Wonderful
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
He sat up with a wince, tucking in on himself and rocking back and forth. "It's not okay," he repeated, his voice breaking. "It's not okay, it's not okay..."
Diane did the only thing she could think of. She put her arms around him and rocked with him, setting herself down beside him on the bed.
He pulled back violently, flagging at her. "Don't touch me!" he ground out in a scream through his teeth. "God, that's disgusting!"
Diane pulled away from him in defeat. "I should have guessed you'd hate me," she mumbled into her lap.
"You?" he spat, drawing her eyes immediately. His eyes were narrow, bitter, rimmed in red. "Hate what?" he continued in an incredulous hiss. "Don't even look at me!" He dropped his eyes from her face. "Go away, I don't..." He let out the rest of his breath into silence.
But she hadn't missed it. Hate what... "You don't what, Harry?"
He slid his hands up on either side of his face, distorting his features and pulling a little at his hair. Then, bringing his hands down a little, he took a deep breath and tried to sound rational, still unable to meet her eyes.
"Go away."
"No."
"Go away!"
"No! What don't you, Harry?!"
He looked into her eyes, lost and losing. Finally, the words crawled out of his belly.
"I don't deserve your time."
Wait a minute... "But I was the one..."
"No!" he yelped, pounding his open hands on the blankets. "I was the one, Diane! I did it!."
He remembers... Diane put a hand over her mouth, unable to speak, suddenly understanding everything. He wanted to know if I would really do it.
"And you told me," he continued, flapping a hand at her as his words bubbled out in a crazy giggle. "You told me I deserved it... and I did. I did, that."
Diane could only shake her head, still in shock.
"But did I listen? No," he answered himself in a derisive howl. "No, I had to go and prove it. I had to second guess you and prove how useless I am." His mouth hung open as he looked accusingly at her, shaking his head a little. "How could you? Why couldn't you..?"
Diane tried to say 'what', but it wasn't coming out.
He snapped at the hand over her mouth, grabbing her wrist and jamming her fingertips into his forehead between his eyes. "Here, Diane. Next time, aim here." As he spoke, he pressed her fingers into his skin, jerking her forward.
Her rage broke over her, taking her completely by surprise. How dare he! "No! I won't aim there next time!" She jabbed her fingers into him of her own accord, snapping his head back a little with the force. "Because there isn't going to be a next time! You will not leave me again! Do you hear me!?"
Diane fell into sudden silence, stunned, and blinked into Harry's eyes, seeing her own reflection.
What did she just say?
What did I just say?
Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he pulled at her arm, hand over hand, until she was lying beside him, propped up on her elbow. Carefully, he laid himself out before her, gazing up into her eyes. He swallowed a little, moving his mouth but making no sounds, moving his arms, but not reaching for her.
Diane lowered herself onto her back and opened her arms.
"Come here, baby."
He rolled over instantly, cuddling into her with a watery sigh, resting his ear over her heart. The pair of them lay then, in silence, each waiting for the other to start crying.
Neither one had it in them anymore.
Something in the brush behind her moved a little and she turned in a snap, bringing her weapon to bear and firing in a rapid trio. As she calmly holstered her gun, she looked up, but all she could see was the top of his dark head and three little pinpricks of light coming through his chest.
After inspecting his new holes, Bobby lifted his head with a quizzical eye. "What are you doing, Diane?"
"Why did you leave me?"
"I didn't mean to."
"Everyone leaves me," she folded her arms.
"Come on now," he said in his teasing voice, taking light steps towards her. "Everyone doesn't leave you."
"Danny left me."
Bobby shook his head. "You left Danny."
"Harry left me."
"Who's Harry?"
She looked up sharply into Bobby's dark eyes.
"I'm Harry."
She stared up at the dim tiled ceiling of the precinct.
"I'm Harry." She could see the satin-lined sides of the casket and lifted her hand to her chest, feeling the empty spaces.
She sat up.
Across the room, he stood, tall and perfect, just the way he'd started. He watched her, taking slow steps, rattling something in the pockets of his trenchcoat.
"I've been waiting for you."
She cupped her hands before her as he drew out whatever was in his pocket.
Checkers. Red and black and gray and plastic and glass and stone. More checkers than she'd ever seen at once. More than she could hold. They spilled from her hands and into her lap and he just kept giving them to her.
And even as he gave them, more began to materialize from the air above and fall all around her.
It just kept coming.
She laughed. She laughed and laughed and heard him join her. Checkers from Harry. Checkers from heaven. Checkers from everywhere.
She stood in the casket, lifting her hands into the air to catch this odd rain, then reaching down to him as he guided her from the coffin like a princess from a carriage.
She didn't mind the jump, didn't feel the fall, only saw his smile.
"We could even live..."
"Good morning, Detective Jesus, Mary and Joseph!"
It probably wasn't what the doctor meant.
Diane, lying on her back, woke and saw the newcomer first. "Oh... Dr. Clarence. I'm so sorry..." She squirmed around, trying to disengage herself from Harry, who had moved in his sleep to cover her completely.
"No... no," Dr. Clarence said quickly, turning her back on the pair. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened." She glanced around for a second, still hearing Diane wrestle with the sleeping Harry, then said, "Why don't I come back in about twenty minutes?" and bolted before anything else could happen.
Diane flopped back into stillness, blowing out a breath through pursed lips. Looking down her front, she saw a mess of dark hair just below her chin and lifted a hand to stroke his head, feeling him sigh a little in his sleep.
What she thought was sleep.
"Harry?" she whispered experimentally.
"Yes, Diane," he replied, muffled against her blouse but in a full conversational tone.
Her hand in his hair froze. "How long have you been awake?"
He dragged himself up onto his elbows. "Ever since you declared yourself me and started giggling."
Diane cringed. "I remember..."
Harry watched her for a moment, then prompted, "Remember what, Diane?"
She put a hand up into her hair, letting her eyes float around the ceiling for a moment. "Checkers. You gave me checkers."
Still watching her, monitoring her response carefully, he placed a tiny kiss on the elbow she'd presented him with. "Did I?" Encouraged by the fact that she hadn't belted him for it the first time, he kissed her elbow again. "Why would I give you checkers?"
Her eyes came back to his and she dropped her arm in a sweep, putting her hand through his hair before letting it fall across his shoulder. "I don't know."
He shrugged a little, then again with a little smile as he felt her fingertips accidentally brush the back of his neck. "I don't know either, considering you didn't meet my criteria."
Her brows met in confusion. "What?"
He shook his head, dismissing the issue. "Never mind. It doesn't matter now." He grinned at her. "That's all about the past, anyway, right?"
Diane regarded him for a few more seconds of puzzlement, then shook her head a little. "I guess." Bringing her hand up, she flicked his hair back from his temple. "What about you?"
His eyes closed and he turned his face towards her caress. "What about me?"
"What did you dream about last night?"
He opened his mouth against her palm, breathing in her warmth, fighting his urge to taste her. "I didn't," he murmured.
"Why?" She felt his brow crease beneath her fingertips and stifled a tiny gasp as his tongue touched her palm for an instant, feeling his words as he dropped them into her waiting hand.
"I don't have to anymore."
Continued in Part 9.
