Disclaimer - All characters belong to ABC. But Denby, I think, belongs to all of us.

Following "Strangers in the night".

*

Harry was dreaming.

He saw himself as a child, precocious and clever, playing in the woods behind his house. The others were inside, getting ready to leave for his sister's first communion. His older sisters had already gone through this ritual, and Harry was bored, so he had secretly gone outside knowing full well that his mother would scold him for endangering his clean, crisp clothes.

It was a cool morning and the trees dripped heavily with dew. He came upon a small trap that he had made the day before, just to see if he could, and was surprised to see a small bird caught inside it.

The thrill of actually catching something wild went almost as quickly as it came, and he was overwhelmed with concern for the fragile little creature. His sisters thought he was cruel because he was so sarcastic to them, but he was, in fact, a very softhearted boy...empathetic and perceptive.

He carefully opened the trap and sat back, watching to see if the bird would hop out.

Quietly, patiently waiting, he studied it's eyes and movements. The poor thing was too tired and frightened to move.

He called to the bird, hoping to coax it out. When that didn't work, he dug up a worm with his hands and place it in front of the trap's opening. But the bird just cowered in to corner, panting with it's beak open.

Guilt swept over him.

He had done this. He had trapped and terrified this little beauty just for fun, and now he was desperate to free it and free himself.

Harry walked carefully to the back of the trap and lay down on the soggy leaves with his face nearly touching the bird. He knew it would mean the end of spotlessness for his clothes, but he had to make sure it went free before his family called him away.

And so face to face with the thing he had trapped, he began to scream, hoping to scare the bird into moving. It flinched, and Harry began pounding the ground with his fists while he continued to scream. He wanted it to hate him and fly away in fear.

The bird flopped and scrambled its way to the door, and Harry stopped for a moment. He wondered if its wings had been injured, and he bit his lip. Then, just as his mother arrived to investigate the horrid sounds coming form the woods, the bird flew up to a high branch and watched as Harry surrendered to the spanking that he knew he deserved.

*

Denby's eyes flew open. He was in a strange bed. To his astonishment, he wasn't alone.

There, sleeping peacefully with her head resting on his outstretched arm like a pillow, was Diane. This was a dream he'd had many times before, and it took a moment before he came to accept the reality of her presence.

Yes -- it was true. This was no vision. Diane's delicate face was only inches from his. Her arms were tucked up like wings tight against her body, and her hands were clasped under her chin as if she were cold.

Then he remembered where they were and all that had happened back at her apartment.

But he couldn't recall how she ended up in his room, let alone his bed.

All his nights spent following Don around had made him a day sleeper, as if he were working some sort of perverse swing shift. It wasn't at all unusual for him to be wide awake at four in the morning, and now he was most assuredly...wide awake.

To take his mind off of his growing desire, he attempted to unravel the mystery of her.

*

Harry understood women very well. Whether it was because he grew up with a house full of them, or just part of his ability to read people, he wasn't sure. But, more often than not, it was a curse rather than a blessing. For, while he understood them, he didn't know what to do with what he knew. His youth had been spent in prideful attempts to manipulate and conquer, and he regretted the broken lives he had left behind him.

Harry had known that his wife would someday leave him, and when she left with his partner five years ago, he wasn't surprised. He was, however, devastated.

He'd become a pariah in his own squad, unable to cope with both the loss and the humiliation.

They didn't know what to do with him. Sure, there are all kinds of programs, counseling clinics and support groups for cops who lose their partners to the job. But losing your wife to your partner was taboo -- goes against the code, and no one would speak of it.

For all his brilliance, he no longer believed in anything, or anyone. An ugly crust began to form over his soul, fed by Scotch and sorrow, and he dressed it up in glib sarcasm. Whenever the mood hit him, he would parade his philosophies like a gaudy monument to betrayal.

