second, trying to stay focused on the task at hand but the truth is he doesn't need to say anything. The way he's been looking at her since she arrived has said it all and she feels him smirk, wishing she'd given in and agreed to get ready at his condo. Right now she'd give anything to back there, not running around like they're in some Nintendo 64 video game, and the regret seeps into her impulses, the suggestion out of her mouth before she can stop it. "We should move in together."

A stunted silence follows the outburst making her stomach drop with further unease and she swallows thickly, the sudden click of the lock an even more welcome escape. She's never pushed anything in their relationship, always letting him be the one to guide the way, and before now they've always seemed to be in sync but his hesitation drives her into the room, her eyes scanning the small office and landing on a phone. The object takes precedence above everything else and she beelines toward it, picking it up and flinching at distressing quiet that meets her ears; no dial tone.

She drops the receiver back into its cradle, leaning heavily against the desk and fighting the tears of frustration that spring to her eyes. "They cut the line."

He's just as deflated but is equally torn by the catch in her voice knowing he's partially responsible for it. He should of come clean straight away but he can't leave the door, worried it will lock, so he does what he can to break the tension simmering between them. "I was going to ask."

She glances up confused by his soft expression. It's not what she's expecting, especially if he was just trying to appease her, and she relinquishes her hold on the polished wood folding her arms shyly across her chest. "Then why didn't you?"

"Because there's a place I'm interested in-" he admits, a small smile touching his lips, "but it won't be ready for another week and I wanted to surprise you."

She's even more puzzled by the explanation and inclines her head to the side trying to read what he's getting at. He loves his condo, just like she loves her apartment, and of all the ways she imagined having this conversation jumping ship was never one of them. "You want to move, move?"

He shrugs, the idea not set in stone but one he's been seriously considering. When Mike had jokingly emailed him about a 'settle down' property he'd brushed it off with the same intent but then he'd gotten to thinking; something with a garden, a library for their combined art and books, a few extra rooms... it makes sense and he addresses her confusion testing the waters. "I just figured in case we needed more space, you know for a dog, or-" he waves his arm indirectly, letting her fill in the rest.

"A family?" She rocks forward on her heels, the fact he's been considering all this swelling in her chest despite the fact they haven't really talked about it. It's always been one if those things that's come second to the firm and the way he opens his mouth, promptly closing it again reminds her that now isn't the time but it is incentive for them to figure a way out of this mess. "We need a new plan."

He's relieved by the change of subject, his fingers starting to cramp over the handle, and he skims his free hand against her waist silently telling her they're not finished with the conversation. He might not be James Bond but in his mind that's only a good thing because he has something better than fancy suits and and suave charisma; he has her, and that's all he needs to take on the bad guys.

And that's exactly what he plans to do.