A quick Christmas One Shot. Hope you enjoy it and maybe leave a review? x

At Christmas you tell the truth

He lets out a sigh as his feet carry him through the hallways of the fiftieth floor. The Christmas spirit is buzzing from every corner of the firm expect for his. She was always the one that made him celebrate. The one that decorated his office, the one that send out cards for him. The one that entered his office singing Christmas carols. The one that never allowed him to hang a mistletoe, the only thing he enjoyed about the holidays.

And now, for the first time in twelve years, they wouldn't be celebrating Christmas together. Not that they ever really celebrated it together, but there was always the possibility. The invites from both their sides never leaving their lips, but always present. Except for this year, because this year she has someone else to celebrate it with. This year she has Mitchell, and he hates himself for letting her walk away.

He decides to burry himself in paper work instead, walking back to his dark office. There are no lights, no decorations. Just the one mistletoe hanging in his doorframe; the one thing he did this year. A secret hope she'd stand still underneath it, but that didn't happen.

He just stares out of his window for a second, seeing the lights go off in one office after the other as he realizes how everyone but him is going home. Home to celebrate the holiday with their loved ones. He just lets out another sigh, his shoulders going down in the same movement. For him there's no point in going home, because his loved ones aren't there. She isn't there and she would be his home. Unconsciously he hums a carol and it's that exact moment he truly realizes how much she had become a part of him.

He turns around again and tries to focus on the papers in front of him, but his mind won't let him, his fingers already closing the laptop on his desk as he gets out of his chair. He moves his arms through his jacket, the fabric scraping his skin and all he wants is that to be her skin. Her touch, but it isn't.

He turns of the lights in his office and his gaze redirects to that one piece of decoration he had in his office. His fingers reaching the red bow that's attached to it, as he pictures her red hair in front of him. Her red lips on his, but she isn't there. She isn't his. Never really was, and if he keeps doing what he has been doing, she never will be. The leaves of the mistletoe prickling in his hand as his fist cringes around it.

He closes his eyes on the elevator ride down, trying to hide himself from the memories of her, but instead the images flash by one for one. How she'd tiptoe around in his office, some tinsels in her hands. How she'd make sure Christmas songs were always playing on his record player. How she had tried to place one of those Santa hats on his head, but he never let her. Her touch would have been too much to handle, but right now all he could think about how that was exactly what he wanted. To feel her touch.

He's greeted by the cold air of the Manhattan streets as he steps out of the office, sending shivers down his spine. The direction his gaze trails off to doesn't matter, every single side showing the same image. Happy couples cuddling or walking hand in hand, not being bother by the cold. The snowflakes hitting the bare skin of his hand just another confirmation of how he has no one to hold.

He lets his head hang low as he lets out another deep sigh, his warm breath visible in the cold air in front of him. He pushes his hands in his pockets, his fingers slipping around a small box he feels in it. Thumbtacks, he remembers the last time he wore that coat. The ritual, them, but mostly her. Her smile, the way she laughed as he performed his part. The concentrated look on her face as she did hers, and the sparkle in her eyes that always appeared at the end. As she'd look at him again, his heart aching, because all he wants to see is that look and all he wants to hear it her smile. But she isn't there.

His feet carry him through the snow, as he'd given Ray the night off. Not just because it's Christmas Eve, but also because he wants to avoid any looks of pity. Any questions from his regular driver about Donna or whether they're going to spend the holidays together, because they never did and they won't. She has Mitchell now, he only has his memories, his hopes and dreams.

He tries to warm his hands, his fingers searching for the key of his apartment. His home he doesn't want to call home, because it's just a place. Just a house and she would be the one to make his house a home. Home is her, he knows that now. He doesn't even bother turning on the lights, the darkness suits his mood better anyway and he just pours himself two fingers of scotch. The glass feeling heavy in his hand as he lets himself fall down on his couch.

The one he is sitting in all alone, just him and he thinks about the time that that was the best feeling in the world. But ever since the time he had sat next to her, on her baby blue couch, that one night months ago, it wasn't. Not anymore.

He brings the crystal tumbler to his lips, the alcohol burning his tongue as he takes one sip after the other. Drowning the drink with his feelings, but the moments of ignoring, the times of hiding are long gone and all he's left with are his feelings. His feelings for her, the same they've always been, but stronger. After twelve long years of being buried, they've made their way to the surface in a way he never expected. Him actually pronouncing those three little words he didn't know were in his vocabulary.

The words, nothing less than the truth, maybe scaring her even more than they had scared him if he looks back on it now. How those three words had messed up everything they had, even if she said them as well, but he doesn't regret it. It's the one thing he doesn't regret, because he told her. For once he told her exactly what he felt, he just regrets letting her walk away.

But what's done is done, time's passed and she moved one, he reminds himself again. She moved on, she has Mitchell now, and he's just by himself. All alone on Christmas Eve and he knows he should stop thinking about her as he leans forward, his hand reaching for the remote. But every single thing in his life reminds him of her. Including the movie that appears on his screen the second he turns on his television. Her favourite, the one she made him watch somewhat years ago on a rainy Thanksgiving evening.

