The Winter Quintet
AUTHOR: Lucky.
DISCLAIMER: Except for the creations of the author, all characters, characterizations, situations, and locations described in this unsolicited and not-for-profit work of fiction are the property of ABC Television, Capitol Cities, Inc., Steven Bochco Productions, the many talented people who created the world of NYPD Blue, and the actors who have made that world such a lively place. The author would also like to extend her personal gratitude to Mr. Scott Cohen for his light, his vitality, his inspiration, and for being such a compelling muse. Thank you, sir.
FEEDBACK: To Lucky
"I'll have a glass of house red and a glass of water for the lady."
"Very good, sir." The spiffy little waiter flipped the winelist out of Harry's hand and pranced away.
Diane gaped at him. "House red? Harry..."
"I know, it's terrible. In a perfect world, I would have ordered the Masson Pinot Noir '67, but on a detective's salary, I would have had to purchase on layaway."
"Denby..."
"In all reality, they probably use the house red to disinfect the toilets."
"You know what..."
"I know... what you mean." Harry pointed his eyes over her shoulder for a moment, pressing his laced fingers to his lips, then returned his gaze to her. "You know, however, much more than you should. That's my fault."
Diane tossed herself back in her chair, folding her arms and glaring at him. "No kidding."
Harry sighed, making the same face he'd made when she'd told him she knew Don wasn't dead the first time around. "O, what a tangled web we weave..."
That face made her as mad this time as it had the first time. "I don't believe this." Diane picked her coat up and started pushing her way to the edge of the booth. "You're nothing but a lush. I would have thought..."
Harry planted his palms on the table, cutting her off, speaking rapidly. "Am I? Are you sure?" He stared at her, his eyes glittering like black ice. "You went into a program because the alternative was death. I went into a program because..." He fell silent, waiting for her to put the pieces together.
She stared, frozen, silent and racing.
"Come on, Russell. You didn't pull that shield out of a Cracker Jack box."
She swallowed hard, understanding what he was saying, but not knowing where he was going with it. "Because of a court order," she whispered.
"On the sworn testimony of..."
"... of a cocaine trafficker faced with life in prison."
"Don said a lot of things I didn't mean."
Moving carefully, Diane pushed her coat back down onto the seat beside her. "What about..." she paused, regrouping for a moment, looking into his eyes. "What about the things that you said?"
"Such as?"
Diane began reciting. "I need help. A minor problem with alcohol. I liked it when you watched me drink." She cocked her head at him. "Those sound like the words of an alcoholic at rock bottom to me."
Harry gave a little 'hmph'. "They sound like the screams of a terrified cop to me."
The two detectives glared silently at each other as the waiter returned with Harry's wine and Diane's water. "So," he began in a voice that was at once cheerful and garish, "have we figured out what we want, then?"
"I have," Harry said gently, speaking only to Diane. "Have you?"
"I know exactly what I want," Diane replied, speaking only to Harry. Then she turned and addressed the waiter. "Could you leave us alone, please? We'll let you know when we're ready to order."
The waiter looked at her in confused silence for a moment, then nodded slowly. "O-o-kay. My name is Chase. Just give me a holler." He walked away, turning back to look no less than three times before disappearing into the kitchen.
Diane regarded Harry for a moment, then prompted him. "So?"
His eyes floated around the room for a second, then settled on her as he leaned forward across the table. "Have you read the novel I found on your nightstand last night?"
She shook her head, rolling her eyes and settling in for another one of Harry Denby's patented convoluted digressions.
He lifted his brows a little. "You should. It has some very important lessons."
Diane picked up her waterglass and sighed into it. "Like what?"
"Well," Harry ran his fingertips over the rim of his wineglasss, but didn't pick it up. "First, magic is addictive, but in the end, love is stronger than any spell."
Diane rolled her eyes at the maudlin revelation. "I'm glad I only spent seven dollars on my copy."
"Second," Harry continued, unperturbed, "if you were born a wolf, then you are a wolf, but only the wolf can decide what that means. Not anyone else."
"Where are you going with this?"
He fluttered his lashes at her. "May I finish?" Diane granted him silence. "Thank you. Third," he grinned, "and most importantly, if you're a wolf... be careful who you show your tail to."
Diane just stared, waiting for him to make some sort of relevant point. After several moments, Harry fluttered his lashes again and sighed a little, picking up his wineglass and speaking directly into it in a quiet voice as he took his first sip.
"Don knew I was a cop."
