193. {1shot} [suits] (harvey/donna) we just don't know
we just don't know ; pg ; 941 words ;
it's the end of the world and all they need is a little solace
"Do you know what I miss the most?" He says softly, his voice so quiet and gentle in the darkness of the abandoned SUV they've taken up as their place to sleep for the night. He passes her the water bottle he'd just taken a sip out of and shifts his gaze to hers. She quirks an eyebrow in an attempt to encourage him to continue without words, taking the water bottle and taking her own drink. "Music. It used to help me think, but I guess there isn't much to think about now."
"All of that stuff we worked for," she says absently, twisting the lid back on the bottle, "seems meaningless now. We almost had it all."
"Almost," he agrees.
He watches her shadow lift the blanket in the back so she can slide under it and he wonders if the conversation is over. They used to talk about everything and nothing at the same time, the rest of it didn't need to be said. They don't say much anymore and most of what is said comes out of his mouth. He's saddened that all of this has killed her spirit but he understands how it could. If he could just see her smile one time he thinks that he could be happy.
She sighs. her emotions coming from deep from within her, "I'm sick of this, Harvey."
Hesitantly, he reaches his hand out and lightly touches her hair, the greasy red locks curling around his fingers, "I know. I'm sorry that this happened."
"You didn't cause it, Harvey," she said, voice deadpanned - monotoned like she can't really be bothered to have this conversation; he figures that she probably can't since she doesn't want to say much anymore.
"I know," he replies with his own sigh, "but we were happy. We were finally happy and it was all that I ever wanted for you-"
"I don't want to talk about it, Harvey," she interjects. Her voice rises a little bit and it makes him retract his hand, drop it to his thigh as he swallows. He gets it, he really does because of course he misses other things about their life before - of course - but those are just things they rarely mention. They don't talk about those things because it just hurts too damn much. He feels her hand on his as she shifts ever so slightly, touch light but effective at the same time. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."
"You did and it's okay. I get it," he says reassuringly.
She sighs, squeezes his hand like she's attempting to comfort him. She rolls over onto her back and looks up at him, her eyes shining even in the dark. He just wishes he could see that breath of life inside of her, a bit of happiness because that's all he's ever wanted for her.
Her lips purse together, "you lost something, too. We should talk about it."
"We've always been able to talk about things," he agrees.
He agrees more now than he used to.
"Maybe tomorrow?" She suggests.
He lightly nods his head, her hand releasing his as she tries to get comfortable enough to maybe fall asleep. She doesn't leave much room for him to respond so he tilts his head as he leans against the back of the driver's seat. He should be trying to sleep anyway but when unintentionally sighs in defeat she peels her big eyes open again to look at him.
He feels her fingers slide up his thigh and his neck rolls until their gaze reconnects; his tongue slides over his lips, "I'm on your team."
"What?"
"I'm on your team, Donna. I'm the only one on your team and I've been the only one on your team. Yeah, we had a horrible thing happen to us but we're making it in a world where no one else is making it. You're the only person I have left in this world and I miss you. Do you know what it's like to miss someone that you spend every second with?"
She moves slightly, her shadow blurring as the weight in the vehicle shifts and she sits beside him, her leg stretched out along his, "yeah, Harvey, I do."
"I'm sorry that she died. I'm sorry that our daughter died, but do you think she'd want us to live like this? In silence, unable to even look at each other?" His lips slightly part, his chin tilting upward as he looks at her profile for some kind of response on her face.
"What's the alternative? Pretending that we're happy when everyone we know is dead and people are trying to eat us?"
"We don't have to be happy, we just have to be in this together," he replies.
He sees a slight smile grace her lips, her eyes faltering to his hand as she entwines their fingers, "honey, we are in this together."
"Promise you won't leave me," he says, and the pleading would never be obvious to anyone but her.
"You and I are like this," she replies, hand squeezing his to make her point, "I've never one time thought about leaving you. I wouldn't. I couldn't."
