Author's Notes: Dedicated to #faxwhispering on Tumblr for her awesome chats and track recs that spawned a new place for darvey.

Seven - Part 1.

By Atheniandream

Summary: There were seven times that he tried to win her back. S7. Donna POV.

There were seven times that he tried to win her back.

Seven times over seven separate days that changed them from what they were to what they are.

Born of seven sins over seven years.

But not the sins that we know of,

The sins of two people,

Lost between one another and their joined world.

Mike Ross - The young man that really set the ball rolling...

She loves Mike.

But Harvey's actions changed everything.

She sometimes wonders what the firm would be like if he hadn't hired his then Associate. If they hadn't had to defend a firm that had stood solid for six years before it started to fall at their hands.

Where would they all be?

Would she still have her own office?

Would he be heading the firm as his own?

She's grateful for her current situation, she really is.

But like everything, it comes at a price. And a heavy one.

Sometimes she wonders if it was truly worth it.

She's late today. Unlike the partners, she doesn't have her own town car, never needing to impress anyone in particular, never needing to roast meetings with a Hail Mary pass or fly into corporations and take them over and spread her weight around to make a point.

Her job is simple. Keep the ship afloat at all costs.

She's flustered on this rather cold Monday morning; her perfect hair isn't its usual curtain of imposing auburn or a gravity defying wonder, and her nails honestly need redoing, but she just hasn't had the time. Closing her door behind her, she deer-steps down the hall to the rickety elevator on her floor.

She taps her heel, the ingrained need for coffee making itself known as the metal box descends, and her with it.

You've already had your morning coffee, she reminds herself.

The trouble is, this new position of hers is a 'two coffee' job, minimum.

She presses her arms against the clunky lobby door, her long legs stalking down the steps to the sidewalk.

"Harvey?" She pauses, frowning.

It's not like all the other times. She wears a slight frown, now. She's trying to work through it, she really is.

But some things can't be bent or broken. Such is the law of the universe.

He pushes off of his town car, his hands clapping together as he nears her.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, trying to level her rather pensive feeling expression. She swallows, tilting her head at him in a bird like fashion.

"I thought...that we could...go to breakfast this morning?" He offers, a small if not unsure smile sliding onto his lips. "At Perrine. Or...perhaps...The River Cafe."

She sighs, the sound seeming hollow.

They haven't been like this in a very long time.

For one, The River Cafe is where romance either sinks or swims. And they don't even have a 'boat' in that regard.

She's seeing someone. She doesn't talk about her personal life at work anymore.

Her expression dents, her head tilting again as she holds her bag in front of her. "That's a lovely offer Harvey, but I can't." She declines.

"Why not?" His brows knit together. "We've always gone to dinner before. Breakfast. Lunch?" He reasons.

"That...was when you were my Boss." She reminds him. "You're not - directly - my Boss anymore."

"We're still colleagues though, right. And friends?" He defends, a question bending the statement, seemingly wounded by her insinuation, but no less standing his ground.

When she doesn't answer, his lips mash together in distaste.

She laughs internally. Harvey Specter not getting what he wants always ends in the same way. Pouting. Begging. Then Bargaining.

"But in a different way, now, Harvey. I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. I'm sorry," She breathes, beginning to feel exasperated at his pressing the matter. "I have a ton of work on my desk that I'm already late for, so." She says, looking at her watch.

"Okay…well then...at least...hitch a ride with me?" He offers, animated as he points at the car.

"No, Harvey. It doesn't look good. Especially with my recent promotion. We need to be...professional, now."

He looks floored. And it's hard to floor a man like him. She must have only seen that expression a handful of times.

She can see that he wants to say something. Perhaps something about her having never worried about looking professional before, or something of that nature.

She straightens, sliding a pleasant smile on her face. "See you at work, Harvey." She nods, before sliding past the front of the car, and waving to a waiting Ray.

She treats herself to lunch out that day.

A victory, for her heart, at least.

If you wanna say something

Man up, don't say nothing

Oh, I speak the truth

If you wanna say something

Silence don't mean nothing

But it does to you

Heard the silence become a part of you - Grace Carter 'Silence'

Dana Scott - The One that somehow wasn't

She always knew that there was a pretty high possibility that Scottie was the one.

She had been the first one, after all.

And something between her own protectiveness over Harvey and watching that small, seemingly strong Lawyer fall apart at the seams made her wish for them see it through to the finish line.

