A/N: Lookie, a new fandom! Be nice to me, it's my first time here. :P

Personal Pitbull

"Harvey Specter," he answers crisply as he steps out of the elevator and nods to the secretary at the front desk.

"Mister Specter," the woman says through the phone. She sounds sympathetic, but Harvey doesn't recognize her voice. He's immediately on alert, although he doesn't stop his swift pace as he heads for his office.

"Yes? Who is this?" he asks.

The woman takes a breath, "I'm calling from the New York Downtown Hospital on William Street. We have you listed as the emergency contact for a Donna Paulsen."

Harvey stops short, thinking maybe this is a joke—Louis has a cruel sense of humor, but this seems too far even for him—when he sees Donna's desk. It's empty. He suddenly finds it hard to breathe, because in the decade and change she's worked for him, he's never seen her miss a day.

"What happened?" he manages, barely keeping his composure as his fellow attorneys bustle past him with their day's work.

"She was the victim of a mugging. She's in surgery now—"

"I'm on my way," he says, and hangs up the phone before the woman can keep twisting the knife in his chest.

His phone rings a second time that day when he's at the hospital, flipping through a magazine. It's People, one of Donna's favorites, but it's two years old and not something he'd normally be caught with. His fingers tremble, and he finds it hard to care.

The cell goes to voice mail before he remembers he should answer it. He rubs his temples with a hand and reaches for the device. It was Mike. He shoots Harvey a text moments later.

What, did you get caught up with a girl or something? Way to skip work.

Harvey thinks about Donna and doesn't have the strength to reply.

Four phone calls and seven texts later, the surgeon comes into the waiting room calling for "family of Donna Paulsen." Harvey knows it doesn't directly apply to him, but he stands anyway because she's the closest thing he has to family, even if she does have blood relatives. He briefly thinks he probably should have called her parents during the six hour wait.

"Well?" he cuts right to the chase.

The surgeon looks drained, but smiles wanly, "She made it through. The shot ricocheted off a rib and punctured one of her lungs, but we got to her fast enough. Tonight is crucial, but I'm optimistic."

Harvey decides to find the person who called 911 and give him a very large check.

Right after he finds the man who shot Donna and puts him away for life.

He's just walked into Donna's new room when his phone chimes again. Annoyed, he pulls it out to power it down, but it's Mike again and he feels kind of guilty. Donna is on a breathing tube and completely unconscious, so he takes a bare moment to update his associate of the situation. Then he turns his phone off because it's really annoying him.

He sits down by her bed and plays with a strand of her red hair. He thinks that she still looks beautiful, even though she's sweaty and pale and hooked up to all kinds of machines. Then he thinks that he's going to kill her for not just submitting to the bastard waving a gunat her, but she's Donna and Donna doesn't submit, not to him or Louis or Jessica or anyone else, and certainly not without a fight.

It's one of the things Harvey kind of loves about her.

Mike bursts into the room a half hour later, looking as stressed as a new lawyer late for his first case. He opens his mouth to yell, sees Donna, and stops short. When he breathes again, he says, "Oh. Oh god."

Harvey doesn't reply. His associate pretty much summed it up.

"We need you down the hall," a nurse tells the doctor, who nods once and packs away the breathing tube.

"She should be waking soon. When she does, keep her calm and try to stop her from talking. Ice chips are down the hall," he tells Harvey. Then he strides out and closes the door behind him.

Harvey sits down by Donna's bedside again, watching her. He fights back a yawn—it's past midnight, but he's pulled all-nighters before, and he'll be damned if he's not there when she wakes up (which was exactly the defense he used to waive the end of visiting hours).

Then he says, "You hear that, Donna? Whenever you're ready. Please, don't feel like you're keeping me waiting." He hopes his voice has the sarcastic edge he imagines, and doesn't sound as hopeless as he fears.

It's close to dawn when she finally opens her eyes, and it's only because Harvey's phone is ringing incessantly and she feels the unrelenting need to answer it for him. It doesn't take long for her to remember what happened, and she decides that for once in her life, she can let his phone go to voice mail.

