IN THE LAND OF THE BLIND
This story takes place at the end of season 8 and beyond. What if Harvey had reacted differently to meeting Kessler at the lifts, and what would be the consequences. Writing is a new endeavour for me, and your thoughts on this story would be very welcome! I hope you enjoy, Bella x
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PART I
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Harvey had been blind. Blind-folded, lights-off, shutters down, blind.
He'd actively chosen to not observe his own reactions to her. He'd chosen not to see her in that way.
He'd chosen not to see the pain and hurt he'd caused. He'd chosen to ignore the longing for answers in her eyes, and the flashes of disappointment that crossed her face.
He chose to ignore the subtle and not so subtle hints that people made about her, about him, and about them.
He chose to ignore the jealously, the being bothered, the requests for more, the needing to know. He chose to ignore her holding his hand, helping him hang his mothers painting, and fixing his tie.
He chose to ignore the meaning of choosing her over anyone else no matter what the consequences. He'd chosen to be blind to the fact she had slowly become all that really mattered to him. He chose, every day, to be blind.
He couldn't tell you when he began to see the destruction he had left in his wake. What had caused the shutters to lift and the clouds to clear. Was it when she left him for Louis, was it when he watched her hand back his key, was it when he danced with her all night but watched her go home alone, was it when he sent her away, or when he brought her back. Was it when he saw her leaving the office with a man that wasn't him.
She wasn't without blame. She'd enabled his behaviour, her own either driven by hope, fear, or indifference, the problem is he could never work out which. She knew what kind of man he was. A straight talker, a gun slinger, a gambler. He was in your face and no backing down. He didn't do subtle and theatrics, only direct demands and getting what he wants.
She knew this, and her failure to spell it out for him in the style to which he was accustomed only made it more difficult for him to persuade himself that there was anything at all for him to analyse or act upon where her feelings for him were concerned.
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THE ENGAGEMENT PARTY:
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It's 9pm and he's tired and he'd rather be just about anywhere else. He's been tired for a very long time.
He honestly cannot remember the last time he wasn't tired.
He doesn't know whether it's because he insists on working a 15 hour day even if he doesn't need to, or because he spends an extra hour every morning in the gym to take the edge off, or because he's been ground down by life, his age and the terrible decisions he's made of late.
But what he does know, is that he's far too tired to be sat at his colleagues / one time lover / soulmate / one that got away / best friend's engagement party. He knows he's far too tired to sit there and look either happy or indifferent to what is probably one of the worst moments of his life.
He knows this situation is of his own making. It's what makes the situation so awful. But he also accepts he is a determined man, and likes to see things through to the end. Therefore, it only made sense that once he started digging a hole for himself, he kept on digging.
And that's how he finds himself on a Saturday night at Thomas Kessler and Donna Paulsen's engagement party, with Scottie, his guest for the evening / girlfriend having long abandoned him to mingle among those she recognised in the room.
He's stayed firmly parked at the bar, and been told by both Mike and Louis that he should buck up and try and mingle, or at least try and be a decent boyfriend to Scottie this evening.
He tells them it's not his party so they should give him a break. They both point out it could have been his party, and he glares at them in response.
He's done the required minimum, the handshakes and the congratulations to the guests of honour and the hosts, and he plans to do nothing more. He's been busy ignoring pointed looks and pointed comments from Rachel, Donna's mother; hell - just about everyone at the party.
He doesn't know whether that's because he looks miserable as hell or because he's drunk as a skunk, or because they can see through his weariness and recognise it for what it really is; heartbreak.
But he's fucked up, and he knows it, and now he doesn't know how to fix it.
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4 MONTHS EARLIER:
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"So you going to do something about it?" She says in a way which perfectly blends both irritation, jealously and teasing.
"Something about what?" He says annoyed at her ambiguity, far too old and too tired for this shit.
"you know what . . . . " she replies, teasing out the words slowly, only furthering his irritation.
"I don't know" he says vaguely.
"You don't know what I'm talking about? Or you don't know what you're going to do about the thing you know I'm talking about". She says.
"Scottie . . . . ." he replies, his tone coated in warning.
"Call it a parting gift"
"What? You causing trouble? That's the same gift you give me every time you think to come say hi."
"Look . . . . you were a terrible boyfriend . . . but you're a good man, and I think maybe you could be a good boyfriend to the right person, and I think she knows that too."
"OK I'm hanging up now." There's a long pause on the other end of the phone.
"Harvey . . . . . . . . . .thank you" she says sincerely. He hangs up.
The conversation only throws him further into confusion. He sits there at his desk, swirling the ice round his glass, the pressure of everyone's opinion regarding "them" weighing on his shoulders. He doesn't know if it's simply the needing to know himself, the genuine desire to finally give up on holding it all in, or to simply prove everyone wrong, after all she said "she didn't feel anything".
But he was done. Done thinking about it, done not knowing what to do, done not knowing how to act around her. It simply wasn't working any more. There was no "normal".
She flirted, she got angry at him, she looked out for him, she resented him. It just didn't make sense to him anymore, any of it. So baby steps, he figures. Maybe a drink, maybe dinner, he doesn't know. Maybe just offer her a chance to clear the air. After all, the air around them had been thick and choking like victorian smog for months now.
Before he gets a chance to talk himself out of it, he begins the walk to her office. He rehearses what he might say to her, he feels pathetic and like he's fifteen years old again.
He spots her. It's not difficult. She's the most beautiful person he's ever seen, the most important person in his life. These passing thoughts alone, enough to scare him back to his office. The more he opens himself to the possibility of even discussing "them", the more it scares him shitless. But no backing out now he thinks.
"Hey" he says to catch her attention.
