The Things We Lost In The Fire

Prompt 47: A scenario where Donna is in serious jeopardy/danger and Harvey literally loses his shit and moves heaven and earth trying to rescue/help her. Feelings are realized along the way. Pre-canon of course. The more M rated the better.

Harvey reads the letter clutched in his hand, heart pounding as he drops the paper, his steps slow but building into a sprint the closer he gets to the door. He hails a cab and goes to Paula's first, because he knows—palms sweating and pulse racing—he has to choose, and he just did.

Picturing his life without Donna was just an idea when he asked Stu to offer her a job, before he witnessed the look of hurt and his betrayal in her eyes. He tried to convince himself she was to blame, that her kissing him had been the catalyst for his rash decision, when really, Paula was just an excuse to keep Donna at arm's length.

He was investing all his effort in untangling Donna's hold around his heart. At first with anti anxiety medication and then again with therapy, but he was lying to himself when he thought Paula was the only woman he's ever shared his feelings with. He opened up to Donna the moment she shook his hand. He let her in, and his instincts told him to trust her. For over a decade they proved right, until she kissed him, throwing their lines that have held clear for years into turmoil.

He kissed her back because every part of him wanted to. A yearning deep within his soul kept him glued in place and then she walked away, stealing any control he naively thought he had. Lashing out was instinct. He blamed her until she gave him an out, told him she didn't feel anything, and they moved on like they always do, skirting around things better left unsaid.

But then when Paula called for an ultimatum, he pushed, selfishly testing the boundaries. Not to appease his girlfriend, but because deep down he wanted to know if Donna would leave or stay.

Now he knows, and it's up to him to fix the mistake.

He leaves Paula's, more desperate to get to his second destination, but is stopped from entering Donna's apartment block by a flurry of people trying to escape a fire alarm blaring through the building. He pushes through them, scanning the crowd for her, his heart leaping into his throat when he reaches the emergency exit without any sign of her. She could be on her way down with the rest of the residents or not in there at all, out somewhere with friends and no clue what's going on. But even the slightest chance she could be in danger turns him around. He can't get up past the flood of people so goes to the row of elevators which luckily haven't been disabled yet.

He hears a shout as he steps inside, but he ignores it, his only care getting up to the twelfth floor.

As soon as he reaches Donna's level, a piercing klaxon sounds louder than the warning alarm, and his faint hope that there was no actual fire vanishes as the smell of smoke infiltrates his senses. The danger he could be in doesn't register as he races towards Donna's door, brushing his knuckles against the handle, and tearing them back when the metal scolds him.

He doesn't think—can't—ready to move heaven and earth to make sure Donna isn't trapped inside, not giving a second's thought to his own safety as he shoulders the door three times before adrenaline finally splinters the wood and he breaks it down.

Smoke bellows out from the hall, and he covers his mouth, panic gripping him when he sees her curtains engulfed by flames. He must have arrived in the building seconds before the fire broke out, but it's spreading fast, embers sparking out and starting new blazes. His eyes sting as he searches for Donna through the erupting chaos.

He spots her, huddled on the couch, unaware of the danger she's in, and guilt slams through him as he takes in the empty bottle of whiskey opposite her. However the fire started, she's completely defenseless—passed out—likely due to her handing in her resignation, and he swipes the sweat off his brow as he moves closer, choking on the poisonous fumes.

"Donna!"

He collapses beside her, realizing it would be more dangerous to check if she's okay or try to rouse her. He can already feel heat licking his skin, too close for comfort, and he digs his arms beneath her body, hoisting her off the couch, and clutching her tightly against his chest.

He thought he was going to lose her tonight and is livid she would put his needs above her own, more terrified that maybe she was putting hers first by leaving. But none of the matters now.

His lungs wrench with the effort of breathing, and he coughs violently as he tries to navigate to the door with her body slowing him down. She's a dead weight, and he prays to God she's just unconscious, knocked out from alcohol and not the smoke. He'd give anything to feel her breath flutter against his skin; to quell his panic as he bursts over the splintered threshold, realizing he somehow has to get her back down the stairs and find help.

The exit is clear as he jostles her—all the other occupants evacuated—and he digs his fingers into her limbs, terrified of dropping her, making it down to the third landing before he feels safe enough to stop and check her vitals. He drops down, wincing as his knees land on the cement, but he manages to keep her body cushioned as he searches for a pulse, feeling the sluggish beat beneath his fingertips. Then he presses his hand over her mouth, relief hurtling through him when a faint flow of air brushes against his knuckles.

