Back to post-Daish, a week after chips and a side of Dempsey.
Dempsey feels Harry on his left side, like a three legged race with ammunition, they're better together. They're better at everything together and he's let all sorts of words out lately. Words of love, of going to America. His mother and all about his family. Last week she stayed over after he'd watched her, with undisguised amusement, attack a large bowl of fries, chips… whatever. She's only ever nibbled a few of them from his regular order of a basket of barbecue chicken at pay day drinks, so to see her dive in with such relish was unusual. She's been letting the layers of herself fall away lately and he almost wants to touch her to make sure she's still there, on his left, his guardian angel.
She was pale this morning. but content and sated by the time they'd left his bed, after she'd turned up unexpectedly the night before and, for reasons he can't work out, needing him. Dempsey hated the way she'd looked past him, cautiously, as if he had another woman around. He had steered her wordlessly into his bedroom and spent all evening making sure that she knew she was loved.
She had woken him up early this morning with a passion he can't quite believe he's capable of inspiring. He'd looked down at her and seen tears slip from her eyes, and he'd had to say he loved her because it was true. She'd replied in kind, with a nervous smile that has remained in place and worries him. He wants to shout from the rooftops.
"Dempsey? Makepeace?" Watson says quietly from his cover, by the door of the warehouse, standing with Fry. "Ready?"
Dempsey has long been able to navigate his mind. One part is almost permanently tuned to Harry, the rest is thinking one step ahead of whatever case they're working on. In the middle is the chaos of domestic life. Right now that's no active. It's him and Harry and these bastards. He nods and she does the same. They've all got the advantage of surprise. Harry is tense beside him, waiting for her moment and he's never been so glad to have her here. He can't imagine Joyce handling this or trusting her, even this morning he'd taken her advice and they'd both worn the bullet proof vests. Her look had been firm and he'd wanted to please her.
He starts the engine of the lorry, vaguely aware that he'd never told anyone he'd never had a licence to drive these dammed vehicles. Much like the pilot's licence he'd acquired by osmosis, he'll get the job done. One rev and he floors the accelerator as hard as he can, his toes could touch concrete if that were possible. The vehicle protests like a lover pushed from the bed as, perhaps it too, realised it's the last hurrah and the next stop is the scrap heap of lost dreams. He knows the feeling, hopes it doesn't apply to him and Harry. Across the seat, she offers him a brave smile and he feels better.
He's aiming the truck at the warehouse doors. A late night assessment with Chas determined they were not enforced, made from rotting wood and a weak entry point but the windscreen could easily blow out. Harry ducks beside him
As the lorry crashes through and the small team of drug runners look up in surprise, Dempsey sees Harry dip into the footwell as he opens fire using the swinging cab door as protection, taking out three of the five men easily.
That wasn't in their plan.
She can't stay in the truck, it'll blow up or she'll be crushed. Why the fuck isn't she outside? Then he realises that she's pale faced, and panic-stricken. What in hell's name is that about? He reaches over, grabs her hand and pulls her bodily across the bench seats to his side, his entire being on fire with the tension of her and keeping his own grip. Jesus.
"Get down and cover the back." He speaks firmly at her, even if his insides are churning. He's not dying today and she's not either, life is too damm good. It's not hard at all, not now.
"C'mon Harry, I need you." He pleads to her worried face, and just as if he's switched on a light, Harry seems to collect herself and drops carefully to the floor, landing lightly on the concrete. Then she aims her gun at the stray attacker who falls to the ground at her fire with a curse and a cry.
Thank God. He turns his attention back to the scene ahead of him and dives from the shots, dismissing the feeling that prefers the safety of desk work. One more sucker to take down. They've got this.
XXXXX
"Makepeace?" He can't find her in the deathly quiet aftermath.
Dempsey yells out her name for the second time as the building echos around them. His hearing adjusts after the gunfire and he's feeling horribly uneasy. He glances at Watson and Fry who both look around the warehouse, equally alarmed at her absence.
"Makepeace? Harry?"
"She was right there." Watson says as he cuffs the ginger haired lummox they've been after for the past week. His colleague nods his head behind Dempsey at the vacant space where she ought to be. Their gaze travels past the crates that they used for cover as the bullets unleashed, and the battle-marked truck. There's a question hanging in the air that nobody wants to ask; they were adequate protection weren't they?
