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
Diane opened her eyes.
Where am I?
I know where I am.
Okay, how did I get here?
A grumbly little snort from the chair against the far wall answered her. She turned to see, pushing her unruly morning curls from her face.
Harry was slung across the chair next to the window, wearing last night's outfit and yesterday morning's scruff, slowly lifting and lowering the novel she'd been trying to get around to reading for a month and a half on his chest as he slept.
She smiled at his peaceful form for a moment, then quickly snatched the covers off her body.
Fully clothed except for her shoes.
She blew out a sigh of relief.
"It's nice to be trusted."
Diane gave a start and snapped her head up. "Harry..." She swallowed just a little bit of guilt at having been caught checking up on him. "I thought you were asleep."
"I was until you started making noise." He looked at her for a moment, then lifted his watch into his sightline. He gave a little 'hmph'. "It's still morning. What the hell am I doing awake?"
Diane just barely started to chuckle when she was startled again by the sound of her clock radio coming on. The indie station she liked was in the middle of a song.
"...when you were young, and strong, and perverted
and everything that makes a young man a star.
(Oh, you were a star)
I was there,
and I swear to god and on my mother's grave,
on everything I have or ever will embrace,
I was there.
And I saw it with my own two eyes..."
Diane hauled herself up and reached for the radio to turn it off.
"No," Harry came forward in the chair, watching her with strange eyes. "Leave it on for a minute."
Diane pulled her hand back, but questioned him. "Why? You like this song?"
He nodded, still holding her eyes. "It reminds me of you."
What are you trying to tell me? She returned his gaze, listening carefully.
"I was there.
C'mon and tell me I wasn't worth stickin' it out for.
I was there,
and I know I was worth it,
'Cause if I wasn't worth it that makes me worse off than you are..."
Suddenly, it broke over her.
He's sorry, too. She lifted her arms to him.
But he didn't do anything... I was just wrong.
She was able to keep it back for as long as it took him to curl himself around her on the bed, and then everything came down. After all the crying she'd already done for the whole thing, she thought she'd have been used to it by now.
But now was different. All the other nights, all the other mornings, all she'd ever felt was worse.
This morning, locked in Harry's arms, swaying gently, hearing his heartbeat beside her...
... just knowing that he could hear her this time made her feel better.
"It's all around me,
you're all around me.
You surround me like a circle.
Like a circle around me."
As the song faded to its end, he reached back and clicked the radio off.
"I never meant to let it get so out of hand," he whispered into her hair. "I never meant to let it hurt you."
"Shh," she said, quietly pleading, still crying. "Please. Just... shh." She curled as much of herself in as she could, wanting him to hold all of her at once. If she could have gotten inside with him and stayed there, she would have. She could just be there, with all his secrets, protected and unexposed, just like them.
He held her until she stopped crying, then until she stopped trembling, willingly waiting for her to untangle herself from him and clear her head a little. Even as she pulled herself up on her own center, he watched her with careful, worried eyes, lacing his fingers thorough hers, unwilling to let her go.
"I don't..." she sniffled a little. "I don't know what to say."
Harry shook his head a little, tracing his fingertips over the narrow tear tracks on her face. "There isn't anything to say anymore."
Diane nodded, glancing around the room, watching it fill with morning for a minute. Finally, she roused herself, sitting back on her heels, ready to start moving forward.
Forward... from where we should have been a year ago.
She cleared her throat, taking one last sniffle. "Are you hungry?"
"Starving."
She had to smile at the light that came into his eyes with his admission. Yeah, sure you are. For what? She ran a hand over his fuzzy jaw, teasing him a little. "Do you ever shave, Denby?"
He grinned, catching her hand and giving her index finger a little nip. "We're back to the Denby business, I see."
Diane giggled brightly and pretended to fend him off as he came up on his knees over her. "What would you prefer? Mortimer?"
He scattered gentle bites and playful kisses over her mouth and throat as he spoke, pressing her back onto the bed until he was down on all fours above her. "What about 'lord of my body and soul'? Or maybe 'the greatest lover I've ever known'?"
She laughed, still trying to keep her hands between him and herself. "But Harry, how am I supposed to know if you deserve those titles?"
He chuckled, nibbling at her ear. "An excellent point... and they call me 'detective'."
She sighed a little, enjoying the feel of his mouth. "Lord alone knows why."
"Minx," he growled back, sinking his teeth into her neck and bringing his hands down to pinch at her sides through her blouse.
She shrieked aloud and exploded in a fit of laughter, trying to block his hands in earnest now. "Harry! Harry, stop!" Biting her lip hard enough to cancel out all the things his touch did to her, she tickled him back and was immediately impressed with his response.
