Disclaimer - Yeah, characters belong to ABC, no infringement, blah, blah...

Follows on from the events in Nocturne.

*

Greg had been kind enough to offer to take Diane to her apartment. She needed to pick up a few more things, the most important of which was her gun. Diane wasn't about to be caught off guard again especially with some cop taking out Don in his cell.

Standing there in her bedroom, she couldn't help but notice that the place had changed.

Everything was in its place, give or take a few overturned chairs and small tables, but it was all foreign to her now. Whatever it is that makes an apartment or house your home, it was gone, and Diane felt the loss acutely. Her home with Bobby was gone.

"Diane, you okay?"

"Hmmm?" She turned to see Greg peeking his head in the bedroom door.

"I called a couple of times from the hall, but I guess you didn't hear. Ah, I gotta get down to the station. Unless you need me to stick around?"

"Go ahead, Greg. I'm just about done here."

Greg hesitated. Diane looked strange, but he didn't want to pry. Still, he had to offer her some consolation. He knew that when victims return to the scene of the crime, they often felt tense and emotional.

"It must be hard, I mean, being attacked in your own home and all. But, give it some time. You just need more time. That's all."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks Greg. Thanks for everything." She clicked her suitcase shut and sighed deeply. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Right. Later, okay then." Greg withdrew from her room and as he ducked under the crime scene tape across the front doorway of the apartment. He said to the officer standing guard, "She's just finishing up. Keep a good watch over her, all right?"

*

"Where'd you get that shirt, pal?"

Harry could tell by Andy's tone that he'd better come up with the right answer, and quick.

"It was a gift," he said firmly.

"It wouldn't have been proper to show up down here with my own blood, sweat and tears all over yesterday's apparel, now would it?"

Andy stepped forward and poked him on the tie with his finger as he spoke.

"You just watch your step around here, Denby. Don't go thinkin' you're gonna fill any shoes along with that shirt."

Harry wisely decided to let Sipowitz get the last word. He stepped back, allowing Andy the opportunity to glower at him some more as he returned to his desk.

It was about time to make his exit anyway. He was pretty spent from dealing with Martens all morning. Fancy had joined them in the break room and the three of them had a heated exchange of information for two hours.

They were able to come up a short list of possible suspects from among the cops that IAB was watching. Two were at the 15th, but three others were from different stations and could have had access to the holding cells the night before. It was anybody's guess who had actually gone in an shot Don Kirkendall.

He knew Diane would be in soon to make out her report and wanted to be at the door downstairs waiting when she arrived, partly to protect her, but mostly just to be near her again. Grabbing a can of Coke from the station lobby on his way out, he strolled out to the sidewalk and leaned against the building.

He had polished off about a half a can when he saw Greg approaching, alone.

Harry began humming a little tune about a certain cereal being magically delicious, then laughed to himself and tipped his head back for another drink.

Greg came up beside him and pulled himself up to his full height, but still had to lift his chin considerably to address Harry directly.

"You done inside Denby?"

"That I am, for the mean time. Martens left about a half an hour ago."

"Then you'll be heading back down to narcotics?" Greg rocked up onto his tip toes and tried to look stern. He squinted his eyes and added, "I think we can take care of things from here on out."

Still smiling, Harry replied, "I like it here, Medavoy. It's one of my favorite spots."

Greg considered him for a moment then slowly turned to go inside.

He was just to the door when he put one hand on his hip and returned saying, "You know, I don't think you get it, Denby. She needs more time. Can't you see that?"

Harry lowered his beverage and spoke reassuringly, "I know. Don't worry."

Greg didn't look too convinced as he left and Harry began pacing in silent conversation with himself. These men, so quick to stand between him and Diane, had known her for a long time. They watched as she became a young widow. They worked with her every day as she climbed out of her despair. Maybe they understood her better.

Minutes passed quickly as he continued to fret. He tried to replay her every word and touch.

Had he read her wrong last night? Was it just fear and need born from their shared danger that brought her to him?

Doubts began choking him and his thirst grew. Harry didn't know if there was anything of quality left in him to give to her. He tossed his can of Coke in the trash, and thought of all the wasted days of the past year.

Self pity had defined his existence for a long time. Now he found himself in unfamiliar territory, fighting for a reason to hope.

He needed a real drink.

Breathing deeply, Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his temple vigorously. His head was pounding from lack of sleep. The sun-warmed brick of the building soothed the muscles in his back as he leaned against it and tried to remain calm.

He let his mind drift, remembering the warmth of the shower and the path the droplets took down her neck and across her slender collar bone; the look in her eyes when he held her face in his hands and said her name.

"The guys inside giving you a hard time, Harry?"

Diane's voice broke in and he opened his eyes to see her standing next to him, smiling sympathetically. "Hey, thanks for waiting out here for me."

