Set about the episode "Flowers for Van". So lets just say this: Brock and Barbara Jean are still separated, he's still at his condo. And he and Reba are flirtatiously playing poker…ya you know.

Chapter One

"Hey, Redrose! Take it easy! You're scooping up my money like an ex wife!" Brock chuckled, saying the words aloud as he typed them.

Van looked up at the screen, then at Brock. "Are you crazy – did you say Redrose?"

"Yeah, so what?" Brock asked nonchalantly.

"That's Mrs. H! As in Reba, as in your ex wife! I may not be the sharpest crayon on the table but that was not smart, Mr. H!" Van babbled, mixing his idioms along the way.

Reba? She plays poker, she's this good, I just started flirting with her? Brock stared stupidly at the screen, then a smile broke out over his face...

If he played his cards right (NO PUN INTENDED, I SWEAR), he could have some fun here.

LATER

Reba took a deep breath and muttered as she typed, "Since we won't be doing this anymore should we tell each other our real names?

Three houses down, Brock considered this. Smirking, he typed, "Why not?" he couldn't wait to see how she responded to this. "I live in Houston and my name is Brock."

Reba felt her jaw drop. Brock? No…no, no, no, this was very bad! She'd been flirting with her ex all day, and…

She felt her heart in her throat when she remembered the way they'd talked to each other. A certain couple of text bubbles came to mind, causing her to take a long swig of wine.

Goldengod: …last time I played poke face to face with anyone, I lost and had to take her on a date.

RamblingRedrose: How was it?
Goldengod: Not bad. I barely knew her, though – we didn't talk as much as we have.

RamblingRedrose: Yeah, you're pretty easy to talk to, you know. Say, if I win this hand here, you have to take me out, okay? But I guess it kinda depends on our locations ;)

Goldengod: Guess so, but I wouldn't mind.

RamblingRedrose: C'mon, you know I was kidding.

Goldengod: Yeah, but still you seem like someone I could easily enjoy a date with…interested?
RamblingRedrose: If you can find me, Antonio!

Reba went red just thinking about it! She knew what she had to do.

"I also live in Houston, and my name is Kevin."

Brock slammed his laptop shut, but only because he noticed Redrose signing off. He was laughing very hard. But in the back of his mind, he felt a tug of shame. He shouldn't have led her on…what if it had hurt her even more?

No. He'd lost that power to hurt her romantically long ago. She was probably just freaking out…

But in a way, he still did want to talk to her. She'd been so easy to talk to…he'd forgotten what it felt like talk to someone you actually trusted. You didn't even really have to talk about something important, not with Reba. For awhile, he'd forgotten he was talking to this hardened, brokenhearted woman; he thought he was talking to his wife.

As he climbed into bed again, he couldn't stop thinking of her. That always happened, especially lately. Before the separation with Barbara Jean, he had kept her off his mind by drinking, or spending ample amount of time with Henry and Barbara Jean, the golf career. Kyra moving in had, in a way, made things even tenser because she was a constant reminder of her mother, and hence made him so aware of how much he still treasured…Reba.

Enough, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts. She isn't your wife, she's your best friend. No more – you're not going to hurt Barbara Jean the same way you hurt her.

Tonight he tried to focus on how things were between him and Barbara Jean. He didn't understand why she didn't like the daisy's he'd given her (the same ones Van had given Cheyenne). She'd called him after she'd received them and yelled something about "REBAS GARBAGE!"

So she must have known they were re-gifted. If only she wasn't such good friends with Reba she wouldn't have found out…he was a little jealous that she was around Reba so much, actually…

Gosh, she really was in his head.

Back at Rebas, she was still hyperventilating. BROCK!! She had been flirting and connecting with her ex all day. How could that happen…she swore they had nothing in common anymore, but they had talked just like they were made for each other.

"Van!" Reba called, hurrying into the living room. She knew what she had to do. "I've quit poker."

"What?" Van, who had just let go of Cheyenne, who was holding roses, was very surprised. "You've been hooked, how can you quit addictions in one day?"

Reba puffed her cheeks and huffed, pulling at her sweater to air herself from the panic attack. "I got scared out of it."

"Freaky player online?" Cheyenne asked, nodding understandingly.

She nodded. "Yeah…yeah, he's a player. I need a bubble bath." She hurried up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Cheyenne and Van exchanged a shrug. "Someone needs a drink."

"You know what, I think your right!" Reba pounded back down the stairs in two seconds flat, and when she was running back it was with the rest of the bottle of wine.

Brock was reading the newspaper in bed when he thought he heard something rustle. Deciding it was just the fan on his newspaper, he let it go…for a minute. Then he heard a different noise…footsteps. He checked his clock; it was almost midnight. Someone was downstairs, at midnight, snooping around...but who?

He felt his heart pumping faster as the footsteps started up the stairs. His mind raised to an Agatha Christie book-based movie, Sleeping Murder, how the murderer had floated up the steps, arms out, ready to strangle the woman whose mother had been his first victim….

He heard the doorknob jiggle a little, then, slowly, start to turn….

"AHH!" he screamed, jumping under the covers to hide his face. To his surprise, he heard a scream, from whoever had entered his room.

"Who…whose there?" his muffled voice was barely understandable underneath the covers.

"Brock, it's me," he could almost hear the eye roll. He let out a sigh; it was just Barbara Jean.

"Barbara Jean," he sighed, coming out from the covers. "Scared me."

Barbara Jean was standing in a pair of navy blue sweats, her hair in a ponytail. She was breathing rather heavily, and her face was pink and slightly sweaty.

"Did you go for a run here?" Brock asked, disbelieving, putting the details together.

"Yeah. Got pretty bored." Barbara Jean shrugged. She glanced around nervously, tugging at her hair, feeling like a teenager again.

"Bored? Barbara Jean, no one in their right mind goes for a run this late – you could have gotten jumped, or mugged, or-"

"I'm not in my right mind, Brock." Barbara Jean rolled her eyes, as if this was obvious.

"Oh, yeah." Brock sighed. He wasn't very tired anymore. "So…" He wasn't sure what this was about. Why had she needed to speak with him right this second. "How's-"

"Brock, I need to say something…can I sit down?" Barbara Jean interuppted in a rush. Brock was taken aback.

"Sure…go ahead." Barbara Jean sat on the edge of the bed, biting her lip.

"Brock…I'm done. I just don't think we can work, and I want out of it."

There was a long, loud silence that filled in for the time in which Brock tried to comprehend what she was saying. Finally, he slowly asked, "So…basically…you want a divorce?"

Barbara Jean nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do." After an awkward pause while Brocks mouth fell open and he broke their eye contact, she sighed. "C'mon, Brock, enough is enough, you know we couldn't work, and I'm sick of trying to fix something nonexistent."

Finally, Brock nodded. "I agree, Barbara Jean. I mean, it looks like we've tried as hard as we can. The hardest part's just gonna be…breaking the news to everyone else."

Barbara Jean, blushed. "Uh…yeah, well I'm gonna go now." On her way out, she added, "Oh, and don't worry. They all expected it."

"What?" Brock yelled, but she was already out the door. He fumed for a moment. How could she just go and…

Oh, well, he decided, turning out the light. Some things aren't worth overreacting about.