After spending the past month reading and being totally engrossed by the many wonderful Dempsey & Makepeace stories on this site, I finally plucked up courage to write one of my own. This is my first attempt at writing a D&M fanfic, although I have previously written, or should I say attempted to write five Dynasty stories (although they are not published on this site). I have been thinking about writing a D&M story ever since Krato & Bev Hardy suggested it, but was a bit worried that I might not be able to portray the characters properly after writing so much Dynasty. Nevertheless I shall try my best, and no doubt will have to keep referring to my D&M dvds in order to try and get my characterisation as realistic as possible – fingers crossed.
I hope that you enjoy the story, and would most definitely appreciate your feedback, as it certainly will encourage me to continue with the story – if you think that I should of course!
Many Thanks
'Dear God! How much had she actually had to drink last night?' Harry internally asked herself as she suddenly became aware of the acute pain searing its way throughout her skull and brain. It felt as though her entire head was about to combust as every single synapse and neuron seemed to object to the amount of alcohol she had consumed.
'What had she been thinking?' Harry mused, as she tried to summon up the courage to crawl out of bed and make her way over to the cabinet in the bathroom which contained the painkillers she was so desperately in need of.
As Harry lay there, and willed her body to move, she tried to recall the events of the previous evening, and the reason why she had drank to such excess, only to find that she couldn't. In fact now that she thought about it, she couldn't even remember going out, let alone getting plastered and then returning home.
Clearly this was the worst hangover in history if she couldn't even recall the events of the last twenty-four hours Harry concluded as the uncomfortable feeling in her bladder made her further aware that she had consumed far too much.
'Maybe she should just lie there for another ten minutes, and then attempt to locate a hangover cure in the bathroom cabinet?' Harry thought.
Besides she wasn't entirely sure that she would be able to make it all of the way with out loosing the contents of her stomach on either the floor of her bedroom or the upstairs landing.
'Yes, it was wise to stay in bed for a little while longer.' Harry internally reasoned before continuing with her inner dialogue. 'With any luck, she might manage to drift back to sleep, and when she woke would hopefully discover that her hangover from hell had eased somewhat and she would be able to get on with the rest of her day. Not that she could seem to recall exactly what her plans for the forthcoming day were.' Harry realised.
It was as she lay back on her bed, and tried to will herself to either fall back to sleep, or alternatively get out of bed and fetch the painkillers, that Harry first became aware that it wasn't just her head that felt as though a meat cleaver was repeatedly hacking at the centre of her brain. Her body hurt just as much. In fact if Harry didn't know any better, she could easily believe that she had been run over by a truck, or at least hit by one. 'No make that an articulated lorry' Harry decided as she became increasingly aware of the pain in her back and legs.
A large sigh of despondency escaped her lips, as she tried to adjust her body into a more comfortable position. However the slight movement triggered the piercing pain in her head to significantly amplify, and slight moan to erupt from the back of her throat as a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach.
She tried her best to settle back against the mattress and relax, whilst trying to recall memories of the previous night, yet they remained elusive. As she often did these days when deep in thought, she distractedly ran the thumb of her left hand over her ring finger to play with the cool precious metal band, only to realise that her finger was completely bare.
She reasoned that she must have taken her ring off in the bathroom, and forgotten to replace it before going to bed. It had become a habit of hers to remove her rings whenever she washed her hands, as she was loathed to dull the brilliance of the sparking solitaire diamond by covering it in soap scum. However usually it was an automatic reaction to return the ring to its rightful place immediately after drying her hands.
'God, what if she had lost it?' Harry suddenly thought with a sense of panic, before trying to dismiss the disturbing thought from her mind, and concentrate on falling back to sleep instead.
'Only something didn't feel quite right' Harry told herself as she wiggled slightly in an attempt to ease the aching sensation in her back.
'The mattress was far too hard, and the sheets far too scratchy.' Harry concluded as a sudden feeling of dread and panic washed over her as she realised that this wasn't her bed.
'What the hell had happened, and more importantly where on earth was she?' Harry questioned, as she struggled to open her eyes, only to be instantly blinded by the bright afternoon sunshine which forced its way through the partially tilted blinds and invaded the room.
Not only was the light blinding, but Harry struggled to make out or distinguish any of the random shapes which existed in the room, as her vision appeared blurred and distorted.
However there was no denying the fact that she was not alone, as regardless of her inability to focus she was able to distinguish the shape of someone sat in the corner of the stuffy and unbearably hot room.
Harry tried to swallow down the sudden and terrifying fear that she had been abducted, and that she was now staring at the blurry image of her kidnapper.
'Surely there had to be another logical explanation?' Harry began to reason with herself, as she tried in vain to calm herself and wracked her brain for an alternative and less frightening rationale. However it was difficult to think clearly or concentrate when she felt so ill and confused. The harder she thought, the greater the sensation of fear which gripped her body and mind became as she tried in vain to think of a logical reason as to why she was lying in an unfamiliar bed, in an unknown room with a bearded stranger sitting by her bedside.
Try as she might, she just couldn't think of a different explanation. It all made perfect sense. She had obviously been drugged, and quite possibly hit over the head and assaulted, before being dragged here against her will.
It sounded in part almost ridiculous to jump to such a wild conclusion. However she felt absolutely dreadful, had no recollection of even going out or getting drunk, let alone did she have any idea where she was, and she certainly didn't know any men who possessed a beard, never mind such an unkempt one.
Harry continued to stare at the individual in question, and as she did so her vision began to gradually clear and she was able to conclude that the bearded man was sleeping. She should have noticed that as soon as she became aware that she was not alone she chastised herself, as it was obvious from the small snorts that permeated the stuffy atmosphere of the room that her captor was sleeping.
As if sensing her gaze, the bearded individual jerked awake and then smiled before speaking.
"Hey you're awake." The man softly spoke with a slightly croaky voice, as he stood from his chair and advanced towards the bed with an expression that Harry was unable or too scared to read.
"Stay away from me!" Harry demanded as a look of sheer terror crossed her beautiful face and she strained away from the advances of the bearded stranger.
