Hello everyone. So I was scrolling through the notes on my phone this morning, and apparently I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote this fic. So I adjusted it a bit and decided to share. It could be different from what you might be used to from me.. I blame it on other depressing OTPs that give me way too much feelings *cough* Alex and Claire *cough* Anyway. I hope you'll give it a go.. and if you'll make it to the end, maybe let me know what you think? x


The Fight

"I am so sick of watching you fight like hell for everything that

happens in here and nothing that happens in here."

He fought for the firm, he fought for Mike. Now it's time to fight for her, for them.

Will he be too late once more, as she fights for her life herself?

warning: sick!fic


Her hand falls around the tab, turning it towards her as her eyes close. The warm water hitting her shoulders, washing away the pain from the past few weeks. Months, if she has to be honest, things haven't been the same ever since that one night.

The hot water mingles with the cold tears she finally allows herself to shed. She doesn't know where he is. She saw him walk out of the church earlier that day, going to that place neither of the men truly belonged. He went to support the younger one, just like she did. Both holding up one half of the couple while there was no one left to do that for themselves.

She stayed at Rachel's place the better part of the evening, still not having heard from him. Pushing away all the feelings of guilt and worry as her eyes lay on the brunette in the wedding dress again. The woman that had lost everything, the woman that had to put her life on hold. But so had she, twelve years she had waited and now, now that for once she needed him, he wasn't there.

She shakes her head, trying to shake off the salty tears, but the streaming water prevents her from doing so. Maybe if she'd told him, the thought crossed her mind. Maybe if she had just said the words, but wouldn't those dozen of phone calls be enough of a message? He never called back.

Her hands run through her auburn locks, massaging the conditioner in as she lets out a sigh, too tired to even mumble his name. She turns around, her bare shoulders hitting the cold marble tiles, her head tilts backwards. The water hot against the bare skin of her neck, a stream of droplets falling exactly there where he once placed his lips. She pushes away the thoughts. She doesn't know where he is.

Vanilla flavoured body scrub covers her delicate skin. The tiny crystals rough like his hands once used to be, she swallows as her own hand runs over her chest to her sides. Images of his fingers caressing her flashing by as she reaches the side of her own breasts. It's his name on her lips, six letters she doesn't pronounce as she feels it.

It's hard, different from what it's supposed to be.

Her breath falters, her fingertips pressing once more.

A lump.

Swallowing, her hand remains in place, she forgets how to breathe and her knees give in. The warm water blends with her tears once more when she sits down, a thousand thoughts crossing her mind, but only one of them is on repeat. Her mother had it too.

Cancer. Breast cancer.


He swallows, downing the umpteenth glass of scotch that evening before the crystal tumbler ends on the same place the supplementary one did the other night. Shattered. A million pieces across the hard wood floor, just like his heart.

He feels guilty for letting his protégé go to prison on his own, but he can't seem to shake those two brown tear stained eyes staring at him from a couple of days before.

"I don't want to lose you."

He went to her because deep down he knew she'd make him change his mind, but it never was the complete reason. He needed to know if there was something left to fight for. For them.

"I think you're worthy."

There was, there is, he corrects himself as his fingers fall around his tie. Ripping the piece of fabric away. He's seen the missed phone calls, he'd even been at her door, but right now. Right now there was no fight left in him.

Right now he just needed her.

Her support.

Her comfort.

Her lips mumbling that everything will be okay.

She deserves better, that's the thought that constantly crosses his mind. How is a man that doesn't take responsibility of his actions worthy of her? Worthy, he shakes his head. Exactly the word she used.

He turns around in his bed, not knowing if he'll ever find the strength. To either fight for her or set her free. Both feeling equally impossible.


Sauntering through the empty hallways of what he once used to call his home. It's been two days. He hasn't spoken with anyone and no one had told him this, but deep down he already knew.

He's got no clue as to where this leaves him. Leaves them. Does he still have a job, and does she? Would she want to? He questions himself, his feet carrying him towards his office. He half expects her to be there.

