Almost four weeks of relative calm is probably as much as she could have expected, really, so as she stands with her hands clenched into tight fists trying to steady her breathing she attempts, and fails quite dismally, to be thankful for that. Almost four weeks since the ring on her finger apparently came as no surprise to anyone at work, and almost four weeks of trying to ignore both Dempsey's and Spikings' reactions everytime there's a situation with even the tiniest element of risk. They haven't told their boss about the baby yet but she's been working on the assumption almost since day one that he already knows, and the raised eyebrows whenever she reaches for her gun tells her she's probably correct. Tomorrow they have a hospital appointment, or a "meeting with a snitch" as it will be referred to when they leave the office at eleven in the morning, and they'll tell him at some point after that. She hopes that once she's seen a grainy photo of their baby and heard his or her heartbeat then she'll be able to relax into this as a real and tangible thing that's happening. Maybe she'll also accept that someone outside their household other than her father can find out without it leading to surefire disaster. She has no idea when she became so superstitious but, like everything else that makes no sense to her lately, she's going to blame it on her hormones.
Of course today would be the day it all threatens to go to hell…
She's not even sure why they're here, why she, Dempsey, Spikings, Chas, Watson, Fry, and what feels like the rest of the entire bloody department, not to mention a handful of uniforms who were already here when they arrived, are about to go into a building where they've been tipped off to a possible hostage situation with a light sprinkling of a potential weapons haul. She knows she can't take the risk of going in, she's not stupid, but she's on edge because she knows Dempsey will absolutely be going in, probably the first one through the door if she knows him as well as she thinks she does. It was never an issue before because if her partner was diving headlong into a situation like this then she was invariably diving in with him, backing him up, keeping him calm, reining him in because she knows how to harness his recklessness into perfect efficiency. The difference now is that he'll be going in without her and she hates that. She hates that it scares her, she hates that it feels like her independence is being taken from her, and she hates that she finds herself angry with him even though he's done nothing wrong.
"Makepeace, you're with me and Chas." Spikings beckons her over but she doesn't take her eyes off Dempsey in the corner of the hastily assembled control point (previously an empty flat opposite the target property), checking his ammo. "We go in as back up if absolutely necessary but it hopefully won't come to that, so we'll be required here for communications and control. Any problem with that?"
"No, Sir." She sighs, once again feels her fists clenching tighter. "No problem."
"Dempsey?" Spikings calls over to him and he walks over to stand next to her, winking at her before turning to their boss. "You'll go in through the back with Watson. Fry and Dave will take the front. We think there are three uniformed officers already inside. Unarmed, unprepared, God only knows what they were thinking. The suspects have a phone line set up as requested which will come through to us here. We'll also be on the radio here, and Harry will be your control. You will report to her when it's safe to do so and if she calls you out, you get the hell out. Understood?"
"Yeah…" He looks like he's about to continue but when he looks at her he seems to think better of it. If anyone can read her, it's Dempsey, and she thinks he can probably feel her bristling anxiety and the growing unease coming off her in waves. "Understood. You good, Harry?"
"As long as you don't try anything ridiculous in there then yes, I'm good." She takes his arm and turns them away from Spikings, lowering her voice, knowing what she's about to say is erring on the side of emotional manipulation but refusing to let that stop her. "I know you don't want me to have to come in there but you know I will if I think you're risking it, so it's your call."
"Harry…" He frowns and she returns it.
"Don't you Harry me in that tone, I mean it." Her voice is a whisper. An angry whisper, but a whisper, nonetheless. She reaches down and gives his hand a squeeze so brief that she doubts anyone has noticed. Angry or not she can't send him in there without it. "Just...do what you need to do and get in and out in one piece so I can breathe again. Okay?"
"Okay." He nods and she feels his hand return her squeeze before he lets go and turns back to Spikings. "Good to go, Chief."
She feels her unease deepen as he walks away, knowing he won't storm in deliberately without thinking, but feeling almost certain that it will happen anyway. He's so committed that he loses sight of anything but the task at hand, which is fine when she's with him to temper his overzealous nature with her more measured approach, but it worries her when he's about to go into possible danger without her.
