Author's Note: This was something I found lying unfinished in a folder, so I brushed off the dust, rewrote the beginning, and decided to finish it. Not entirely happy with the second half, as there was going to be a lot more (and more fluffy moments between Barda and Lindal), but it is now 5am and I've just about had enough. It being 5am is also the reason for any typing errors you may or may not find. Please forgive.

The first sign was a headache.

Headaches were, of course, rather common for Barda. His job required him to work extremely long hours, with very few breaks, and often dealt with a number of frustrating people, so the constant throbbing ache behind his eyes didn't concern him. He simply needed a good night's sleep, or an entire bottle of whiskey. Preferably both, though not in that order. At least the whiskey would help him sleep, which was another trouble of his quite recently. Waking before the sun was a habit he had hoped was in his past.

When the headache didn't let up for days, he passed it off as being overtired and stressed, and ignored it – even when Sharn hovered over him at dinner one evening and all but forced a vile tasting liquid down his throat. He would never admit it, for pride's sake, but the pain behind his eyes did lessen a little that night, and he was able to get a little more sleep than usual. She'd narrowed her eyes in suspicion when he'd assured he was fine the next morning, and although he was sure she knew he was lying, she let it slide.

But then the cough started, and it proved to be a lot harder to hide.

It began as a simple tickle in the back of his throat, something he was able to disguise by clever throat-clearing whilst conversations were in full swing and people were less likely to notice, but it grew progressively worse throughout the first day, until he could barely get out a command to his men without being interrupted. He waved off Sharn's attempts to force feed him yet more vile liquid, insisting it was nothing, and he would be fine tomorrow – but when tomorrow came, so did the burn in his chest.

He tried to hide it, but more than once he caught the concerned eyes of Lief, or Jasmine, and knew that it was only a matter of time before Sharn cornered him again. He took to locking himself away in his office, and skipped their evening meal that night just to be on the safe side, giving clear instructions that he was not to be disturbed. By the time he crawled into bed that night, his headaches were back at full strength.

By the third day of painful racking coughs, Sharn ordered him to bed, and sent for the palace physician. Of course, Barda was not a child she could intimidate into staying where he was, and so it was an empty room that greeted her when the physician arrived. A woman on a mission, she strode with purpose towards his office, and when a couple of guards began to inform her that the chief was busy, she gave them looks that had them falling silent rather quickly.

"Barda!" She pushed open the door without knocking, an expression on her face that would still send Lief running for cover. Barda had his back to her, so she could not see his face, but she did not miss the sharp tense of his shoulders. The guard who had been in mid-conversation with him glanced between the two, and then hurriedly excused himself. "You are supposed to be in bed."

"I have work to do." He turned, a stubborn set to his jaw that she was all too familiar with. Not for the first time, Sharn wondered how Min had managed to get him to do anything – but then she recalled the woman she had known, and wondered no longer. Min was not someone you argued with.

"You need to rest. You are not well." He didn't look well, either. His face was pale, his eyes a little glassy, and it was clear he was in pain and trying not to let it show. "Let the physician take a look at you. He will help."

"I do not need to be looked at. I am fine." He would have been more convincing if his voice did not sound like gravel, and if he hadn't immediately started coughing afterwards. Sharn raised a brow, hands settling on her hips. "It is nothing." He insisted.

"Liar." She stepped forward, laying a hand on his arm. "You are barely keeping yourself upright."

"I appreciate your concern, Sharn," he began, choosing his words carefully, and trying to keep his voice even, "but I do not need it. I am fine." He stepped away from her, straightened his shoulders, and tried not to look as unsteady as he felt. "And I have work to do." Not waiting for a response, he stepped around her, and left. Sharn folded her hands together with a sigh, and wondered how long it would be before he simply collapsed somewhere. Maybe then he would admit he was sick.

"I do not know what to do, Doom." She watched the man sharpening the steel edge of his sword, and remembered a time when Endon had sat upon that very same stool, doing that very same thing. "He simply will not listen."