Sitting on the black leather couch, one of Gordon's records playing in the background and two glasses of scotch on the table. Just like that night she was at his apartment, but she isn't there.

He walks himself over to the window, taking in the Manhattan sky line as he closes his eyes. Picturing her besides him again, just like the other night. This time his hand placed on the window sill where hers used to be.

"I miss you," he catches himself mumbling. Her image disappearing as his eyes open again. She's not there.

It's the first time he looks at his phone again. The twelve missed calls from two nights ago still the first thing he sees. All from her. He listens to the messages, shortening with each call until it's just his name in a sigh.

Calling her wasn't part of how things used to be, but things are different now. He wants to hear her voice, but the answering machine doesn't suffice the longing he feels inside.

He even calls the only two other women left in his family. Neither of them or the other name partner having heard from the red head. He starts to worry now.

Even Mitchell is called on his way over there, but the angry man on the other side just snarled something along the lines of "if it isn't that boss of hers." He sighs, he doesn't know if they're still together, he didn't dare to ask. Not because he's a wuss, he just can't stand the possibility of having to hear the answer being positive. Ergo negative for him.


She pulls the sheets over her head as she hears someone knocking on her door, she hasn't slept in days even though she hasn't even been out of bed. Never even gotten fully dressed after that as now referred to life altering shower.

"Go away," she mumbles softly, but the chances of that happening is close to zero. Especially if on the other side of the door is the same person who's name she saw flashing up on her phone time after time just now.

"Donna," she hears her name now. It's him, she already knew, but now she knows for sure. "Donna," she hears him shout again, his hand still banging against the wooden object. Letting out a sigh she rolls herself out of bed, sauntering towards him. "Donna, if you don't open this goddamn door. I'll kick though it!" She shakes her head at his words, but she knows he's dead serious.

"I'm coming," the words louder this time. She swallows at the exact time she hears her slot turn. The door separating them slowly opening. He wants to yell at her, he's got no right to do so, but he wants to. His anger of the recent events still making his blood boil, but all of that fades when he sees her face.

Her eyes are dull, missing the usual sparkle. Her hair is flat, sticking out in every direction and her lips seem dry. She's got no make-up on, but she's still beautiful. She's always beautiful. He pushes away the thought, cause she's clearly not well.

"Can I come in?"

She doesn't answer, but steps aside like a lifeless body and he follows her. Quiet, both of them standing in her living room. Neither of them move. Both afraid to take a step forward or backwards.

"Are you okay?" his voice is soft and sincere and she tears up. Shaking her head. He steps forward, his arms spreading but falling down to next to his body immediately. "Is it.." he wants to ask her so many things but he can't find the words.

"I'm scared," she confesses then and he swallows shaking his head. "There's no need to be scared, Donna," he raises his shoulders, "Mike's deal. They can't come after us. We survived."

Her eyes fall shut, "I won't."

Eyebrows furrowed he crooks his head. He doesn't understand. "Donna -"

"I'm sick, Harvey," she replies calmly, "cancer." It's the first time she says the word out loud, at least when she refers to herself. Her eyes closing as she fights the tears, she knows he hates seeing her cry.

His heart rate starts to increase, the beating sound covering any other noise around them, his vision blurs completely except for those two brown eyes staring at him. In them seeing a bigger fear then he felt inside. "What?" he asks, not knowing it was possible for his world to fall apart even further.

"I found a lump in my right breast."

"Have you seen a doctor?" She shakes her head. "Well, it could be anything then," he tries to reassure her with words as gestures are not for them. "I know what I felt, Harvey," she argues pushing the bathrobe over her shoulders. "Donna," he mumbles not sure what she's trying to do. She turns around, lifting her right arm as well as her shirt with her left hand. "Feel," she orders, making him swallow.

"Harvey please.." She begs, " I need to know if I'm not going insane."

He steps closer to her. "You sure?" and she nods. She shivers under his touch at first. His fingers are cold, but his breath is warm against her cheek. Calming her down in a way she never thought was possible. Especially now.

