"Thank you control, this is Charlie Five, over and out," Makepeace enunciated as only she could. Her eyes had remained on Dempsey throughout the whole radio interaction. She reached down, to put the radio back into its holder in her car, a white Escort cabriolet, and smiled at him, happy in the sunshine, happy to see him, happy the case was more or less, over. She had to work hard to ensure the smile didn't turn into a fully-fledged grin. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

"Boy, it's good to see you," said Dempsey, looking at her in appreciation, with a warm tone.

"You may have said that before," she replied in her beautifully clipped voice.

"So, Makepeace you back now, or what?" he asked, managing to look both cheerful and unsure at the same time.

"I am, Dempsey. Are you?"

He nodded.

"Can we go somewhere and talk, please?" she asked urgently, but still rather formally for his liking, after everything they'd been through.

"Okay," he agreed slowly.

After speaking to the uniforms, and leaving them to wait for the police diving team to recover the car from the water, they drove to a small park nearby, sprinkled liberally with toddlers and dog walkers, who were enjoying the good weather, in the mid-afternoon hours. She parked up, and they walked side by side on the grass, her in a slender jean wrap over skirt and beautiful grey-green floral top that just screamed taste and class, him in a classic black jacket, blue-grey trousers and green checked shirt. They walked slowly, with no real destination in mind, a nice-looking couple, good together. Makepeace slipped her arm into his, their bodies touching. She could feel his masculine arm in her grip, and her leg against his as they walked. The touch sparked voltaic, thick with promise and unspoken emotion.

Harry took a deep breath. "Dempsey, I saw you die. Crazy Joe shot you. His shotgun misfired and he missed the shot, but otherwise you would be dead, at that close range. And after that I kept seeing your body on the ground, bleeding and dead, in my nightmares. And I couldn't cope with the thought of losing you. But then Joyce made me realise that you stand the greatest chance of staying alive with me by your side. So, yes, I'm back."

Dempsey smiled. "You didn't want to lose me."

"I didn't."

"And why was that?"

"Well, no-one wants to lose a partner, do they?" she replied, intentionally misunderstanding.

"And that was all it was?" he fished, knowing there was more.

Harry hesitated. How did she tell him the truth? She decided she needed to. "Obviously that wasn't all it was, Dempsey. Working together, so closely, all this time, I've developed feelings for you, and I find it difficult to both understand what that means to myself, and explain it to you."

"Feelings, Harry?"

"Yes, feelings Dempsey."

"What kind of feelings?"

She sighed. She had started, so she would finish. "The kind of feelings between a man and a woman; emotional, erotic, those kind, Dempsey. You're good looking, even though I tried to deny that to myself. You're brash and arrogant, yes, but I trust you. You are loyal and very good at your job, and although your methods are frequently unorthodox, I've come to appreciate them. I liked being with you at work. I began to wonder if I wanted more."

Dempsey started at her incredulously for a moment, and then he grinned.

"I knew it!" he exclaimed. "You're falling for me!"

"Falling?" She queried, suddenly tired. "It's more like fallen. Head over heels." she added quietly. They had stopped walking and Dempsey stood facing her. He was looking at her intensely, his face unreadable.

"I suppose you don't feel the same," she added, with sadness.

Dempsey rubbed his hair, at the back of his head, elbows in the air, a habit he had acquired when he was trying to speak honestly, to get something across.

"Harry, I've been in love with you forever. You're the hardest working, bravest, smartest, toughest and most beautiful woman I've ever known. How could I not love you?"

Harry just stared at him, failing to comprehend his response.

"Pardon?" she asked stupidly.

"I love you too Harry," he shouted out loud, causing passers-by to look over. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him for a long embrace. She was too shocked to feel the embarrassment she normally would in this situation, and she was too busy enjoying the feel of his body next to hers. She had touched him before, hugged him, been carried by him even, but not after she had just opened her heart to him. And him to her. She felt that she was in shock. But even through that, she was aware of him holding her, the smell of him, his glossy hair, his warm body and his heart beating in his chest. She never wanted this moment to end.

She wasn't a very demonstrative person usually, but she knew he was. She closed her eyes and leaned heavily on him, savouring the intimacy. Somewhere, her inner voice repeated in her head, over and over again, that he'd just said he loved her. Loved her. Her.

