Here we go again. All characters belong to ABC. No profit is being made. We just need more Denby, that's all.

This continues on from The Tango.

*

"You wanna come down and join us at Mac's later?"

Danny was kind to offer for the third time this week, but Diane didn't feel like returning to the scene of the crime just yet. Mac's had, until recently, been a great place to wind down. She didn't need a drink, but she missed the familiar company that it offered.

"Naw, thanks anyway, Danny. You go, have a good time. I think I'll turn in early." She smiled gratefully and began tidying her desk for tomorrow.

"Okay, then Diane. Have a good night."

Danny closed his jacket over his shoulder holster and left.

"Thanks, you too," she called out behind him.

Diane was the last one to leave the squad room again. It was easier this way, and she felt like she could relax and think without being scrutinized.

Denby still weighed on her mind.

He had been around the station a few days since he apologized, talking with Fancy, and interviewing skells in the basement. She had managed to keep very busy and he had kept his distance. Everyone was still uncomfortable around him and hoped his case would be wrapped up soon.

Still, she was beginning to feel a twinge of guilt for things she had said. Not regret. Not really. Just recognizing that her contempt may not have been completely justified. At least not now.

She slid on her coat and flipped up the collar as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was cool and clear, and her breath left her mouth in little puffs. In spite of the long day, the brisk evening felt exhilarating and she decided to walk the neighborhood a while.

It was quieter than she had expected. There were usually a few people out picking up late night groceries or meeting friends. Not tonight. Only an occasional siren broke the calm, and the loneliness of her footsteps echoed sharply off the brick walls as she passed.

Diane turned down an unfamiliar street and saw the glowing lights of an older style pub. It had lovely, amber stained-glass framing the plain windows which made it look friendly and inviting. She hadn't really noticed this place before and absentmindedly walked up to the door.

Smoky warmth enveloped her as she entered. After walking past several tables of people engaged in conversation, she sat down at a secluded spot in the back. Some were having a very late dinner, but most were just welcoming the night with the beverage of their choice.

"Can I get you something, Miss?" a sleepy looking bartender asked.

"Coffee...please."

The bartender nodded and gave her table a quick wipe with a damp cloth. She took off her coat and settled in, scanning the room out of habit. Diane smiled as the bartender returned with her coffee which looked and smelled remarkably fresh. Steam rose hypnotically from the cup as she cradled it in her hands for warmth.

Someone was doing a very poor job of plunking out a tune on what sounded like a piano from the other side of the room. The annoyed rustling of the other patrons must have been heard, because the music stopped abruptly. Diane laughed to herself and blew on her coffee. She sat for quite a while, slowly warming from the inside out as the drank.

But then the piano began again, different this time. Better.

Softly...slowly a familiar song began to drift through the haze of the pub.

This was nice. Diane sat back with her cup and closed her eyes, listening and remembering the time when she and Bobby had danced to this song. Frank Sinatra had crooned to them from their apartment stereo as they held each other. She had her ear pressed tightly against his chest as they moved, listening to his steady heartbeat. Bobby's heart.

Humming...

Swaying...

Diane let herself drift into the memory.

Then the man at the piano began the lyrics that were so familiar, and as he sang to himself, she repeated the words in whispers.

It's quarter to three,
There's no one in the place, except you and me, so
Set 'em up Joe.
I've got a little story that you oughta know.

We're drinking, my friend,
To the end of a brief episode.
So give me one for my baby,
and one more for the road.

She smiled, and as she opened her eyes a tear escaped. She didn't try to hide it. Embracing the pain was better tonight. The silky voice she heard carried it's own loneliness along with hers as the song went on...

You've got the routine.
So put another nickel in the machine.
I'm feelin' so bad, so
be sure to make the music
dreary and sad.

I could tell you a lot, but
You've got to be true to your code.
So give me one for my baby,
and one more for the road.

The piano continued for a while, deftly but simply finishing out the refrain. There was scattered applause as the song finished and the murmur of conversation took it's place.

Diane opened her eyes just as the couple blocking her view of the piano rose to leave. Her vision was blurry from the tears but she could see the outline of the pianist as he reached over to retrieve his glass from the edge of the keyboard.

She blinked hard and focused, as Harry Denby swung his long legs over the piano bench and turned around.

*

There wasn't much left in Harry's glass as he bowed his head slightly in polite recognition of the applause. He glanced over at the bartender and held up the remains.

"What do you think? Have I earned a refill here, Joe?"