He swallows, this is so not them and in a way it is. She was there for him in the worst of times, he'll be there for her. His fingers scrape over her rib cage, upwards. He's got no clue as to what he's searching for. "Higher," she whispers, looking down. Swallowing his hand travels up, softly pressing her skin inch for inch as his hand lays warm against her cold body.

"I.." he mumbles, he wants to reassure her. Tell her everything is going to be fine, but then he feels it. The lump, he'll never tell her but he remembers every single inch of her body from that one night. This wasn't right.

"It's there isn't it?" Looking up over her shoulder at him and he swallows nodding. He doesn't know what to say, the room around them filling with the sound of soft sobs.

He can't stand the thought of her crying, but there's nothing he can do to make them stop. Not now. His hand is still holding her, his feet taking the final step as his hand slides over her stomach. Her back now pressed against his chest, he holds her. He just holds her. His lips pressed against the top of her head.

"I don't want to die," the words hit him harder then everything else she's ever said to him. It's nothing compared to the rule, it's nothing compared to her going to work for Louis. This time he could lose her forever.

He turns her around in a firm spin, her hands landing on her chest, his hands cupping her face and he makes her look at him. "You're not going to die," the words sounding more like an order, "you'll be fine. You're going to be okay."

Her lips curl up slightly, she knew he'd do this. Try to fix things with words, reassure her. But some things can't be fixed with words. Both of them knew that well enough.

Their eyes still locked his brings her head closer, he doesn't even realise he's doing it until his lips crash on hers. It's selfish he knows that, but he just wants to kiss her before it's too late. Really too late.

She's taken by surprise, but kisses him back as tears stream down her face. It feels like a last goodbye, something she's not ready to say yet. "Harvey .. I can't," she pulls back, and he swallows letting his head rest against hers.

"I love you," the words leaving his lips before he hears whatever else she has to say. Because he just has to get that out there, it's a fact. Something she should know, before - He shakes his head, he should have told her so much earlier, a life time ago.

She closes her eyes. There are those words again she longed to hear, but not in this situation. "Harvey," she mumbles and he lifts his head, their eyes locking once more. "You can't tell me that, because you think you're going to -"

"No," he sighs, "I'm not going to lose you. Not again," he lets out a breath. "Donna I love you," he sighs, "I do."

"Harvey," she looks away. "I can't.. I can't let you love me if I won't -"

"But you will," he shakes her shoulders gently. "You still haven't seen a doctor, there's no way to know for sure. It could be nothing." She shakes her head, "It's not nothing."

"Donna stop it, you can't know."

"I do.." She looks up at him again, "I'm Donna, I.." she can't bring herself to say that last word and he swallows, she'd always been right. He pulls her back in his arms. "You should go," she whispers letting her head rest against his chest. "Why?" he mumbles, "I'm not letting you go through this on your own."

"I love you," he mumbles again, "and you've been there for me every step of the way for the past twelve years, and I'll be there every step of the way for you.. If you'll let me."

He hears her swallow, her head being buried in the crook of his neck even further. "If seen what it can do to two people that love each other," she thinks about her parents, "it tears them apart. I can't.."

"It won't," he mumbles knowing all too well he's making a promise he can't possible know if he'll be able to keep it. For anyone else that would be, but with her it's different.

"Harvey.. I.." He lifts her head again, making her look at him. "I'll be there. No matter what and if that's just as friends, it's okay cause I won't stop loving you. Not ever. We will survive this."

She closes her eyes again. "I don't want to be just friends," she lets out a deep breath, "but my mom didn't -" she can't say it, and she's glad she doesn't have to. He knows. "I .. I can't make you be with me during this."

"You can't stop me from being there," he reassures her, "but if it's too much for now," the words barely leaving his lips he sees her nod. "Then see it as something to fight for, we will fight this and when we get you out of this -"

She doesn't let him finish his sentence, her lips silencing his. A sign she agrees. If she gets out of this, they'll try. They'll give it the shot they should have given themselves twelve years ago.

"I love you, too."


A/N. So if you made it till here, this might be the end but I'm not sure. It's possible I'll continue this story later.