"Hey" she says tucking her hair behind her ear.
"I just wanted you to know . . . ."
"Scotttie called to thank me Harvey"
"That's funny, she just called me too"
"Well I guess she's grateful to both of us"
"I guess so"
"Um. . . . " god he feels like a prize jackass, "Did she say something to you about . . . . . "
"About what?" Donna replies. He notes she looks both terrified and hopeful. He's convinced this mirrors his own expression right now.
It's time to bite the bullet he thinks. But as he opens his mouth he sees a familiar figure step out of elevator, and place his hand upon Donna's arm. The rest of his interaction with the man is on autopilot, he shakes his hand and introduces himself.
There's white noise buzzing in his head and his ears. It feels as though there is a hand gripping round his throat as his brain catches up with what his heart already knows. That whatever he was going to offer tonight - a drink, a dinner, the rest of his life and his heart on a platter, it won't make any difference, because it's too late. She's turning to look at him.
Checking on him and his reaction to the situation, looking out for his wellbeing and his feelings until the bitter end.
It's crushing. He's too late.
He realises now why he's kept putting it off. Doing nothing prolongs the hope that something, someday might still happen. He realises not acting and not knowing is their "normal". Ignorance is bliss he realises.
"You look lost" a voice reaches out behind him.
"Tough day" he says to his blonde colleague.
"Want to grab a drink?"
"Actually, I have plans. Another time."
"Sure thing."
He stands there, and he gets an impulse, to run, to do what he's always done, to gravitate towards what is familiar but not always healthy. To seek out someone who knows him, but can't break him.
They say old habits die hard, and he is a creature of habit.
So he picks out his phone, and his actions are automatic and easy. He knows the answer she'll give even before he calls her. He knows that he is a bad habit that she would like to break, but it's too easy for her also. Like reaching for a packet of cigarettes after a couple of drinks. He wonders if this means they are meant for each other. He knows in the back of his mind that she probably still loves him, and that he's taking advantage of her heart. He knows it means that he's not the good man she claims he is; but fuck it, maybe he can try and be that better man with her instead.
"I thought I already said thank you." He chuckles at her opening gambit, but it sounds hollow and sad to his own ears.
"You did, and now I'm offering you the opportunity to say thank you in person"
"I wasn't offering THAT kind of thank you. . . ."
"I was thinking more drinks on you, at Ralphs"
"God - that dirty old place, you really know how to show a girl a good time"
"I think you'll remember you are showing me a good time, because I saved your ass . . .again"
"See you at 8" the line goes dead, and he stares back out the window.
He knows it's not the smartest thing he could do in this moment. He knows it's a distraction not a solution. But he cares for her, she means something, even if she doesn't mean everything.
Honestly, he doesn't know what he's thinking. But Donna's moved on and so should he. Only in this case, he's moving backwards. But maybe this time he can make it work. Yet as he walks towards the lifts once again, he realises it all feels horribly familiar.
When his heart tells him to fight for Donna, he simply runs into the arms of another. But the phone call's been made, Scottie's waiting at the bar, and Donna is out for the night with a man that isn't him.
So he does what he always does, he doubles down.
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The next morning she's waiting for him in his office. He knows what kind of talk she wants to have. He's going to deal with this as quickly and painlessly as possible, and if there is one lesson he's learned over the years, it's that acting pissed off and offended only drags it out. She just presses and prods until he breaks.
"I just thought maybe I should explain about what happened at the elevators last night" she starts, but he's quick to intervene.
"Donna, really, there's no need."
"No, but I wanted to explain, he's a client of the firm, and I just want to reassure you that this won't get in the way of. . . ."
"Donna, from what I've heard Kessler is a decent guy, a good businessman, a valued client - if you're happy I'm happy"
"I am happy" she says it in a forceful way that betrays the meaning of what she is saying, but then again he can't be sure.
"Then we really don't need to have this conversation. I'm happy for you." He picks up his coffee cup and takes a long sip, exhausted from the night before, and strangely feeling like he is betraying both women. He pulls a face when he tastes the coffee in his mouth, it's disgustingly sweet and strong. He peers down at the name on the coffee cup and he realises the mistake.
Donna doesn't miss the action and moves her eyes to see what he's looking at.
"Picked up someone else's coffee cup, nightmare." She says casually, still trying to keep the tone of their conversation light and upbeat. She reads the letters written on the cup, the name all too familiar. She feels betrayed yet again by the woman who promised to leave him and the firm alone, and by the man she had no claim over.
She looks into his eyes, and he knows she's clocked the name on the cup, and he knows the conclusions that's she's coming to; he's in no position to deny it.
She notices he looks tired and perhaps even guilty, but she suspects that may be wishful thinking. He looks down at his computer and clears his throat.
"We, I . . . . . " he stumbles on his response.
"I'm happy if you're happy." He's not sure if she's intentionally throwing his words back in his face.
"It's not what you . . ."
"I'll tell you what it is . . none of my business. Speaking of business, I better get back to work."
Donna leaves his office more determined than ever to move on and make things work with the wonderful man that seems to adore her.
Harvey sits there hurt and confused, and now holding the world's worst cup of coffee, having made some of the world's worst choices. He decides the only way to block the impending migraine is to once again, pull down the shutters in his mind. Block off the feelings and the sting of missed opportunities. He reaches for his phone and messages Scottie.
"You not only took my shirt this morning, you also took my coffee. You owe me."
"How about I cook you dinner."
"Haven't you done enough damage for one day. Let's go out."
He sits back in his chair with a smile on his face. He doesn't want to think about why the smile doesn't quite match the feeling in the pit of his stomach.
So he dives straight back into work and kicks some ass for the day.
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To be continued.