She, Donna, had been in love with him. She had been jealous. But she had swallowed it all down in the vain hope that Scottie could break him first.

But as it happened, he had ended up breaking her, in the process.

She should have seen it there. Seen the way he continued to take from Scottie without giving.

Dana Scott would forever stand as a metaphorical martyr of love.

A marker of what a man like him could do.

She's getting a headache, being in between Harvey and Louis.

She understands, for the first time, why Jessica used to lose her shit on occasion.

She thinks upon the woman, the Queen of PH come PSL, that left a gaping hole in their firm.

She knows that she could never fill her shoes, but she hopes that the older woman knows that she is trying her very best to represent, for the women in this firm. For justice, and for keeping the ship firmly on a course that is right and fair and as clean as it can be in such dirty waters.

It's dark now, her having left the two men in Louis' office to bat it out until they came to a much needed agreement. She had admitted defeat at around nine. About the same time that she figured out that it was no longer her job to wait over Harvey and see that he play nice, twenty-four-seven.

The lights are low, and the night sky reflects on the pictures in her office. She lays back, kicking off her manolos and raising her stocking covered legs onto her desk.

It's a strange sensation, her relaxing on something that's solely hers. Sure, she's had a desk for years, but now she has a space, too. And it means something more. She'd spent fifteen years overstepping her position, all over parts of Harvey's office; her feet on his desk, or spread out on his couch, thumbing through his albums or even sitting on his window sill, to the point that the act, now, in her own office, was a very different one. She picks up the small engraved tumbler from her desk, taking a sip of her light japanese whiskey as she sighs the day away.

She should go home soon.

But she's used to relaxing, decompressing in this building after her shift. Just like before. Only different.

She hears a lazy knock against glass, and looks up to find a rather dishevelled looking Harvey, legs crossed at the ankles towards the frame as it supports his weight, his hair pulled out at all ends, and his sleeves rolled up, his tie absent from the frustrations of compromise. At a quick glance he looks like a young Mike.

"Finally," He breathes, looking towards her with vague interest. "Got another one of those?" He infers, pointing to her glass.

She sighs, watching as he pads into her space. He does that now. Knocks. It's a change from their old ways. She bends her legs, planting them on the ground as she wanders over to her little mini bar. "I gather that your presence means that you've finally worked out a deal with Louis?" She asks, the assumption already planted.

He shrugs, his lips pouting and watches her pour the clear liquid from her decanter into a fresh glass. "Something that the client will be happy with." He reasons. "And something that doesn't break our bank in the meantime." He adds with a stretch, stepping forward to receive the glass that she offers.

She watches as he sips the drink, frowning slightly at the difference in taste.

"That's not Macallan." He identifies, giving her an odd look.

"No...it's not." She remarks. "It's also not your office. Go figure." She points out with the slightest knife edge of sharpness in her tone, quirking an eyebrow at him playfully.

He matches the expression. "It's...flowery." He notes.

"It's crisp and delicious and if you don't like it...you can walk yourself back to your own stash." She remarks.

He chuckles, looking down at his drink like a child that's been told off by his mother, continuing to sip the clear liquid. She wanders back to her desk, planting her stocking clad feet back on her own desk.

"It suits you." He compliments, taking another sip.

She had opted for a couch instead of chairs. She didn't have many meetings in her office, and any were arranged as 'casual talks'. She watches as he wanders to the small couch alongside, lowering onto one side as his arms rest along the back, the whiskey tumbler dangling from one hand.

She sighs, looking into her refilled glass, as he sits in a small silence.

They don't often live in silences anymore. For her, they are just too painful now. A new promotion also broke her out of the instinct of being a masochist. She's more than that. Now she can exorcise that part of herself, freely.

She looks up at the very moment that he appears to be struggling with something. She can see the words filtering up from his stomach to his mind and then finally to his mouth as he articulates them. "Why don't you come to my office anymore?" He asks, quietly, thoughtful, as he looks into his glass.

"What?" She blinks.

"You avoid my office." He says, his eyes raising to meet hers with the accusation.

She rolls her own, placing her glass down. "Harvey..." She sighs. "I don't avoid your office. I just...I don't work for you anymore." She responds calmly.

"I'm still your Boss." He reminds her with a look.

"Harvey...you're the head of the firm. That's a given. But it's…" She finds herself shrugging. It's defensive and not her style. "it's just...not the same anymore. Things have changed." She tells.

He nods, seeming to take the words as a quiet blow to his confidence.