He's asleep on her bed, deep creases in his forehead and dark circles under his eyes, but she imagines it's nothing compared to how she looks. She decides not to mention it if he agrees to the same unspoken courtesy.

She knows he will.

"Now that you're effectively awake," Harvey says when he gets back from the cafeteria and finds her staring at the ceiling, "you can tell me what the hell you were thinking."

"Why didn't you get me flowers?" she demands, because the last time she awoke she forgot to ask. And he was too busy thanking God to realize that she was genuinely disappointed in his lack of gifted foliage.

For a moment, he just stares at her. Then he rubs his forehead and pulls out his cell phone and calls Mike.

There are so many flowers that Rachel has to help Mike carry them all into the room. Donna smirks as the two of them line the back wall and the nearby table with everything from daffodils to carnations. She gives Harvey a hard stare and says, "It'll do."

"These are from me," Mike says, gesturing to a large vase of daisies.

"Thank you," Donna replies, and Mike grins. She smiles back, because the kid really has grown on her.

Harvey won't let Louis visit. He tells the man it's because Donna is self-conscious about her appearance, but it's really because he doesn't want this rat of a man crowding his woman while she takes a much-deserved break. Louis lowers his eyelids like he knows exactly why he can't see Donna, but he looks past Harvey at her room and leaves anyway.

Jessica, however, is allowed to visit, and makes a stop the first chance she gets. She gives Donna two months off, even though Harvey's already promised her three, and picks up all the medical bills. Then she tells Harvey that the police found a suspect, and the ballistics matched, and they're prosecuting to the full extent of the law.

Harvey folds his arms and gets that hard-ass lawyer look on his face and says, "I'm prosecuting further than that. This is personal."

Jessica holds up her hands and admits defeat. Secretly, she's pleased at his words.

Donna insists on identifying the man before Harvey ruins his life. They wait another week until she's been released from the hospital. Then they drive to the police station to see her shooter. Harvey holds her up with a strong arm as she stares through the two-way glass and narrows her eyes.

"Yep. That's the jackass."

She meets his gaze, and he can almost hear her unspoken words.

Harvey. Attack.

From the station, she goes back to his apartment. She's been there before, but always on business and even though he insists, she feels awkward sitting on his sofa watching chick flicks. He's gone most of the time—the world doesn't stop turning, although Donna claimed the bragging rights if it did—but she doesn't mind. She sleeps most of the time anyway.

He comes home every night at 7pm. She cracks open a can of soup while he cracks opens a beer.

She leaves the can opener on the counter, a private joke between the two of them, and doesn't miss his relieved smile.

Things are almost back to normal by the end of Donna's one month leave (she knows she could have had more time, but she's fully functional again and bored stiff, so she files it away for future vacation and gets back to work). She gets even more flowers back at the firm, so many that she has nowhere to put her papers and takes to working at the coffee table in Harvey's office. He doesn't seem to mind.

She moves back into her apartment, but the place feels far too empty. Still, she's strong, and manages exactly three days before she gets a phone call. She answers. It's Harvey.

"I have sushi," he says, and she smiles wide, because she knows that tone of his voice.

He's lonely too.

"California rolls?" she says. She can't make this too easy on him, after all.

"Of course," he replies, and she can almost hear him rolling his eyes.

"Good."

She gets her purse.

Harvey kisses her when she can still taste the wasabi hot on his lips.

She doesn't go home that night, or the next, and soon they're living together again, but for an entirely different reason. She keeps paying rent on her apartment, just in case, but it's like she told Rachel once.

You can never go back.

Now she's not sure she wants to.

The shooter never stands a chance. By the time Harvey is done, the man gets a life sentence for attempted murder, felony class A-1. Donna likes to think her heartfelt testimony was what won over the jury, but he insists it was all him (and maybe a little of Mike). She lets him take his victory lap, but just because he brings home dinner every night.

That night, she sleeps better than she had in years.

She decides it's because of the successful trial.

It certainly has nothing to do with Harvey's arm draped over her stomach.

A/N: Yep. Harvey is Donna's personal pitbull. XD

Also, dude, what the hell do they do with the can opener? O.o