He offers her a slight smile, his othe hands reaching over and cupping her cheek. She doesn't recoil at his touch, not like she has for a long time (not that he can remember the days or the months because they've lost count by now), and he releases a sigh of relief. He closes the space between them, lightly pressing his lips to hers; their mouths meet at the corners.
it's the end of the world and all they need is a little solace
"Do you know what I miss the most?" He says softly, his voice so quiet and gentle in the darkness of the abandoned SUV they've taken up as their place to sleep for the night. He passes her the water bottle he'd just taken a sip out of and shifts his gaze to hers. She quirks an eyebrow in an attempt to encourage him to continue without words, taking the water bottle and taking her own drink. "Music. It used to help me think, but I guess there isn't much to think about now."
"All of that stuff we worked for," she says absently, twisting the lid back on the bottle, "seems meaningless now. We almost had it all."
"Almost," he agrees.
He watches her shadow lift the blanket in the back so she can slide under it and he wonders if the conversation is over. They used to talk about everything and nothing at the same time, the rest of it didn't need to be said. They don't say much anymore and most of what is said comes out of his mouth. He's saddened that all of this has killed her spirit but he understands how it could. If he could just see her smile one time he thinks that he could be happy.
She sighs. her emotions coming from deep from within her, "I'm sick of this, Harvey."
Hesitantly, he reaches his hand out and lightly touches her hair, the greasy red locks curling around his fingers, "I know. I'm sorry that this happened."
"You didn't cause it, Harvey," she said, voice deadpanned - monotoned like she can't really be bothered to have this conversation; he figures that she probably can't since she doesn't want to say much anymore.
"I know," he replies with his own sigh, "but we were happy. We were finally happy and it was all that I ever wanted for you-"
"I don't want to talk about it, Harvey," she interjects. Her voice rises a little bit and it makes him retract his hand, drop it to his thigh as he swallows. He gets it, he really does because of course he misses other things about their life before - of course - but those are just things they rarely mention. They don't talk about those things because it just hurts too damn much. He feels her hand on his as she shifts ever so slightly, touch light but effective at the same time. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."
"You did and it's okay. I get it," he says reassuringly.
She sighs, squeezes his hand like she's attempting to comfort him. She rolls over onto her back and looks up at him, her eyes shining even in the dark. He just wishes he could see that breath of life inside of her, a bit of happiness because that's all he's ever wanted for her.
Her lips purse together, "you lost something, too. We should talk about it."
"We've always been able to talk about things," he agrees.
He agrees more now than he used to.
"Maybe tomorrow?" She suggests.
He lightly nods his head, her hand releasing his as she tries to get comfortable enough to maybe fall asleep. She doesn't leave much room for him to respond so he tilts his head as he leans against the back of the driver's seat. He should be trying to sleep anyway but when unintentionally sighs in defeat she peels her big eyes open again to look at him.
He feels her fingers slide up his thigh and his neck rolls until their gaze reconnects; his tongue slides over his lips, "I'm on your team."
"What?"
"I'm on your team, Donna. I'm the only one on your team and I've been the only one on your team. Yeah, we had a horrible thing happen to us but we're making it in a world where no one else is making it. You're the only person I have left in this world and I miss you. Do you know what it's like to miss someone that you spend every second with?"
She moves slightly, her shadow blurring as the weight in the vehicle shifts and she sits beside him, her leg stretched out along his, "yeah, Harvey, I do."
"I'm sorry that she died. I'm sorry that our daughter died, but do you think she'd want us to live like this? In silence, unable to even look at each other?" His lips slightly part, his chin tilting upward as he looks at her profile for some kind of response on her face.
"What's the alternative? Pretending that we're happy when everyone we know is dead and people are trying to eat us?"
"We don't have to be happy, we just have to be in this together," he replies.
He sees a slight smile grace her lips, her eyes faltering to his hand as she entwines their fingers, "honey, we are in this together."
"Promise you won't leave me," he says, and the pleading would never be obvious to anyone but her.
"You and I are like this," she replies, hand squeezing his to make her point, "I've never one time thought about leaving you. I wouldn't. I couldn't."
He offers her a slight smile, his othe hands reaching over and cupping her cheek. She doesn't recoil at his touch, not like she has for a long time (not that he can remember the days or the months because they've lost count by now), and he releases a sigh of relief. He closes the space between them, lightly pressing his lips to hers; their mouths meet at the corners.