Hi everyone and Happy #DARVEYWEEK! Here's another one shot, just something that crossed my mind once. I hope you'll like it and maybe leave a review? x


The guilt is eating him up inside. Mike turned himself in before he had the chance to do so, not that he would have wanted to go to prison, but the kid didn't deserve to go. Maybe that's why he's visiting Mike so regularly. Spending as much time in that hell hole himself, just on the other side of the table.

Maybe that's why he's there again today. In the middle of the visitation room, on the other side of the table across from Mike. They talk about everything and nothing, first it was about how everyone's doing. Mike himself mostly and the younger man asked about Rachel.

Harvey didn't tell him about the firm, but somehow Mike found out and that was the second thing they discussed. Now a couple of weeks later, the firm being sort of back on its tracks it's the first time Mike really asks about him. How's he doing?

The older lawyer shakes his head, mumbling about how things are like they'd always been and Mike lets out a sigh. "Just because I can't live my life with Rachel, doesn't mean you can't live yours," Mike comments and Harvey frowns. He knows what the pup's referring to, but he doesn't comment.

"Donna," Mike mumbles, "you should tell her," he lectures his friend and Harvey doesn't even stare or fake annoyance. "She's with Mitchell," he shakes his head looking down and he lets out a sigh. "No she isn't," Mike counters, "she told me last week they ended things."

He freezes on the spot, his mouth dropping and maybe that's why he doesn't see it coming. Maybe that's why he doesn't defend himself or duck away when the inmate walking past Mike takes a swing at him. A fist landing on his eye.

His neck snapping backwards, his body dropping off the chair and his head crashes against the cold concrete floor. He just manages to get a glimpse of the prisoner who did this to him, seeing him being taken away by a guard, just before his eyes close.


When he wakes up again he feels dizzy, his head is heavy and his eyes won't open. Things are dark, too dark and he wonders if he's able to see. He can feel he's not wearing his suit anymore, the fabric covering his arms and his chest thinner and he's cold.

Shivering he notices he's lying in a bed and that's when he realizes he must be in a hospital. Slowly lifting his hand he brings his fingers to his head, but before he can touch the bandage he hears her voice. "Don't," she whispers, "don't touch your head."

"D..Donna?" he whispers and she swallows nodding, but he can't see it. "Yes," she answers, "I'm here." His face turns in her direction and he smiles a little, his hand somewhere in the air he tries to wave at her. A small signal to show her he's feeling fine because he can hear she worries about him by the tone in his voice. He just hasn't got a clue how far he can stretch his arm and where she's exactly sitting.

"Here," she whispers, her hand covering his she places it back down on the bed. "I'm here, Harvey," she squeezes his hand briefly before letting go. They don't touch, but this, this was an exception. This was different.

He listens to her explain what happened. How the inmate that took a swing at him was someone he helped put away, that he's in isolation now. Away from Mike, she adds before he can worry about that. She tells him he got hit in his eye and that the bandages on his eyes need to stay there for the next couple of days and that they have to wait and see if he regains his full vision. He swallows, biting his lip as he hears her tell it. Not sure how he's supposed to feel, he just wishes he could see her.


She opens the door to his apartment for him, holding it open in order for him to step inside. She wants to help him, he tells her it's not necessary instead. He stumbles through his hallway towards his living room. His elbow hitting the counter top of his breakfast bar he groans loudly.

He tries to use his hands now, to determine where he's walking. His hand tracing the edge of the counter, floating over the bar stool and his left hand is frantically moving in the air. She smiles at the sight in front of her, it's almost comical. The way he's moving around through his apartment, as if he can't even remember where his own furniture is.

She steps closer. "Where do you want to go?" she whispers her hand hovering above his. He can feel the warmth of her skin and he pulls back a little, not sure he can handle her touching him. "The couch, "he sighs, "I'd.. I'd like to sit down."

She notices the way he moves his hand away and she swallows. "Okay," she mumbles. "Two steps to the right, three forward and you should be able to feel the couch with your right hand."

He follows her instructions, which turn out to be exact and he can't even help but think that even without vision and just her words they're the perfect team. He lets himself fall down on the couch, mumbling a thank you after wards.

"I'm not sure how I'm going to get through these three days with this," he comments then and she swallows knowing that now he needs her more than ever. "I'll be here to help you," she answers, "do you want something to drink?"


She makes dinner for him that night. Parmesan Chicken, his favourite. Setting the table for two, she guides him using words only to his chair. She waits for him to sit down, asking him to place his hands on the table before she brings his plate out. "Okay right hand," she mumbles and he slowly turns his hand.

She holds the handle of the knife against his hand, waiting for him to hold it. "That's your knife," she comments and she does the same for his fork and he lets out a laugh as he tries to find his plate. "This is ridiculous," he comments and she laughs telling him he needs to move half an inch forward.

"It would only be ridiculous if you can't find your own mouth, because I'm telling you. Feeding you is not in my job description." He laughs, taking a bite from his chicken. "This isn't your job description either," he comments and she nods. "I know, but I want to help." He presses his lips in a thin line, "thank you Donna."

She finishes her plate before he does and she just watches him for a second, seeing him take the final bite he places down his cutlery. She notices a small drop of sauce in the corner of his mouth and she doesn't even realise she's doing it, but she removes it with her thumb.

She can feel him shiver under her touch, it was just one fingertip, but it's enough to make her own breath falter. Realising his touch still has this effect on her. She pulls back abruptly but neither of them speak, not mentioning the little moment they just shared. She mumbles something about clearing the table and he wants to say he'll do it, for a second forgetting he can't even walk normally at the moment.