How she had been sitting on his couch, her legs nearly touching his as she was hugging the mug of hot chocolate he'd made her. He hadn't been able to focus on the movie, her having been his centre of attention that evening. He recalled how she had mumbled how much she had loved that movie and he had asked her why.

"Because they all fight for the one they love, even if it might be too late."

He repeated her words in his mind and it hit him them, how that had been a silent hint from her. Asking him to fight, to fight for her. For them, he just never got the clue. Until now. Now the message was loud and clear.


She sits on her couch, listening to some story Mitchell is telling her on the phone. He hadn't been able to spend Christmas Eve with her and even though she said she was fine, she wasn't. It was just another year of not being with the one she wanted to be with. She let out a laugh at his words, not really finding it funny, but laughing non the less. Her thoughts being interrupted as she hears someone knock on her door. "I'm just gonna .."she mumbles trough the phone, but stops as she notices how he doesn't even hear it, how he just continues to talk. She throws her phone on the couch and she tiptoes towards the door.

She quickly but softly unlocks her door, her breath being taken away as she finds herself eye to eye with the man she wished would show up at her door all those other Christmases. And if she has to be one hundred percent honest, the way her heart fluttered at the sight in front of her, she knows that wish was very much still alive. She takes a step towards him, leaving the door ajar behind her and she opens her mouth, ready to pronounce his name, but he shakes his head bringing his index finger to his own lips. Asking her to remain quiet as he just smiles at her, causing her to do the same and nodding her head. A sign she's ready to hear whatever he came to tell her.

He presses the play button on his phone and the hallway of her apartment building is filled by a Christmas song; one that brings tears to her eyes as she realizes it's one of his father's records. The one she'd always put on in his office and he just nods, bringing the cards he was holding behind his back to the front.

She lets out a nervous laugh, bringing her hand to her mouth as she now realizes what he's doing, as he removes the first blank card. Revealing the first message for her.

'With any luck by next year'

She lets out a breath, remembering the message in the movie as she nods asking him to continue.

'I won't have to go out with any of those nameless girls any more'

And he removes the card, showing her one with pictures of models and other types she'd seen him date, and for once it made her smile. Unlike all the times the pure sight of his loud tie had made her cringe. He quickly replaces it with the next.

'I know I'm too late and you moved on'

He avoids her eyes now, not seeing how tears were forming in them as she slowly shakes her head. He just continues with the next card, needing to do this before his courage left him.

'But for now, let me say'

He whispers the words along as his hand moved to the next card.

'Without hope or agenda'

She reads and all she could think was how wrong he was, how hope was all they'd ever had. How hope was all that would always be there, but he didn't see that in her eyes. He didn't see how a tear ran down her face as he moves on to the next card.

'Just because it's Christmas (and at Christmas you tell the truth)'

He pauses now, letting out a deep breath before he looks at her again. His hands removing this card, showing the one that really mattered.

'I know HOW I love you'

And she stares at the sign; the feelings she had hidden for over a decade, the feelings she had tried to burry so desperately again all rushing back. "Harvey," she mumbles, her eyes pleading, but he shakes his head. Mumbling a soft 'no' as he needs to continue, he needs to do this.

The cards now follow each other quickly, one by one. Neither of them speaking.

'I love the way you smile'

'I love the way you blush as I compliment you'

'I love the way you whisper my name'

'I love the way you make me feel'

'Because to me you're perfect'

'You're my everything, you're my home'

'I'm in love with you, Donna'

'And my wasted heart will always love you'


"Merry Christmas, Donna," he whispers, his fingers stopping the song that was playing on his phone, burying his hands in his pockets. His feet taking a step back as his eyes remained lock with her. And she's left speechless.

"Harvey," she whispers as she watches him take another step back, her words making him stop in his tracks. She walks towards him, stopping just in front of him as she buries her hands in the pockets of his coat. Her fingers feeling warm on his skin, as she traces his fingers, searching for the object she couldn't possibly know was there. But she was Donna, and maybe she did know, is all he can think as he sees her bring that mistletoe out of his pocket. Lift it above their heads, bringing her lips to his and kissing him.

It's warm, sweet and comfortable. Feeling exactly the way he described her, like home. She pulls back, letting her temple rest against his, leaving all words needing to be said unspoken as she just whispers him a Merry Christmas.

- The End




They remain in that position for a few more seconds and he wants nothing more than that moment to last for eternity, but he knows it can't. "You should go back inside," he whispers taking a bigger step back this time. "Celebrate with the one you love," he adds mumbling, not fully realising that that's exactly what she had done these past seconds when she was with him.

Her added "I will," making him turn around, ready to leave, but her fingers form around his wrist. She pulls him back, and he follows her lead as she walks backwards to her apartment. "Donna," he mumbles, "what are you doing?"

She tips her head aside, smiling at him. "Just doing what you suggested," she whispers as she closes the door behind him. "You're the one that I love, Harvey," she whispers before she kisses him again.

Every Christmas Eve after that she'd crawl on the couch next to him, her head on his chest and his arm wrapped around her as they'd watch Love Actually. One of their new rituals.