The bartender shot him a look that said, don't quit you day job, and Harry laughed a little. He cleared his throat and closed the lid over the keys with a quiet thunk.

"Yeah, you're right," he said under his breath. "Better stick with what you do best, Denby."

Harry threw back the last swallow of Scotch, set down the glass, and rubbed the back of his neck. His head was still throbbing from the blow Det. Jones had given him. The swelling was gone but he couldn't get rid of the lightning flashes of pain. He rolled his head back to one side, then the other, and looked out across the room.

Then he saw her.

Back in the far corner, he saw Diane. Frozen.

Her face was so perfectly lit by the small candle on her table that he too, was locked into staring.

So beautiful.

So sad.

Her tears glistened in the light as they made their way down her delicate cheek. The soft curls of her hair had taken on a glow that framed her face, and he remained perfectly still...holding his breath. Keeping the vision.

Harry suddenly felt voyeuristic, as if he had accidentally seen her exposed, and lowered his eyes.

He wanted to go to her. He felt drawn by her silent presence, but continued to concentrate his gaze on the worn carpet under his feet.

Resisting his instincts took tremendous effort. He reached for his empty glass and held it to keep his hands from shaking.

"Get up. Get your coat and move." The voice in Diane's head seemed far away, but it was beginning to dissolve the fog she was in. "He's dangerous, you know it. Get going!"

Dangerous.

Diane let the word sink in as she looked at him. She had become quite good at resisting her instincts, but now she hesitated.

He didn't look dangerous. Just a man, sitting alone at a piano.

"Looks like you're ready for a refill."

Diane jumped in her seat as the bartender reached over and poured her another cup.

"Yes...no. I mean thank you, no. It's time I got going." The interruption had broken the spell and Diane was moving fast now. She left some change on the table and headed for the door, coat trailing behind her as she made her way past the tables. Once quick glance at the corner as she stepped outside told her that Denby hadn't stirred.

It was cold outside and Diane pulled on her coat as she half ran down the street. Her throat tightened and the tears started coming again, but this time she fought them back and made her way home.

*

It was no use trying to get to sleep. Diane had hung up her coat, put her gun in the drawer next to her bed and was pacing. "Unbelievable," she thought to herself. "How does he do it?" She threw off her shoes and tossed them in the general direction of the closet.

"Isn't there anyway to get rid of this guy?" Her belt and slacks came next. She muttered as she walked around to the other side of the bed and turned on the electric blanket.

The air in the apartment was cold and she shivered her way down the hall. She winced as she turned on the bright light of the bathroom and removed her remaining clothes. As the hot shower flowed down her skin she let her shoulders drop and tried to clear her mind.

"Just forget about it. Doesn't mean a thing. Don't think...just listen to the water."

The steam rose and filled the room.

After about twenty minutes fatigue began to set in. Her eyes felt heavy.

She turned off the shower and padded back to her bedroom in her white T-shirt. The clock's orange numbers reminded her that it was well after midnight. She sighed as she pulled the warm blankets around her and let her damp hair spill out on the pillow.

Silence.

She drifted away, losing awareness.

Sleep overcame her tired body.

*

Diane couldn't breathe.

She startled awake and tried to sit up before she became aware of the large hand covering her mouth. Another hand shoved her back down as she grabbed at the sheets.

Terror swept over her, gripping her chest.

She tried to bite the hand on her mouth, but as time slipped and dragged into slow motion, the other hand came down on her.

Hard.

Diane's mind spun wildly as she fell back, tasting the blood in her mouth. Her fear was pushing to give her focus through the pain. She was struck again, literally sending stars through her head, as a strange voice growled above her, "Where is it?!".

The question was just beginning to register in her brain as he dragged her out of her bed and threw her down on the floor. Diane barely caught herself as she hit and choked out "Who are...what do you want?"

"Tell me!" he shouted, "or I'll break your neck!"

Before she had time to react, he kicked over the night stand and bent down to grab her arm, dragging her again. She caught a glimpse of her gun laying on the floor as he pulled he roughly out of the room and down the hall.

She didn't resist. Her training was coming back and she began to consider her options.

"He's looking for something. He doesn't want me, he's looking for something." Diane's arm ached but she made herself think. "What is it? Money? What does he want?" He dragged her around, pushing over lamps and small tables. Diane's breath came in short gasps.

"Get a description," she thought. She began to make a mental list. His face, his voice...something she recognized. A place.

"Foreign, he sounds foreign." Diane quickly ran through all the accents she could remember. "South American, yes. That's it. Fits with his face. Well dressed."

