They'd been waiting for two hours in a small room. Harry felt detached from everything going on around her. She was barely aware of the sounds and smells of the hospital, trolleys rattling, buzzers, the smell of antiseptic. Chas paced, every now and then going out into the corridor and returning shaking his head. Spikings sat reading a copy of Reader's Digest; he'd been on the same page for half an hour. He'd given up suggesting that Harry went home to wait.

When they'd arrived they were ushered into a side room, the hospital staff seemed to know that Dempsey was a police officer injured in the line of duty.

Harry had given his details to a stoney-faced receptionist, his date of birth and address; she'd hesitated when asked for next of kin but Spikings intervened and said 'Harriet Makepeace here is his partner.' She knew he wasn't going to elaborate on what kind of partner as he gave her a tight smile.

Dempsey had been rushed to surgery and they'd heard nothing since.

Half an hour later a tired looking young woman in a white coat came into the room accompanied by a nurse. She sat down, I'm Dr Jo McKenna. 'Mr Dempsey is still in surgery, he has a punctured lung and has lost a lot of blood. They've managed to remove the bullet but he has a long way to go.' She sighed 'at the moment he's medically critical.'

She looked directly at Harry and said in a softer voice 'what I suggest is that you all go home and get some rest. He'll be in theatre for another few hours and then in recovery. You're going to need your energy for the days ahead. Go home and get some sleep now.'

'I can't' Harry started to protest.

'Harry' Chas sat down beside her. 'You're not going to help him by wearing yourself out.'

Spikings led her to the car, she'd insisted she wanted to go home, had refused offers of a bed for the night from both Chas and Spikings. She needed to be alone.

Alone with her maelstrom of thoughts and emotions.

Harry woke suddenly at 3 am, as the memory of the previous day seeped into her consciousness. She was bone weary but her mind was racing, unwilling to let her fall back into the welcome oblivion of sleep. She allowed herself a moment of hope, a glimpse into the future to a scenario where Dempsey recovered. She would tell him, she would tell him everything. Even if he didn't feel the same she would tell him, she would kiss him, even if it was only once; just one time she wanted to show him how she felt about him.

She shook away the thoughts, and instead thought of the darkness, the gaping hole he would leave in her life. The doctor's words 'medically critical' played on repeat in her brain. Harry knew for certain that she wasn't going to get any more sleep so she went downstairs and made herself the strongest coffee she could tolerate.

An hour later she was back at the hospital, walking the corridors which were hushed now with only occasional footsteps and muted voices.

A nurse took her to the intensive care ward and pointed towards the end bay.

The man in the bed was unrecognisable as the vital, healthy man he'd been only hours earlier. He was pallid, his hair plastered against his forehead. His heart rate beat a steady rhythm in green light on a machine beside his head. Tubes lead beneath the blankets, into a cannula on his hand and to an oxygen mask that covered the lower part of his face. He looked diminished, weak and vulnerable. Harry sat down, reached out and took his hand.

'Dempsey, James…it's Harry.' She felt foolish talking to him as he lay there unmoving, not responsive. He was usually so animated, so full of life, by now she knew his every expression, they could communicate so much without the need for words.

As the hours went by Harry relaxed into the one-sided conversation. She told Dempsey the gossip about Fry's new girlfriend that she'd heard from Chas and had been saving to tell him. She told him about her father and his new hobby of old time dancing. She talked about the birthday party she'd been invited to in a few weeks' time. A party she had hoped to take him to.

He had somehow become her plus one for these events, she no longer assumed he had other plans. She'd tell him the date with the certainty he'd be available and he always was. He'd turn up on her doorstep at the agreed time, irresistibly handsome in a dark suit, his arms full of flowers. She thought back to a friend's engagement party a few weeks' earlier.

The evening was coming to an end. The happy couple had managed to fall out and make up again and were now swaying together on the dancefloor. The effects of the champagne were beginning to wear off and Harry suddenly felt exhausted. She laid a hand on Dempsey's shoulder and leaned in, her lips almost brushing his ear, 'let's go.' He leapt up only too happy to leave the dregs of the party.

She held onto his arm as they retrieved their coats and as the cold night air hit her she felt the full effects of the champagne, she felt giddy, reckless.

'Where are we going?' She asked, looking up at him.

'Where do you want to go Princess?'

'Your place or mine?'

There was a slight pause before he broke into a slow smile. 'I'm closer' he said as he hailed a passing cab.

They sat pressed together in the cab, hand in hand laughing about the events of the evening.

At Dempsey's flat she gave a moan of pleasure as she kicked off her shoes. He leaned against the doorframe watching her, his tie loose around his neck, his hair ruffled, he seemed shy somehow. 'You want some coffee Harry?'

She wandered through to his bedroom and lay out on the bed, pressing her face into the pillow to inhale his scent. She felt a thrill of anticipation.

The next thing she knew she was emerging from a fog of sleep. Dempsey was on the other side of the bed, his arm slung across her. Her dress lay folded over a chair; she was still wearing her underwear and camisole.

She disentangled herself and shuffled back from him, embarrassed now. She trusted him enough to know that nothing would have happened, she was confident that he would never take advantage of her.

Dempsey gave a low moan and stirred, rubbing his face. 'Hey Harry' he reached across to lay his hand on her shoulder. 'You feeling okay?'

Harry became aware of her heavy head, her dry mouth. 'Not bad considering. What happened last night? You were making coffee and then...'

He pushed himself up to lean against the headboard. 'I brought you some coffee and found you sparked out in my bed.' He shrugged, 'got in beside you, you know my sofa's a killer to sleep on.'

'And my dress?'

'I tried to wake you, reckoned you'd be mad at me if it got crumpled, but you were dead to the world. I uh.. took it off for you.' He looked sheepish. 'Hope you don't mind…wanted you to be comfortable...nothing happened.'

'I know.' her voice softened 'I trust you..after last time. God it sounds as if I make a habit of this.'

Dempsey raised an eyebrow 'well I didn't like to say anything.'

Harry knew they were back to being just good friends, the barrier between them that had started to fall last night had sprung back into place overnight.

'Least I can do is repay you by making you some tea,' she said as she slid out of bed, painfully self-conscious of her lack of clothing. She grabbed Dempsey's dressing gown and went into the kitchen, oblivious to the look of sadness on his face as he watched her leave.

She squeezed his hand harder as if to communicate everything she wanted to say, there was no response and she sat back heavily in the chair, still clutching his hand.

'Come back to me James' her voice faltered 'I can't do this without you.'