"Leave him to it." Doom muttered, inspecting the blade closely before he lightly touched a fingertip to the edge. When a tiny prick of blood appeared, he gave a satisfied nod. "There is nothing you can do."

"There must be something." She insisted. "He will run himself into the ground, and the longer he goes on, the worse this sickness will get. I do not know why he refuses to admit he is sick." Doom sheathed his sword, and laughed.

"He is a man, Sharn." He told her, a knowing smile on his face. "Men do not get sick, because sickness is weakness, and we are not weak." He turned on the stool to face her, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles. "It will be his own fault if he gets worse."

"Are we talking about Barda?" Jasmine stepped into the forge kitchen, Kree perched upon one shoulder. "Lief and I just ran into him on our way here. I told him he looked awful." She paused. "I know that was probably rude, but it is the truth. He does look awful." Kree squawked his agreement.

"Is he still refusing to admit he is sick?" Lief appeared over Jasmine's other shoulder, a look of concern on his face. "What did the physician say?"

"He did not get a chance to even look at him." Sharn sighed. "Doom seems to think I should just leave him to it, but I cannot." Doom held up his hands, shaking his head.

"Your efforts will be in vain, believe me. I know men like Barda – and I admit I am one myself. He will not see sense." He hesitated, chuckling a little to himself. "Now, if only his mother were here – then you would have no issue getting him to listen. Min had this look, it was almost like magic. All she had to do was give you that look and you did as you were told without question. But, alas, she is not." Reflecting on that for a moment, Doom shrugged. "She was the only woman Barda would listen to." An idea suddenly presented itself to Lief, and his eyes lit up as he grinned.

"No." All eyes turned to him. "She is not the only woman Barda would listen to." Jasmine quickly caught on, and her quick grin matched Lief's.

"You are right." The two of them shared a look, and then Lief was grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil, and sitting himself down at the table. It took only a moment longer for Sharn and Doom to catch onto their train of thought, and Sharn reached over to put a hand on her son's arm. He paused, pencil poised over the paper, and gave his mother a curious look.

"You cannot think to ask her all this way for something like this, Lief?" She questioned, her voice soft. "I am sure she is very busy."

"If it will mean Barda gets better, then I can, and I will." He told his mother, giving her a gentle smile. "And you know as well as any of us that she would come."

"Aye, she would." Doom agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I admit I would very much like to see how she handles him." Sharn hesitated, knowing they were both right. She thought about the man who had become part of her family, and with another gentle sigh, she removed her hand from Lief's arm.

"You are right, of course. She will come."

It had been days since Kree had returned to Del bearing a response from Broome, and the young king knew it was only a matter of time before news of a visitor's arrival would reach him. In the meantime, Sharn had not stopped trying to get Barda to listen, but he refused all of her attempts to help him, stubbornly insisting he was fine despite the painful cough, the headaches, and the incredibly sore throat. Even when he had to leave it up to his deputy to call out commands to his men because he was losing his voice, he still did not admit he was sick.

And so there was relief when Jasmine hurried to him mid-morning with news that Kree had spotted her riding through the gates of Del, and together they awaited her at the palace gates. Doom joined them, eager to see an old friend, and even more eager to see her put Barda in his place. The two men were firm friends now, of course, but he still gained satisfaction when he was brought down a step or two. He would have felt bad, if he had not known for sure that if the positions were reversed, Barda would do exactly the same.

Lindal dismounted at the gates, Zerry taking her horse from her immediately to house it in the stables, and stepped forward to greet them. After the celebrations following Dragon Night – and the announcement of the spring wedding plans – she had returned to Broome to make necessary arrangements for her people, and to spread news of all that had happened whilst she had been gone. This was the first time she had been back since, and it felt like far too long.

"It is good to see you, Lindal." Lief grinned, not minding at all when one of Lindal's strong arms hooked around him and brought him into a brief, but firm, embrace.

