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*

[Picks up after Denby and Don are brought to their cells.]

He took his place on the puke green cot, next to Don, careful not to be in direct contact. He turned his head and stared, not moving, he didn't seem to breathe. The cuffs remained, as did his blank expression. He waited for the next move, for Marrtens to make his entrance. He hoped he came alone. He drew his attention to his wrists, the brass cuffs starting to irritate him. How many times had he tried to slit those same wrists, and the thought of doing that didn't seem to affect him nearly as much as these damned cuffs. Was it the idea of being bound and restricted? He didn't see or hear Marrtens open the cell.

"Get up, Denby. Get up and don't try anything stupid."

He left Don there, no look, no good-bye. "It's about time, I was beginning to have a relationship with that asshole after all." Denby held his arms out, waiting for the key to unlock him from his misery.

Marrtens smirked, and signaled the guard. Handing Denby a legal pad and pen, he said, "Here, just sign at the bottom, then you'll be able to make happy hour at Smitty's."

"You're a real comedian, but I'm more in need of a shower." He rubbed his wrists, took the pen, and read through the account he had given to his boss and IA. Four months of hell and living in that stink pot apartment with a bottle of scotch and looking at Kirkendall's greasy hair and dirty underwear. It was his fault, he knew it, and the blame was on his shoulders alone.

Watching him, Marrtens asked, "Was there anything you left out, Denby, perhaps the whereabouts of a tall, busty blonde?"

"Kiss my ass, Marrtens, and don't say I never gave you anything," said Denby as he pushed the pad away, far away from his place at the interrogation table.

"Don't say we never gave you anything, Denby. Your ass was saved for the last time. You should feel lucky it worked out in your favor, or you'd still be sitting on your ass like Kirkendall." Marrtens handed him his badge and gun. "There's a 12 week program over at Bellevue, get yourself together, find another hobby."

His head was throbbing, he needed some air. He took the cellophane bag, looked at Marrtens, turned and left.

Marrtens picked up his private line, "Get me Arthur Fancy."

Fancy was not in a particularly gracious mood. "Look Marrtens, you may not have gotten the Kirkendall you wanted, but you got one of your own as dirty as the day is long."

"Thanks to your detectives and their interference. I still want her statement, and I expect your cooperation when she contacts Russell, and we both know she will." Marrtens was undecided about telling Fancy that Denby was released.

"I will not allow a tap on her phone, not this time around, Marrtens, if Jill reaches out, I'll be the first to know -- and you'll be the second."

Fancy noticed Russell walking back into the squad room. "Look, I've gotta run, I'll be in touch."

She knew he was waiting for an explanation, he deserved one. "Boss, I…." Diane started, but Fancy cut her off.

"Not tonight, go home, get some sleep, tomorrow you and the others will have to give your statements on what really happened." He wasn't entirely clear on Jill's whereabouts. "And, Diane, IA still needs a statement from your partner; if she calls, I trust you'll let me know."

She nodded.

*

Denby had left the precinct by the backdoor so he'd go undetected and unnoticed - he couldn't face her, not yet. He walked across the street, stood and waited, waited for her to return, he knew she would. He just had to look at her one more time in case he didn't make it back from the hell to which he knew he was destined. He saw her but it was in slow motion, her head tilted to one side and not looking at anyone whom she passed.

She made her way upstairs, and wondered if Fancy would break the news, he imagined that Marrtens would have opened the can of worms by now.

Screw it. His explanations and apologies were not worth a damn to her, she had already made that clear.

He left, not knowing just where he'd end up that night. He thought about going to Smitty's but, hell, if he really wanted a drink, he could get bagged at home. He needed help, he knew it, he didn't have anyone to turn to. Maybe Marrtens was right, he needed an outlet, perhaps hunting or golf or some other activity that didn't involve ruining his health and his life.

He passed Smitty's, looked in, saw the same bartender who served him his drinks the night he lost Don, the night he coerced Diane into giving him a kiss, what the hell was he thinking? He misread her invitation to get to know him better and assumed she was interested. You're still a prick, Denby.

He managed a shower, a cold one, then poured a scotch. He stood at his dresser and looked at his reflection in the mirror - holding the glass to one eye, he could see through the hot, hazy liquid a man, desperate, lonely, washed out. It told no lies, the mirror, and for an instant he could see the future. He knew what he had to do, but first he had to see her.

*

They had just finished their written statements; Diane filling Fancy in on what she knew of Jill's involvement and how she went upstate to get Frank and then just left for parts unknown.