He sinks back, keeping her in his lap as he wipes the sweat and grime from his face, knowing how goddamn lucky he is she's alive, and a sob builds in his throat at the mere thought of taking any longer to reach her. But she's not out of danger yet, and he moves to pick her up again, startling when they're flanked by yellow men wearing masks rushing up towards them. He can barely hear what they're saying over the roar in his ears, his only instinct to clutch onto Donna and not let her go. He doesn't care that his arms are shaking and his chest is about to cave in.

All he cares about is protecting her.

"I can—" He chokes, covering his mouth, and even though every urge is screaming not to give in, he finally relents, physical stress taking its toll on his body. He can't carry both of them and feels sick as she's wrenched out of his grasp, clawing back up onto his feet to follow her the rest of the way down.

When they burst out downstairs, reaching the EMT's, he pushes them off, refusing to be separated from Donna. He hovers beside the stretcher as they place an oxygen mask over her face, fear pummeling through him as they lead her out to the waiting ambulance.

He piles in behind her, his eyes glued to her pallor as he sinks down in the tiny space, letting the paramedics do their job and check her vitals. He did all he could by getting her out, but that doesn't erase his worry or guilt. She's never been the kind of person to search for answers at the bottom of a bottle—that's more his style—and the hurt she must have felt to seek comfort through alcohol ricochets in every part of his being.

She didn't screw up—he did.

And if the cost ends up being her life, he'll never forgive himself.

…

Donna groans, her head pounding as she wakes up to bright, unfamiliar lights that make her wince and want to retrench back into sleep. The only thing that stops her succumbing to the desire is Harvey's blurry face beside her bed, making her more confused.

The last time they spoke, he made his feelings perfectly clear; he chose Paula.

He even went so far as to find her another job so he could protect his relationship, and the last thing she remembers is leaving her resignation letter on his desk and going home to drown her misery. Maybe she drank more than she should have, but as her focus zones in on the white walls, she knows the alcohol wasn't enough to land her in a hospital. "What happened," she croaks, her voice detached as she tries to push herself up, failing at the task and slumping back down.

"There was a fire in your apartment." He tells her all he can, not sure of the details. Maybe she left something on or there was a faulty wire. All he knows is that for the past hour he's been sitting by her bed, refusing to believe the doctor's assurance she was going to be fine until he had evidence. .

She absorbs the information he's giving her, and her first thought should be about the place she's lived for over a decade, all her things and the precious memories that may have very well be destroyed. But she can't face any more loss and channels her emotions into anger. "Why are you here?"

He flinches but should have known better than to expect her to be meek or vulnerable. Extenuating circumstances aside, she's never been a damsel in need of rescuing or saving. She's strong, independent, and has more fight in her than anyone he's ever met. But it kills him that she would question why he's by her side when that's the only place he wants to be. "I needed to see you. That's why I went to your apartment..." He doesn't elaborate on the details or how he rushed into a burning building without any care for his safety. At the time he didn't know what he was racing into, so those facts don't seem as important as the reason he showed up or why he's here now. "You were right, I shouldn't have gone behind your back, that wasn't fair."

"Get out." She doesn't snap, her voice calm and controlled, but she doesn't look at him either. Her mind is still processing everything, and she can't do this with him, not now, and not with the weight of loss pressing down over her shoulders.

The demand throws him, confusion burning in his gaze as he tries to regain some balance. He's aware of the damage his actions caused, but in over a decade she's always heard him out if she didn't like what he was saying, and now more than ever he needs her to listen. "Donna—"

"You feel bad because... I was hurt," she rasps the accusation, her throat sore and in need of something to sooth the dryness, but she's not about to ask for his help or invite an excuse for him to stay. He made it clear he didn't want to be colleagues, much less friends, and just because he feels guilty, that's not a reason to change how they left things. "I'm fine so you can go."

He sucks in a sharp breath, knowing she isn't fine, And she's right, he does feel guilty, but he also feels a range of other emotions he's been struggling with that he needs her to understand. "That's not what this is about."

She closes her eyes, shaking off the desperate plea in his voice. They've been here too many times before, circling the same end, and she doesn't want to fight with him. She just wants things to be easy and uncomplicated for once. "I can't do this anymore."

