A/N: This is a sequel to the story Bridges to the Heart. This first chapter was actually written for one of the challenges over on the USA Board. The prompt was "Don't look at me like that." Enjoy!

Bobby let himself into the house, exhausted and frustrated after a very long day. It did not surprise him that Barb had already gone to bed. The house was dark, which meant Brian had retired for the night, too. The young man had started another round of chemo, and he was probably feeling run down. He grabbed the mail Barb had left for him off the hall table and looked around for Storm. Deciding she was most likely in the bedroom with Barb, he started up the stairs, undoing his tie.

Instead of going into the bedroom and disturbing Barb, he continued down the hall to his study. Pulling the door shut, he released it before it fully closed. True to her word, Barb never bothered him when the door was closed. She was such a patient, understanding woman. When life began to get out of hand for him and he could feel control sliding from his grasp, somehow, she steadied him. She brought calm to his troubled soul, and he wondered, more and more, how he had ever managed without her.

He dropped the small stack of envelopes onto the desk, walking to the liquor cabinet in the far corner. He filled a tumbler with scotch and returned to sit at the desk, retrieving an envelope that was about the size of a greeting card. Although it was addressed to him, there was no return address. He turned it over to open it, but he was interrupted by a knock as the door opened and Brian poked his head in. "Hey, am I bothering you?"

"Not at all." Bobby dropped the letter on the desk, unopened. "Come on in."

"I thought I heard you in the hall and I saw the light..." He sat in a nearby chair. "Busy day?"

"Very. And long. How was your treatment today?"

Brian grinned. "I may be getting used to this chemo crap. I wasn't as sick today or as wiped out. I was just watching TV with Marcus when I heard you."

Bobby returned the smile. "Oh? And what does Marcus like to watch?"

"Believe it or not, I found a marathon rerun of the old sixties Batman series."

"I remember watching that as a kid. Somehow, it was a lot more exciting when I was six." He looked at the time. "Eleven-fifty-five. I guess it's close enough to midnight..."

He opened one of the drawers of his desk and removed a small wrapped package, which he handed to Brian. "Happy birthday, Brian."

Bobby knew that Barb had gotten Brian a video game system and he'd pitched in a couple of games, but he wanted to give the young man something special, something Barb knew nothing about. Although he loved doing things that surprised her, he found himself increasingly likely to share even the most mundane things with her. The more he let Barb in, past his carefully erected defenses, the closer he wanted her to be.

Brian opened the present and gasped when he flipped up the lid of the box that was under the gold foil. Nestled within the box was a gold pen. Brian looked at Bobby, who gave him a shy grin. "I noticed...the notebook you carry around. You like to write, so I gave you something that will make writing seem...uh, I don't know...more..."

He knew the word he wanted--sensual--but he wasn't comfortable comparing the smooth stroke of the pen and the even flow of the ink with something that brought sex to mind, not with Brian, anyway.

"Fun?" Brian offered.

Bobby offered a half grin. "Okay, we'll go with that."

He knew that Brian had never written with such a pen, and once he did, he'd have trouble writing with anything else. He had a similar pen tucked into the pocket of his jacket. It was about ten years old and he'd had a lot of trouble forcing himself to use any other pen. Maybe it was ridiculous, but he loved the way the instrument... performed. A silent chuckle rumbled through his brain as he returned his attention to Barb's son, who was examining the pen with wonder. "However it writes, it's beautiful. Thank you, Bobby."

"You're welcome." He leaned back in his chair and took a drink. "Did your mom go with you this morning?"

"Yeah. Gram watched the baby. Mom always goes with me," he said with a laugh. "But that's okay. She takes comfort in talking to the docs and taking care of me."

"What are they saying now?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." He scooted his chair closer to the big detective. "Every scan they do shows that more and more of the cancer has receded. The last MRI they did of my noggin showed no trace of the cancer, and my kidneys are clear, too. My kidney functions are almost back to normal. The tumors are almost gone from my spine and my liver. The problem—because there always has to be a damn problem—is south of the border. My right testicle is clean. The left one, though...there's the problem. Not only has the cancer taken up permanent residence there, but it's calcified the tissue. They scheduled me for surgery early next week to get it removed. If they don't take it out, when this round of chemo is over, or maybe the next one, that damn thing is going to let loose and then I won't make it another two months. So, as part of the master plan to save my life and help me at least make it to Emmie's first day of kindergarten, they have to remove my left nut. Mom...well, she understands a lot, but face it...she's not a guy and she doesn't quite get that I'm kind of attached to the twins. To lose one...well, it doesn't sit well."

