He covered his eyes and turned the comparative bright display of his mobile away from his face. 12.14 am, he groaned and sank back to the sheets. Maybe he just flattered himself and dreamt of a ringing door. He breathed out with a puff and put his arm over his face. He tried to fall back asleep, which was not as difficult because he had barely woken up, but the ringing at his door continued. With a gasp, he sat straight, the doorbell had rung in the exact moment right before he could fell asleep and it felt like he was falling. Again, he rolled over and checked his phone. No calls. No texts. 12.16 am.

He had swung his feet eventually a little too enthusiastic from the bed, because Harvey now had to fight dizziness. In the dark of his bedroom he searched for his sweatpants and the shirt he had worn earlier. It didn't bother him that the bell kept ringing, and he didn't hurry very much to reach the door. A small part of him secretly hoped that whoever dared to show up at his door in the middle of the night, would have decided to leave until he could reach the door; because if not he planned on beating the shit out of them – regardless if it was the president of the united states or just the janitor.

He tapped, barefoot and with unusual messy hair through his flat. He opened the door.

"Do you even know how late it is?" He met exactly the sharp tone he aimed for and if he hadn't been so damn tired, he even would have been proud. A little at least.

However, if only he had known at that point already what had happened. In that case, he wouldn't have been so surprised about a visit at that time. Even though he wouldn't have been able to ever only think of the possibility that he – over 3,400 miles away, a great pond between them – would be honored with being the one, she'd look up when something is wrong.

I mean, probably she has a lot of friends over there, in London. And if it wasn't really important she would have gone to them. Yet, something, fatal enough to make her taking a plane and flying approximately eight hours instead of calling up her friends who live not even 30 minutes away, must have happened.

But Harvey didn't know all that stuff. So, all he saw was a collected face, high heels, all in all a well-groomed, totally Dana-ish appearance. Except for the time. Except the city. Except the continent.

Neverthless, his tired eyes met Dana's, who seemed wide awake. "Yes, Harvey, I am very well aware of the fact that it's half past twelve in the morning. Just as aware as that there's a table for two booked in thirteen hours, at Sketch in Mayfair."

Due to the fact that he still wasn't quite awake, it took him some time to process the heard. Dana J. Scott, had showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night. She looked normal, she looked good – better than good, but this opinion results from different reasons.
But something he had noticed were her shaking hands, which she had clenched into a fist and pressed against her sides firmly. He also had noticed the cracking in her voice as she talked, as well as the redness of her eyes. These things were inevitable signs that she either had cried – which he quickly rejected because her nose hadn't turned red from crying yet – or will star to cry within the next minute.
He knows this woman way too well and way too long already to miss such important stuff. Also, he probably cared way too much about a woman who actually just was his former girlfriend.

Harvey didn't say anything. He just reached out and pulled the woman into a hug. She had seemed so lost, standing in the corridor with that skirt and blazer, making her look as if she had just come from the courtroom.
Harvey felt it. He felt her relief as she didn't have to hold up her weight – or, what probably seemed like the weight of the whole damn world – alone anymore.

Dana relaxed and suffocated into this six feet tall hug of relief. She swallowed, not allowing herself to cry. She leaned against his warm body and shivers ran down her spine. With a lot of effort her hands moved from resting on his chest, feeling his strong, steady heartbeat through that shirt, to locking her fingers in his neck. Dana pulled him down even further and he buried his face in her neck.

Leaning back, after a while, he brushed a flick of hair out of her face. "Come on in."

His voice was croaky and it made her smile because the little jump of her heart, made her realize that she hadn't heard this sound in way too long. He had already turned his back at her to lead her in. Even though they both knew that that was totally unnecessary.
Dana grabbed her bag, which contained the few things she was able to pack instead of throwing them through Steve's and her apartment, back in London.

Her heart ached at these memories but to mend itself, her free hand almost instinctively found Harvey's.