The defeat in her shoulders as she slumps back breaks him. He went to her apartment to stop her leaving the firm, thinking that if he ripped up her resignation on her doorstep, they could move forward. But even though he still has the letter pressed in his inner pocket, he knows they're beyond the point of cheap gimmicks. "What are you saying?"

She looks across at him, exhaustion and pain swelling her eyes with tears. Maybe he was right to find her a new job. Maybe it's time they finally severed the ties that keep causing them so much hurt. She opens her mouth, trying to do what he can't, when the door suddenly bursts open and Rachel rushes in.

"Oh my god!" She lets go of Mike's hand, moving around to the side of the bed opposite Harvey. "Are you okay?"

Donna focuses on her best friend, flooded with relief at seeing her familiar face. "I'm fine." She forces a smile, blinking away the moisture stinging her gaze and swallowing the words that had been poised on her lips. When Harvey's chair scrapes back, she still doesn't look at him, protecting herself against his rough grumble.

"I was just leaving." He glares down as he shuffles past Mike, his heart in his throat and his thoughts spiraling. He read the resolve in Donna's eyes, didn't need to actually hear her say she's not coming back, and he draws in a ragged breath as he pushes out the door.

Rachel frowns at the fresh tears that glimmer in Donna's firm expression, the tension so thick a knife could slice through it, and she mouths at Mike telling him to go. When he leaves, she turns to her friend, worry plastered across her face. "Donna, what happened?"

Donna swipes her cheeks, not sure where to begin, already overwhelmed before waking up in a hospital bed. Resigning hadn't just been a knee jerk reaction. She was preparing herself to move on, start again, but not like this, without anywhere to live, and she wishes she'd gone to Rachel instead of trying to drown her misery. If she had, maybe she wouldn't have wound up losing everything. "I quit the firm."

"You what?" Rachel's eyes widen, the news the last thing she was expecting to hear.

Her hands tremble as they fall in her lap, and she breathes in deeply, embarrassed as she sniffles through her tears. "Paula gave him an ultimatum, and he chose her. So I made it easy for them."

Anger ripples through Rachel as she takes in her broken friend, suddenly understanding why Harvey had been so wracked with guilt when he called. Though he only spoke to Mike, her fiance had been on the phone for nearly twenty minutes trying to calm Harvey down and unpick everything that happened. From what Mike managed to piece together, she knows Harvey broke up with Paula, the reason now making sense. He didn't want to give up Donna. Her annoyance fades as she reaches out, covering Donna's shaking fingers. Harvey might be clueless when it comes to expressing himself, but he ended things with Paula and went straight to Donna, and she's eternally grateful he did. But he obviously didn't tell Donna the full story, and she squeezes her friend's hand with a sigh. "What did he say? Before we got here."

There's relief in Rachel's gaze that she doesn't understand, and she shifts back, pulling her arm away. "That there was a fire."

"That's all?" She searches Donna's tired and confused expression, receiving confirmation, and she doesn't know why she's surprised. "He ended things with Paula, that's why he was at your apartment." A flicker of shock registers in Donna's gaze, but Rachel still needs to fill her in with the other details Mike was able to get out of Harvey. "Everyone was evacuating, but he ran in any way, broke down the door so he could get to you."

Donna's stomach flips with unease, guilt fluttering as she absorbs everything Rachel knows, and feeling frustrated she's hearing the information second-hand. When she asked Harvey what happened, he didn't say a word about Paula, and she can see Rachel's waiting for the revelation to change how she feels, but she doesn't know that it does.

Harvey breaking up with Paula, saving her from the fire, just means he's the same man he's always been, loyal and caring. Those qualities haven't stopped them from hurting each other before, and his silence tonight proves they want different things. Deep down she knows she's wanted more from him for a long time, and that need has left her with nothing. No grand declarations, no job, no apartment. Her life is a mess, and her lips start to tremble. Tears falling again as Rachel climbs into the bed, pulling her into a tight hug.

"It's going to be okay." Rachel soothes Donna's hair back, her heart aching at seeing her friend in so much pain. She knows how Harvey and Donna love each other, but they're also two of the most stubborn people she's met, so she doesn't push the topic, not tonight. Donna's been through enough already. She just hopes Mike is having better luck with Harvey.

...

"Harvey, wait." Mike catches up to the man's fast strides, tugging on his arm and pulling him to a stop "Where are you going?"

