So, here's the last part of all of this… it's split into multiple chapters because I felt it worked better that way considering the story is told through glimpses.

And as always, props to the fuckin' hooray squad, my favorite betas-turned-personal ego boosters.

—

iv.

"You have to let your mommy get some sleep," Harvey whispers as he gently bounces their daughter in his arms, her little head resting against his chest (close enough to his heart that she can hear his heartbeat like Donna insists that the baby likes) while he rubs soothing circles across her back.

She's six weeks, four days, and a couple of odd hours old by her father's count and she hasn't slept through the night since… well, ever. They know that this is how it works with new babies but any preparedness they thought that they had doesn't make it any less tiring.

Harvey paces the room with her, catching his own reflection in the window. Even after all of it, the guy he was ten years ago— five, three— never would've imagined that he would (could) be here today; the girl in his arms is his own daughter, the contrast of her barely-there red hair against his white t-shirt only outmatched by the silver band on the hand splayed across her back, another physical reminder of the woman that has been everything to him and given him everything he has since the moment they met.

"You know that you have the best mommy in the world?" he asks and the baby coos upon hearing his voice, "Yeah, of course you do. You are her daughter after all. I can tell you something you don't know, though."

Settling into the rocking chair by the window, Harvey shifts the baby in his arms so that he can see her face, her eyes— turning brown, like his— before he continues, "The first thing your mom ever said to me was that it was my lucky day because I met her. She was right, and I don't think she'll ever understand exactly how right she was."

"Oh, I won't?"

Looking up, he sees Donna in the doorway. She's exhausted but just as beautiful as ever with her hair in a messy bun and a playful smile plastered across her lips.

"You're supposed to be asleep," Harvey half scolds.

"Yeah, well," she moves to sit on the arm of the chair, resting against him while one finger lingers over their daughter's, "My husband apparently doesn't know how to turn the baby monitor off while he's trying to put the baby back down."

"So you heard all of that?"

Donna nods, "Which part? The singing while you were giving her a bottle or that I'm the best mom in the world?"

"You are the best mom in the world."

"And you're a sap," she rolls her eyes, reaching for the baby, "Now give me my baby."

"Donna."

"Harvey."

"It's my night. You've had the last three."

"And you've already been up with her for an hour and a half. If I don't take her now, no one in this house is going to sleep for hours."

Sighing in defeat, Harvey hands the baby off to Donna and watches the way they settle into each other. It's completely effortless.

Donna is a natural. From the minute she found out that she was pregnant to the minute it was safe to tell their friends and family to the minute that she felt the first kick and the minute that their daughter was born, Donna has been the best mother. Harvey can't believe how incredibly lucky he is to have this and every day, a little part of him, of both of them, mourns the chance they almost had years ago. It's bittersweet.

"Mommy's girl."

"At four in the morning when she's overtired, yes. But that's only because she's had six weeks of practice playing her daddy's soft side. You're gonna let our kid get away with anything, Harvey."

He chuckles softly. She's right.

"But you know, I don't think I've ever told you thank you," Donna whispers, peeling her gaze from their daughter's fluttering eyelids to steal a glance in his direction.

"For what?"

"For this. For being the father that she deserves… and has wrapped around her finger. For being the man that I fell in love with all those years ago."

Harvey smiles softly and leaves a kiss on her shoulder. He doesn't need to tell Donna this because she knows, she can feel it in the way that he looks at her— the silent thank you for never losing faith in him. For waiting years for him to become the man that was capable of giving her all that she had always given him. For trusting that he could be a father to their children— not just the first time, but the second, and however many (if any) would come after this.

How they got here, the fact that they got here, is still a little unbelievable but twelve days, twelve weeks, twelve months, twelve years, and then some find them exactly where they were always meant to be and that in itself is enough.

That in itself is everything.

— ღ —

Thank you for reading!