This wasn't news to Diane. "I know that."
"I wasn't the one who told him."
Diane's hand flew to her open mouth as she finally realized what Harry was telling her. "Oh, sweet Jesus," she hissed.
Harry set his glass down, nodding a little. "It would have been kind of him to make an appearance when Don shoved the .45 in my face, but unfortunately I was left with only the devices of the flesh to keep myself alive." His eyes flickered with the candlelight into hers. "If anyone ever offers you a choice between a line of coke or a bullet in the head, let them kill you, Diane. Just let them kill you and consider yourself blessed."
She reached across the table to him, putting her hand over his. "Baby, why didn't you just tell me? I could have done something. Did you think I'd just let him..?" As she spoke, he turned his hand over to stroke her palm and play with her fingers.
He shook his head, interrupting her. "It wasn't just me. Don had a whole list of people he wanted to shut down. I was just at the top. The only way to keep everyone else alive was to keep myself alive." He looked at her wide eyes. "The only way to keep you alive." His hand curled tight around hers.
Diane took a hard swallow. "Me?"
Harry nodded slowly. "The name of the leaseholder on your apartment..."
"Robert Simone," she whispered. "Oh, my god." I could have gotten us all killed. Why didn't I just..?
Harry broke into her thought with the same question. "Why didn't you keep Jill away from him like I asked you to?"
"I didn't realize..." Her fingers turned to claws in his hand as she flashed hot and he winced. "Why didn't you tell me?" Suddenly angry at everyone, most of all herself, she snatched her hand from his and folded her arms, glaring a hole in the wall beside her. She heard him slide from his side of the table and felt his weight as he sat beside her.
"Diane, look at me." She could only bring her eyes as far as forward, to stare at where he used to be. He slid a finger beneath her chin to complete the turn, demanding this time. "Look at me." She jerked his hand roughly from her face and burned him with her gaze, but his eyes were every bit as hot as he spoke.
"When he found out and decided that you were a target, I went crazy. Everything I said to you about leaving was true. The tickets are still locked in my desk back at the house. I'd decided that I didn't care who Don wanted to kill, I just wanted out. Then I found out that you were in danger and I didn't care how you got there, I wasn't going anywhere without you. I couldn't. If he was gonna kill you, he was gonna have to kill me first, because..." He stopped abruptly, catching his breath and holding it for a second. She waited, watching him search her eyes, feeling him search her soul. Finally, he finished in a tiny whisper.
"... without you, I don't exist." The storm in his eyes flashed, threatening to break, but he continued. "The second I met you, I was different. I can't even remember who I was before, and I don't want to."
She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his heart race. "You didn't even know me."
"That's the final lesson of the book you didn't read," he said, moving closer and sliding his hand up along her jaw. "When you find the other half of your soul, you know. It changes you forever and you follow it through anything you have to, say anything, do anything you have to... but you don't ever let it go." He watched her with eyes that begged her to understand. "I will not let you go."
She kissed him, wanting only this. Feeling only how he lit up inside when she touched him and the warmth of his mouth. Knowing that he wasn't just the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, but that he was the rest of her life. Still kissing him, she groped for her coat.
"Let's go... right now," she panted a little between kisses.
"Go where?" he murmured against her mouth.
"Atlantic City... Let's get married. Tonight."
He chuckled, pulling her close in his arms, and pretended to consider her request, teasing as he kissed her. "Oh, Diane, this is all so sudden. Maybe we should think about... okay."
She pulled back, studying his eyes. "Really?"
He nodded, smiling dreamily. "Marry me."
She tossed her head up and laughed aloud, winding her arms around his neck. "I love you!"
"I love you, too. Let's go." He twisted in her arms and caught the attention of the waiter. As he came back to the table, Harry dug his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped out a twenty.
"So you're ready to order now?" the waiter asked, reflecting their bright smiles.
"Yes," Harry said with a comfortable little groan. "I'll have one lovely bride to go."
The waiter's smile got even brighter. "You two are getting married?"
"Yep." Harry slid out of the booth and held a hand out to Diane.
"When?"
Diane giggled a little and pulled on her coat as Harry checked his watch. "In about three hours." He handed the waiter the twenty and a cocky smile. "Excellent service, my friend." He picked up his trenchcoat and slung it over his shoulders, returning to take Diane's hand and lead her from the restaurant, leaving behind a waiter too stunned to realize they were gone before he thanked them.