"Did they really have to?" He mutters, before looking at her.

"Judging by how much we've both changed, I think you know the answer to that." She says matter of factly, before sliding her legs back onto the carpet below. She picks up her drink, downing the double in one gulp, before standing.

He stands along with her, placing his glass on the small coffee table as she grabs her coat. "Donna,"

"What?" She asks, looking back to him.

"Have dinner with me." He says.

"Harvey," She frowns, pursing her lips together soon after.

"Just as friends." He assures her.

There's something in the solidness of his words that stop her impulses dead, where perhaps there might have been some give. She straightens, nearly meeting his height in her higher-than-average heels. She offers him a limp smile. "I can't Harvey. I have a date."

His eyes narrow, his chest puffing out. "At 10.45 in the evening? You have a date? Really? That's the best you got?" He remarks, unconvinced.

It rises her ire, his questioning of her. "Actually," She responds sharply. "I postponed it because of you and Louis. Again. It was meant to be 7.45." She clarifies heavily, watching as he weighs up the legitimacy of her words. She witnesses him settle the truth in her words as gospel, as she slides quietly past him, picking up her bag off of the coat rack. "Goodnight Harvey." She says, bidding her fair well.

"Tomorrow, then." He calls behind her, seemingly not ready to end the conversation.

He has her there. It's Wednesday tomorrow. She has no get out.

"Fine." She nods, eyes wide, before gliding out of the building.

Wednesday comes. He has to reschedule. They all end up working, extracting the latest crisis from their beloved firm. She slips out by nine o'clock and glides to the nearest cab.

You think you're so important to me, don't you?

But I wanted you to know that you don't belong here

You think you're so important to me, don't you?

Don't kill my vibe

Sigrid 'Don't kill my vibe' (Acoustic Version)

Zoe Lawford and the 'dateable' women

He had been cagey about Zoe Lawford. Some how, now, when she looks back, there is a clear pattern.

Minus one night stands, he acts differently with her than he does with the women he openly pursues.

With most of them, he is relaxed, and giving and emotionally ready. Regardless of the stage of his life.

Except with her.

She wonders if she got it wrong all of these years,

If it's all been in her head.

He slept with her, and then asked her to come with him. Paid her salary. Protected her. For nothing more than being a secretary, and his right hand woman.

Was she just a one-night-stand with work benefits?

She doesn't know. Or doesn't want to know.

She knows one thing, though.

She's not a secretary anymore. Or his secretary, for that matter.

She's just a woman, looking at a man and wondering where exactly she got it all wrong.

So, she's still dating this guy.

He's a Structural Engineer. Probably the most boring of jobs. She's not into it, and if she were honest with herself, she's not been into dating for a while.

The only thing is, he's an amazing kisser. David, the great kisser, is how he is listed in her phone.

He's taken her to a trendy bar, after showing her through a historical breakdown of architecture in the city, from the Goldman-Sachs building all the way to the Woolworth Building and Flatiron.

He shows her places that she's ignored for a decade, and it spreads a new energy in the city.

She falls in love with New York City all over again. At least he's good for that.

Add to that, a thorough make out session, and Donna Paulsen is half sold on her little dating detour.

They end up at Slate, a hip bar with it's expansive lighting and seemingly 'meat-market' feeling about it, that clashes with the candles on tables and the luminescence of the place.

She's just glad she's not riding solo in the place.

She's had a few cocktails already, and she's loosened up, after a week of hardball. He's mildly attractive, if not a slightly plain dresser, and he's got blue eyes, which she's always had a thing for. He has the kind of hair that would curl in your hands, and hands that could curl you around him. The more she drinks, she starts to wonder if maybe there's more to him that meets the eye.

Whilst her date focuses on more drinks, she breathes a sigh of relief to herself, at the slight transition she's made.

Donna Paulsen is moving on. Albeit, slowly.

Slow progress is progress, just the same.

She's dressed in an Oscar de la Renta black silk lace dress, with a rouched skirt, from Saks, red backed Manolos and her vibrant hair in a high ponytail, giving a slightly futuristic note to her attire, to which the addition of smokey eyes gives a little drama.

She feels younger and freer than she has done in a year, maybe two.

She watches as David the Engineer bends over the counter, his attention firmly on claiming the first free bartender. After a minute or two, her eyes start to wander into the crowd, the mix of ages and styles and professions all mingling in as one.