They've been told the gang has the phone number, that they'll call with any demands. Experience tells her that if they call it means they still think they're controlling the situation and it's all still to play for. The scenario they want, the one she needs, is for minimal force, ideally not a single shot fired, and Dempsey reporting in to say they're on their way out with the suspects apprehended. She has full confidence in him but none of them really understand the motives of this particular gang and the unpredictability is what has her nerves on edge.
She watches him head out, her eyes following him across the road until he ducks down the alleyway that will take him and Watson around the back of the house and disappears from her sight. She steps behind the small table being used as a communal desk, wrapping her arms around herself and fuelling all of her concentration into just breathing. There's nothing on the radio for five minutes, then ten, and after what feels like hours she moves to lean against the wall, needing the support as she feels her panic start to ratchet up again. Then she hears it, the unmistakable sound of gunfire, a sound that nobody should probably be able to recognise quite as quickly as she does. It lasts only a few seconds and then there's silence. The radio crackles into life and her heart leaps as she waits for what she hopes will be Dempsey's voice coming through, her breath catching in her throat when instead she hears Fry, his voice low, his nerves clear.
"Charlie nine to control…" Picking up the radio, she keeps one eye on the door, wondering if perhaps Dempsey might come running across the road at any minute but knowing there's not really a chance of him being the first one out of something like this.
"This is control. What's happening over there, Charlie nine? Over." She's proud of how steady her voice sounds despite the churning in her stomach, the dryness in her throat.
"Not entirely sure, control. Two suspects that we can see, both armed, and we think there's one hostage. Over." Two armed suspects is a better outcome than they could have hoped for, considering they're sending in four experienced officers. Well, three and Fry… "We, uh...we don't have sight of Dempsey and Watson yet. Over."
"What do you mean? How can you not see them? Are they inside? Over." She's aware of her less than calm tone too late and as she sees Spikings cast a sharp glance in her direction she averts her eyes and keeps her focus firmly fixed on the road outside.
"Um, we're not actually sure. From where we are we can only see the suspects, the probable hostage, and two uniformed officers. Over." She hears Fry take a breath and she does the same, trying to control the racing of her heart and her sudden need to sit down. Whichever bright spark thought to bring in a desk and all the equipment they might need but saw no need to bother with even a single chair needs to be reprimanded. She will absolutely volunteer to do it.
"Understood. Please advise if anything changes, Charlie nine. Over and out." She sets the radio down on the table and crosses her arms in front of her, thankful that September seems to have decided to depart with enough of a chill in the air that the looser jumpers she's been wearing don't look out of place and she can breathe slightly more easily.
"If Dempsey and Watson were inside, there's a good chance Fry would have eyes on them from where he is. Hopefully they're assessing the situation around the back and actually considering the wisdom of going in before just charging in there like a pair of battering rams." Spikings looks at her and she nods, knowing he's probably right and thankful for his attempt at some logic just when she needs it most. "Who knows, maybe your partner is finally learning, Sergeant."
The phone rings and she jumps from where she was leaning against the wall, watching as Spikings sets it to record and the voice of one of the gang fills the room.
"Here's what we want, are you listening?" The voice sounds agitated and desperate, a lethal combination in a scenario where there are way too many people armed.
"Yes, we're listening." Spikings looks at her and she waits.
"You better listen. We want out of here with this hostage and with our stash." The suspect sounds young, early twenties perhaps, and he quite possibly has no idea what he's got himself into. "We don't want any trouble from you, just a car and a guarantee there won't be any fuzz following us the minute we leave."
"We can get you a car, we can make sure you won't be stopped, but you're going to need to leave your hostage behind." Spikings stays calm, or sounds it anyway. She reminds herself to take a breath. "Can we make an agreement on that?"
"Not a chance, we're taking him with us." He sounds even more agitated and it makes her nervous. "Make it happen or nobody gets out of here."
"Bloody hell." Spikings runs his hand over his head as the call ends.
"Sir, could we perhaps...let them take the hostage? Intercept somewhere along the way?" She knows that isn't the correct procedure and she knows too she's about to be overruled but she has to try. "It might pacify them a little at least, and we wouldn't be looking at a pressure cooker situation like the one we have now. I mean-"
She stops because once again there is the clear sound of gunfire coming from across the road. Again she holds her breath and waits for it to stop. This time the phone rings almost right away.