"Aye, it is good to be back here again." Jasmine was treated to a brief embrace too, though Doom was spared one in favour of a firm grasp of hands. "So, where is he?" They walked together up to the palace, and Lief filled her in on the past week. "Stubborn ox." She laughed, following Lief as he led the way to the palace kitchens, where he had last seen Barda and his mother.

"Sharn is about at her wits end with him." Doom added. "More than once I have heard her make a comment about him being worse than a child."

"Is that so?" Amused, Lindal approached the door to the kitchens, now hearing voices from the other side. The female voice belonged quite obviously to Sharn, but it took a moment to place the raspy male voice as belonging to Barda.

"… stop fussing," he was saying, irritation clear in his tone. "For the last time, I am fine." Lindal pushed open the kitchen door, taking in the scene in front of her. Barda sat at the table, a glass of water set in front of him, whilst Sharn hovered nearby with a second glass filled with a golden liquid that Barda was quite clearly trying to avoid drinking.

"Well, well. Sounds like the bear is losing his roar." Barda's head whipped around at the new, familiar voice, and his expression shifted from annoyance to surprise in an instant.

"Lindal!" Despite his sickness, his eyes lit up upon seeing her, something that did not go missed by Lief and Jasmine, who slipped into the room behind Lindal with Doom in tow. "What are you doing here?" Before answering, she stepped around the table to face him across it, and then leant forward, placing her hands upon its surface, until they were almost eye to eye. To Doom's amusement, Barda leant back against his chair away from her, pleasant surprise now shifting to nervous worry.

"A little birdie told me you were feeling under the weather." Lindal began, speaking slowly and calmly. Barda's eyes slid in the direction of Lief and Jasmine, who tried for their very best innocent grins. He opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her he was fine, but she didn't give him chance. "And refusing to admit it, no less."

"Well, I…" Barda began, but Lindal stared him down until he trailed off into silence. When she straightened up, he looked instantly suspicious, and his eyes followed her as she crossed to Sharn, and took the glass of golden liquid from her.

"I trust this is medicine you have been trying to convince him to take?" At her nod, Lindal grinned. "Allow me." Before Barda could protest, she forced the glass to his lips, pinched his nose, and tipped his head back. She managed to force down half of the contents before she released him, patting his back as he coughed, and she merely grinned as he glared up at her.

"Are you trying to kill me?" He rasped out, one hand to his throat. He was sure some of the medicine was now in his lungs, and the taste was absolutely disgusting. Lindal set the remaining half down in front of him, and set her hand on his shoulder in a grip firm enough to send a message.

"Not yet." She laughed. "Now, drink up the rest, like a good boy."

"I-," he broke off as her hand tightened on his shoulder, and he reluctantly picked up the glass and took as deep a breath as he dared before he knocked it back. He winced as it went down, immediately picking up the water to hopefully wash away the taste left in his mouth.

"Good." Ignoring the amused snickers from Lief, Jasmine – and Doom – she hooked her hand under his arm, and gave a tug to urge him up and out of the chair. "Now you are going to go to bed, and you are going to stay there."

"Lindal," he resisted, which was futile. He knew she had the strength to hoist him out of the chair, and he also knew she would drag him through the palace to his chambers without a care who saw. He, on the other hand, did care. Insisting he was fine clearly wasn't going to work, so he tried a different tactic. "I cannot waste time lying in bed. There are things to do, things I need to oversee."

"Your deputy can handle it." She tugged on his arm again, a little harder this time. "I assume he is competent enough, otherwise you would not have appointed him."

"Well, yes, but-,"

"And I also assume is a decent man, and loyal to you?"

"Yes, but-,"

"Then he will understand that your health comes first. Come on, up, before I drag you to your bed." She stared him down until he sighed, and pushed up from his chair reluctantly.

"Will you let the physician take a look at you?" Sharn asked, stepping forward. Barda looked as though he would argue, but Lindal saved him the trouble.