"Well," Fancy began, "it seems Denby was under…plain and simple. I just read his statement this morning handed down from IA." Fancy was confused, but had seen undercover operations like this in his career where the detective almost didn't make it out alive.

Diane looked at Fancy like he was crazy. "Marrtens told you that? I don't believe it. I saw that asshole, Denby, at his worst."

"Marrtens has it all written down, word for word. Apparently, the tap went on Jill's phone after Denby lost Don, knowing that sooner or later Don would contact her. That's how and when they started suspecting Jill of being an accomplice. So, they wired Denby, and he went in….but it was not only to save his ass and his job, it was to see where Jill stood in this whole mess."

"So, that's why he didn't take the opportunity to shoot us," Baldwin said.

Danny looked at Diane. "Are you saying that Jill knew more than she let on?"

"Marrtens will never know, at least not until she gives us a statement. He's trying to locate her as we speak," Fancy said.

She felt numb, "I will not believe for one minute that Jill had any direct knowledge of Don's drug running, and if anything happened, if she was a part of it, it was done not to the best of her knowledge. I don't care what this Denby….this this asshole….has to say. He's lying and so is his boss….."

No one said a word. Diane was defending partner, right to the end. She saw the desperation on Jill's face when Don took Frank, she knew that Jill wanted to get away from Don and risked it all with the boys and left everything behind. "What did Denby write in his statement about Jill? Did he say there was evidence of her involvement?" Diane asked.

Just then, they noticed Fancy staring out to the squad room, his eyes fixated on Denby standing at John's desk. John tried to detain him, but Fancy waved him through. Danny rose immediately in a confrontational manner, Baldwin kept his position - leaning against a file cabinet with his arms crossed over his chest, and Greg hovered by Diane, mostly for comfort, if she needed it, but more than that, he wasn't sure if she would beat the hell out of him. He placed his hands behind her shoulders, just in case.

"I came to see Diane. In private. If any of you want to see me after that, I'll be around." Jesus, if looks could kill. Denby felt like he just entered the lion's den.

Diane said nothing, she couldn't look at him, she felt humiliated.

Fancy said, "You can use my office, we'll just grab some coffee, won't we?" He gave a look to the others to haul it out of there and not make the situation any more embarrassing.

She stood to face him, calmly, defiantly; she couldn't show the weakness she was feeling inside. If it were a man's world and a man's profession, then she would act as cool and understanding as the lot of them. If he thought he hurt her, then he'd think her frail and feminine and not belonging to his world, a man's world. "I know what undercover work is all about, Denby. We've all been there, so you don't have to explain it or justify it to me." She dropped her eyes to the floor, she couldn't look at him, his eyes black as the night and just as haunting. "So, just why are you here to see me?"

"I'm here to apologize, again, something that's becoming a habit with me." Denby continued, fearfully. "Everything that's happened, happened for a reason, to get Don. It's all in the report I filed with IA. I hope you read it. The only thing you won't find in there is any mention of your partner, whatever she might have unknowingly done for Don."

She looked at him then, surprisingly, but said nothing - she let it go.

Denby caught her look, though, and knew that she had assumed otherwise. He went on. "Marrtens wanted her, and I wanted Don, we helped each other. Whatever it took, you know how the game is played, Diane. I never meant to hurt you intentionally."

"Denby, you got Don, you got the Dominicans, and you'll probably get yourself another brand new car out of this one, won't you?" Jesus, now that was about as sarcastic and cutting as she could come up with to make it seem like it didn't matter to her. If it hurt, she couldn't tell. Why did he have to look at her like that, she was getting pissed now and starting to sweat at the base of her neck. Instinctively, she grabbed her throat and pinched herself so hard, that she winced in pain.

"You're right, Diane, I played dirty with you, and some of it wasn't necessary, most of it wasn't necessary." His eyes momentarily left her face and fell on her throat, she pinched herself again. What was she doing, he wondered, self-inflicting pain on the outside so it wouldn't hurt on the inside?

"You need help, Denby. I've had those same demons - many a night I stared into an empty vodka bottle, and I'm not going back again." She was done. He didn't move, he just stared at her. She felt his gaze, her eyes were locked with his, she couldn't move. It was then she realized just how handsome he was - he needed a shave and sleep, though. Shit, please leave, will you?

"I know I need help. I just wanted to try to make it right with you beforehand. Good-bye, Diane."

He left.

She turned and walked to her desk, there was poor Danny doing battle with his own demons as well; stuffing paperclips in his pocket was becoming a ritual and one that needed to be addressed. What made Denby's problems more monumental than Danny's? They both need some kind of therapy. She still had nightmares of crossing the line to the dark side at any given moment. But she had help and wouldn't have succeeded if it were not for Bobby. She wondered if Denby had anyone….no, she wouldn't let herself think about it.

