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.

He took note of the sculpted line of her features as she slept on, appreciating the artistry of her design, and wondering what gave her the strength to stand 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. 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 offered her presence, 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?"