I was watching bits of series 3 (The Cortex Connection and Prizefighter, they are proper idiots in love in both and yes, CocoBacon pillows in the former, I found the scene) and thinking how Dempsey doesn't lie to Harry. He's pretty brutal with the truth, that's where much of the drive behind this story comes.

When he needs to be good at it, Dempsey learns that he is hopeless at lying. He' s also a coward. He had none of this characteristics before he fell in love; he'd told barefaced lies about 'work' to Simone just to get the hell away from her.

Today is a 'sick' day. After he fake coughed down the phone at Chas, Dempsey thumbed through Cosmo again. Be brave, it proclaimed. They've never met Richard, or Harry. Dempsey resolves to go into work tomorrow and he'll take Harry out for a drink - not a date - and tell her then. He has twenty-four hours to rehearse his words.

A knock at the door in the early afternoon disturbs his rehearsal and he hopes it's Chas, maybe his friend could help.

"Ah, who I am kidding?" Dempsey shuffles to answer it, knowing he won't break Harry's confidence.

"Hello, I was going to use my key, I thought you weren't feeling well," Harry says politely, a vision in baby blue on his doorstep.

"You didn't need to knock then," he grouses and feels mean as she holds up a paper bag.

"How are you feeling?" She dishes up the sandwiches "I don't think I can remember you having a day off ill."

"Didn't wanna pass it round the office."

Dempsey wishes she could read his mind, just this once. The longer he leaves this, then the worse it's going to be.

"How have you been?" He settles beside her on the couch, placing his plate on the table to her surprise.

"Are you not hungry? Would you like something else?" Harry ignores his question, concern radiating off her and he wishes he wasn't about to implode her world.

You. Anything you'll give me. "Harry, has Richard said anything to you since the other morning at the cafe?"

"It wasn't a big deal, you need to stop worrying," she says kindly.

"Have you seen him since?" Man, it's gonna hurt.

"He called me this morning but no, not in person," Harry eyes him cautiously, taking a bite from her sandwich.

"He rang me last night," Dempsey takes a breath. "And I wanna say first, that he rang me, said you'd given him this number."

"I wouldn't have done that," Harry protests and he's quick to nod in reassurance. "He was with Freddy last Sunday; he may have got the number there?"

He sighs; "There's more, I'm sorry."

"Dempsey, what is this about?"

"He called me to ask about your romantic history."

"My romantic history?" She puts her plate beside his, and pales.

"I'm being politer than he was," Dempsey feels his heart leap in his throat. "What he was asking was if you slept around."

The words hang between them and he watches her face turn to stone.

"I don't see how that's your business or his," Harry says at last.

"He talked about a long term future but seemed to think that you and I…," Dempsey trails off, unwilling to bring them into Richard's world.

"He thinks what?" She is icy cold with rage. "Don't hold back on my account."

"Richard wanted to know, in his words not mine, if I'd fucked you," Dempsey sits back with a thump, feeling genuinely ill.

"And you said?"

"See you in hell," Dempsey retorts, "and I also told him if he wanted to know stuff, he should talk to you."

"And you took today off to avoid me?'

"It's none of my businesses," he explains urgently. "I didn't wanna overstep."

"Well there's a first," Harry is sharp.

"Why am I in trouble here? You make it pretty clear that it's your life and I'm honouring that, but this guy called me illegally and I don't wanna get dragged into this shit," Dempsey rallies but his heart isn't in it, even if Harry is angry at Richard. Maybe him too.

"You didn't stop to think that I might want to know if the man I am dating thinks I'm an easy lay?"

"Whoa, hang on Harry, nobody said that! I'm telling you now because you should know. I just didn't know how without ruining everything."

Her eyes are bright. "He wanted me to stay for the weekend. Something felt off in the phone call, and I wasn't sure. His manner was strange. He didn't ask me to met his daughter at the cafe and he didn't want me to see her this weekend either."

Dempsey feels hot and cold all at once. He wants to defend her though she's capable of looking after him and herself. He can't imagine Harry going away with that bastard. His anger is dampened when she gives one small sniff.

"It makes more sense now," she says, standing up.

"Harry?" Dempsey reaches for her hand and is grateful she lets him take it.

"Thank you for telling me. I need to make a call," she gives his hand a squeeze and leaves him alone with the lunch virtually untouched.

He plods around the apartment and finally gives up, he can't settle knowing she's upset. If Harry shows him the door, that's how it goes but he's tried. He finds her on the little terrace at the back, smoking.

"How many of those have you had?" He can't cite health grounds, though he's less into cigars than he was.

She hands over the cigarette in silence and he hesitates, before taking a drag, not saintly enough to ignore the erotica of sharing it. He passes it back and watches the smoke escape her lips, a dirty habit from her angelic face. He wonders what she'd look like smoking a cigar and feels his insides lurch with longing.

"I broke it off," Harry tells him, her eyes tracing the evening sunshine.

"The night we had a few drinks, you asked if I thought you were settling."

"Mmmm, no spark," Harry comments. Nothing about him that would make me crawl across a table in the middle of dinner and kiss him."

Dempsey stops that vision entering his head and tries to remember his words. "I wasn't sober enough to say it, but you only deserve the best, Harry. The man that makes you feel stuff inside, not the guy who Freddy thinks is suitable."

"You should have," Harry turns to face him at last, her eyes sore. "I asked."

"I guess I felt you should have a choice."

"But that's it, Dempsey, "Harry says sadly. "Letting me choose isn't much better than Richard. Worse withholding information isn't giving me any control. You tried to protect me by saying nothing and we hate people who do that in any interview room."

She stubs out the cigarette. "You above anyone else should know the most empowering thing people can give to each other."

"I do?" He's lost but he listens, wondering how to make this right.

"Honesty," She tells him.