Chapter Text
Incremental Shift
The office had that peculiar quiet hum that settled in just after the morning rush, the kind that made the clatter of keyboards and printers fade into a gentle background pulse. Harvey leaned back in his chair, tie loosened, sleeves rolled just enough to feel casual but still sharp, eyes scanning the spreadsheet on his laptop without really seeing it. Weeks had passed since he’d made peace with Nate—and with Donna—and life had slipped into what he called the “lull.”
The sharp, unbearable ache in his chest had dulled into something quieter, a tolerable throb. Still there, still unwelcome, but easier to ignore when he didn’t have to see Donna and Nate together.
If he kept his head down and stuck to the rhythm they’d fallen back into, it was almost like before. Almost.
Mike popped his head into the office, without knocking, dropping into the chair opposite his desk.
“Harvey, I need your brain.”
“Always dangerous,” Harvey said, leaning back. “What’s the crisis this time?”
“Rachel and I are doing Christmas with her parents, and I’m officially out of gift ideas. Totally blank. I think I peaked last year.”
“Easy. Get them—” Harvey paused, scanning his mental Rolodex for something sophisticated. “—a nice bottle of scotch. Classy. Timeless.”
Mike grimaced. “They own a vineyard.”
Harvey frowned. “Then a…uh…fruit basket?”
Mike let out a snort. “Sheesh. I should just ask Donna. We all know she does your Christmas shopping for you anyway.”
Harvey straightened, a faintly defensive edge creeping into his tone. “I’m good at gifts, too, you know. Just—thinking outside the box.”
Mike arched a brow. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Before Harvey could respond, the soft click of the glass door announced Donna’s entrance. She stepped in, her presence filling the room with that effortless energy he both loved and feared.
“I’m doing another round of Christmas shopping today,” she said lightly, eyes meeting his. “And I know you haven’t bought anything for anyone yet… do you want me to include yours?”
That landed differently than he expected.
Harvey’s fingers idly fiddled with the pen on his desk, twisting it between his fingers, the motion small but deliberate—a microbeat betraying the tiny pang that shot through his chest. She never used to ask. She’d just do it—buy what needed buying, charge it to his accounts without a second thought. It wasn’t just convenience; it had been… theirs. One of their things.
Now she was asking for permission, like there was a line between them that hadn’t been there before. Like she’d started enforcing boundaries he didn’t want to think about.
Harvey’s jaw tightened just slightly, though his expression remained calm. It was such a simple question, and yet it carried a weight he wasn’t ready to confront—the realization that what had once been theirs, unspoken, was now bracketed by distance. Still, he kept his voice steady.
“Yeah… sure,” he said, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk as he looked down at the pen again. Nonchalance perfectly practiced. “Make sure to get yourself one too.”
Mike groaned from the chair. “See? This is exactly what I mean!”
Harvey smirked, leaning back. “Give him coal from me. He’s on the naughty list this year.”
Mike dramatically holds his hands up in surrender. “Is that spot negotiable?”
“No, better luck next year.” Harvey says in mock seriousness.
Donna lets out a small laugh, a hint of mischief tugging at the corner of her lips. “I better get going then, so I can catch up with the coal supplier.”
Then she turned for the door, slipping out with the smooth click of glass meeting frame, and Harvey found himself staring at the space she’d just vacated.
He could endure this lull. He could endure a lot. But some things… some things would always burn just a little longer.
-----
Harvey loosened his tie the moment he stepped into the penthouse, his movements practiced but absent. The city stretched below him, glittering with December lights, but he barely glanced at it.
He moved through the penthouse, pausing at a familiar cabinet—one he rarely opened. Pulling out the top drawer, he reached past neatly stacked files and old cufflinks until his fingers brushed the farthest corner.
A small, flat box.
He hesitated, thumb brushing over the worn cardboard as though it might crumble under his touch. Lifting the lid revealed a slender gold bracelet, simple but elegant, with two delicate charms dangling from the chain—a miniature briefcase, polished to a muted gleam, and a tiny theater mask.