He yanked the phone from the wall.

Just then her conversation with Denby at the bar came racing back... "Dominican's. Bad guys." His gun was still tucked in his belt but she recognized the expensive model and the silencer. This was no robber.

"No, don't. I don't have it," she began to plead.

He rolled her onto her stomach and placed a knee firmly on her back. She knew the drill.

Hog tied,

tortured for information,

executed.

Don must have given these guys some story about hiding his stash here, in her apartment. He was in jail, and they wanted their drugs back. The image of the body in the dumpster burned into her mind. She cursed herself for letting Jill meet Don here.

Diane felt sick as he tightly wound the cord around one of her ankles.

*

Harry walked slowly, but deliberately along his familiar path. He considered going back for another round several times, but the chill kept him moving.

"What had gotten to her like that?" he wondered. "Did she hate him that much?" He quickly recalled Diane's less than endearing names for him and drew in his breath. "Yep, no one's got a way with women like Harry Denby. A profoundly rare talent for leaving wreckage in his wake."

Shoulders drawn up against the cold, hands deep in his pockets, he picked up his pace until at last, he came around the corner across the street from Diane's apartment building.

He took a quick look near the door of the building and saw two nervous looking men in dark clothes standing out front. Harry instinctively stopped and carefully slid back behind the corner. A few moments later he peeked around to look at them again. There was just enough light from the street lamp to make out their faces when they turned his direction.

Dominicans. He knew those faces well from the pictures in their files back at the prosecutor's office. The very lot that he was gathering evidence against was now staked out in front of Diane's apartment.

"Shit."

Harry had to get in there.

He had to get to Diane.

He ran back down the block and around the building. As he snuck across the street on the other side his heart began to pound in his chest. Scanning the dark for other watchers, he carefully found the back entrance to the apartments. The unlocked door was heavy, but he kept it propped open with his foot as he checked inside.

No one.

He shed his heavy overcoat to the floor, unholstered his Glock 45. , and raced up the stairs. Harry's legs carried him several flights in record time until he reached her floor. Looking through the small window in the door, he anxiously strained to see her apartment at the end of the hall.

No one.

Harry took a deep breath and entered the hallway outside of Diane's apartment. Back to the wall, he traveled along, stepping sideways, passing several other doors as he went. As he came closer, he could see the broken lock on her door and fear twisted in his gut. He crouched as low as he could and listened.

Thunk. Something being knocked over.

Then, from somewhere inside, Harry heard Diane's angry, shaking voice, "No... no, he was only here once to pick up some running money from his ex-wife. When we came down on him he didn't have anything . He must have dropped it off somewhere...I don't know!"

He smiled in spite of himself. He was very, very relieved to know she was alive.

"That's it Diane." he thought. "Get mad. Don't give up."

Harry tapped the door open with the point of his gun and looked inside. He could just see the edge of the couch and fireplace. He listened to the intruder and concluded that there was only one in the apartment with Diane.

Slipping back out to the hall, he took the cell phone from his pocket and quietly called for back-up.

"This is it, Denby." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "You owe her big time. You'd better do this right." Harry stood up straight and walked into Diane's apartment.

Lying on the floor, Diane thought she saw movement near the front of the living room. Just a shadow, really. A denser patch of darkness that passed over to the far corner. Her first uninvited guest was busy twisting the cord around her other ankle, and she arched her back, trying to lift her head to see who else was there.

The knee came down harder and she groaned.

"Police! Step away from her."

The hit man dropped the telephone cord and spun around toward the voice. He yanked the gun from his belt and fired into the dark as Harry dove out of the way.

Diane rolled on her side and clambered to her knees, scrambling backwards from the gunfire. On her way to her feet she kicked the gunman hard in the groin. He grunted and stumbled backwards a few steps.

Diane turned and locked eyes with Denby for a split second, then cringed as he got off two shots, hitting the Dominican squarely in the chest as he was raising his gun. Their assailant dropped to his knees and fired one shot back at Harry before he collapsed. The bullet whistled past Diane and punched through the wall inches from Harry's head. He flinched, not sure if he was hit or not.

Diane gasped.

Harry quickly stepped past her and kicked the gun away from the dying man on the floor. She reached for him, trying to see if he was bleeding, "Denby, are you hit?"

"I don't think so...no," he said breathlessly as he ran his hand back through his hair. Seeing she still had cord wrapped around her ankle he scooped up Diane and carried her none too gently down the hall to the bedroom.