He melted into giggles, giving up on her and pulling his arms tight to his ribs. Twisting his body around in an attempt to escape, he fell away from her, making sounds she was sure he'd forgotten he knew how to produce. She rolled with him, straddling his hips and evading his hands, feeling her heart fill with his laughter. After several seconds of sincere and concentrated begging on his part, she finished with him, bracing her hands on either side of his head to drink in his flushed smile and feel his breath flutter through his body. Harry slicked his tongue over his broad, blissful grin, gazing up at her with wide, bright, guileless eyes...
... and for that instant, she could see the beautiful little boy who had come out to play.
He lifted his body into hers, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down into his kiss, panting and warm with excitement. Somehow, he tasted different. She kissed him, feeling his breath, exploring his mouth.
He tasted whole. She fell in love again.
Twice in as many days... and every day for the rest of my life.
He released her mouth, but she stayed with him, nuzzling at him and playing little kisses over his face.
"I want you," he panted in a low whimper. "I won't even try to lie." He turned his head a little, catching one of her kisses on his mouth like a raindrop. "I want you so much right now."
It felt as though he had reached inside her and pulled every string until it was taut and trembling, and her body screamed at her to give over, but she wasn't ready to hand him her propriety just yet.
"Would you be willing to hold that thought until after breakfast?"
The sound of pure frustration that came out of him was nearly a howl, but he capitulated and released her, staring at the ceiling and trying to compose himself as Diane pulled herself off the bed and walked over to the window.
"Oh, my god," she breathed, taking in the scene in front of her window. Fanning her fingers over her mouth, she stared, then started to smile. "Good lord."
Harry, who had gotten himself upright and stepped up against her back, was slightly less delicate with his assessment. "Holy shit."
Everything that wasn't entirely vertical was white. Several inches worth. The narrowest tree branches wore at least an inch alone. The ground couldn't have had less than six. Save for the tire tracks and footprints of a very brave few, the snow was undisturbed and the street was silent.
As she took it all in, Diane couldn't shake the feeling that someone was trying to tell her something.
From behind her, she just barely caught Harry's reverent whisper.
"It's so beautiful..."
She smiled and leaned back into him, feeling her heart stir as he slid his arms around her waist. He turned his face into her hair and breathed her in. Diane stilled, letting her eyes fall shut, placing the moment carefully into the locket of her memory.
But time, in its obstinance, refused to still with her, gathering her empty stomach in its fist.
Harry's voice came close in her ear. "Somebody's hungry."
She sighed and pulled up from him, taking his hand as he let her go and leading him back through her living room on her way to the kitchen. In transit, she noticed the box of animal crackers, still out and open from the night before, had been kicked over, spilling a few of the cookies onto the rug.
"I see Hurricane Denby came through last night."
She could hear the cocky smirk in his voice as he came back. "If Hurricane Denby had been here, there'd be animal crackers all the way to Queens, angel. These are still in the general vicinity of the box."
"And you didn't pick them up because..?"
"My hands were full at the time."
She turned around, pulling her arm down to her side until he was toe to toe with her. "Full of what?"
"You."
"You carried me from the couch to bed?"
"Mm-hm."
"Why?"
"Because you were asleep."
Diane shook her head. "No, I mean why didn't you just leave me on the couch? You didn't sleep there."
He closed his eyes briefly, drawing his brows together over a polite smile and cocking his head a little. "Can we have this discussion over breakfast?"
She smiled. "Sure." She turned and started moving again, hindered by the fact that the hand he still held wasn't coming with her. She faced him again. "What?"
He cocked his head up in a beckoning motion and she went back to him.
"What?"
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her until she was leaning against his body for strength. Her eyes fluttered as he pulled away, then opened onto his teasing smile. "Nothing important."
She sighed, trying not to laugh, placing a hand on his chest to steady herself. "I swear, Harry. Sometimes..." she trailed off, righting herself and stepping away from him again.
"Only sometimes?" he replied, following after her. "I'm gonna have to work on my game."
Diane chuckled and started piecing together something that approximated breakfast for two from her somewhat small food supply. "You're crazy, you know that?"
He sat on one of the island stools, resting his elbows on the countertop and watching her as she moved around the kitchen. "Exactly how many seconds after you met me did you come to this conclusion, Detective?"
"Well," she started, pulling the carton of eggs and tub of butter out of the refrigerator, "I can't give you an exact number, but I know it was somewhere in the low twenties."
"So you're saying I'm getting better at covering."
"How would you like to be wearing your breakfast?"
"Can I wear yours instead?"
She opened her mouth to make another disparaging remark about his sanity, then found that the idea actually gave her pause. Enough to make her turn and cock a brow over her shoulder. "We'll see." She pulled the bread down from the cupboard and listened with satisfaction to the total lack of smartass coming from behind her.
