The hospital doors slam open with a gust of cold air and authority as Harvey Specter strides in, his suit impeccable despite the urgency in his movements, his eyes sharp with a controlled panic.

He doesn’t wait for the receptionist. “Y/N L/N. Where is she?” he demands, his voice calm but laced with that dangerous edge—the kind that tells you this man is used to getting what he wants, fast.

The nurse blinks, startled. “Uh—she was brought in about an hour ago. She collapsed at her firm, they said—exhaustion. She’s stable now, in Room 408, but only immediate family—”

“I am her family,” Harvey cuts in, steel in his tone.

But he’s already walking, his pace unforgiving.

The hallway is too bright, too sterile.

His mind replays the call over and over—the way Donna had told him, voice tight with worry, that you’d fainted mid-argument in court, barely able to speak before you crumpled.

And the worst part?

You’d brushed off the exhaustion for weeks.

He’d seen it.

Heard it in your voice. Felt it in the way you leaned a little heavier into his side when you finally crawled into bed past midnight. And now this.

When he steps into your room, everything else quiets.

You’re there.

Hooked up to an IV. Pale. Peaceful. But small in the hospital bed. Too small. And that terrifies him more than he wants to admit.

He walks over and sits at your bedside, running a hand through his hair before reaching for yours—cold, delicate, still. “Damn it, Y/N.” he breathes, his voice cracking just enough for truth to bleed through. “You could’ve told me. You should have told me.”

Your eyelids flutter at the sound of his voice, and after a beat, you open your eyes—confused at first, then softening as they find him.

“Harvey?” you rasp, weak but coherent.

He exhales shakily. “Yeah. I’m here.”

“You left work?”

“For you? I’d leave the damn planet.”

You try to smile, but it falters as you shift. “I just… had a lot on my plate. The McAllister case, and the arbitration, and—”

“Stop.” He squeezes your hand, firm but gentle.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You’ve already won. You’re the best damn lawyer in the city. No case is worth you collapsing in a courtroom.”

Silence lingers before you whisper, “I didn’t want to look weak.”

“You’re not,” he says instantly, fiercely. “But letting someone take care of you? That’s not weakness, Y/N. That’s trust.”

You blink up at him, eyes glassy.

“I’m taking you home when they clear you,” Harvey adds, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And after that, I’m making you dinner. Then we’re taking a week off. Together. No phones. No courts. Just… you and me.”

“And Jessica will approve that?” you murmur, teasing.

“Donna already booked the flights,” he smirks.

You finally smile—soft, real. “I love you.”

Harvey breathes in slowly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Yeah. I love you too. So stay with me, okay? No more scaring me like this.”