"What did she say?"

"Something along the lines of 'If that's what they have to do...' You know how she is in clinical mode. I don't think the 'mother' part of her has dealt with it yet."

"It's a defense mechanism, her clinical mode. She hides behind her training when the emotions run too high. She, uh, compartmentalizes, so she can handle things. She leaves the dealing for later."

"Yeah. Remember I told you I broke my arm sliding into home when I was little?"

"The winning run of a championship game."

"That's the one. It took her three days to deal with that one. This one needs a little more than a band-aid or a cast. "

"Were they able to address this in terms of what it will mean for your survival?"

"That's always the first order of business. The most they'll commit to is that maybe, with this surgery, I'll welcome Emmie home on her last day of kindergarten."

"That's nine months they weren't willing to give you before."

"Every little bit is a good thing, isn't it?"

"Of course it is."

"What would you do, Bobby?"

"I'd tell them to take it."

"I thought you'd say that. But still...I'll only be half a man..."

Bobby shook his head adamantly, silencing Brian with a wave of one hand as he rested the other on the young man's arm. "Please, Brian...never thing of yourself like that. This won't diminish the man you are. Not at all."

Brian laughed. "Funny thing is...Mom's second question was if I'd still be able to father children. Hell, I don't have it in me to date right now. How could I, in good conscience, bring a kid into the world, knowing I wouldn't be around to raise him?"

Bobby turned his head to look out the window for a moment. Finally, he looked back at Brian. "That is entirely up to you, Brian. But, whatever you decide, I hope you know that you always have us."

Brian smiled. "I know. Thanks, Bobby."

"When are you scheduled?"

"Tuesday."

Bobby nodded and Brian got to his feet. He held up the case containing the pen that would quickly become a treasured possession. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Try to get some sleep."

"You, too. Good night."

Bobby picked up his glass and leaned back in his seat. Taking a drink, he looked toward the ceiling. Half a man. After all Brian had been through, after handling his illness, and everything else, with such dignity, there was nothing that could come up that would ever take that away from him. He was more of a man than most of the men Bobby knew.

Another soft knock on at the partially open door drew him from his thoughts. He turned his head in that direction as Barb poked her head into the room. "Busy?"

He smiled and set the glass on the desk, sitting up. "I'm never too busy for you."

"The biggest challenge of my day was getting out of that bedroom without the cat," she said as she approached him. "I think she senses that you're home."

"How did you know I was home?"

"I actually came out to check on Brian because I heard his door. I thought he might be sick or something. I saw the study light on, so I knew you were here."

"I...needed to unwind a little."

She sifted her fingers through his dark hair. "Long day?"

"Very," he replied, sliding an arm around her and resting his head against her. "How is Emily?"

"She's fine," she assured him. "If I didn't know any better, I would say she spends almost as much time looking for you when you're gone as Storm does."

He laughed softly and snuggled against the soft fabric of her nightshirt. "Hard day?"

"Parts of it."

"I talked to Brian."

"Then he told you about the surgery."

"Yes. Do you want me to take Tuesday off?"

"You're in the middle of a case."

He shrugged. "Eames can get along for a day, Barb. Brian is family. I can take the day off."

She rested her cheek against his head. "I'll leave it up to you."

"I'll talk to Eames and Deakins in the morning."

Leaning over, she kissed him. "Ray and Elsie are coming to dinner tomorrow..." She glanced at the clock. "Er, tonight, for Brian's birthday."

He trailed his finger along her jaw. "I'll try to make it home early."

Her reply was silenced when he drew her in for another kiss. With a smile she stepped back away from him, gently pulling on his hand. "Come to bed," she invited.

Finishing off the contents of his glass, he got up from his chair. He needed no second invitation from her.

Barb snuggled into Bobby's side, running the tip of her finger over his chest, which was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He sighed softly and shuddered under the light caress. He shuddered again when she nipped his earlobe. "Can I ask you something?" she asked, the whisper of her breath tickling his ear and drawing him further from sleep.

"Go ahead," he answered as Storm ventured from the pillow to sit on his chest and chase Barb's hand.

Although she was almost full-grown, Storm was still very small. She pounced on Barb's hand, wrapping her legs around her wrist and fingers. Absently playing with the active little cat, Barb said, "You've stopped asking me to marry you. Have you lost interest?"

He arched his eyebrows and looked at her. "What would make you ask that?"

"When you periodically asked, I knew you were still interested," she answered.

"And now you're not sure? I'm definitely not doing something right."