She loves nights like this, where she finds freedom in the simplest of things, feeling amazing, whilst not too overtly attention drawing, and yet managing to mingle amongst the day old cream of New York City.

She smiles to herself, as a man catches her eye, making his way through the crowd. He looks familiar, and yet she can't seem to pinpoint how she knows him, until an all too familiar form stalks in front of the guy.

His cheekbones sharpen as he notices her, his swagger seeming slightly out of time for a second, until he moves in step with the music once more, giving her a look to indicate that he's surprised she's even here. His skin looks slightly flushed against his tan and usual moles, as if he's been out for a few hours already, his eyes drawing their liquid omniscient-seeming state, as he regards her.

"Out on the town tonight, huh, Donna?" He offers with a slight croon in his voice, smirking, as he stands in front of her. Tom Ford clad like he's running a night time deal.

She rolls her eyes, flicking her attention to her still occupied date, before her eyes move to her Boss's 'man-friend'.

Harvey double takes slightly, introducing them.

"Gerard, this is Donna Paulsen, the Chief of Operations at my firm."

"Haven't we met before?" The man asks, as he extends a welcoming hand.

"I think we might have...Clerkmann International?" She picks out of the recesses of her mind as she shakes the man's hand. "The hedge fund?"

"That's the one. You were his Assistant...before?" He queries.

"Yes. I was. For over a decade." She says, looking to Harvey for a second, as she notices him narrow his eyes at the shortening of the truth. "But not anymore." She regards them both, hearing the other man laugh awkwardly.

"She always was overqualified for the job," Harvey defends, taking the blow in his stride.

"I can see that," Gerard nods with a interested smile, giving her the once over. If she weren't taken for the night, she'd consider Mr International...

She feels warm fingers press against her back suddenly, as she looks to David, a welcoming if not slightly confused look on his face. "Sorry, David," She says, giving him a smile. "David Sands, this is Harvey Specter, the Managing Partner of my firm," She says, watching Harvey with an eagle eye. "David is...my date?"

She watches as Harvey's face falters just a fraction, as he swallows, his chin lifting, as if to overcompensate, as he shakes David's hand, nodding. His slightly pushy friend interrupts before he can say another word.

"That's a shame. I thought you could...join us…" Gerard Clerkmann remarks to her. "Maybe next time?"

She watches Harvey's face turn from awkward to irked in a second.

"Of course Gerard. Have a good evening," She greets, before turning to David.

No more than five minutes later, she has her tongue down her date's throat, half for herself and half for Harvey.

She doesn't notice Harvey, locked in place by his client friend, under a ripple of mermaid-coloured lights, forced to watch the entire thing.

With a growing frown on his face, as his fingernails dig into the inside of his fists.

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind

So dark and foul I can't disguise

Can't disguise

Nights like this

I become afraid

Of the darkness in my heart

Hurricane - 'Hurricane' By MS/MR

Esther Litt & having it all

She had dealt with the 'Esther' situation as well as she had been able. Mostly, because Louis hadn't dealt with it well at all, and then because Louis had very much overstepped.

Causing Harvey to lash out. Badly.

That's where she found out.

He was having panic attacks. He was having therapy. After her.

Suddenly the words they'd exchanged had been trumped by his real life problems.

They barely talked like that anymore. Open and honest, if not a little one sided.

She was his confidant, no longer.

Someone else must have taken over from her. Early than she'd anticipated.

Late nights in the office were different, now. She spent them alone, in her own office mostly, going over the business and signing off on the kind of things that Harvey didn't have time for. Mostly, she was happy - from a professional standpoint - to take care of what was left. They still worked like an adequately oiled machine.

However, he had a new assistant, and she mostly ever saw him for matters that were pressing throughout the day, or, on the rare occasion that they crossed paths on their way out of the building.

She had managed to get out of the office a little early tonight, with aching feet and an aching head, she tottered towards the curb outside of her workplace.

A car, with all it's familiar sleekness slid up to the curb where she stood.

She straightens, it's reflective glass withholding the mystique of its precious human cargo, as it comes to a steady stop. The door opens suddenly and out on itself, as she takes a step back, watching Harvey Specter emerge, clad in a day old suit and an expectant expression.

"Fancy a drink?" He offers, the confidence of such an offer sliding off his shoulders like water off a duck's back.

"Harvey, It's been a long day…" She slumps slightly, caught off guard.

She's not sure she can deal with whatever he's dealing out today. She's barely seen him, and she realises, that since they've parted, she dreads the state he comes to her in. So long knowing his every move and mood, he is now an unknown quantity to her when he appears out of the blue like this.

