"Oh my god. I don't think any part of me isn't drenched right now." Shaking off her shoes in his doorway, Donna wrapped her arms around herself to stifle the uncontrollable shivering that had suddenly come on. "Harvey, either it's freezing in here or I'm more wet than it's possible to be."

"Hold your horses, missy. I'll light the fire." He rushed over to his fireplace, not wanting to let her shiver any longer than was necessary. He already couldn't stand to see her looking so uncomfortable - despite how well she pulled off the 'wet-sheek' look. As the flames started to burn and a comfortable warmth began to fill their surroundings, the pair set to work on drying off.

"I'll go get us some towels." As Harvey headed to his linen closet, Donna moved closer to the fire. She settled herself down on an white leather ottoman and held her hands out towards the flames. What on Earth is happening? She thought to herself. I'm at Harvey's. Soaking wet. Waiting for him to get towels, while drying off by his fireplace...

Her thoughts were left to fade into oblivion as, at that moment, Harvey reappeared, wearing grey New York Yankees sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt (which fit him perfectly...), bearing fresh, soft, blindingly white towels with a satisfyingly high thread count, no doubt. He held one out to her, looking at her only like Harvey could, but there was something else there in his eyes that she couldn't quite put her finger on...

"Do you want me to give you one of my old t-shirts and some sweatpants to change into? The state of that dress must be killing you." Harvey knew how much Donna loved her designer frocks and that it would be paining her emotionally, not just physically, to have one looking so distressed - especially as it had been tailored specifically to fit her delicate frame and could make her feel like a million dollars.

Taking the towel she said a soft, "Thanks, but a towel will be fine, Harvey" and started towelling dry her hair. He was doing the same on the sofa to her right and she tried not look at him. But it was like a train wreck, the more you tried to look away the more it just drew you back in and, once you'd had one look, you just needed another and another and...

"I don't think my suit is wearable any more." His voice startled her and she almost fell off the ottoman. Thankfully, he hadn't noticed as he had just got up from the sofa, heading in the direction from which he'd brought the towels, and when he came back he was holding the waterlogged, mud-splattered suit jacket he'd changed out of. Carefully, he hung it over the back of one of his kitchen stools, staring at it for a while, examining it by running a hand over its soft exterior to feel the damage before letting his hand rest just above one of the pockets. He looked as though he was deep in thought about another time. A distant time.

"Harvey, you have a hundred suits, I'm sure you can say goodbye to that one." Donna noticed the disappointment in Harvey's voice when he spoke about the suit being so mutilated. She didn't want to broach the subject but his silence propelled her to say something to fill the void. "That's not just any suit, is it?"

"No, it's not. My father helped me pick that out." Suddenly, at the thought of his father, he next spoke with a smile on his face and was instantly at ease.

Donna loved hearing him speak of his father. She always enjoyed learning of new moments the two shared, so she got up from the ottoman and made herself at home on the other end of the sofa Harvey had been sitting on moments earlier. She sat back, feet tucked up under her, eager to hear why the probably irreparable suit hurt just a little more than it should.

"He always hated my choice of suits." "When he learnt I was going back to work with Jessica he insisted on taking me out to choose a 'proper suit, not one of those overpriced things people buy simply for the name that don't have an ounce of comfort or style to them.'" "He used to say that you needed to feel as good as you looked or there really wasn't any point in getting dressed at all. Turns out he was right..."

Harvey walked back over to the sofa and plonked himself down beside Donna. Not so close that any part them touched, but close enough that she could notice every subtle move or shuffle he made to get comfortable.

"Well, he was right about one thing." As Donna said it, she noticed Harvey smelled particularly scrumptious for someone who'd, until very recently, donned a tragically drowned, smelly suit...

"What?"

"You look pretty damn good in that suit." And, boy, did she mean that.

"He had good taste." Harvey didn't see the remark as anything more than a compliment between friends/colleagues. What was new? Well, this time, Donna was going to make things clear.

"I meant that, Harvey." Donna wasn't going to let the moment pass with Harvey just disregarding her words like they were a joke or simply said to lighten the moment. She had truly meant them and wanted him to know it. She was done waiting. Done doing nothing. In this moment, her still wet hair slicked to her face and her long-sleeved designer black dress only just beginning to unstick from every part of her, she was throwing actual caution to the wind. What did she have to lose anymore? She had everything she wanted - except him. And she was done. "Harvey. When I said I didn't feel anything when I kissed you... I lied."

There was a hideously drawn out silence. Donna feared she'd just ruined any chance of ever being with him. Or just being with him at all ever again. She couldn't handle that. Life without Harvey? That didn't make any sense.

"Donna..." Harvey always struggled to tell her how he felt in situations like this.

She thought of the time when he said he'd loved her as he was leaving her apartment and the awkward conversation that had led to... She cringed. Not again. You could see him having difficulty finding the right response. Or even any response. But what happened next wasn't anything either of them saw coming. He just opened his mouth and spoke. Like it were as easy as breathing. "I know. I felt it too."