She couldn't believe what she'd told him, even though it was all true. She'd been struggling with her feelings towards him for months now, and she never found it easy to talk. To anyone. Ever.

After what seemed like a very long time, and yet not long enough, they separated. Dempsey still held her hands, like he never wanted to let go. His face had a lopsided grin now, and his dark eyes twinkled with something she thought she recognised as pure animal lust. She recognised it, because she was sure her eyes had the same look.

Dempsey's breathing was ragged, as if he had just run some distance. His hand reached for her face, made contact with her cheek, and she swore she could feel static electricity in his touch. His eyes dropped to her lips, and she saw his desire, unmistakable now. He leaned towards her, and their lips brushed, slowly, gently, but with the promise of more. She'd kissed him before, whilst playing some of their undercover characters, when they had pretended to be in a relationship, as Sharon or Debbie or Lu, and liked it, although she'd never been able to admit it. This was different; they were themselves.

"I really want to do things to you," he breathed, his face still close to hers. "I've wanted you for so long. But I know Spikings will expect us back in the office now. What do you say, office first and then back to yours?"

She nodded, unable to speak. But she needed another kiss first. She reached for his hair, entwining her fingers in the long, dark locks. She pulled him into a kiss, longer this time, and their tongues explored each other's mouths and they started to lose control. She could feel the swelling in his jeans, and the thought of what it could lead to, was almost too much. She broke away, breathless and a smile lit up her face.

"I love it when you smile," he commented. "I also love it when you want to kiss me. God, Harry, you're all my dreams rolled into one."

They walked back to the car, holding hands and looking at each other. There was so much still left to say, but the most important things they'd covered. The sun was still warm, as they drove to the office. Dempsey had abandoned his car and given chase on foot, so it made sense to take her car for now. He looked around the interior, happy to be inside again, after 4 lonely weeks without the vehicle or its beautiful driver.

Spikings was happy in his own way to see Makepeace, and she was overjoyed to see him, and be back in SI-10. It had been an emotional roller-coaster of a day. Very unlike her, she hugged Spikings, and his face went from surprise, to discomfort, and then a rare smile. He looked shrewdly at Dempsey and missed nothing of their new closeness. Something seismic had shifted, and despite his tough exterior he was sensitive to it.

"Welcome back Makepeace. So, you two have finally sorted things out?" he barked. "About time too. I don't need to know the details, but I'm happy for you both. I do, however, need to maintain plausible deniability. But Harry, I hope you know what you've taken on with this damn Yank. Now what happened at the docks?"

They explained what had happened and began to write their report together. Sitting next to each other, Harry found it hard to concentrate on the task at hand, every fibre of her being screamed at her to kiss Dempsey. She was hyper aware of his presence, his movements, his touch. This was a more recent development for her, and she struggled to make sense of it. Dempsey appeared to take it in his stride, teasing her and joking as he always had. As the sun set, they decided to call it a day. Spikings didn't miss them leaving together in one car. Harry drove, as Dempsey rested his hand on her thigh, and it affected her concentration in a way she couldn't fully understand. Luckily the traffic was light.

They decided they needed to eat when they arrived, and Harry had dried pasta and the ingredients for a simple sauce in her kitchen cupboards. Pasta was still a relatively new food, and quite a treat. They both chopped onions and garlic, tomatoes and pepper, and some mushrooms to make the sauce. Dempsey's Italian mother had ensured that, although lazy at times, he knew his way around the kitchen. He came up behind Harry and his arms encircled her waist. He rested his head against hers. It felt so natural, so right, they fitted together perfectly. It just seemed a genuine, normal progression from work colleagues, to familiar, everyday work partners, to close friends and then into a relationship.

"I never realised this was what I wanted with you. I thought at first, you hated me. Then, I was so convinced it would never work," said Harry thoughtfully.

"I never hated you, Harry. Just the opposite. I knew, from almost the first moment I saw you. I wanted you in my bed, in my life, in every way possible. I'm sorry I was so stupid about it. I'm sorry you thought I was sleeping around. I wasn't, but I was trying to make you jealous, and trying to distract myself from you."

"You do drive me mad, though. You can be obnoxious."

"I'm good for you Harry. We're great together. I challenge you, and you call me out on my assumptions. I agree I'm obnoxious though. Can you live with that?"