She still ignores the fact that they had spent almost fifteen hour days, six days a week together for nearly fifteen years, without holidays, and excluding their noteable times apart, and have transitioned from that to functional meetings, cordial greetings, and emergencies with at least three or more.

"Donna, come on." He presses on her suggestive nerve, his deep voice bending higher.

"Harvey, I've been in heels for thirteen hours now-" She warns.

"Don't pretend that their aren't a pair of roll-up flats in your bag." He counters. "I was with you when you bought them."

"One, Touche." She says, genuinely impressed. "And two...they're new ones. The old ones fell apart." She bests. His expressions is mixed and potent, and she can't resist his face for longer than three months, she realises.

"Fine." She narrows her eyes at him "One drink." She threatens with a finger, pressing his chest to push him into the limo.

"Don't say things you don't mean," He smirks.

And it's like no time has passed at all.

They exit the town car on the corner of of 44th Street and 8th Avenue, as he guides her in a gentlemanly fashion to 'Birdland', a legendary jazz club, boasting the cream of the current jazz scene and the history of jazz to boot. She's heard about the place before, and by the look on Harvey's face, it's not his first time either.

They nod to the bouncer, and she slides into the narrow black fronted door behind Harvey as he paves the way. From the moment they walk into the main bar, the room is awash with tuneful sound. Something moody and effervescent.

Donna sidles up to Harvey as he rests a hand on the bar, their first proper words since she joined him.

"Your Dad...played here. Am I right?" She guess with a smile.

The Great Gordon Specter.

And God, does she miss that man… She can only dream of how much Harvey misses him.

"Yep." He pops the 'p', glancing at her briefly, before looking out to the quintet playing on the red curtain filled stage with a sense of unbridled longing.

She watches as he orders two old fashioned cocktails. There's something so smooth and practised about his action, and yet completely self-centred and ungentlemanly at the same time.

"I guess I'm having an old fashioned, then." She quips, looking to him.

He pauses, giving her a look, before he grabs the bartender's attention. "And a glass of Shiraz, please." He adds.

She leans towards him, too close in some ways, but necessary due to the amount of noise in the room.

"Why am I here, Harvey?" She throws at him, her right elbow landing on the bar, as she slouches slightly.

He turns from his focus, double takes her and the use of 'I' where there would have always been a 'we'. Before he can answer, the bartender has returned with three drinks, and exchanges them for notes and a hefty tip.

He places the red in front of her, and pushes the old fashioned alongside it.

She gives him a look, one than rests between amused and fighting against their natural rhythm.

"You could have asked me what I wanted." She offers lightly.

"Do you have to be in control all the time?" He accuses, causing her to to sputter.

"You're seriously calling me the control freak out of the two of us?" She questions, turning it around on him.

"You never used to be." He counters, poignantly.

"I never used to be a lot of things, Harvey." She adds. There is the weight of their entire relationship in her words.

And she bets he can feel every single arrow.

She ignores the emotive look he gives her in favour of cleaning up half of her red wine in one controlled gulp, allowing the alcohol to settle her nerves, and spread through her body like wildfire.

She's an accomplished drinker these days. Being Management will do that to you.

Either that or she's riding on the apex of a breakdown. She doesn't really care much at this point.

"Donna, I," He starts, as she picks up her drinks and moves towards a table.

He sits down opposite her, and she begins to relax somewhat, as the heavy red alcohol hits her gut and spreads a blanket warmth across her abdomen.

"Again, Harvey. What am I doing here?" She repeats her earlier 'inquisition'.

"You know," He chuckles tiredly, "You make this more difficult than anyone else that I've ever known," He plants the words, as he raises his drink to his lips.

"Make what difficult?" She frowns.

"You make spending time with you...difficult." He huffs.

"Well, excuse me for being confused as to why you can't schedule time like a normal person." She throws at him.

"Donna." He sighs, shaking his head as if he's trying to rid the heavy expression. "I miss us….we're…" He pauses, shrugging through the words with a frown.

She doesn't ask him to elaborate. She's so fed up of feeding him words, that now she's taken to staring, eyebrows lifted at the gaps in his through line. She does it at work now, too.

"We're different, somehow. And I...barely see you now." He explains, a definable dent in his mood.