She smiled. "Occasionally, I used to get annoyed when you kept asking."

"I know. That's why I stopped."

"Well, after you stopped, I suddenly felt there was a void, that something was missing. I didn't realize I would miss it until you stopped asking."

He was quiet for a moment. "Do you do this to confuse me?"

She began to laugh, and his irritation faded in the wake of the sweet sound of her laughter. She shifted her position and eased her torso onto his chest. He chased Storm to the floor and gave Barb his full attention. She teased his lips with gentle kisses and he ran his fingers lightly from her shoulders to the sheet that gathered at her waist and back. "Ask me again," she urged, her voice almost a purr as it rumbled through her chest.

He'd never heard that deep, seductive tone from her before, and it coursed through his body like a sonic boom. His muscles trembled and he swallowed hard. One hand rested flat against her waist as the other strayed of its own accord, seeking out the areas of her body that he knew were most sensitive to his touch. There was a game she loved to play, one that teased and tormented him. She enjoyed trying to hide her reactions from him when he was playful, making him work to draw them out. He found that stroking those sensitive areas was the only true indication to him of her level of arousal, and it always ended the game. She could hide herself well, right up until that point. He knew it was intentional, and it always drove his own desire up a few more notches.

He loved her body, and exploring it was a challenge he relished. It had taken time and effort for him to find each spot, and he loved using that knowledge to his own advantage every chance he got. He knew where to go when he wanted to start slow, and he knew how to jump start her when he didn't want to wait. He also found certain areas useful when he needed help with persuasion and others were most effective when he got himself into trouble. She got irritated that he used her own body against her, but it never lasted long, and she always forgave him.

It wasn't like it was a one way street, either. She took full advantage of his own weaknesses every time she felt the need. He could never stay mad at her for any length of time, even if he tried. She was able to lift his mood and drive away his melancholy with relative ease, so if he felt the need to dwell on dark thoughts for awhile, he retreated to his study. He quickly learned that not coming home was no longer an option, and he rarely ever felt the need to stay away.

She played with his ear and he turned his head to kiss her. She allowed him to stall, teasing his lips with the tip of her tongue. He drew her tongue into his mouth and she groaned, which effectively sent his head reeling. As she slid her body along his, he turned toward her. She withdrew a little way to look at his face. When she spoke, she sounded breathless, which he considered sexy as hell. She whispered, "Ask me."

It took a moment for his distracted brain to process the request, but once it clicked, he asked, "Barb, will you marry me?"

She caught him in another deep kiss before whispering her answer into his mouth. "Yes."

For so long, she had told him it wasn't the right time, or she wasn't ready, or she didn't think he was ready. Since he expected another answer to put it off for an undefined later time, he didn't pay full attention, settling himself to brush off his disappointment with physical exertion as he tended to do.

In mid-kiss, he stopped and pulled back from her. "You...uh, what-what did you say?"

"I said yes."

He sat up slowly, stunned and unable to process the answer he did not expect to receive. "Yes..." he repeated. "You said...yes."

"Is that a problem, Bobby?" she asked, her tone now amused.

Her light tone annoyed him and his face was serious. "When?"

She was caught offguard by his urgency. "When...? Well, it'll take a few months to plan..."

"No, not months. Weeks...days...I've waited too long for this, Barb. We don't need a big wedding like Alex had. I don't want one of those." He stopped, catching himself. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry. If you want a big wedding...well, whatever you want. Plan it your way. I'll go with whatever you plan. I just...I don't want to wait."

Reaching out, she rubbed his back. "You're afraid I'll change my mind."

He moistened his lips. "Sometimes, fear isn't rational."

"And I don't have the greatest track record with you. I understand that. A small wedding is fine. We don't need more. Give me the time I need to plan it. Elsie and Alex will help me." She reached over and kissed the back of his neck. Before she could say anything, though, the baby's cries came over the monitor on the dresser. "I'll be back," she promised, getting out of the bed and pulling on her robe.

Storm came into Bobby's line of vision as he continued to stare at the floor. "Don't look at me like that," he cajoled her. "If we wait too long, it'll never happen."

She mewed at him and he smiled. Reaching down, he lifted her from the floor as he laid back against his pillows, depositing her in the center of his chest. "Go to sleep, furball."

When Barb returned to the bedroom, both Bobby and the kitten were sleeping, and Storm was curled up under his chin, as close to him as she could possibly get. "Silly little cat," she said with a chuckle as she slid in beside them and snuggled up to Bobby's side. Draping her arm over his stomach, she quickly went to sleep.