"You've got one dead copper in here now, is that enough for us to make a deal or do you need a couple more?" The tone is scarily matter of fact and it makes her blood run cold. "A car, a guarantee nobody will follow us, and no more crap about us not taking the hostage with us. Understood?"
"You know, if you have actually just killed a police officer, you have just made it much more difficult to broker a deal for yourselves…" Spikings keeps talking but she hears nothing beyond killed a police officer.
In the absence of a chair she moves back to the wall and sinks down to the floor, concentrating on breathing slowly and regularly, trying to contain the swirling winds of panic rising up inside her. It's not Dempsey, it can't be. Fry couldn't even confirm he was inside, and he's a good shot in situations like this, a great shot, he's fast and he has reflexes like nobody she's ever known. Her brain knows that but the rest of her body seems too afraid to believe it. Her heart is pounding and she feels herself instinctively reach an arm down to her belly, her hand resting softly on her abdomen, not sure if she's trying to reassure their baby or herself that Dempsey is okay. Not that she can possibly know.
"Harry. Harry." Spikings voice cuts into her panic and she's surprised to find him down on her level, looking at her with obvious concern.
"I'm fine, Sir, really. Sorry, I'll-" She moves to stand up, remembering that he doesn't officially know she's pregnant yet, even if she's almost certain that he actually, unofficially, has a very good idea, but he stops her with a hand to her shoulder and she sinks back down gratefully. When Dempsey strolls out of there as cool as ever, she might have to murder him for this anyway.
The phone doesn't ring again and there's nothing from the radio. There's also no further gunfire, which she has to choose to take as a good thing, even if there's a portion of her panicked brain wondering if it's because everyone but the suspects is lying dead in there. Come on, Dempsey, come on...
"Charlie nine to control…over." She has no idea how long she's been holding her breath when Fry's voice eventually comes over the radio, and they all turn to look towards the table where the radio is.
"Control. What is it, Charlie nine?" Chas gets to the radio first and she's relieved because right now the table feels like it's miles away from where she's sitting and she isn't sure her legs are even still functioning.
"Suspects apprehended, control...we have a hostage in shock but otherwise unharmed. We have, um...one officer down here." She gets slowly to her feet, fighting the urge to grab the radio and scream at Fry to tell her who it is. "SI10 all accounted for, control. Uniformed officer down. Over."
She doesn't want to rejoice at the loss of any officer but she's so relieved that it isn't Dempsey that she feels sick, feels like she might fall down again despite having only just got back to her feet. Taking a deep breath and running her thumb over her engagement ring, she nods and listens as Chas responds. As she glances up and across the street she sees Fry bringing out who she thinks is the hostage, followed by Watson and Dave, each dragging a handcuffed suspect with them and bundling them into two waiting police cars. She watches as an ambulance crew and a handful of uniformed officers run in, and finally she sees Dempsey coming from around the back, the same way he went in what feels like hours ago.
It takes every ounce of control she has not to launch herself across the damn table and out of the door, in no small part because the shaking in her legs doesn't fill her with much confidence that she would actually make it. When he walks back into the flat his eyes go right to her and she meets his gaze, not looking away even when he turns to Spikings as their boss speaks up.
"What the hell happened in there, Lieutenant?" She knows that's Spikings' concerned gruff tone rather than his angry one, and Dempsey knows it too.
"We couldn't get in fast enough, Chief." He runs his hand through his hair and frowns, and she knows he'll be blaming himself. "That cop was down before we could do a damn thing. I don't know if they were trying to prove a point, or what...dammit, maybe if we'd gone over there two minutes earlier, if we'd-"
"It wouldn't have made any difference, you know that. If a suspect is prepared to shoot a cop then a couple of minutes here or there won't make a blind bit of difference." She speaks up, cutting him off before he goes any deeper, and walking over to him. She squeezes his arm and turns to Spikings. "Sir, if we could have a few minutes to get some air?"
"I think we're probably about done here anyway for now, Sergeant." He nods and thankfully looks like he's happy to leave Dempsey in her hands. "Go on."