To his chagrin, Diane wouldn't join his parade, even though she had every reason too. Her partner was lying to her, even using her, and Diane never wavered in her commitment. Harry knew that Jill's need for Don would supersede her both her judgment and her dedication to the job. She was weak and he could read it in her eyes. Yet, even when Diane had everything to lose and nothing to gain, she had stayed steadfast.

That's why he had taunted her so mercilessly. He wanted her to run, to fly away. He'd assumed she was rather helpless or naive and needed a push. Diane didn't push easily, though. She had faced him, slapped him and even threatened him in her efforts to call him back to the real world.

The crust over his own heart cracked, and it hurt right down to his soul. He began to marvel at her loyalty and self control -- the way she found the strength to get productively angry at her problems and do something about them.

He knew Diane's tough as nails exterior was a shield. It appeared to serve her well both professionally and personally. But while some women become hard through and through to make it as cops, Harry could see that the soft femininity of her nature was still intact.

Part of his desire to see her drink was to get a glimpse behind that wall. Yet she had stood up to him. Better yet, she had stood up to her own weakness for the sedating liquid that he had come to rely upon, too often and too much. And when he least expected it, she had come to him. No shield. Unarmed.

He considered the neatly folded shirt on the nightstand to be a peace offering. Unable to voice what she felt or why, she had simply come; allowing him to see her need.

This woman, lying so close to him, was bringing him back from the dead by example, and he felt truly humbled for the first time in his life.

*

Diane had a funny way of waking up. She rolled her head and stretched every limb to the tip while making little moaning noises. Just when Harry thought she was about to open her eyes, she would do it again, and he was delighted.

When Diane did finally open her eyes, she saw Harry lying on his side next to her. His head was propped up on his hand, with that dangerous grin of his on full wattage.

He brushed the hair out of her eyes, "Mornin'. I'll need to see some I.D."

She couldn't think of a thing to say. She knew she should roll off of the bed and excuse herself to the other room, even if the pink did make her head swim. Instead, Diane felt a smile creeping onto her face and she pulled up the blanket over her head.

"Now, now. It's no use hiding, Diane. I've been watching you for some time."

A muffled voice came back, "How long?"

He glanced at his watch, "Ah, about two and a half hours."

Then it occurred to her that Harry might not have been able to sleep at all. Andy had hit him pretty hard. She peeked her eyes up above the edge of the blanket.

"Oh. You all right? I mean, do you need something for your head?"

"No, I'm fine. How about you, Diane? How's that jaw?" He pulled down the blanket and turned her face gently with one hand. The swelling was gone, but she still had a faint bruise.

"Sore?"

"A little. Not bad. I thought it would..."

As she was talking he decided to find out for himself and kissed her. It didn't take long for her to forget the small discomfort of her jaw.

His touch was almost reverent -- carefully and slowly caressing her lips with his own.

She responded to him reflexively, as if he'd awakened something long dormant inside of her. After dragging away the blanket between them, she ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders and dug in her fingers.

Harry leaned down, nearly over her and slid his arms under her back. He half lifted her off of the bed to bring her even closer to him. As they held eachother, and kissed more deeply, each one quickly began to enter a trance like state of heightened sensitivity.

The room disappeared along with every trace of tension between them. The only thing they heard was their own breathing and whispered answers to what the other was asking.

He traced a line down her shirt to the small of her back with his hands as he lightly bit her neck.

It tickled, just the right way, and Diane grabbed a handful of his hair and brought his mouth back to hers. The intensity with which they had dealt with eachother in all their previous encounters was reflected in the passion with which they moved together.

Harry had just managed to unstuck one half of Diane's shirt from the snug waistband of her jeans when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Actually,the door of Diane's room.

Five, deliberate knocks.

"Whose timing could possibly be that bad?" Harry said in a low voice as he rolled back a few inches from her. "Baldwin?"

Diane replied rather breathlessly, "No, I think that would be Greg Medavoy."

"Should I kill him?"

She laughed and quickly put her hand to her mouth. "No, no. He probably got an earful from Baldwin when they changed shifts wants to make sure I'm all right."