THREE MONTHS LATER

She entered the building, it was almost dusk, surprised there was no guard - but, why would she have to worry about feeling safe? She carried her weapon at all times. She knew what she looked like, having seen a picture the blonde was carrying. No mistaking the slender, dark woman, with the perfectly chiseled face; she found herself wanting to see it up close. On second thought, she decided to wait outside on the front steps of the apartment building.

"Are you looking for someone?" The voice startled her. She was exquisite.

"Yes, are, are you Detective Russell?" she asked tentatively.

"Can I help you?" Diane was skeptical, but this woman looked familiar, around the eyes.

She handed her a small letter sized envelope. "Your friend, the blonde, asked me to give this to you."

Diane's heart froze. "Who are you? How did you get this?" Diane took the letter as quickly as she could, afraid this was a hoax. She looked around and decided to take this inside. Once in the lobby, she got a better look at this woman; yes, she's definitely familiar, young, and very beautiful indeed.

"Please read the letter, while I'm here, in case you have any questions."

It was from Jill, the handwriting confirmed that. Short and simple.

Dear Diane, By the time you read this, we'll have been to many places. I won't say where, I cannot involve you any further. Just know that we are safe now, and Frank was never in danger….after all. I'm sorry…Jill

She looked up at this woman. "Who are you?"

"My name is Marisa, I'm Harry's sister."

"DENBY?" was all Diane could manage. Now she realized the familiarity, she had his eyes, dark, and just as haunting; but on her, they weren't intimidating.

"Yes, you didn't know, I assume. Harry never told you?" Marisa asked.

"How and why did he involve you? You had Frank all that time?" she asked.

Marisa went on to explain how Denby, in a moment of hysteria and confusion, called her and asked if she could watch Frank, the son of a drug dealer he was working. He had kidnapped him from his mother, and he couldn't explain in more details, just to trust him. So, that evening, Denby and Don arrived with the boy, she was to assume the name of Suzanne, an ex-girlfriend of Denby's. Don bought it, and so did Jill, until she arrived to pick up Frank and heard the truth.

Diane was speechless, so he had his ass covered all the time, more of less. And he couldn't tell her Frank was safe since he knew she'd tell Jill and she, in a moment of weakness, would tell Don; it would have blown his cover. "I don't know what to say. He put my partner through hell." Diane said.

Marisa went on, "Yes, he did. But if you know Harry, then you know that he wouldn't have put the child through that same hell. He said that this jerk Don took his son to get back at his ex-wife. Harry had no choice but to go along with it, and thought better to have him with a person he trusted out of Don's reach; he told Don that I was one of "his" ex's."

Dirty Denby, he sure went out of his way to make things right. He knew how to save his ass alright, and he did it with speed and accuracy, right down to the last detail. How convenient to have a sister who obviously dropped everything important to her to help her brother.

Marisa got up to leave.

"Wait. Does Denby know about this letter?"

"He knows about the letter - but he doesn't know what's in it. He didn't want to know, were his exact words, does that answer your question?"

Yes, Diane knew what Denby meant, he wanted to stay out of it, he was finished.

Marisa smiled. "I'd better leave."

"Where is he?" Shit!!!! Double shit!!!! She didn't want to ask, but she wondered if he'd drunk himself into total hell.

"Well, now he's back on the job. Before that, Westchester County Clinic. He didn't want to show up at Don's trial three sheets to the wind. You know, he's tried to do this before, but he never saw it through." She paused, "Do you have a message for him or something?"

"No, no message."

"Good-bye, Detective Russell." Marisa left.

TWO WEEKS LATER

"I'll have a burger, fries, and a vanilla shake. Make that two orders of each."

Denby drove away from the pick-up window, casually handing over the second order to his partner, Rudy. "You're the cheapest date I've ever had," Denby said.

Rudy, delving into his burger, laughed, "Do you even know what a date is? When was the last time you took a woman to dinner? And not to a diner, but to a restaurant where the portions are the size of a teaspoon?"

Denby had to think about that one. "Too long ago for this fizzled brain to recall. But I seem to remember her name was Teresa and she was so grateful for the hospitality, she gave me the best blo…"

"You're an asshole, Denby, no wonder you're dateless," Rudy said, laughing and choking at the same time. "Hands off my wife."

"No problem." Denby came to the spot they were staking out, another bagger making drop-offs in Hoboken. Rudy insisted on sticking close to Denby, never allowing him to stand watch alone, especially on the overnight, the loneliest shift of all, but Denby didn't seem to mind, it kept his thoughts on the task at hand.

