Suits Fic: Sunshine
(Okay, I'm actually getting worried I have a problem now. I can't seem to get these two out of my head. I might actually not survive the next few months when there are no new episodes.)
Title: Sunshine
Rating: PG
Category: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Spoilers: Season Two, Rewind
Disclaimer: Owned by others.
Author's Note: Thanks dearly to ceruleantides for always being there.
==
“You and I have memories
Longer than the road
That stretches out ahead.”
-- The Beatles, ‘Two Of Us’
==
He glances over and Donna is there.
It’s all he needs to know.
==
The short phone call to his brother is the hardest - the signal cutting in and out with the distance, and the hour late crossing over international waters. The line continues to crackle and die, catches again, and Harvey hears the labored breathing amidst the static as his brother struggles to speak.
In the end, there isn’t much to say and they’ve never been good at this anyway. All their words lack meaning - I’m sorry echoing broken between them, emotion caught in a bubble stretched to popping.
It takes him a moment to unclench his hand from around the phone when it’s over.
==
He doesn’t have to ask for help, doesn’t even think to ask. It isn’t until later - so much later and too long delayed to act - that he realizes what it meant.
==
Donna fields his calls, both professional and personal, and not a single one comes through while he stares at the mortuary site on his computer, unable to move past the homepage. His grasp of time slows and slips away, and it isn’t until she’s beside him, folders in front of him, that time suddenly speeds back up, slams him into reality.
She has her hand gently on his arm, and he studies the bracelet on her wrist - twists of gold twined together that become something both ornate and elegant. He runs a finger across the links until it slips off to her wrist, trails lightly over her skin.
He focuses on the folders and rifles through the paperwork Donna has prepared. A surprising number of forms stare back at him.
“Everything’s there,” she says gently - still the Donna he knows, just… tempered. “Your meeting with the funeral home is at 4.”
Medical record authorization forms are signed with his signature. He glances up at her.
She raises an eyebrow, either in challenge or in question, but he finds he actually doesn’t care. In fact, might even be a little grateful.
==
A single sunflower lies among the flowers in the grave - bold, golden yellow, a burst of sunshine.
He knows she loved the nickname, even if she denied it, even if it was just a joke between the two of them, the flowers delivered to her desk once a year. His dad had always been good at making friends.
==
He is the last to leave the burial site - waiting until the dirt is smooth and the sun hangs low over the horizon, tree shadows long and reaching. Grief still sits in his chest, heavy and raw, but the constriction eases as he breathes deep, the warm smells of grass and soil blending in the air.
He’s not surprised when Donna appears quietly at his side. He listens to the soft swish of her dress as the skirt catches in the breeze, flutters against his leg. Her tears are gathered but unshed, and he thinks about the time she shared a drink with his dad, just the two of them talking and laughing like old friends while he cleaned up the kitchen - he wonders what was said.
She shakes her head with a smile. “He would kick your ass for putting him in a place like this.”
He laughs. “You think I should have listened and buried him in the backyard?”
“I’m pretty sure he meant it when he said he wanted to haunt the next inhabitants,” she jokes.
He chuckles and nods, fond memories aching. Across the landscape, the sun kisses the earth, colors bleeding and shimmering along the bottom of the sky.
“It’s beautiful,” she says in a whisper, almost too quiet to hear.
They watch the sun set in silence, standing together, and in the twilight that hovers as the light slowly streams from the sky, he says a final goodbye.
==
It’s just once a year; one day for all the memories left behind.
On those mornings, he doesn’t watch her arrive - can’t somehow; it isn’t really his flower to give - but it’s in a tall glass or a thin vase when he looks up at her desk later.
She sets it to her left so he has an unobstructed view - and for a day it’s their reminder.
A bright pop of color.
-Fin
Title: Sunshine
Rating: PG
Category: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Spoilers: Season Two, Rewind
Disclaimer: Owned by others.
Author's Note: Thanks dearly to ceruleantides for always being there.
==
“You and I have memories
Longer than the road
That stretches out ahead.”
-- The Beatles, ‘Two Of Us’
==
He glances over and Donna is there.
It’s all he needs to know.
==
The short phone call to his brother is the hardest - the signal cutting in and out with the distance, and the hour late crossing over international waters. The line continues to crackle and die, catches again, and Harvey hears the labored breathing amidst the static as his brother struggles to speak.
In the end, there isn’t much to say and they’ve never been good at this anyway. All their words lack meaning - I’m sorry echoing broken between them, emotion caught in a bubble stretched to popping.
It takes him a moment to unclench his hand from around the phone when it’s over.
==
He doesn’t have to ask for help, doesn’t even think to ask. It isn’t until later - so much later and too long delayed to act - that he realizes what it meant.
==
Donna fields his calls, both professional and personal, and not a single one comes through while he stares at the mortuary site on his computer, unable to move past the homepage. His grasp of time slows and slips away, and it isn’t until she’s beside him, folders in front of him, that time suddenly speeds back up, slams him into reality.
She has her hand gently on his arm, and he studies the bracelet on her wrist - twists of gold twined together that become something both ornate and elegant. He runs a finger across the links until it slips off to her wrist, trails lightly over her skin.
He focuses on the folders and rifles through the paperwork Donna has prepared. A surprising number of forms stare back at him.
“Everything’s there,” she says gently - still the Donna he knows, just… tempered. “Your meeting with the funeral home is at 4.”
Medical record authorization forms are signed with his signature. He glances up at her.
She raises an eyebrow, either in challenge or in question, but he finds he actually doesn’t care. In fact, might even be a little grateful.
==
A single sunflower lies among the flowers in the grave - bold, golden yellow, a burst of sunshine.
He knows she loved the nickname, even if she denied it, even if it was just a joke between the two of them, the flowers delivered to her desk once a year. His dad had always been good at making friends.
==
He is the last to leave the burial site - waiting until the dirt is smooth and the sun hangs low over the horizon, tree shadows long and reaching. Grief still sits in his chest, heavy and raw, but the constriction eases as he breathes deep, the warm smells of grass and soil blending in the air.
He’s not surprised when Donna appears quietly at his side. He listens to the soft swish of her dress as the skirt catches in the breeze, flutters against his leg. Her tears are gathered but unshed, and he thinks about the time she shared a drink with his dad, just the two of them talking and laughing like old friends while he cleaned up the kitchen - he wonders what was said.
She shakes her head with a smile. “He would kick your ass for putting him in a place like this.”
He laughs. “You think I should have listened and buried him in the backyard?”
“I’m pretty sure he meant it when he said he wanted to haunt the next inhabitants,” she jokes.
He chuckles and nods, fond memories aching. Across the landscape, the sun kisses the earth, colors bleeding and shimmering along the bottom of the sky.
“It’s beautiful,” she says in a whisper, almost too quiet to hear.
They watch the sun set in silence, standing together, and in the twilight that hovers as the light slowly streams from the sky, he says a final goodbye.
==
It’s just once a year; one day for all the memories left behind.
On those mornings, he doesn’t watch her arrive - can’t somehow; it isn’t really his flower to give - but it’s in a tall glass or a thin vase when he looks up at her desk later.
She sets it to her left so he has an unobstructed view - and for a day it’s their reminder.
A bright pop of color.
-Fin