"If we're real quiet, maybe he'll go away." Harry wasn't about to give up easily.

Knock, knock,...knock, knock knock.

*

Medavoy paced the hallway wondering if he should knock again. Poor Diane, he thought. Nearly murdered by some thug in her own bed. Baldwin had assured him that she looked okay when he brought her here last night, but Greg still worried.

He felt terrible for not hearing the page when it came. The whole squad had rushed to help her but he had been sound asleep. Idiot. He hated himself for not being part of her rescue. He might have gotten there before anyone and made the collar on the two that got away. Instead, he was here baby-sitting her door, making sure that no one disturbed her...especially that Denby character.

Maybe she's hungry. Greg decided he should knock again.

Knock,knock...knock -- the door opened and Greg jumped back.

"Diane! Uh, I was just checkin'... Ah, you're supposed to wait for five knocks. You can't be too careful you know.''

"I knew it was you, Greg. It's all right."

She looked all disheveled. Her hair was in a mess and her clothes had obviously been slept in.

Greg felt awful. "Diane, I feel I must apologize for not being there last night to...to help apprehend the suspects. I, I ,I promise you, I will do everything in my power to bring these scum bags to justice."

"We all will, Greg. Thanks."

"Ah, they've got some kind of continental breakfast thing set up in the lobby. Just coffee and pastries, really. Oh yeah, fruit too, I think. You want me to bring you something?"

"Yeah, that it be great. Maybe some coffee and juice. Whatever you think looks good. Uh, yeah, coffee...three sugars, okay?"

"You got it." He smiled, grateful to be able to help in some small way.

Diane paused and said, "Greg, could you wait about half an hour? I need a shower."

"Sure. You go right ahead. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

Diane smiled and shut the door quietly. She felt a surge of electricity go up her spine as Harry's hands slid around her hips. Sidling up behind her, he buried his face in her hair,

"A shower. What a good idea," and locked the door.

*

It was almost an hour before Greg heard the shower shut off. He had been sitting in the pink chair in the hallway, balancing a carefully prepared tray of food on his lap for a long time.

The coffee was cold of course.

About ten minutes later, Diane peeked her head out and reached for the tray, "Thanks, Greg."

She was dressed in clean clothes with wet hair, but she appeared much more relaxed. In fact, Greg thought, she looked very beautiful.

He stood and handed her the tray, "Sorry about the coffee."

"It's fine. Everything is fine. Thanks," and she slid back into her room.

He sat back down, pleased as punch. She obviously felt much better just knowing he was there guarding her. Folding his arms, he leaned back in his chair and marveled that he could have such a rejuvenating effect on Diane Russell.

*

Harry wiped the steam off of the mirror for the third time. He still couldn't see well enough to get his tie on right. Stuffing a pastry in his mouth, he picked up his cold coffee in one hand and his belt in the other and went out into the room to find Diane.

She had located a small microwave in his room and was waiting for her coffee to reheat. He set down his cup on the dresser next to her, took out the pastry and said, "Once again, you've read my mind."

"You think that's scary, watch this," and she dropped three little sugar bags into his hand.

Harry gasped in mock horror, "Ohhh, Detective Russell, that you would use your considerable observational skills to memorize such a small preference is both frightening and stimulating."

"No, no, that's not it," she said as she pulled him closer to her by his tie. "The scary part is, now you'll spend the rest of the day wondering what else I already know about all your little habits."

"Things you want me to work on?"

Diane smiled as she turned to remove her coffee from the microwave.

Harry watched her intently, looking for any signs of regret. He truly wondered if he could read her if she didn't want him to. He hoped he could.

Diane leaned back against the dresser and blew on her coffee, as he fumbled with the controls on the ancient microwave. She could tell he was nervous and would probably either accidentally electrocute himself or start chattering away with some esoteric nonsense if she didn't put his mind at ease.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, I know, you hit power first then the time. Is sixty seconds about right?"

"Here," she reset the buttons and got the thing working right. "Let me help."