He shut the door behind them and set Diane down carefully on the floor on the far side of the bed. "More outside," he whispered. "They're probably are on their way up to check on their friend." He put down his gun and freed her ankle from the cutting cord.

Starting with her leg, he began to touch her all over, checking for wounds, " Are you all right? Diane...are you hurt?"

She adjusted he sleeping shirt for more coverage. "Yeah, I'm all right, Denby. Hand me my gun." She pointed "It's over there on the floor."

Not really hearing her yet, he continued to run his hands lightly over her, stopping at her face when he saw the blood on the corner of her mouth. He carefully felt along her jaw, back to her ear for swelling.

She drew in her breath sharply. It did hurt.

Harry let out a small, sympathetic moan and kissed her lightly, surprising them both.

"I'm...all right," she repeated and drew back from him. "What are you doing here? How did you know..."

"I uh, recognized the two out front and came up the back way," he replied as he handed the gun from the floor over to her. He didn't think for a moment that a half truth would really satisfy her but he tried it out of habit. He was still thinking about her lips anyway.

"What?" She paused, waiting for him to look her in the eye again. "Did you follow me home?"

"Guilty, Detective Russell, but it's worse than you think. I've been by here every night for over a week." Diane waited and looked intently at him. " I figured with Don locked up, some of these bad guys might take it upon themselves to locate Don's stash. It'd be just like him to leave your address lying around."

It wasn't an "I told you so" but she knew she was partly responsible for their present situation. She felt awkwardly grateful for Denby's diligence. Diane flicked off the safety and rose to position herself defensively next to the door.

Harry followed, and they both listened in silence for a few moments.

Nothing but their own breathing.

Harry moved closer to Diane as she opened the bedroom door a crack and looked out to the hall. She could see the foot of the man lying still at the other end. For some reason, waiting there in her dark bedroom with Denby seemed more of a risk than advancing into the hall. She began to open the door wider for her exit, when Harry reached around her and firmly closed it instead.

He shook his head slowly and looked at her with a very disarming grin.

That word, "Dangerous" popped into Diane's head again.

Harry placed one finger over her lips and whispered, "Listen..." Over the pounding of her own heart Diane heard a wonderful sound.

Sirens.

Harry's back-up had arrived, and they both knew the other hit men would be leaving in a hurry. She leaned against the door frame, let her head fall back, and smiled.

Harry could hardly believe the change in her face. He'd never seen her fully smile before and he was struck with wonder. Even the wound on her mouth couldn't taint the perfection of Diane's countenance.

They both let out a sigh as he proclaimed, "The cavalry has arrived."

As Diane lowered her gun, she became suddenly aware that she was standing there in nothing but her t- shirt. Harry saw her embarrassment and moved away, half- heartedly averting his eyes. He turned his back to her as she he moved to her closet. There was a pair of jeans within easy reach.

"Do you mind, Denby?" she said as she noticed him watching her reflection in the mirror.

He cleared his throat and headed for the door.

Dressed, Diane met him in the hall as the sirens stopped directly outside of her building. She turned on a few lights and crossed over to the window. Pulling back the curtain to look at the street below she said, "Looks like the 15th."

Harry nodded and bent down to check the body for a pulse. She watched him as he shook his head and then stood to re-holster his gun. Diane approached, looking down to the floor at the hands that had had nearly killed her.

She got a chill. This had been a very close call...for both of them.

"Thanks Denby."

"Yeah."

Harry thought that she looked more pale now and worried that she might be slipping into a bit of shock. He tried to lighten things up. "You know," he mused as he stood there scratching his head, "in some ancient cultures, a rescue of this magnitude would warrant a large compensation of some sort."

Diane looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Would you like a small peck on the cheek?"

Harry grinned as he shook his head, "No, I'm afraid that doesn't quite reach the level of compensation that I was considering."

She folded her arms and walked to the front door, expecting the "cavalry" to make their entrance at any moment. Was it getting colder in there? She felt sweaty. "What are you getting at this time, Denby?"

He stayed close to her. "This arrangement involves something I've been wanting you to do for a long time...something very personal."

His voice was low and soothing. It made her dizzy.

Pausing to study her face, he asked "Would you agree to call me 'Harry' from now on?"

Diane touched her sore jaw gingerly and managed a little smile. She raised her eyes to his and began to reply, "Okay...Harry." But as she spoke these two words her eyelids flickered, and Diane fainted right into his arms.

End

Copyright to Kristin Uhrig, 7-2000