Harvey wrenches himself free but keeps his feet rooted in place. He doesn't want to leave, but Donna made it clear she can't forgive him, and his heart is too bruised, his ego too shattered, to stay and face her. After everything that's happened tonight, he doesn't have any more fight left in him, and he sinks back against the wall in the waiting area, defending his decision to go. "She doesn't want me here, Mike."

"So, that's it?" Mike shrugs his hand, frustration mixing with his sympathy. Harvey had poured his emotions out over the phone, rambling to the point Mike knew it was adrenaline talking. He's never seen or heard Harvey lose it like that before, and God knows he isn't judging. He would be a mess too, but it's the calm that worries him, the defeat in Harvey's gaze that has him on edge. Whatever conversation he and Rachel walked in on, it didn't sound good, and he jumps in to try and help manage the situation."She's in shock, you both are."

"You don't get it." Harvey clenches his fingers, repelling any excuses. The damage was caused long before the fire broke out, the moment he got in touch with Stu. Instead of talking to Donna, he acted like a coward, and now he has to wear the consequences. "It's my fault."

Guilt tightens his jaw, and Mike can see he's beating himself up, and tries to reason with Harvey's stubbornness. "You didn't cause the fire."

He pushes off the wall, the last spark of his fight igniting as he tears a hand through his hair, pacing angrily. He may not have lit the match, but he fuelled the flames. Donna could have died, alone and hating him, and panic clutches his chest as he spins back on his heel, trying to make Mike understand that he doesn't deserve forgiveness. "She passed out from drinking because I made her give up everything. She's lost everything, and it's my goddamn fault!"

His fist flies into the nearest vending machine, splintering the glass, and Mike rushes to Harvey's side, paling at the man's short gasps, as if the punch drew every bit of strength out of him. "Harvey, look at me." Mike claps his shoulder, his eyes filled with worry. He's witnessed Harvey having a panic attack before and guides the man down into a plastic chair. "You need to breathe, okay?"

He can't. It feels like all the air is being squeezed out of his lungs, and he hangs his head, minutes ticking by until he's finally able to choke out his biggest fear. "She's going to leave me."

The conviction behind the claim scares Mike, and what's worse, he isn't in a position to refute it. He truly believes Donna would never leave Harvey—she loves him too much—but he can't deny she's seemed lost lately; moments where he's caught her staring off or missing details she usually wouldn't. He tried to encourage her to tell Harvey how she felt, and he doesn't know if she took the advice, but if she did and the result was Harvey choosing Paula, then he can only imagine the hurt she must be feeling. If that's the case, he doesn't want to fill his friend with false hope, but he can't stand to see Harvey this distraught, either. "You just need to give her some time," he offers, shifting his belief that Harvey should stay. The man's in no fit state to fix anything tonight, and the best thing they can do is go to Harvey's condo, pour a stiff drink, and figure out a way to piece him back together. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

Harvey's gaze snaps up, overwhelmed by Mike's show of support when, right now, his girlfriend is listening to Donna's heartache. Rachel probably hates him by now too, and he wouldn't blame her, half-expecting the same judgment from Mike. "You don't have to—"

"Yeah, I do." Mike doesn't leave room for any argument. He's not taking sides and Rachel won't either. They're a family. They've all made mistakes over the years, but they stick together in spite of them, no matter what. "No man gets left behind, right?"

Air slowly filters back into Harvey's lungs, and he nods, not sure he deserves Mike's help but accepting it regardless, because the fear of losing Donna is too much to handle on his own. He's always prided himself on being detached, thinking that made him strong, but he can see the flaw clear as day; Donna is both his strength and his weakness. Without her he's an echo of himself that walks, talks and breathes, but that isn't the life he wants to live. He wants to be with her, hold her close at night and cherish every second. He just hopes it isn't too late to make her believe they can have everything, because if it is, he doesn't know how he's going to live with himself.

…

Donna stands in the lobby of her hotel, the newly strung Christmas decorations making her feel empty as she waits for Harvey to arrive. She was discharged from the hospital a week ago, and he's called twice since. Both times she ignored the calls, but after going to see the damage to her apartment this afternoon, she was hit by the realization he saved her life. She knew that, of course, but actually seeing what he raced into, the splintered wood where he broke down the door, she can only imagine how terrifying the ordeal must have been.

She's fortunate enough to have no memories of the night, can only recall the grief pouring out of her, tears that had only ceased when she drowned them in a bottle of whiskey. She knows Harvey is on his way to make things right, and she honestly doesn't know if they can. Technically, she's still officially resigned, and even though he ended things with Paula, she has no context. The split probably had nothing to do with her job. And if it did, that doesn't necessarily mean anything, either. Harvey would rush into a burning building for anyone he cared about because that's the kind of man he is, but in the very least, she owes him her gratitude.