"I'm a little more adept with the newer models, really. This isn't exactly the Ritz Carlton, but at least it's a step up from Don's dump of a hide-out. You know you've been under cover too long when you start to long for your own appliances."

Harry tried to stall but he knew they would soon be leaving. There were reports and statements to file, not to mention a certain pissed off IAB sergeant to deal with. He'd tried to show Diane what he felt for her last night, and this morning, but women needed words.

When the microwave beeped, Harry jumped and blurted out, "I want you to meet my mother."

"What did you say?"

Her shocked countenance made him peddle faster.

"Well, crime scene won't be finished until tomorrow probably, and the Dominicans still might think you've got something to do with Don's stash, so going back to your apartment wouldn't be the best idea anyways. And, well, between the pink walls and ill-timed room service this place is not the most conducive environment for rest or recreation. Are we agreed on that?"

She nodded cautiously, "Agreed. But what does that have to do with your mother?"

"You'd be safe there for a few days."

Diane couldn't believe what she was hearing. For some reason it hadn't really occurred to her that a man like Harry Denby would have a mother, let alone one that still spoke to him. The quaintness of his suggestion caught her completely off guard.

He waited, almost holding his breath. If Diane had played her hand by laying down next to him last night, Harry had just seen her bet and raised it.

*

Diane was just opening her mouth to answer him, when a new knock came at the door.

Harry's door, this time.

"That's it, I'm gonna kill that Medavoy leprechaun..." Harry said as he strode off to open the door. But when he opened it, he found Lt. Fancy waiting outside looking serious and grim.

"Denby, we've got a problem." Fancy motioned to Medavoy who was further back in the hall and continued, "Greg, would you ask Diane to meet us in here, in Denby's room?"

"Sure, Lieutenant." Greg quickly knocked five times on Diane's door, but she suddenly appeared in the doorway of Harry's room. Greg took one look at both of them, side by side with their still damp hair, and reluctantly drew the correct conclusion about Diane's rejuvenating shower.

"Something wrong, Boss?" Diane addressed Fancy, oblivious to the awkwardness of her appearance. "Was there more trouble last night?"

Fancy looked back over his shoulder to the crowded foyer and said, "Let's go inside, shall we?"

Greg shut the door behind them as all four filed into Denby's hotel room. Harry and Diane stood close together as Fancy delivered his news.

"Don Kirkendall is dead. Somebody executed him in his cell last night, single shot to the back of the head. Had to be someone on the inside."

"An inside job? It can't be!" Diane said with alarm.

"Looks that way. Nobody else in the cell block is talking. They're all scared out of their wits. Could be that IAB may have been after a bigger, meaner fish than Jill all along."

Fancy looked directly at Harry and paused. "What do you think, Detective Denby? Can you shed a little light for us?"

Harry took a step forward and put his hands on his hips as he answered, "Are we playin' on the same team now, Lieutenant? I mean, anything I tell you isn't gonna sit well with Martens and I'm having a hard time keeping track of who's using me for information, and who's working with me to catch these crooks."

"Look Denby, your escapades with Don could have gotten some of my people hurt and I'm not sure I like the way you're playing this whole game."

"I think its safe to say we'd all have liked this case to behave in a more civilized and predictable manner, but it hasn't. Don's execution, I'm sure, wasn't anticipated by anyone or he never would have put on hold at the station so long."

"You're right, but that means no one anticipated the possible danger to Diane either." Fancy reminded him. "Everyone in the whole station knows she staying here by now, and if someone felt the need to off Don, they may just add Diane to that list."

Diane felt a chill. She folded her arms, and wondered how she could get her gun back from the night stand in her apartment.

Fancy considered the two of them for a moment and said, "Denby, come on down to the station and we'll figure out a way to work together on this with Martens. Diane, this place won't do for tonight. Do you have somewhere to go?"

She gave a long look to Harry and said, "Yes. A safe place."

End

Copyright to Kristin Uhrig 2000