"Because I'm not your assistant anymore, Harvey." She says, the obviousness of her statement not lost on him as he gawps at her for a second, before sighing heavily. "It's only natural, that we would...grow apart if I'm not at your beck and call every minute of the day,"

"You really think that's what it was?" He throws back at her, visibly wounded.

They've never been good at throwing mud at one another.

She sighs. She's being a bitch and she knows it. "I just mean...things have changed, Harvey. I thought you were okay with that?" She questions.

"Yeah well...maybe I'm not. And you've changed. More than just a job role." He accuses.

She rolls her eyes at that. "Harvey...I'm the same old Donna." She says. Even she doesn't believe herself anymore.

"No. You're not. And I miss that...I miss our dinners. I miss having you there."

"Harvey...it was just a job." She says. he's silent, and all she can think of is to let the train keeping coming. "We blurred the lines when I was your Assistant, and we should never, ever have done that. We became dependant on eachother. And it wasn't healthy. For either of us."

"I don't care, Donna...I need you...in my life. You can't just...leave my desk and then act like we're suddenly strangers. Even Mike's noticed."

His words are a mixture of soul calming and foundation shaking. She's been trying to avoid this for as long as she can remember and today should not have been the day for it.

She laughs harshly, a truly tired and withering laugh. "You sound like you're in Grade School," She pokes fun at him, before putting on her best kid impression. "I'm mad at you. My Best friend says you don't wanna be friends with me anymore," She says, her goofiness causing him to sputter and put down his drink.

"I'm serious. He keeps...insinuating things." He insists.

"Things...like?"

"Things like...he thinks I'm...secretly having an affair with you, or something."

It hits her like a ton of stones.

She thanks the two drinks he bought for the dutch courage it gives her.

Thankfully he hasn't eaten much all day, and doesn't need one of them. She doesn't need anything from him, now.

"Well, we both know he's wrong, don't we?" She says, boldly.

He catches the contradiction in her voice, as his eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you don't know, Harvey, then I can't help you." She says, looking down at her old fashioned, and then to her red wine, with it's small amount of claret dancing in the bottom of the glass.

"I don't…" He starts, only to look at her, half confused, half seemingly lit by the moment.

She shakes her head, ignoring his eyes as she downs the remaining wine.

"You know," She says, as she rises. "This was a mistake," She tells herself, rising from her seat, with her bag sliding onto her shoulder.

He blinks, as she stalks, leaving the drink he ordered and glides to the bathroom.

It's the one place he knows he can't follow.

Outside of his glass prison,

She has free reign.

She sucks in a long, semi-calming breath, her arms bracing her weight against the sink as she ignores her own reflection. Too scared to know the kind of things it could probably tell her about her life.

She should never have come here. She's not ready yet. There are parts of her that she has yet to collect.

She dries her hands with a paper towel, and glances briefly at the glass in front of her, checking her makeup, before preparing to exit the bathroom.

She sucks in a thready breath, and puts on her best 'don't fuck with me' face.

He's casually leant against the wall opposite the women's bathroom like he's some fifties film noir top bill.

She tuts, sliding past him in her heels that hurt like hell and glides out of the club and onto the sidewalk.

She makes it about ten foot before she hears his exasperated calling.

"Just tell me what I've done." He calls after her.

She stops abruptly, her head bowing before she turns to face him. By the time she's turned around he's closer than he was, and silently pleading with her to tell him, as his arms flap at his sides.

"You've done nothing, Harvey." She says, feeling her heartbeat begin to race against the rhythmic bass notes pumping out the wall alongside her.

"Then why are you being like this, Donna!" He erupts then.

"Because I'm in love with you!"

It knocks him, the sheer weight of her words. She blocks out the cold tears that stream down her face, finally letting go of it all. Being brave. Exorcising her right to move on.

"I've been in love with you my entire adult life, and I'm done. I'm tired of it." She says, her lips bending with emotion.

"Donna," He steps forward, only to see her take two steps back.

"I can't be your friend anymore. I can't be your confidant. And I can't be your Girl Friday. And I'm trying to move on, but you're making it so...fucking hard…" She chokes the words, before wiping her face.

She doesn't wait for a reply, before hailing a cab.

Half an hour later, she slams her apartment door behind her, turns off her phone, turns off the lights, and puts headphones in her ears to watch a film on her ipad.

She blocks out the world. An hour later she emails Louis and Rachel to say that she's taken a personal day.

Had to chop it into two, because it was just too big a chapter, but really wanted it published before Thursday! - Look out tonight for the second half - A x