When he steps inside from the cold, he looks tired, nervous even. Two things that don't go hand in hand with the image she always keeps of him in her mind, and she folds her arms protectively against his timid smile.

"Hey." She tips her head at the greeting, letting out a sigh, and he balls his fists in his pockets, awkwardly nodding towards the bar. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She glances over her shoulder at the small, open space lounge. He said he wanted to talk, and in the past that's meant a less than five minute discussion, but she reluctantly agrees, deciding it's better than having it out with him in the lobby. "Okay." She nods, taking the lead and seating herself in the corner while he goes to fetch them each a drink. When he returns, he lowers himself in the recliner opposite her, and she steals a deep breath. "Thank you."

He shrugs at the glass. "It's just a drink."

"That's not—"

A wiry smile ghosts his lips, and she can tell he knows she's not talking about the whiskey, and she meets his soft expression with a stubborn frown. "It was a stupid thing to do." She's grateful, but that doesn't mean she's happy. Had she been out, he could have gotten himself killed for no good reason. But she's said her piece and locks her fingers together as she shifts her gaze around the small bar.

"I've done a lot of stupid things lately," he admits, picking up his glass and tilting it between his hands. "That wasn't one of them." Dating his therapist, trying to patch up every mistake with denial, lashing out when he shouldn't. He tipped the scale of poor choices, but he doesn't regret risking his own life to protect Donna's, and he never will. "I told you, I won't ever let anything bad happen to you."

Pain twinges in her chest, because although she knows he means it, that's not how she felt standing across from him when he said they couldn't work together anymore. "You also said I wouldn't have to feel scared, but when I put my resignation on your desk…" She swallows her hurt, refusing to look at him until an envelope falls under her view.

"About that," he says, trying to force his guilt. He chose Paula. He gets that, but the second he did, he knew it was the wrong decision. "I don't need you back." Her eyes flash with confusion and—shit—he's no good at this. He wants her back, but that isn't the only reason he came here. "I need you, Donna," he attempts to clarify. "You earned your job, and it's yours unless you hand me that resignation again, but either way, I want you in my life."

"As what?"

Love me, how?

It's the same question, just phrased differently, and she stiffens, preparing herself for the same disappointment as last time. If he doesn't mean as colleagues that drastically reduces their options, and she reaches for her drink, needing the courage, but she nearly chokes on it when his voice whispers between them.

"As everything."

She coughs, covering her mouth as he sets down his glass and stands up, only to kneel down next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see people glancing over—getting the wrong idea—and heat flushes her skin as he rests his palm over her knee.

"I'm sorry." He doesn't do apologies, but Donna is the exception to all of his rules. He hates that he hurt her, is exhausted from waking up every night to the same nightmare where he fails to rescue her in time. He used to think his career was all that mattered, but since she handed in her resignation and refused to take his calls, all he's felt is empty, and he can't do this anymore either. He can't keep pretending he doesn't want more when he wants everything. "What can I do to fix this, Donna? Tell me, and I'll do it."

She swipes the moisture from her eye, clasping his hand and pulling them both up, stealing her letter of resignation from the table and holding it out to him. "Take it back."

His chest swells with relief, not sure he deserves her forgiveness, but she's waving the paper between them in surrender, and he takes the envelope, ripping it in half and letting it flutter to the ground as he cups her cheek. "Done."

She smiles, her lips inviting him to seal the promise he just made, and he moves in to kiss her, hearing a round of applause that only startles him for a moment and is forgotten as he tastes her, his palm sliding down to tug her closer.

She grins at the attention, the way he seems oblivious, devouring her like they're the only two people in the room, healing her heart as if it was never broken. And she could easily lose herself too, but her temporary accommodation is conveniently close, and she clutches his arms, breaking the kiss with a breathless whisper. "Do you want to come upstairs?"

A shiver trembles up his spine, and there isn't anything in the world he wants more, but he needs to know she's sure, that he's not taking advantage of her after wounding them both so deeply.

"Stop." She feathers her thumb across his stumble, reading every thought flickering his gaze. "We both made mistakes. It's okay."

He doesn't understand how she can always verbalize his fear, but now he's prepared to let his fears go, he loves her even more for the ability to calm him, and he smiles softly.