The night was cold and clear as the freshly engaged couple hit the sidewalk, their laughter scattering to vapor in the air like doves. They trotted, hand in hand, to where Diane's car was parked and Harry backed her up against the passenger door as he unlocked it.
"So," he began conversationally, taking in her blissful smile.
"So," she returned, looping her arms over his shoulders and toying with the hair at his nape.
"Any honeymoon ideas?" He closed his eyes and smiled, turning his head a little as she petted him.
"Well, I've heard my kitchen floor is nice this time of year."
He looked at her with a teasing grin. "Listen to her, all 'sex, sex, sex'... Is that all I am to you?"
Diane nodded, trying to look serious and failing miserably.
He gave a little cluck of mock disapproval. "You are just hopelessly corrupted, you know that?"
She pulled him in to her kiss. "God, I hope so." As they kissed, she felt his hand slide down the door to find the handle.
"What's this shit!?" an unfamiliar, accusing voice rang bright across the snow like the sudden slap of a floodlamp in the dark. Both detectives turned in a snap.
Martin Skye, scarlet and panting, raised his .38 with a careless hand. "Set my ass up," he muttered, a crazy, stupid grin on his face. "You guys picked the wrong night to hang out together. I thought I was only gonna get to kill the woman tonight." He trained his gun on Diane's head. "Guess I'm just lucky."
Harry turned quickly, grabbing Diane's shoulders and guiding her fall onto her back as he kicked her legs out from under her. She heard the gunshot and Harry's expulsive grunt, felt the spray of blood as he pitched forward, but her training clicked like a machine in her head and she pulled her weapon, rolling up fluidly into a crouch and bearing her weapon on the young man as he turned to run. Holding her breath, she fired, catching him perfectly through the thigh and bringing him to the sidewalk.
The two gunshots and Martin's screams brought a rush of people into every window for a block. Quickly, Diane holstered her sidearm and turned to Harry. Somehow, he'd managed to flip himself onto his back, but the pool of blood he was laying in was spreading by the second and his breathing was too fast and raggedly shallow.
"Harry?" She knelt over him, first snapping her fingers in his face, then slapping him lightly. "Harry!" She glanced up at the restaurant they'd just come out of to see their waiter standing, staring in shock at Martin who lay, sobbing and whimpering a few feet from the door. "Hey!" she snapped at him, drawing his attention. "Call 911. Tell them there's a police officer shot and down."
"But what about..?"
"Officer shot and down! Do it!" Diane screamed, sending the young man scrambling back inside. Beneath her, Harry's voice came weakly.
"Diane..."
"Shh, baby. Don't move. EMS is on the way." She leaned over him, trying to smile into his eyes. "You're gonna be okay, alright? Just hold still."
His eyes fixed on her for a moment, then wandered around the stars above him. "Don't... don't let..."
"Harry, shh. Just hold still, okay?"
His hand came up beside her, but he couldn't lift it to her face. She pushed it down, but even as weak as he was, he fought her. "Diane... don't let..." His breathing started to become labored and rattling. She'd seen this before. Too many times. She lifted his hand to her cheek and he smiled a little, moving his fingers in a weak caress.
"Don't let what, Harry?" she asked him, trying to keep the tears out of her voice.
"Don't let them... plant me..." he rasped. His eyes focused on hers. "Keep me... keep me up here... with you."
She felt her tears fall, saw them on his quickly paling face. "Don't talk that way, Harry. The ambulance is coming, okay? You're gonna be fine." She turned to whisper into his fingers. "You're gonna be fine."
He made a weak little coughing noise and she realized he was laughing. His eyes were unfocused and roaming, but he was smiling. "Angel..." he whispered. His mouth kept moving, but no sounds were coming out. His eyes slid shut.
"Harry," Diane snapped her fingers at him again. "Harry, stay awake. Stay with me."
His eyes came open again, this time focusing on hers. "I'm your angel, now." His fingertips on her cheek moved in tiny little twitches as he tried to drag in another breath. His hand began to go slack in hers, his eyes fluttering randomly.
"Harry, please don't let me go," she begged, starting to sob openly. "Please stay with me." The sound of sirens approached through the city night.
But Harry was already free.
"Miss Russell?"
Diane shook herself, coming back to Earth in the middle of Liberty Park.
How long have I been staring at the ground? It didn't seem to matter anymore.
The priest spoke again. "Would you like to say anything about Arthur?"
"His name was Harry." It was all she'd heard through the whole wake, through the whole funeral, and now through the whole commission service. She wanted to slap every person who called him 'Arthur', and she would have probably worn her hand completely off doing it.