Harry stood up straight, shaking himself out of his daydream and cleared his throat. "I'm at your service, milady."

Gesturing to the door he said, "Into the fray then?" When she nodded, he fell in behind her, gently touching the small of her back as they ascended the stairs to the squad room together.

*

While Diane worked determinedly on filling out her police report, Harry had gone to Lieutenant Fancy and asked his permission to fill in Sipowitz on some of the details of their conversation with Martens. Harry knew that Andy was top dog around the squad room. He figured that if Diane had trusted Sipowitz with her confession about providing her apartment for Jill and Don's meeting, he could trust him to handle this information as well.

"What's this about, Denby?" Andy sat back, eyeing Harry with open suspicion.

Harry shut the door of the interview room and then sat down across from Andy.

"We both know that those Cartel boys didn't follow me to Diane's last night. I had assumed that they were there on bogus information from Don, but now, factoring in Don's murder, we have to accept that they may have been on an errand for someone else."

"No kidding."

Ignoring Andy's condescending tone, Harry leaned forward and continued.

"IAB wasn't just lookin' to catch Jill with this. She turned out to be an incidental attachment. Fancy was right when he said they were after a bigger, meaner fish all along. Jill and Don just happened to be at the wrong place at the right time and well, they were easily used."

"I don't think I like where you're goin' with this, Denby, so you'd better hurry it along and give me the identity of this soon to be dead-meat fish we're talkin about."

"My job was just to keep track of Don and his Cartel connections. But I knew there was more to it, there had to be. Martens was acting weird, pushing everybody at Narcotics around like he was lookin' for the Holy Grail."

Harry could see that Andy was really beginning to listen.

"I did what I could to protect Jill and Diane, but I screwed up, and now Diane is in danger. This guy apparently has some cop on his payroll, doing his dirty work."

Andy slammed both hands on the table, "Give me a name, asshole, before I smack you another one."

"That's the problem, Sipowitz, it's not just a name, it's a title we're contending with. The fish we're trying to land had me believing he was a wuss. Turns out, he was smarter than any of us gave him credit for. We've got no evidence and at least two dead witnesses."

Harry paused and made sure Andy was looking him in the eye.

"It's Prosecutor Munroe."

*

Diane handed over her finished report to Danny, "Could you give this to the boss for me when he gets back? I'm still pretty beat."

"Sure. I heard about Don. Everyone's lookin over their shoulder around here. You oughta lay low for a few days till we can get some solid leads on this."

"Yeah, I think you're right."

She pulled a slip of paper from her pocket, reached over to his note pad and hurriedly copied a phone number onto it. "This is the number of the place I'm staying. Let me know if anything turns up, all right?"

Danny watched as Harry and Andy as they exited the interview room, then turned back to Diane. "Look, I appreciate what this Denby guy did for you last night, but I still don't trust him. "

She glanced across the room at Harry as he left.

"Diane, you gotta remember all he's done to you, not just this rescue thing, which was great... I'm not overlookin' that at all. But, a couple weeks ago you were ready to kill him yourself."

"Danny,I..."

"Now you don't have to explain anything to me. I just want you to be careful. Keep sharp, okay?"

Diane put her hand on his shoulder, "I will."

"Uh, I just had a little talk with Detective Denby," Andy said as he crossed over to Diane.

"This situation with Kirkendall's murder might go pretty high up. I hate to admit it but we might actually need IAB's help on this one."

He gave Diane a look of concern. "You're not goin' back to that cheap hotel are you? Might not be safe, considering..."

"No. No, I'm not. Danny's got the number where I'll be for a few nights. I'll check in again tomorrow."

Diane rose to leave and said, "You guys be careful, too. Watch your backs."

*

All Harry would say was that his mother's house was outside of the city, so Diane had no idea where they were going. Although she had brought her car down to the station, she had accepted his offer to do the driving because it she was too tired to follow a lengthy list of directions.

He was busy filling her in on his conversations at the station as they made their way through the heavy city traffic.

She couldn't help but notice how animated he was as he explained all the details, gesturing and talking with his hands as if he were conducting an orchestra. Harry obviously had traveled this route often because he never skipped a beat while turning, or changing lanes.

Diane leaned back on the headrest and watched him in fascination.

She quietly studied his movements and expressions, taking note of all the little eccentricities; His strange eyes that changed color, and were now glowing like Chinese jade. The deep laugh lines that were evidence of some past joy. His bizarre collection of words that hinted at an eclectic education.

He was a mystery, and she had to admit to herself that part of the attraction she felt for him was her innate need to investigate.

Out into the suburbs, the steady hum of the road, and the bright autumn sunlight soon lulled her to sleep. Harry knew he only had another mile to go, but he looped around several times giving her a chance to rest a while longer, and him a chance to watch her.