At 5AM, Rudy poked his partner - "Hey, you up?"

Denby was wide awake, had been since they came on duty. No action tonight, but they were getting closer. Boring and lonely, but it was his job and what he did best. Patience, that's all it took. And if this went down according to the plans the task force set in motion, it would undoubtedly be pegged the biggest heroin bust for the city of New York. They drove in silence back to the city.

"Coffee shop again?" Rudy asked, but Denby shook his head.

"Drop me off at my apartment, Rudy, I think I'll go for a run first."

He looked at Denby. Well, it's about freaking time, Rudy thought, you've been hanging around that coffee shop for the past two weeks just watching her arrive at the same time, 6AM, watching from across the street in a secluded doorway. "Sure, buddy. See downtown this afternoon, we'll submit that final report." Rudy watched him walk solemnly into his one-bedroom studio.

*

"Damn!" She stumbled out of bed and jabbed her toe into the bedpost. The pain shot up her leg and brought tears to her eyes. How did she manage to sleep through her alarm, today of all days? Fancy was bringing in her new partner, an ex-FBI agent from Quantico.

Oh, well, she'd just be late.

She showered and threw on the outfit she had chosen very carefully the night before for such an occasion: black slacks with a scoop-neck turquoise silk blouse, and a black blazer to match. Enough to make an impression, but not too overpowering. With no time to blow dry her hair, she brushed it out to its fullest curl, grabbed her purse, pink lipstick and off she went.

"Just make it a small decaf, no sugar." There would be no time this morning for her muffin and a leisurely walk to work. Time check, where's my watch? Shit, I left it on the dresser. She rummaged through her purse for money, shit, she'd forgotten that, too? Running her hand through her hair, feeling the dampness still from her shower, she asked the woman behind the counter for the time.

"It's seven o'clock."

The voice was so powerfully close she felt the hairs on her neck tingle. With her hand still in her hair, she turned abruptly. "Denby!"

"That's my name, although, you've been known to add a few choice adjectives to it…" he smiled charmingly. She must be late for work, ah, shit, and I'm sweaty.

"Miss, your coffee." The woman waited for the money.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Diane stammered like an idiot. "I must've left my money at home." She was whispering so low, the woman couldn't hear her.

"What? Speak up, I don't know what you're saying."

She cringed, what a perfect opportunity to feel inferior to this man. She closed her eyes and held her breath and waited for his sarcastic remark.

"I'll cover you, Diane, unless you think I might expect something in return?" Denby was enjoying her confusion and couldn't resist making light of a previously tense moment they had shared.

"Yeah, funny Denby. I owe you." She picked up her coffee, turned to leave, and he placed a hand on her arm. Crap, now what do I do? Her cheeks went flush.

"One minute, that's all I ask." Denby paid for her coffee and his container of orange juice. They walked to the back of the shop, he opened the door for her and let her pass. She noted the gesture, to herself, and felt her cheeks burn. Thankfully, the sun was so bright, it was impossible for him to actually make out her expression. Once outside, she stopped, turned around to face him, but kept her head down, staring blindly at the coffee cup. "One minute is about all I have this morning, Denby, I'm actually meeting my new partner, yet another topic of familiarity we share."

He said nothing, he was forcing her to look up at him. Did he enjoy watching her squirm? She looked up slowly, her eyes taking in, for the first time, his clothes. The running shoes, gray sweat shorts, a t-shirt with "NYPD" blasted across the front, and his hair slick from sweat. Her gaze came to rest on his mouth and, in one gulp, he drank the juice, letting a tiny droplet escape under his chin to his throat. She was fixated on that droplet making its way slowly down his neck to the hollow of his throat, to the top of his shirt, and then disappearing through the dark mass of black hair that was matted against his sweaty chest...

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Diane," he said softly. He saw the way her eyes darted up to his, he knew where they had been and, Christ, he needed a shower. "I really just wanted to say hello, that's all. And I hope you're well." She was perfect. She was everything he had ever wanted. The smell of her; the taste of her lips, pink and wet, he thought that he could die a happy man right there. His eyes moved up to meet her's. Neither spoke. Neither moved.

"I'm well, thanks, Denby. I...I...really have to go." She tried to brush off the way he was still looking at her. She stepped away, raised her coffee cup in thanks.

"You owe me, coffee that is, and I'll be around to collect." He didn't move. He leaned against the shop window, arms folded, watching her, just watching her, something he knew how to do quite effectively. He smiled, feeling good about himself.

And so did she.

The End