Harvey stared at it, the air shifting around him. He’d bought it years ago, a Christmas gift meant for Donna. But when it had arrived, he’d shut the box, telling himself it was too personal, too revealing. The kind of gift that said far too much about what he felt but wasn’t ready to admit. So, he had buried it in the back of a drawer—just like he’d buried the truth.
Now, the gift didn’t feel like something waiting to be given. It felt like a relic. A reminder of everything he’d never said, and the quiet regret that had taken root in its place.
He didn’t notice how long he’d been standing there until his phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the stillness. Glancing at the screen, he pressed accept.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Harvey,” Lily’s voice warmed instantly, “I was hoping to catch you. Listen, I’ve rented a cabin for Christmas. Just upstate. Bobby, Marcus, Katie, the kids—Haley’s already calling it her cabin—and we’ll all be there. You should come.”
He leaned against the desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Mom…”
“Don’t tell me you’re planning to work through Christmas again.”
“I’m… not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” she pressed gently. “It’ll be our first Christmas together as a whole family.” There was a hesitation, soft but loaded. “It’s been a long time and I really want to spend this Christmas with all my boys this year.”
He didn’t respond.
“And I already spoke to Donna,” Lily added, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “She said the firm closes for the holidays and your schedule is wide open. Think about it—all of us together. It’s going to be wonderful.”
Harvey’s jaw tensed. Being in that cabin meant being in close quarters with Donna and Nate. The thought sent a ripple of unease through him, an instinct to retreat, to preserve the fragile distance he’d been keeping.
“Mom—”
“Please, Harvey.” Her voice wasn’t coaxing now—it was quiet, earnest. Almost vulnerable. “Just this once.”
The silence stretched. He exhaled slowly. “…Yeah. Okay.”
The call ended.
Harvey stood in the quiet, phone still in his hand, gaze drifting back to the bracelet. He took a slow, deep inhale, then let it out—measured, steady. The little bubble he’d built around himself, the “out of sight, out of mind” strategy that kept him functional, had just burst.
His eyes lingered on the two charms. A briefcase. A theater mask. Him. Her.
He closed the box, but the weight of it stayed in his hand—an unwanted promise of what he’d have to face.
-----
By the afternoon of the twenty-fourth, the entire Specter family caravaned up the winding road to the lakeside cabin. The world outside was painted in soft whites and silvers—snow still falling in lazy spirals, the lake beyond iced at its edges. The air was sharp enough to bite but clean enough to make each breath feel new.
Boots crunched over the packed snow as everyone spilled out of the cars, bundled in coats and scarves. Haley immediately tipped her head back to catch snowflakes on her tongue while her little brother toddled after her, mittened hands reaching for the flurries.
They were greeted at the door by the cabin’s owner, a red-cheeked man who looked like he’d stepped straight out of a winter postcard. His smile, however, was tinged with apology.
“I’m so sorry about this,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s been a bit of a booking mix-up. We only have two bedrooms available. But the living room’s huge, and I can bring in extra mattresses, pillows, blankets—whatever you need.”
Lily exchanged a look with Bobby, then glanced toward the sky, as if silently acknowledging that finding another place on Christmas Eve was impossible. The cold was already settling into everyone’s cheeks.
“Two rooms?” Marcus asked, incredulous. “That’s going to be tight.”
“The main bedroom should go to Lily and Bobby,” Katie said immediately. “They’re—” She caught herself, softening the word. “—they’d be more comfortable there.”
That left the second room, a narrow little thing barely big enough for a bed and a dresser. Everyone stood in the hallway, glancing at each other in awkward silence, clearly weighing how to decide who’d take it.
Then Nate spoke up, grin easy and voice warm. “Why don’t we skip the whole ‘who gets the shoebox’ debate? We can use the second bedroom as storage and a changing room, and everyone else sleeps out here by the fire. It’ll be like camping—indoors. The kids will love it.”
Haley’s head popped up immediately. “Camping?” she gasped, eyes wide.
“In a cabin,” Nate confirmed.
