Thank you for the kind feedback. It's very interesting to read your comments about the blood test and I did debate about putting it in, a lot! This more thoughtful Dempsey is a bit different, I wanted to create a different approach (in chapter 1, Harry asks him he's okay and the suggestion he looks different. A few great stories on here have Harry querying Dempey's commitment given his past. I have too and even created him a black book of numbers! In this story, I wanted him to own that past even if I'm pushing modern values in. He's such a guy that is a bit uncharacteristic but in as much as the change of that bed! I couldn't see any way in which she'd ask him without her being a nun (and yes to the male writers and inconsistency of her being chaste and having many boyfriends - when it suited the plot of course!). I feel it's my least D&M consistent story, even the AU of them being married feels more connected to the series! And then, in some ways, it's easy to write him being in love as I feel he was in lust and then in love later if unable to understand it.

And a thanks for the quality of feedback, it's so good to get a debate going! It's tempting to say 'oh look 70 reviews' but I'd rather have good ones than more, it means a lot, so thank you again!

So we are at the end my friends, goodness it's been long enough. Rating pushing as you'd expect.

And a parting challenge for you all. How about a Christmas fic story challenge? Something from the writers who are here still? Short, sweet or longer?

When he wakes up, the apartment feels empty. The hot water pipes are gurgling as they usually do, but the air feels different. The space is wider, open and nobody else is breathing it in. He knows this by instinct,; rarely does he or Harry miss a hidden suspect.

Dempsey is surprised by the deep seated sorrow that rises on knowing this. A lurch of something that he last felt at JFK when he'd packed his bags and said goodbye to his place of birth. The unfairness of doing what was right and left like a stray dog. It's Spikings' fairness under that Mad Gordon exterior, Chas and ultimately all things Harry, that mean he wants to stay.

It's not like her. He can't have misjudged Harry so badly? Not after last night.

What A Night.

He longed to wake up this morning, bring her into his arms and explore the valley of her breasts. He wonders what may have caused her disappearing act.

Wasn't being in love meant to bring more insight? He knows he's fragile from it. Six months ago, hell, even six weeks ago, he would be relived at being alone if it was any other woman. The idea of breakfast and polite conversation; even letting them down the hall to his kitchen seemed more intimate than the act itself. A contributor to his frequent changes of address was a woman getting too close.

Harry had arrived earlier than he'd expected last night, before his world was entirely upended. Dempsey was pulling out takeaway menus and dithering in an uncharacteristic way about red or white wine, or bubbles. What the hell went with spring rolls? He played Barry White's greatest hits on the stereo and winced at the obvious come on. Swapped him for Al Green and then turned it off in favour of nondescript, inoffensive jazz.

When he heard her knocking at the door, he checked his teeth and hair in the hallway mirror.

As ever, Harry took his breath away, looking cold but wearing a knowing smile and that red dress he recalled from their drunken night at the club. She confessed to be too nervous to eat as he fussy over her, and he smiled in relief and confessed the same. It occurred to him that this was why he'd thought about his intentions. His willingness to account for his past without her having to ask. It's all been an investment.

After their teenage confessions, she slipped onto his lap and moment later, they lurched to his bedroom, stumbling over clothing and laughing at the clumsy attempts to strip each other. There wasn't any shyness, no doubts, simply moments of awe-struck wonder as they explored each other.

Yes, she gasped. There, right there, she directed and he gently slowed them down, fearful of embarrassing himself. Easy, Harry. And then a jolt of longing as he said her name, to her, in his bed.

Harry liked his new bed; she said so in passing, sitting astride his impatient hips, with her arms around him, with a cheeky promise to break it in. He realised that the bed never was the matter. His health wasn't in question - she meant that his word was enough.

He is loved. He knew this as her eyes brightly shone and he gently joined them, with the relief of being connected with no barriers and all the feelings. A first for him in years.

If there was one thing he knew about his partner, it was that giving herself to him, showing those last secrets wasn't easy. As Harry fell apart, knowing he was witness to such an enigma, Dempsey let go of all his own insecurities and took her with him. This was, he concluded, in wonder as he descended from the stars, love. And he had never known this before. He wondered if she had; he suspects not like this.

In the inky light of the London morning, he padded back from the bathroom, cleaned up and reached for her. It was slow and lazy; wet kisses and tongues. Fingertips exploring each other in the darkness and his mouth descends on her, eager to taste and know all of her body. As she rose, he heard her.

"I love you."

Now, he bites his lip, scratches his hair and rolls over in the sheets, tangled around his legs, and sees her dress on the floor lying with his jeans. He frowns, a little worried and listens again. He's about to move, when he alights on the sound of the front door opening with a key. Only she has the one, so he stays quietly still.

"I forgot to get my overnight bag from my car, it felt a bit too presumptuous last night…" Harry appears in his sweatshirt and jogging pants, both dwarfing her frame. "You were fast asleep."

"This woman wore me out," he grins in utter relief and finds his happiness returned.

"And there was I hoping you'd be my lover boy," she all but purrs and he blinks at the term.

"Lover boy huh?"

She nods and puts the bag down and dispenses with her clothing, leaving him astounded by her ease.

"I'm cold," she snuggles up to his side, "wet. I need a little warming up."

"You wanna start something?" Dempsey grins, remembering those words.

"A future?" Harry asks and he agrees.

He can do that, she's all he's got and that's just fine.

THE END