She smiled at his self-depreciating comment. "I can't live without you, it seems," she admitted, to him for the second time.

He kissed her, gently, like she was a precious thing to behold. She knew that this side of him existed, she had seen it, at times. The sensation was exquisite, and she gave herself to the moment, as his lips pressed hers and his tongue slipped into her mouth slowly, as if she might break. Unexpectedly, the timer for the pasta began to beep piercingly, and refused to be quieted. They'd forgotten all about the food. It shattered the moment for now.

They ate next to each other at the table, sipping a glass of wine with the meal, forks chasing the pasta around their plates. The sauce had been delicious, and they were both hungry. She couldn't recall when she'd last eaten a proper meal. They held each other's gaze as they chatted. Eventually, Dempsey broached the subject they were both thinking about.

"Is it too soon for me to stay over?"

Harry looked down, a little shy, despite having been married before. "I'd like you to," she answered. "Why wait?"

She was rewarded by the biggest smile she had ever seen on Dempsey's face.

They almost fell onto each other then, their feelings translating into actions, the waiting of months having made the tension unbearable. They kissed with a need and passion that Dempsey was initially surprised by. He found himself shaking his head in wonder. Who'd have thought that his arctic fox was so hot? Hand in hand, they walked to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, she slowly unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it across the room. Her fingers explored his chest, familiar and yet new. She removed his trousers, noticing the shape of his erection in his boxer shorts. Gently he unbuttoned her blouse, unzipped her skirt, until she was in her satin slip, bra and pants. They sat for a long while, him stroking her through the clothes, almost reverentially, until he removed her remaining underwear and began to kiss her with a seriousness that she hadn't often experienced with him. She didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed; she could see how much Dempsey was enjoying himself and it filled her with pleasure. As they finished undressing each other, they fell into bed, naked, mouths intertwined, licking and sucking across the other's body. In no apparent rush, he touched her intimately all over to see what she responded to the most, and watched her face as he did so. Harry found it refreshing, and was amazed by how pleasurable it was. His American confidence and brashness translated into a fun lovemaking experience for them both, far more sensual than anything the uptight Robert Makepeace had ever offered Harry when they had been married that short while. His touch made her body sing, and she came, unable to hold back, breathing his name over and over again. He slid into her, wearing protection, making her gasp with the sensation, and built to his own climax, still watching her and kissing her. Harry finally realised why it was called making love, as she moved with him, happy and contented.

She lay afterwards, her heart still racing, tangled in his legs, leaning against his chest, appreciating the feel of him, the closeness of him, after all this time of wanting him. Her hands played with his dark hair, loving the feel of it, after admiring it from afar for so long.

"That was..." she murmured, trailing off, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Thank you."

"Oh Harry, I'm happy to please you anytime," he replied with a wide smile. He was stroking her shoulder absent-mindedly and she liked it. They felt asleep together soon afterwards and Harry slept soundly with him in the bed, despite the somewhat unexpected and astonishing revelations of the day.

The alarm woke them both in the morning, a shrill and piercing noise. He rolled over to silence it and it fell to the floor.

"No wonder you are in a bad mood every morning, with that thing," Dempsey exclaimed, but with a contented smile.

Pulling on a raspberry satin dressing gown, that clung to all her curves in the right places as far as Dempsey was concerned, Harry made tea and a coffee for him and then returned to the bed. Putting both the cups down, Dempsey pulled her back into the bed, untying the belt of the robe. He made love to her again, touching her all over, marvelling at how willing she was to give herself to him and enjoying her response to his touch. His heart was filled with love for her, his friend, his partner, his lover. He knew he was never going to tire of this woman; she meant so much to him. They showered together under the steamy, hot water; Harry having given up her usual bath the previous night when he came around. He loved washing her hair, and the way the bubbles ran down the length of her body. They were close to being late for work, but she tore herself away, because it seemed he was unable to. Harry drove him to collect his car, and they arrived in two vehicles.

It was awkward back in the office, both because Harry had returned from leave, and because they were being very careful not to give anything away. Later that morning, Dempsey make her a coffee and sat down next to her.

"I'm struggling, Harry," he said, speaking quietly so they weren't overheard. "I always used to joke with you and touch you before, but now I'm trying to keep it all under wraps and it's killing me."

"I agree. Let's just relax, and be ourselves a bit."