But she didn't seem to have the spirit for it these days.
She did, however, manage to convince Harry's parents that he didn't want to be buried, and now she, his family, every detective in the New York Police Department, and everyone in a uniform who could make it, stood in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, paying respects, preparing to commit his ashes to the harbor, and generally freezing in the saltwater air.
Harry would have enjoyed making everyone's day so crappy, Diane thought with a rough little smirk. The priest was talking, but she wasn't even listening. That man didn't know Harry.
She did.
Afterwards, there was a reception, but Diane didn't even bother going. She spent the rest of the day standing at the edge of the harbor, just watching the water and wondering why things always had to be the way they had to be. A voice she'd never hear again popped up in her mind's ear.
"What... summarizing, Diane, in a nutshell... can we say about life? It becomes more tawdry... dangerous... filled with more stupidity. Our eyes go, faculties in general decline. We keep an interest in sex, but we begin to shoot blanks. What we cannot say, Diane, is that life gets less interesting. We can't say that and look at ourselves in the face as honest men and women."
"How is it now, Harry?" she asked the quiet harbor. "What, in a nutshell, can we say about death?" She knew he couldn't answer her now, but she knew she'd get an answer.
Someday.
She walked all the way back to her apartment, looking at the snow, at the sky, at the everything. When she finally did make it to her building and climbed the steps, she turned around one last time to look, her gaze happening to fall over the porch rail and into the snow beside the building beneath her window.
On a snow angel. She smiled at it.
I love you, too.
"Hello?" Diane called out, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter and shrugging off her coat.
"In here," the far wall called out. "How was the drive?"
"Lovely. Tell me again why we live in New Paltz?"
"Because the school superintendent in New York City is a fascist and there's a university library here."
"And you're aware I work in New York City, right?"
Adie Russell came around the doorway from her bedroom and regarded her mother with a cocked brow. "You would stunt my intellectual growth for a job?"
Lieutenant Diane Russell blinked a couple times at her daughter. "You're nine, Adie. I was playing with Barbies when I was nine."
"Mm-hm. How many languages do you speak again?"
"That's not the point."
"Who did your taxes last year?"
"Adie..."
"It seems like maybe Barbies wasn't the most efficient use of your mental abilities. My great mind had to come from somewhere."
Diane finally gave up, flinging her arms into the air and turning to walk into the kitchen. "Yeah, but your smart mouth came from somewhere else."
"Don't tell me I'm channeling Dad again." Diane turned in time to catch her daughter's cocky, omnipotent grin.
"If you know you're being irritating, then yes, you'd have to be."
Adie laughed and pulled herself up to sit on the kitchen counter, watching her mother rifle through the cupboards, looking for something to eat. "Speaking of..."
"Oh, here we go again. No. Your last name is Russell. Change it when you're eighteen."
"I like Denby. Adie Russell sounds like an insurance firm."
Diane pulled a carton of ice cream out of the freezer. "You do this at least once a week. Your father's last name is already in your name. Adie. A, D. Arthur Denby. What else do you want?"
"Dad's name wasn't Arthur. It was Harry."
"Yes it was, which is why I named you Adie instead of Haiti. He wouldn't want you to be named his name at all."
"But you named me after him anyway."
"No, I named you Adie Angel Russell. It's completely unique."
"Tell me about it. I spend most of my time dreaming up tear inducing insults to keep my classmates from calling me names."
"Can I be shot now, or are you not done yet?"
"Tell me why I'm still in the fourth grade and I'll be happy to do anything you like."
"Did you call the high school?"
Adie rolled her eyes. "Hi, and welcome to some of us are nine. They won't listen to me."
"I find it hard to believe you've tried, seeing as once you open your mouth, you're kind of hard to ignore."
Adie fell silent, sending a guilty glance across the room. "I called them."
Diane shook her head, fetching herself two spoons and handing one to Adie, flipping the ice cream carton open. "Now there's something your father would never do."
"What, lie?"
"No. Lie badly." Diane leaned up against the counter beside her daughter and the two of them proceeded to plunder the ice cream supply.
Adie laughed. "A bit of a rake, my old man then?"
"A bit," Diane said through her mouthful of rocky road, "doesn't even begin to do it justice." She turned, regarding her young daughter's emerald eyes and shiny black hair. "You look just like him."