Her little brother squealed, bouncing in place at the idea, though he clearly didn’t know what camping was beyond “fun.”
And just like that, the tension dissolved. Bobby chuckled. Marcus shrugged. Katie was already imagining where the mattresses would go. Lily clasped her hands together and declared it a perfect plan.
The owner hurried off to fetch bedding while the family began to unload the cars. Soon, the cabin was filling with the smell of woodsmoke, the crackle of logs in the hearth, and the soft thumps of bags hitting the floor. Jackets were shed, scarves unwrapped, and laughter began to mingle with the hiss of the fire.
By the time they placed the mattresses near the hearth, the place already felt less like a compromise and more like the beginning of something—warm, chaotic, and exactly the kind of Christmas Harvey had been hoping to avoid.
-----
Dinner that night was warm in more ways than one. The fire crackled steadily, chasing away the bite of the winter air, while laughter and clinking cutlery filled the cabin. The table was crowded, dishes passed back and forth, stories retold for the hundredth time—Marcus ribbing Nate about some long-forgotten teenage misadventure, Lily chuckling into her wine, Bobby adding in a one-liner that had everyone groaning.
Harvey, the only one without a partner beside him, played along with the conversation where he could, but he wasn’t invisible—not with Haley glued to his side. She’d claimed the chair next to his early on, legs swinging and cheeks flushed from excitement, insisting on whispering “secret” jokes to him between bites. Every now and then, her giggles drew smiles from across the table.
After dinner, they moved to the tree in the corner of the living room—its branches twinkling with soft yellow light. Gifts were arranged beneath it, the paper catching the fire’s glow. Haley and her little brother practically vibrated with anticipation, darting forward to count their presents and then bouncing back when told they’d have to wait until morning.
When it was time to sleep, they laid out the mattresses in the arrangement Nate had suggested earlier. The first mattress—set higher up near the hearth—was claimed by Marcus, Katie, and their drowsy toddler, their heads turned toward the two mattresses below. The bottom left was Nate’s; next to him, Donna; and on the right, Haley and Harvey. The little girl sprawled between them, limbs thrown in every direction like she’d been dropped mid-dance.
Hours later, the cabin was wrapped in silence. The fire had burned low, painting the room in deep gold and shadow. Nate and Donna lay facing each other their breaths rising and falling in quiet sync. Harvey hadn’t closed his eyes once. Instead, he found himself watching the way the firelight threaded through Donna’s hair, turning strands copper and gold.
Then she shifted in her sleep, rolling toward him. Hazel eyes blinked blearily open—and suddenly she was looking right at him. For a few seconds, they simply stared, the quiet stretching between them warmer than the blankets.
Then her lips curved faintly, and she mouthed, Merry Christmas.
Harvey’s own smile answered hers as he returned the words barely more than a breath, Merry Christmas.
But before the moment could settle, Nate stirred in his sleep, an arm sliding around Donna’s waist to draw her close. She turned back toward him without thought, tucking into the familiar curve of his body.
Harvey was left staring at the back of her head again, his gaze catching on Nate’s hand resting where his own would never dare.
-----
Harvey woke to the feeling of someone bouncing against his side.
“It’s Christmas, Uncle Harvey! Wake up!” Haley’s voice pierced through the fog of sleep, her small hands shaking his arm with surprising force.
He groaned, dragging the blanket over his head. “Five more minutes.”
“Nooo,” she whined, tugging harder.
From across the room, Nate’s voice chimed in, all amused cheer. “Morning, Grinch.”
Harvey pushed the blanket down just far enough to glare. “Good morning, Elf on the Shelf.”
Nate chuckled. “Coffee’s over there before you bite someone.”
Before Harvey could retort, Donna appeared at his side, two steaming mugs in hand.
“Oh good, you’re up.” She offered one to him, the other to Nate. “Figured we could start with the presents.”
At the word presents, Haley’s head whipped around.
“Presents?!” she squealed, already scrambling to the tree.