After that, things settled down in the office and the strain they had been feeling, dissipated. They slipped back into their old work routine quite easily and the sharp back and forth repartee flowed without difficulty. When they were alone, they were demonstrative, tactile and loving. They spoke honestly and she loved their new closeness. They stole kisses and had to prevent themselves from making love in the car, although at times it came close.

Once, Chas was with them and in the car, he asked a perceptive question.

"So, there something different about things here. What is it?"

They looked at each other, both unwilling to lie to their friend.

"I know, you two seem happy," he commented again, answering his own question.

"We are happy, Chas. Harry is back, and things are like they should be," said Dempsey, hoping to throw him off the scent.

"No, not just generally happy. Happier together, I mean," he clarified.

Harry decided it was time to tell him the truth. He was a first-class detective after all. "Actually Chas, Dempsey and I have been spending our nights together, as well as our days," she admitted slowly. Dempsey's eyebrows shot up at her frank admission, followed immediately by those belonging to Chas.

"Really?" Chas said, genuinely surprised.

"Really," reassured Dempsey. They were waiting for a suspect, parked on a stake out. Dempsey leaned across and kissed Harry lightly on the lips, to reinforce his statement to Chas.

Chas smiled. "Good luck to you both, I say. You're good together. Always have been."

"Thanks Chas," said Harry, genuinely happy to share her good news. She reached across to hold Dempsey's hand, and he gave hers a squeeze. After another 30 minutes of watching, there was no sign of the man they wanted. Chas radioed in and updated control. Spikings came on and told them to head back into the office. That eveing, they all went to The Pilot pub. Harry was driving, so she was on tonic water. Dempsey had a beer, but he was in no rush to finish it. He sat with Harry, their knees touching discretely under the table. He spoke in a low tone, that he knew she found sexy.

"Hey Tinkerbell, how are you doing?"

"I was just thinking about getting out of here, actually" she replied with an inviting smile. She didn't need to say anymore. He put his bottle down and took her hand. No one commented, as the pair had frequently behaved this way before, but most of the office still didn't know about them.

"Let's go," he responded, already moving to leave. They said goodbye and left and drove to his place this time. They were alternating between their homes, but he felt it would probably only be a matter of time before they moved in together, as they had spent every night in each other's arms for some time. He had never felt this way before about any woman, ever. He literally couldn't be away from her. He was so deeply in love with her, his heart felt like it might burst.

"My Harry," he said, as they walked through his front door. "I'm completely and madly in love with you. I want us to live together. What do you think?"

She smiled. It had been six months, and she had actually wondered if he might suggest it. It had been the best six months of her life. They had had their ups and downs, but they had chosen to be honest with each other and continued to talk to each other about any issues that came up. Harry wasn't a natural talker, but she had tried to keep the lines of communication open with Dempsey's support. She knew it was worth it.

"I'd love that," she agreed, and they made love slowly, lying naked on the grey sheepskin rug. She couldn't believe how good the sex was with him; it was beyond magical. Later, they ate a simple meal together.

She loved what others might consider their complete domesticity. Their jobs were dangerous and unpredictable, and she needed this quiet, simple, down time with him to recharge. She knew he loved her, but despite this they would face their fair share of challenges. Spikings had chosen not to make waves, but she knew at some point, one of them would probably need to leave SI-10, and it was likely to be her that did so. They hadn't talked about children, she suspected he might want a child. He was great with kids. She knew they could deal with all these issues, as long as they kept communicating. She knew she wanted to. It was almost sweet how devoted to her he was, and when other women tried to flirt with him, he barely noticed now, so tuned in to her as he was. Freddy loved Dempsey, and despite the fact that the old man had not a penny to his name, they saw him regularly and he stayed with them from time to time. She hoped Freddy would sell the hall and buy somewhere modern and warmer more locally, so she could keep a better eye on his now failing health.

Dempsey had lost both his parents, and only had a brother to visit him, and he showed no sign of wishing to return to New York, despite Coltraine's death. They saw her friend Angela, and sometimes Joyce or Chas. Dempsey met Butch in the pub sometimes. They had a great life, best friends, work partners and lovers. She washed up and he dried up and they padded up to bed. She had never been so happy. And who did she have to thank? Crazy Joe? Daish? Joyce? She smiled to herself. Actually it was Dempsey.