Adie looked at her mother, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. "So I've heard." Suddenly, she popped down from the counter and went to the little mail holder on stuck to the wall by the phone. "That reminds me, by the way... We got some interesting mail today." She stuck her spoon in her mouth and pulled two envelopes, one large and yellow, marked with the NYPD crest and already opened, and the other small, plain and intact. When Diane took the envelopes from her daughter, she noticed that the smaller one had her old address on it crossed out and her new address written beside it in an unfamiliar hand.
She also noticed the return address in the upper corner.
"Oh, my god."
"That's why I didn't open it. Is that from who I think it's from?"
"Harry's amends letter," Diane whispered to herself.
"Amends," Adie commented, sliding the larger envelope away from her mother. "Isn't that Step Nine? I thought you said..."
"He wasn't," Diane interrupted her, turning the envelope over in her hands. "The department put him through it on a false court order. Oh, my god. I'd forgotten about this."
Adie had slid the contents of the large envelope out and held them in her hand. From what Diane could tell, it was an eight by ten photograph with a little note paperclipped to it. "Apparently, Lieutenant Medavoy found this going through the files after the Narcotics shakeup last month. The note says, 'I couldn't think of anyone else who would want this'."
Diane chuckled and held out her hand to take the photograph. "Sounds like Greg. Let's see."
It was a department headshot of Detective Harry Denby, looking very much as if he did not want to have his picture taken. He looked younger than Diane remembered, the picture having been taken two years before she met him, but it was unmistakable. Diane gathered a shaky breath as she ran her fingertips lightly over the handsome, cleanshaven face in the photograph.
Adie retook her perch on the counter and looked at the photo over Diane's shoulder. "That's my father?"
Diane nodded, hoping she wouldn't start crying. "This is Harry."
"Was he always that unhappy?"
Diane gave a watery sounding little laugh. "No... not always." She handed the photograph back to her daughter and returned her attention to the other letter. "I loved... I love your father very much."
"How did he die?" Adie asked, lowering the photograph to her lap and fixing her eyes on her mother. "I know he was shot in the Line, but..."
"He died defending me. Some psycho with a gun and a vendetta came after me for a collar I'd made and he... he took the bullet for me." Her voice broke and the tears started coming.
Adie leaned over and put her arms around Diane. "Then he loved you very much, too."
"We were supposed to be married. I still..." She broke down completely, surprised at how angry she still was. How angry and lost she still was without him.
"Shh..." Adie tried to comfort her mother. "I don't think he'd want you to cry."
"No," Diane replied, clearing her throat and wiping at her eyes. "No, he wouldn't." She managed to give her daughter a wobbly smile. "You're right."
Adie smiled back. "I'm always right," she teased a little.
Diane laughed in spite of herself. Fleetingly, she thought, I don't think I could have taken dealing with both of you at once anyway. She returned her attention to the envelope in her hand, turning it over, putting her finger at the edge of the flap but unable to bring herself to break the old seal. Adie put her hand on the envelope and pulled a little, but didn't take it.
"Should I?"
Diane thought for a minute, then nodded quickly. "Please."
Adie slid the envelope from her mother's hand and opened it neatly, sliding out the perfectly trifolded piece of paper inside. She looked at it, crossing her brow in silent confusion, then up at Diane. "You said this is an amends letter?"
"Yeah. Why?" Diane fought back her urge to crane her neck to see it. "What does it say?"
Adie cleared her throat.
"My angel has brown eyes
like the unspent warmth of a summer morning
and the untouched depth of a forest afternoon
and unkept breadth of love at midnight.
My angel has brown eyes
and sees me not.
My angel sees only the light."
Diane put a hand over her mouth as she listened. She remembered the poem as clearly as the moment he'd recited it to her all those years ago, except for the one little difference.
His angel... I was his angel. This is why he asked if I'd come after the letter. Maybe if I'd...
"Mom?"
My daughter could have a father instead of a photograph and stories about a man she doesn't know.
"Mom?"
Diane could only whisper. "I'm so sorry, Adie." She pushed herself away from the counter and went to the living room window, staring out at the gray December twilight, looking into the cold, gunmetal sky. "I'm sorry."
Suddenly, she got a little shiver. A warm, pretty little tingle running up her back and down her arms. She closed her eyes and held the feeling tight, knowing... and knowing why. She was still crying, but she wasn't lost anymore.
He's my angel, now.
"Mom?" Adie's voice was beside her. "Are you going to be okay?"
Diane turned, weeping and laughing all at once, seeing him in his child's face, hearing his voice inside her as she answered.
"Always."
The End.