Her brother followed, laughing in that unsteady, half-running way only very small children could manage. The rest of the family gathered in a half-circle on the floor, knees brushing against the edge of the tree skirt. Wrapping paper crinkled under curious fingers. Haley’s delighted squeal echoed again as she tore open Harvey’s gift—a plush bear dressed in tiny, shining armor.
“It’s a knight!” she exclaimed, clutching it tight.
Marcus grinned. “Technically from Donna,” he teased, and Harvey rolled his eyes while the room chuckled.
Across the way, Nate was unwrapping Harvey’s gift—a sturdy red toolbox. He lifted it with both hands, giving Harvey a grin that was more amused than impressed. “Practical. I like it.”
Then Donna rose to her feet, turning toward Harvey with a neatly wrapped box in her hands. He stood as well, instinctively mirroring her so they were eye level—close enough that the faint pine-and-firewood scent clinging to her reached him.
“Merry Christmas,” she said, her voice light but her eyes holding a softness that tugged at something inside him.
He peeled the paper away and lifted the lid. Inside, resting against crisp tissue, was a pair of well-worn baseball gloves—restored to look brand new. He ran his fingertips along the leather, the muscle memory as familiar as breathing.
“My dad gave me these,” he said quietly.
Donna’s smile deepened. “Lily showed them to me at Thanksgiving. I had them restored.”
He looked at her for a beat, the warmth of memory and the ache of everything unsaid colliding in his chest. “Thank you.”
She smiled back. “You’re welcome, Harvey.”
And then she was turning, handing Nate a small square box. Harvey didn’t look away.
Nate opened it and tilted his head. “A compass?”
“So you’ll always find your way back to me,” Donna said softly.
Harvey almost allowed himself the smug thought that his gift was better—until Nate’s fingers dug deeper into the box and pulled out a small silver key.
His face shifted—surprise, then something close to awe. “Is this—?”
Donna hesitated just a fraction, then smiled. “Figured you should have it, so you don’t have to keep knocking.”
The moment hit Harvey like a slow punch to the ribs. In twelve years, she’d never given him a key. Not when they were inseparable. Not when they were almost more. Not ever.
Nate stood then, pulling a velvet box from the pile beside him. “Your turn,” he said, handing it to Donna.
Inside was a delicate gold chain, a crowned frog pendant catching the firelight. Her face lit up. Nate fastened it around her neck, and she leaned in to kiss him, the moment utterly unselfconscious.
Haley bounded over, tiara askew on her head and plastic jewelry clinking.
“Thank you for my presents, Uncle Nate!”
She held her arms out and he scooped her up.
“What did you get, Aunt Donna?” Haley asked, peering at the pendant.
“A frog prince,” Donna said with a grin. “Because Uncle Nate used to be a frog.”
Laughter rippled around the room, but Harvey knew the real story—the plush frog that still sat on her desk, worn from how often she held it.
Haley, still perched comfortably in Nate’s arms, held the plush knight bear aloft toward Donna, her little face lit with pride.
“Ohh,” Donna played along, “a princess like you should have a guardian bear knight.”
“Yes! He’s coming to my tea parties,” Haley declared.
Donna tilted her head thoughtfully. “He looks like the kind of bear who enjoys tea parties.”
Haley’s eyes lit up again. “What did Uncle Harvey give you?”
“A lovely warm scarf,” Donna replied easily.
Something in Harvey’s chest pinched. Once upon a time, “Harvey’s gift” had meant diamonds, handbags, indulgences. Now… just a scarf. A boundary, drawn neatly in wool. He might’ve stayed there, in that quiet sting, if not for the gentle touch on his arm.
“Merry Christmas, dear,” Lily said, handing him a box.
He smiled, hugging her. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”
She patted his back. “Your gifts were lovely. You even got Nate those wrench things.”
“You’re welcome,” Harvey said automatically.
Over her shoulder, his eyes found Donna and Nate again—heads bent together, giggling over something private.
In the silence of his own mind, Harvey thought, I didn’t have to give him anything… he already took what I treasure the most.