*

Diane awoke to the sound of barking as Harry pulled the car into a long driveway. The road was strewn with colorful leaves and ended at a modest brick house with a beautiful peaked roof. The old Airedale that had sounded their arrival was hopping as best as he could next to Diane's window to see inside the car.

Harry saw Diane's amused but surprised expression and explained, "What can I say? He loves his job."

"Look at him! How old is that dog? He's so gray he looks like tall sheep!"

Harry turned off the car, and undid his seatbelt, " Um, let me see. Mom got him just after Dad died, so he's about eighty-four...in dog years. His name's Leo."

They approached the house with Leo dancing circles around them. Harry opened it and called out, "Mom?", as he set down Diane's bag on a small bench just inside the door.

"In the kitchen Harry," came a voice from somewhere inside.

Diane breathed in the comforting smell of a roast cooking, and followed Harry through the house. It was full of paintings and framed photographs, and each clean wood surface shined with mirror brilliance. There was an old upright piano in the corner of the livingroom, and Diane grinned as she remembered Harry's little performance at the pub back in the city.

They came into the kitchen, just as Harry's mother took off her oven mitts. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't greet you two at the door."

"That's okay, Mom, Leo was on duty," Harry said as he hugged her.

She looked up at him smiling and then saw the angry scratch down the side of his face. Shaking her head, she touched his cheek carefully and sighed, "You do illicit quite a strong reaction in other people."

She reached over to Diane and took her hand, "Hello, Diane, I'm Katherine Denby, and I'm sure he deserved it. Welcome."

Harry's mother had lovely brown eyes and a matronly frame, standing about the same height as Diane. She wore glasses on a chain around her neck and casual clothes, but had an air of elegance in her manner.

"Thank you, Mrs. Denby. I know this is awfully short notice."

"Oh, I love having company," she sang, waving her hand dismissively. "Harry's told me all about it. I'm happy to help out."

She turned to Harry and scowled a bit. "Now, while I show Diane her room, you have got something to attend to immediately."

Pulling her much taller son over to the back door, she said in serious tones, "Miguel has been furious that you left him here. It's been over a month, and if your undercover assignment is over, you'd better take him home before he thinks of any more ways to be naughty."

"Oh, yeah. I apologize for his behavior. Where is he?"

"Sulking in the greenhouse. You'd better go make amends."

*

Diane tried to make conversation as Mrs.Denby showed her upstairs to the bedrooms, but her mind was racing. Who was Miguel? Harry's son? Why hadn't he mentioned anything about him?

"Here we are. There's extra blankets in the cedar chest if you get cold tonight. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. Feel free to roam around and explore. This house has a lot of history."

Diane thanked Harry's Mom again as she left the room, and then looked out the window. She could just see the front of the greenhouse next to an enormous maple tree, but no sign of Harry. Leo was sitting in rapt attention near the greenhouse door, though, so she knew he must still be inside.

If he did have a son, Diane figured there must be a picture of him somewhere among the vast collection of photo's on Mrs. Denby's walls. So, she began to scan them all, searching for a clue to Miguel's identity. She counted four older sisters, and a whole pack of nieces and nephews among the faces, several grandparents and a few poignant shots of Harry's father.

Then on top of the piano, she found one beautifully framed photo of a little boy. He had an absolutely engaging expression, but the clothes and style of the picture gave no clue as to the year it was taken. It sat beside a small replica of a sculpture of the Mother Mary holding the body of Christ on her lap as she wept. Diane read the inscription at the bottom, "Pieta" by Michael Angelo.

There was a red glass votive next to the frame, and the whole scene reminded Diane of the glowing shrine at the cathedral that she used to visit with her grandmother. They would light a candle together and pray for Diane's father every Saturday afternoon.

Mrs Denby saw Diane staring at the picture of Harry and quietly went to her side.

"He's had a real rough patch these past five years. Harry's always been a bit of a prodigal, but I didn't know if he was going to make it through this...this trial he's been under. I keep this here to remind me of what a happy little boy he used to be."

She struck a match and reverently lighted the candle. "And I pray for him every day."

Diane was touched by her devotion to Harry and wondered if all those prayers had kept him alive and well during this past month. He'd had a gun pointed at his head twice that she knew of and managed to come out with only the scratches she gave him.

"Shhhh, now be nice, or I'll pop ya one I swear." Both women turned in the direction of Harry's voice as he entered the room wearing a large, gray parrot on his shoulder.

"Diane, I'd like you to meet Miguel. An old pal, and a bird of refined taste in classic television drama."

Miguel bobbed rhythmically on Harry's shoulder and stretched his wings. Diane's mouth hung open as she looked at both of them. Somehow it made poetic sense that Harry should have a pet that was temperamental and talked too much.

She took a step closer to Harry and offered her arm to Miguel.

To everyone's delight, he hopped on to it, cocked his head and said, "Book 'em, Danno."

End