Gotcha.
She popped two slices of bread into the toaster and turned to hunt down plates and a skillet, all without comment from Harry.
Thirty seconds... this is either killing him or he's already dead. She found her skillet and plunked it down on the stove, flipping the dial to medium and letting it warm up while she retrieved two plates from the cupboard over the sink and two forks from the drawer beneath it. She set the flatware on the island counter and leaned down across from Harry, intensely enjoying the way he looked at her. Delicately, she cleared her throat.
"Did you want coffee with breakfast?"
He made a little face. "Mmm..."
Diane pointed her eyes up, picturing the contents of her refrigerator. "Well, we have orange juice, milk, and water, then."
His brow lifted slightly. "We?"
Oh, for Christ's... "You know what? I'm just not ever gonna talk to you again. Okay?"
"A perfect waste of an adroit tongue, I'm sure," he replied, speaking slowly, sculpting the words with his mouth for her to see.
How the hell do you do that? How do you make me want you and want to beat the shit out of you at the same time? "Is there any way I can talk you off the topic of sex for a few minutes?"
"Your inference of sex does not necessarily involve my mention of sex." Harry slid his fingertips across the countertop and over her arm. "But since you brought it up..."
She lifted her hand and leveled a finger at him. "I have better things to waste my tongue on than talking to you." You're not the only one who can pull a double entendre around here.
This time, both brows came up. "Indeed."
The toast popped up and Diane turned to fetch it, dropping the slices onto the plates with a little wince. Then she turned, and returned with the butter and a knife. Offering the whole thing to Harry, she turned away to the refrigerator again, hearing him scrape a dollop of butter over his toast slice.
"Okay, I'm going to have orange juice. You want?"
"Yes, please," he replied, sinking his teeth into his toast.
Diane had just started to fumble around with the glasses in the cupboard when the telephone rang. Without a second thought, she tossed her head over her shoulder. "Could you get that for me?"
Harry set his toast down and brushed his hands together. "Answering her phone. I must be on the A-list now."
"Phone first, babbling about it later."
Diane couldn't have been entirely sure, but she swore she heard him stick his tongue out at her. "Yes, sir, Lieutenant Russell." He picked up the phone as Diane poured out the orange juice. "Hello... Yes, it is... Of course. May I tell her who's calling?" There was a slight pause, then Harry repeated his question in a tone that dropped her body temperature.
Danny...
"Just a moment, please." He cupped the mouthpiece in his palm and held the receiver out in Diane's direction. "Sorenson."
Lovely... Diane sighed and took the phone from Harry's hand, carefully avoiding his eyes. "Danny?"
"Yeah, hi Diane. Where are you?"
She had to roll her eyes at him. "Guess."
"Yeah, I guess you're at home." He faltered for a moment and Diane could just picture him stuffing a fistful of paperclips into his shirt pocket. "Um... it's ten already. You were coming in today, right?"
"Have you been outside today, or did you sleep in the coffee room again last night?"
"Yeah, it's kind of a mess outside. Greg and Fancy ain't made it in yet either."
"What about Andy and Baldwin?"
"A pair of blues hauled in some small potatoes peddler and they've got him in interview right now. I just wanted to see if you were gonna make it today is all."
"Got a name on the peddler?" Diane glanced at Harry, who wasn't looking at her, but was clearly listening.
"Martin Skye. They collared him quartering black tar three blocks from P.S. 211."
"Sounds like a real winner. Why did they haul him in?"
"The name Kirkendall came out of his mouth."
Diane set her hand down on the counter with a thump, then ripped it back through her hair. "The Skel Who Wouldn't Die. Beautiful."
"Tell me about it." Danny dropped another uncomfortable pause and Diane cringed, already knowing what his next question was. "So, Diane... uh... If I could maybe be so bold, I was wondering who you let answer your phone like that?"
"Um..." She tossed her head around, briefly considering her choice of lies, finally deciding to option her truths delicately. "Harry Denby. He kind of got stuck here last night because of the snow."
Danny snorted. "Yeah, and I'm sure it was pure coincidence on his part. That prick. I swear to god, Diane, if he tries anything, you call me."
"Danny..."
He continued, unflagged. "Believe me when I say I have no qualms about lodging a lead complaint in his suggestion box."
"Danny," she snapped, "you know better. You heard Jill as well as I did."
"That doesn't forgive what he did to you."
No, it doesn't forgive what I did to him. "Look, if I can locate my car, I'll see you today. If not, I'll see you tomorrow. Either way, things are covered on this end. You guys take care of the store, okay?"
"Fine, Diane... you just remember. Call me, and I'll be there. No questions asked."
At least there's that much. "Thanks, Danny. I'll see you later."
"Be careful. Bye."