"Harry!" Dempsey shouts again and there's nothing. He feels a chilled pain creep through his body and it's not where he's ripped off his bullet proof vest. "No! C'mon Harry, where the fuck are you?"
He slips through the cases and looks at the bullet holes that came back further than they'd anticipated. He feels sick.
"I'll go this way," Fry unexpectedly takes control seeing his obvious concern. "You head to the back. We've got all the suspects in the van."
"Thanks, Fry." Dempsey is grateful as he heads to the darkness at the back of the building, splashing through a puddle of the water which drips from a broken pipe. "Harry?"
There's a faint call of his name, her tone far less clipped and high pitched with anxiety. Darting towards the sound, he's already calling for back-up before he see her. She's on the cold floor looking a little dazed, not an expression he associates with her, out of bed at least. There's faint smile on her face when she realises it's him. "Harry, are you okay?"
He kneels down to investigate, taking her pulse and brushing her hair from her eyes.
"I can get up." She says weakly and there's no point preventing her, so he tries to help instead, holding out a hand and then putting an arm around her waist, more reassurance, but she leans in anyway.
"Harry, did you hit your head?" He notes that she's wobbling on her legs.
"I'll be okay." She frowns and moves her hips. "My back is a bit sore. I had to dodge a bullet."
The pipe behind them took the hit, and he shivers as he looks at the water dripping like blood. There's a subtle movement in his arms and Dempsey realises that she's almost certainly not okay; she's using him as a support. If he were not here, she'd fall down. He yells out for an ambulance and hears Fry confirming he'll do it.
Carefully he carries Harry outside into the fresher air away from prying eyes. He sets her down on the wall, checks her pupils and notes they look normal but a little darker than usual. He carefully looks over her head, and she flinches at the quails egg sized lump on the crown of her head when his hands find it under the thickness of her hair.
"Shhh, I'm sorry." He kisses her cheek without thinking.
Fry interrupts them to tell him that Chas is on the way and so is an ambulance.
"Can you feel your arms and legs?" She nods.
"Wriggle your toes?" Harry confirms with another nod. Dempsey feels her feet move in her boots.
He is a little more reassured. It's a near-miss and she's clearly winded by the speed. It happens. He's always hidden it but hitting concrete hurts a lot and recently, as they've become closer he's less able to hide the pain as she reads him like a book and sees the bruises on his body in bed. He recalls the fist fight in the barn and how she'd flinched with every hit to his body and looked after him later.
The paramedics can determine anything else he thinks but as her eyes start to flicker and shut, he worries again.
"No, Harry you gotta stay awake honey." Dempsey gently rubs her arm and she grumbles at him. He grins, she can still tell him off, that's a good start.
To his relief, there's the call of his name and the paramedics quickly take over. The sooner he knows, she's okay, the quicker they can both relax.
They ask the same queries that he has. Running checks over Harry's eyes, they check her blood pressure and heart rate, both are raised and he sits beside her, overriding her dismissal of the checks and apologising when she tells a young blonde paramedic - Anna - to leave her alone.
Harry is not herself, he knows this as she's never this sharp with anyone. Her movements are slower too. A real bear with a sore head. The paramedics have concluded she'll have to go to hospital 'to be sure'. Thankfully Chas is here to oversee the clean-up. Dempsey doesn't want to leave her for a moment.
She slurs at him from the gurney; "James, babe."
He's grateful that the ambulance doors are closed, he looks at Anna who doesn't seem to worry but he feels he owes her an explanation anyway.
"We're partners, outside work. They… huh… they don't know she's my someone yet." He explains. Harry must be suffering. She gives him plenty of earache when he calls her honey or baby, even in the car when there's nobody around. She calls him babe and honey herself, but only ever at home. Like all things in life, she's precise and hasn't made an error yet.
Anna nods and smiles, "She's in safe hands, we tend to take all head injuries to hospital these days, just as a precaution. They'll almost certainly send her home today."
He nods, keeping Harry's cold hands in his warmer ones.
Anna explains. "She'll probably need someone with her. Do you live with her?"
"I'm on trial period, this might earn me extra points." He doesn't mean it, he adores being under the same roof. Her words of disapproval are always given with smiles as she directs him to the right side of the bed, or left in his case.
The beeping of the heart monitor increases and it interrupts his thoughts. He looks in alarm at his partner as she struggles to speak and Anna flies into action, lowering an oxygen mask over his partner who is fighting it off. "Harry, c'mon easy now."