I know you're supposed to have disclaimers for these sorts of things, so whoever owns Denby and Diane - no worries, I'm just a sentimental fool who's having fun with your characters.

Oh, and I suppose I should also offer my apologies to Matchbox 20, as I'm pilfering and misusing their material for my own entertainment as well.

Rating - I guess pg-13, just on the principal that it's Blue.

But the real warning label here should probably say Warning: Extremely Sappy.

*

He stood by the curb in the rain waiting, not caring that he was getting soaked or that he would look soggy and unkempt giving testimony - he hated the idea of Diane picking him up, but he didn't have much choice. He was lucky he hadn't been remanded, he knew that, but it still killed him that they'd taken his license.

He wished he didn't have to go to this hearing. He knew it was his fault Jill was in the trouble she was in, and Diane was under investigation as well. He was an addict and a prick. He'd let Don get out of control. He'd gotten so cocky with the Dominicans it was all Denby could do to keep Frankie and Jill safe from their wrath - he didn't know how to keep them out of things entirely. He'd had to improvise in the worst way, but he tried to make it right. Too damned bad that he'd managed to drag Diane into it too. He wished he could tell her the whole truth, but that would have to wait until everything was resolved. Until then, he'd have to let her go on believing the worst. Not that the worst was all that far from true. He'd been on the edge…

She pulled up, reached across and unlocked the door, and avoided looking at him as he climbed into the car, which was just as well since he too was trying not to make eye contact. He found it excruciating to look her in the eye without telling her everything. And that, of course, made him angry, which in turn brought out his worst habits.

"Sorry, I'm running a little late." Diane muttered, here eyes fixed determinedly on the rear-view mirror as she pulled back into traffic. "We should still make it on time."

"It's fine, you couldn't be bothered to kill me quickly like I asked, but you had a change of heart and thought you'd give me the chance to freeze to death slowly here on the sidewalk. I don't blame you." He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a flask. "Little liquid courage for the task ahead?" He held it toward her. When she stared daggers at him, he simply shrugged and took a long pull on it himself. He could see her from the corner of his eye. Her angry stare had turned to a look annoyingly close to pity. She finally tore her eyes from him and, shaking her head, focused her attention on the road. "Diane, I…" he trailed off, not knowing what he meant to say, and they fell silent.

"Listen," Diane started after the silence had stretched two blocks longer than either of them could bear. "I know you didn't have to give me and Jill the heads-up like you did, and you're being really decent to come and testify at her hearing, knowing that some of what you've got to say is not gonna help to put you in the best light." She glanced at him and forced a smile.

He looked her in the chin, allowed himself a slightly less defeated look and another shrug and mumbled something that sounded like "muffin".

They fell silent again. Diane was clearly more concerned by this than was Denby. She was used to him talking a mile a minute, even when he had nothing to say. She didn't know what to make of this new, quiet Denby and it unnerved her. Unable to bear the silence between them, she reached for the radio and flipped it on.

It was a station that was still programmed in from when James and Greg shared this car for a few months before James' promotion. It was such a relief to have a distraction from the awkwardness between them that Diane began tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music as a song ended. The next song that began sounded familiar somehow, although she couldn't place it. She listened more closely as the singer began in a hushed, pained voice.

If I fall along the way pick me up and dust me off.
And if I get too tired to make it be my breath so I can walk

She remembered the song now. When she'd heard it a few days before she had been strangely affected by it. She'd chalked it up to the long hard day she'd been having and forgotten about it, but she felt the same strange, urgent sadness now, like there was something she should do to make it right. She began listening again.

Can you help me I'm bent
I'm so scared that I'll never
Get put back together
You're breaking me in
And this is how we will end
With you and me bent

If I couldn't sleep could you sleep could you paint me better off
Could you sympathize with my needs I know you think I need a lot

She shook her head, angry with herself for this uncharacteristic sentimentality. Why should a song affect her this way? Wanting to distract herself, she glanced over at Denby, who had finally put the flask away and was leaning his head on the window, his damp hair hanging in his face. She imagined that this was what he looked like as a child…

I started out clean but I'm jaded, just phoning it in, just breaking the skin…

Her eyes felt hot and she blinked. Denby stirred, sensing her eyes on him, so she turned away, startled to see that they had arrived at their destination. She pulled quickly into a parking space. The last line few lines of the song echoed in her ears as she jumped out of the car and strode off toward the courthouse.

Can you help me I'm bent
I'm so scared that I'll never
Get put back together
You're breaking me in
And this is how we will end
With you and me bent

Denby rushed to catch up with her, sensing that something was wrong. A step behind her, he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around just as she was swiping angrily at the corner of her eye.

"What is it Diane?" He moved instinctually to wipe a tear away. His hand was nearly to her face when he reconsidered and, lacking something better to do, patted her shoulder awkwardly. Seeing the expression in her eye he winced as if he'd been struck. "Did I do this to you?" He said in a near-whisper.

"No Denby," she said in a harsh tone that rang false. "You don't do anything to me. You're nothing - I'm not about to waste a tear on you."

"I'm gonna make this right, Diane," Denby tried to straighten his jacket and smooth down his unruly hair. "I'm going to make them know that Jill had no choices here, and I'm gonna make sure they know that you were clean. And someday I'm gonna tell you the whole truth. It may be too late by then, but you have a right to know."

She blinked up at him, bewildered. There was sincerity to his voice and his face that she hadn't sensed in him since the night she'd threatened to kill him, when he'd sounded as if she were offering him a gift.

They entered the building still looking searchingly at one another. The guard at the metal detector cleared his throat, and asked a second time for them to place all metal items in the tray. The moment passed.

END