She walks outside and around to the side of the building where she can lean against the wall, watching Dempsey as he follows her. For a few long seconds neither of them says a thing, they both seem content to just look at each other, perhaps taking a moment to process that they're fine, that yet again they have emerged from danger unscathed.
"Are you okay?" She reaches for him, intending only to offer a touch to his arm or a squeeze of his hand, but finds herself pulled against him, wrapped tightly in his arms.
"I'm okay." He mumbles faintly against her hair and she buries her head into the side of his neck. "Harry, you're shaking."
"I'm fine." She is fine now that she knows he's okay, but it seems to be taking her body a while to catch up and to flush out the panic she seemed to have been drowning in while she waited. "I just hate that I couldn't go in there with you. We're partners, we go into these things as a team, and I was just left waiting, with no idea what was going on. All we knew was that someone had been shot, we didn't know who, and this is how it's going to be now, and I-"
"There's no way you could have gone in there, you know that." His tone is firm and even though she knows he's right, it frustrates her, frustration bordering once again on anger as she feels like the weaker half of the team, as ridiculous as she knows that is.
"Yes, I do know that. I'm well aware that for the next six months there's nothing you would like more than to wrap me in cotton wool and keep me out of danger but it doesn't mean I have to like it." She sighs and pulls out of his embrace slightly, looking up at him. "I don't know how to do this, Dempsey. I don't know how to be the one who waits around hoping you're going to be okay when all I want is to be in there with you making bloody sure that you are."
"I want you in there with me too, you know that." He raises his voice just slightly and she senses his frustration too. She fully expected they would have fought about this before now but it was probably always going to be triggered by something like what happened today, so she's not surprised it seems to be about to hit them. "You can't take the risk, Harry, it's as simple as that."
"And that's your decision to make, is it? I can't possibly be allowed to make any decisions for myself now that I'm carrying your precious heir, is that it?" She's yelling at him louder than she intended to and she knows that's not a fair accusation. She really did just want some air, she wanted to make sure he was okay, yet somehow she's out here venting at him about something she doesn't really even disagree with him on. "Sit in a chair, Harry, try not to move until April, is that the order you'd like to give?"
"Damn right!" He yells back and his eyes are blazing as he steps back and waves his hands vaguely at her. "I know you think you're some kind of goddamn superhero, Harry, but you can't pretend you're not pregnant just because it might screw up your work day."
"I can't do what?! For weeks I was sick every bloody day, Dempsey, I barely have a single item of clothing that feels comfortable any more, I feel like shit and I look horrendous almost all of the time, I'm tired, and I still have months of this to go. So don't you dare stand there and tell me I'm pretending I'm not pregnant, whatever that even means." She shakes herself free of his hold and takes a step back, taking a breath and lowering her voice, aware that their colleagues are just around the corner. "I am, unfortunately, well aware that I'm pregnant."
They fall silent and as she realises how that sounded she feels a lump forming in her throat, cursing her temper and her hormones yet again. Tentatively, he reaches for her, his hand brushing slowly over her shoulder, and she sighs at the comfort his touch provides and the relief that he doesn't hate her for what she just said.
"Oh, I didn't mean that, little one, I really didn't." She looks down and rubs her fingers across her belly before looking up at him, unable to do a damn thing to prevent her eyes filling with tears. "I didn't mean it like that, you know that, I'm just…"
"Stubborn, frustrated, tired, having a baby with someone who sometimes behaves like an overprotective ass?" She laughs softly and he pulls her gently towards him. She's grateful for the solid support of his warm chest as she leans against it.
"Yes, all of those things, actually." She takes another breath and lifts her head to look at him, smiling as he runs his thumb across her cheek to catch the one traitorous escaped tear. "Okay, I'm just going to be honest with you. I was scared today. I had no way of knowing if you were going to come out of there alive and I panicked. It's different when we're both in a situation like that because, you know how it is, the adrenaline takes over and pushes the fear out of the way, but when you're the one waiting outside...well, the fear wins. I just can't...I can't even begin to think of you not being around to raise this baby with me, Dempsey."
"There is no danger of me not being around. You think I'd be reading all those books if I wasn't planning on driving you crazy every minute of the day when this baby gets here, huh?" He smiles again and she manages a slightly wobbly one in return. "Something like today is never going to be without risk but I did everything by the book in there, Harry, I promise you that. I swear, if you had been in there with me, you would have been asking how the hell they substituted me with someone much calmer without you noticing."