She tugs on his arm and he follows her out, over a decade of desire rumbling through his insides at the touch, keeping them clutched together. All he wants to do is kiss her senseless, and the ride up to her level is the most tortuous wait he's ever experienced, the silence charged with electricity that breaks loose the second they step inside her room. He kicks the door closed, capturing her mouth, and groaning when she responds with the same enthusiasm, tugging at his tie and dragging him through the apartment.

He fumbles with the zipper of her dress, shrugging it down, and catching her when she stumbles out of the fabric, breathing in her giggle as he hoists her up. Her legs wrap around his waist, and he smirks, no idea where he's going. "Bedroom?"

"Second door," she smiles against his lips, working his shirt off as he finds and fumbles with the handle. Once inside he drops her down, and she kicks off her heels, reclaiming his mouth as she cups his trousers, the bulge making her whimper with need.

The sound makes him jerk in response, flashes of her teasing cream around his tip nearly more than he can stand. That night may have been over a decade ago, but he's fantasized about it on a regular basis, and when she pushes down his trousers and boxers, he clasps her wrists, turning her on the bed. She slides up the mattress with a smirk, her eyes telling him with a glimmer she knows what he's picturing. But that was then and this is now; his focus brought fully back to the present as he prowls on top of her, clutching her hands again, and pinning them above her head. "You have no idea what you do to me."

His whisper is husky, making her whole body tingle, and she bites her lip, basking in the delight of his hardness straining against her stomach. "I think I have some idea," she teases, heat pooling in her core as she raises her hips, attempting to find some relief from the throbbing ache.

He immediately lets go, his palms sliding down to remove her underwear, hoping to curb his arousal and maintain some composure. But as he drags his mouth between her thighs, the most he can hope for is bringing her to the same ledge of pleasure.

She fists the sheets as he finds her center, lapping a pattern with his tongue that makes her stomach clench, and her knees start to quiver as he applies more pressure, diving into her folds. She guessed what he was thinking before, because she was remembering the same thing, the way he knew her body as if he'd pleasured it a thousand times before. And in her mind he has, but nothing compares to the reality, and when he reverts back to languid strokes, deliberately tormenting her, she bucks her hips, groaning at his chuckle. She needs him inside her, knows he's more than ready, and she grapples at his hair, demanding him up with a gentle tug.

He grins, following the command, as he slowly pushes into her heat, letting her adjust to his size, and the amusement slips from his face as she clenches around his burgeoning erection. Any control he managed to obtain vanishes in a flash, his head growing foggy as he starts moving faster, hitting as high and at different angles until he finds the one that makes her nails dig into his shoulder and cry out. The cue spurs him to pound harder, his hips jerking with an uncontrollable rhythm, all his concentration focused on holding out until she cums first. He can feel she's close, a plea burning on his lips but she convulses before he can utter it, pulling him over the edge with her. His arms collapse keeping him poised just above her and he closes his eyes, catching his breath. When he finds it again, he flutters open his gaze and breathes a content sigh. "I've missed you."

He brushes the hair tenderly from her face, and she doesn't know if he means just this week or if he's referring to the other time they slept together, but she's missed both, and she grins softly. "Me too." She's expecting him to mirror her reaction but instead, a frown pulls at his lips, stealing her smile. "What?"

He shakes his head slightly, feeling like an idiot for waiting so long to come to his senses. His walls should have crumbled years ago and rather than hide what he's thinking, he lets it slip free. "I don't want to waste anymore time, Donna. Come stay with me."

Her eyes widen as she searches his gaze, trying to determine if he's sure. Christmas is right around the corner, and she has no idea how long it's going to take them to fix her apartment, but there's not a hint of doubt in his expression, and she gently tests his resolve. "The renovations could go on for months."

"Hopefully longer." He smiles, though he can see she isn't convinced by the joke, and he turns a little more serious. "When I read your resignation, I felt empty inside. I knew I couldn't lose you, that I needed to do something because when I thought about being without you, it suddenly dawned on me… you're the person I want to share my life with."

Her eyes well up at the confession. She may have lost her apartment, but when he showed up there the night of the fire, he was prepared to lose everything too. He risked his life. And after processing that properly for the first time this afternoon, she doesn't want to waste any more time either. "Okay." She nods, grinning up through her tears to kiss him, comforted by the weight of his body as he sinks around her.

They didn't lose anything in the fire.

Instead, they gained everything.