"Bye."
Diane hung up the phone and rested her hand on it for a while, staring at the blank white out the window, feeling Harry's eyes drill into the back of her head. After a moment of dead silence, Harry spoke in a calm, light voice.
"Trouble in paradise?"
Diane gave a little 'hmph', shaking her head. "Harry..." She choked on his name and found herself in his arms before the first tear could fall.
"Shh, shh, shh..." he soothed into her hair. "Don't let's start this again. What happened, baby?"
She steeled herself, but it was harder to pull back the tears when Harry was there. He'd tapped her soul and all the tears she'd ever pulled back in her life now fought her to fall on his shoulder. Diane pulled them back anyway.
He's not going anywhere.
She straightened up, coiling her fingers around his arms for support, and looked up into his face. "Don's come back to haunt us."
Harry whipped and hissed like a cobra, pulling himself from around her and storming over to the opposite wall. "You know, I'm just gonna have to kill him myself this time."
"I'm pretty sure he's still dead, but people are using his name."
"No," he turned, leveling a forceful finger at her. "Until I'm holding the opposite ends of his brainstem in my own two hands, he's not ever gonna be dead enough for me."
"Harry," she began, taking a few steps towards him.
He lifted his palms at her. "Stay back." She made a quick stop. His voice was wary, shaky, and he refused to meet her eyes. In an instant, all the layers were stripped away from him and she saw the thing that frightened him the most.
He's angry. This is what he bites back. This is what he's hidden under all that bullshit for so long. God, he must be terrified...
"Harry," she started again, lifting her hands to prove that she wasn't going to hurt him. "You're angry, and it's okay. Everyone is angry about this."
He looked at her as if she'd just landed the mothership in front of him and started ripping at the buttons of his oxford, speaking rapidly in bitter, spitting bursts. "No. No, it's not okay. It was never okay. You wanna see what anger gets you? You wanna know what it means when people like me get angry?" He fairly tore off his shirt.
"Harry, please stop," Diane begged, unable to turn away.
He whipped around, planting his hands on the wall behind him hard enough to crack the plaster, presenting her with his broad back. In a low, broken growl, he finished. "This... is what you get for being angry... where I come from."
Diane stared in utter shock. Harry's lower back was a mess of burn scars. Some looked like little pinpricks, as if someone had taken a lit incense stick and carved rows of crucifixes over his skin, dot by dot. Others flowed like oilmarks, as if someone had deliberately dropped spoonfuls of scalding wax on his back. The scars were old and faded, some older than others, but whoever had tortured him had made sure he would never outlive it.
Victim of a Jesuit education... why didn't I listen? Diane sank to her knees, praying to god that she wouldn't vomit.
No... not god. Not anymore. Not if god does this. She rocked back and forth, hissing mindlessly to herself... to them. "He's just a child... He was only a child. How could you..?" She shook her head hard, trying to cancel out the image of a little blackhaired boy, whose only crime was being human, prone in a dark, moldy rectory, screaming in agony.
At least I got a reason. At least it wasn't my fault when it was me. But nobody ever told him... She sat, too blank to cry anymore, as if her mind had been snapped up a level as she finally understood what had made the man in front of her so weak.
And so strong.
Survivor. The word is survivor. Just like you. As she watched, he turned around, then dropped to her eye level. He avoided her eyes, scanning the floor, his face getting redder by the second. After a moment, he came up on all fours and dragged himself to where she sat. She opened her body to him, cocking her knees up around him, gathering him up in her arms. He curled up in the space she'd made for him, pulling everything inside and putting it into her, moving with her as she rocked him back and forth.
She pressed her mouth to the nape of his neck just as she felt him start crying and tightened her arms around him, saying all the things he needed to hear before any of this had happened. "You're okay," she whispered, soft and light, "my baby... my little boy... you're okay. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I'm so scared..." It was the whisper of a child. Somewhere in his head, he was back there. Somewhere in his mind where the pain... and the pain of betrayal... was still so raw and confusing.
"I know, baby. I know. You're okay, now."
"Make it... make it stop... Don't let them..."
"Shh, shh, shh... They can't hurt you anymore. Nobody's ever gonna hurt you again."
"Promise?"
Her insides twisted. He's just a baby... he's just a little boy. Couldn't you see how scared he was? "I promise... I promise, baby."
"Okay." He hid inside her in silence, letting it all run out of his head. He would carry the scars for the rest of his life.
But now the wound they caused would heal.
After a few long minutes, a tremor ran through his body and he blew out a watery little sigh, but he wasn't ready to leave her yet, and in a whisper she could feel more clearly than she could hear, he told her so.
"Stay with me."
She rested her cheek on his tousled jet hair and cuddled him closer.
"Always."
Continued in Part 4.