"Could we keep him, this substitute of yours?" She's still going to struggle with this, she knows herself well enough to know that, but she does find herself breathing slightly more easily at his words.
"We can give him a trial, see how long he lasts, I guess." He grins again. "There's one thing you're wrong about though, princess."
"What's that?" She frowns, pretty sure their disagreement is over but wondering where he's going with this.
"I know you feel like crap, and I know you hate that nothing fits, and I know how much the tiredness is getting to you, but if you really think you look bad then you're crazy." He moves his hands to gently cup her face and she realises she stopped caring a good while ago that they're still on the clock and their colleagues and boss are inside the building they're leaning against. "I know you're going to scrunch that cute little nose up at me and maybe throw in an eye roll too, but I'm going to say it anyway. You're always gorgeous, Harry. I mean, hell, I've been staring at you since the day we met, that's hardly any secret, but I have to tell you that you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now."
"You have to say that now that you're stuck with me." She gives him a roll of her eyes, for effect, mostly. "Do you think...there's any chance this baby won't be stubborn, impulsive, maybe a little bit reckless, and God knows what else?"
"Not a chance in hell." He shrugs and she knows he's probably right. They brought this upon themselves and it's too late now. He runs his thumbs gently over her cheekbones again, the touch he knows she loves, the one that always soothes her, no matter what. "If the kid gets your eyes and my endless charm though, I think he'll do okay."
"Hmm, I think it's a little more random than that. I suppose all we can do is wait and see." She feels calmer but she still wants nothing more than to collapse onto the sofa, curl up against him, and not move again until she absolutely has to. "Do you think there's any chance Spikings will let us go home now?"
"It's always worth a shot, babe." His smile is so soft and sweet she wonders briefly if anyone would notice if she just curled up against him where they stand and saved themselves the drive home.
"I really don't think we need anymore shooting today, Dempsey." She leans in and kisses him before taking his hand and squeezing it quickly before letting go. "Perhaps we could try just asking him nicely."
"Sure, that's a plan too." He moves a hand down to rest on her lower back as they turn to walk back inside the flat. "Maybe I'll leave that one to you."
"Perfectly fine with me. You should know by now not to underestimate my determination when there's a comfortable sofa with a Dempsey shaped pillow calling me." She's almost sure Spikings won't argue but she's willing to go through the motions anyway. "Come on, let's catch him while he's probably still grateful today didn't end in a total bloodbath."
They don't make it back inside the door because Spikings is already outside and standing on the doorstep, watching as the last of the police cars and the ambulance pull away and the street starts to return to normal.
"Everything alright?" He glances at her first, then at Dempsey, a faint frown in place.
"Yes, Sir, everything's fine." She sighs and feels Dempsey step closer to her, his hand again settling on her back. "We were wondering if maybe we could-"
"Go home, both of you." He cuts in before she has a chance to finish and she bites back a smile at him knowing exactly what she was about to ask. "Good work today. Very...restrained on your part, Dempsey. Perhaps some of Sergeant Makepeace's conduct is finally starting to rub off, eh? I'll see you in the morning."
"Thank you, Sir. See you in the morning." She grins and takes Dempsey's arm, leading him away before he can say anything to possibly cause their boss to have a change of heart. Stopping at the car, she turns to him and grins a little wider. "See, I knew my good habits would start to rub off eventually. Stick with me, partner, and you might even have quit junk food by the time this baby arrives."
"Steady on, honey, there's good habits and then there's total insanity." He smirks and she knows this is a battle she won't ever win.
"You can drive, I'm tired." She hands him her car keys and smiles. "And actually, now you've mentioned junk food...maybe pizza tonight would be rather nice."
"Harriet Makepeace, sold on junk food. I never thought I'd see the day." He holds up his hands before she can offer a retort. "And before you say it, I know, it's not your fault. The baby wants pizza, which means it's still not your fault, it's mine, I get it."
"You're learning, Dempsey." She kisses him quickly and opens the car door, wanting nothing more than to get home and get into her pyjamas. "You're definitely learning. Let's go home."