It gets easier with the days passing by and he doesn't just mean the not being able to see. Cause that's still annoying, but them. They get easier, more comfortable around each other. She's helping him throughout the day and where first it would just have been by voice, her hand now sometimes lands on his arm or his shoulders.

Nothing much and definitely not long, but it's there and they both notice how it's changing them. How they talk about the most random things and they laugh. They laugh a lot, mostly because he's a mess or she tries to show him something completely forgetting he can't see.

She looks at him then, he's sitting on the other end of the couch. His end and he's telling her something, but his words don't really register. All she sees is his smile and she closes her eyes for a second, thinking about how they'd normally would watch a movie. She shakes her head, pushing away the thought cause this isn't normal for them. At least it wasn't.

He feels her shift on the couch and he hears her get up. "What are you doing?" he mumbles, his head turning in her direction, but she was back before he got a chance to call he name again. "Thought I could read you something," she whispers inspecting the book, she reads the title out loud and he hums letting her continue.


"He looks at his wife, a faint smile creeping on his lips but she doesn't smile back. She hasn't smiled at him in days, the last time she pronounced his name being weeks ago," she swallows, reading a passage about a man telling his wife how he still remembers her. Remembers them, everything she said and did. Even if she doesn't.

His fingers scrape her wrist and her throat dries, the rest of the sentence being left unpronounced. She doesn't pull back and neither does he. Her gaze landing on their hands, the way his fingers move over her skin, resting on her pulse point.

"Harvey," she breathes and he turns to face her. He can't see her, but for the first time he feels like he actually does. "I remember," he whispers. His words making her swallow, but she just nods, as she feels his fingers circle on the back of her hand.

"You have a scar here," he whispers, "just below your ring finger. You told me it you got it in the fifth grade when you fell on the playground." She smiles, closing her eyes as she relives the memories. "I did," she whispers.

His hand moves over her arm, upwards, his fingers hooking around her elbow as he tells her about the freckles on her arm. That they look like a constellation. "A Taurus," he mumbles, "my sign," he adds with a smile.

She's still frozen to her spot, the book resting on her legs, but he turns towards her a bit more. His hand moving to her shoulder, he continues telling her that even though she might have the entire universe of constellations on her body, her eyes are the brightest stars he's ever seen.

He hears her let out a laugh. "Harvey," she whispers and he nods. "It's true," he confirms, his fingers now sliding over her collarbone. "And this," he mumbles pausing at the point where her neck starts, "this is the spot you're super sensitive," he whispers with a smirk.

He can hear her licking her lips, feeling her eyes focused on him, but she doesn't protest and he feels like this might be his one and only shot at telling her all this. "And yes, I found that spot," he gloats knowing it would make her roll her eyes, but he's already said this much so, might as well make clear he still knows everything about the other time.

His hand caresses her neck, "you have a mole here," he whispers. "It's super light, but shaped like a heart." His words making her heart beat faster and faster. As his thumb moves over her jawline, until he reaches her ear. "I remember the way you threw your head back," he mumbles, his thumb caressing her earlobe, "when my lips touched you here."

"Just like you do now," he laughs as he feels her pull back a bit. "Harvey," she whispers, and he mumbles her name in the same tone as he cups her face with his right hand. His thumb now pointing at her nose. "And when you are in deep thoughts, your nose twitches a bit," he tells her and she smiles.

"Have you been studying me?" she whispers. "Every day for the past twelve years," he whispers, as he moves his thumb down. Resting on her lips. "And your lips," he mumbles pausing a second, "your lips are the best thing I ever tasted and felt."

"Harvey," she whisper again, now feeling how his thumb moves away again, the warmth of his breath replacing the pressure his thumb had. He can't see how she parts her lip, her tongue sliding over her lower lip as her eyes are focused on his. She needs to feel his lips on hers.

"Harvey," she begs again and he smiles, crooking his head as he moves closer. His lips now at her ear, whispering her name. He places a kiss on the corner of her jaw, softly nipping her earlobe, causing her to do exactly what he described earlier

"This," he whispers his lips now placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth, "this Donna, is how," he tells her before his lips cover hers. The pure touch of his soft lips against hers enough to know every answer to every unresolved question they ever asked themselves.

She answers his kiss without hesitation, her hands moving over his face as both of them pull back to gasp for air. Her head resting against his, her eyes still closed she just smiles. Feeling his lips twitch under her touch.

"I love you," he whispers, curling a strand of hair around his fingers. "I know," she presses her lips against his again, her hand softly moving over the bandage. "You. Have. Two. Moles. Here," she whispers in between kisses and he lets out a laugh, as he fingers move down his jaw to his chin.

"And you have a scar right here," she places a kiss on his face, his hands holding her close. "Not fair," he whispers in her ear, "you can see." His words making her giggle, she moves her lips to his ear, before she whispers. "Ooh don't think I don't remember about the –"

"Okay, alright," he laughs again, just holding her in his arms. "I wish I could see you right now," he whispers and she smiles letting her hand run over his. "Tomorrow," she answers and he repeats the word, linking her fingers with his.


She's there when the doctor removes the bandage. His face still different shades of blue from the punch, but it's still him. She sees his eyes blink a few times and she squeezes his hand. "Harvey?" she whispers and he blinks again.

"Hey, beautiful," he smiles his vision a bit blurry, but he can recognize her face, his words making a tear run down her face and she hugs him instantly. Her head in the crook of his neck, she laughs as he tells her what she's wearing because he already knows she won't just take his word for this.

"I'm so glad you got your vision back," she whispers in his ear and he swallows holding her close. "I've been blind long enough," he comments tightening his grip on her body. His words not just about the accident, but about so much more. How he never saw what was right there in front of him.

"Yeah you have."

The End