"No need. I have seen this enough times to know how to deal with it." She told Sharn, pushing Barda towards the door. "I can take it from here." Ushering him through the door before he could attempt to argue further, she gave them a wave, and then hooked her arm through his. At his curious glance, she merely quirked a brow. "Would not want your men thinking you needed help to your chambers, would you?"

"No." He said after a moment, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. "I suppose not." The pounding in his head was beginning to let up, and although the pain in his chest was still very much present, it didn't feel quite as bad. He wasn't entirely sure if that was because of the medicine that had been forced down his throat, or because Lindal was here, and currently on his arm.

Which was a foolish thing to think, of course. He was clearly getting soft. But, her company did brighten his day nonetheless, sickness or no. She took the lead, remembering where his chambers were from her previous visit, and as soon as they were behind closed doors she gave him an encouraging push towards the bed.

"Right, into bed with you. You can stop pretending you are okay – by Adin, you should know you do not have to hold up appearances for me. You look like you have gone a round or three with a pirate and come out on the wrong side." She stepped up behind him, tugging the jacket from his shoulders and tossing it down onto the chair in his room. Circling around to face him, she lifted a hand, and laid it against his forehead. "You are far too warm." He caught her wrist in his hand, gently tugging her hand down until their fingers brushed together.

"You did not have to come." He spoke quietly, though it had little to do with the soreness of his throat. Sensing that, she smiled, and tightly locked her fingers with his.

"And leave you to suffer alone? Not a chance." Her other hand came up to gently touch his cheek, and the heat of his skin worried her, though she did not let it show. He was keeping his beard shorter than before, and much neater, and she wondered if Sharn had had a hand in that. "You are a stubborn fool." The fondness with which she said it took away any insult, and he gave her a vaguely sheepish smile.

"Guilty." They held each other's gaze, enjoying the privacy of the moment, until Lindal stepped back and let his hand drop.

"Get undressed." She commanded, patting his shoulder. At his sudden look of alarm, she rolled her eyes. "It is nothing I have not seen before, might I remind you?" Now tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, she fixed him with a knowing smile. "You cannot sleep in your uniform. Off." He hesitated just long enough for her to give an exasperated sigh, and – knowing she was not above unbuttoning his shirt for him – he began to take it off.

She was right, of course. Ten days was a long time to spend in someone's company, and with Lindal sharing her home with them it was, of course, only a matter of time. In any case, she had insisted on treating the minor wounds he had sustained at Dragon's Nest, despite her own injuries, and she had all but commanded him to remove his shirt to do so. Still, his mother had raised him to be a gentleman, and there were still certain things, certain habits, that he would never be able to shake.

The shirt joined his jacket on the chair, even though he knew he ought to hang them up at least, lest they get creased – but he found he could rather care less. His joints felt stiff, and his muscles ached, and he knew it was down to this cursed sickness he had picked up. His bed was, in fact, looking more and more inviting as time went on. He paused with hands upon the waistband of his breeches, and gave her a pointed look.

"I am going to fetch some water, and some tea. When I get back you had better be in bed." He had a vague idea of the consequences if he was not, and so as she left the room, he stripped down, and made for the bed. Pausing, he fetched a looser pair of breeches and a comfortable shirt, and pulled them on before settling beneath the blankets. He rarely slept in a shirt, at least, but if Lindal was going to insist on being in the room with him, he felt it only proper. The last thing he wanted was for people to talk of indecency.

Lindal returned after a few minutes, carrying with her a bowl and a mug, which she both set on his bedside table. Without waiting to be asked, he shifted over on the bed to make space for her, and she sat beside him, handing over the mug. The liquid inside was hot, and had a faint scent of lemon. Smiling, because it reminded him of the tea his mother used to make when he was sick as a boy, he lifted it to his lips, and took a sip. Not just lemon – but honey, too.

"That should help your throat, at least. Honey and lemon are a perfect combination." She watched him as he took another sip, and lifted a hand to stroke through his hair, brushing it back away from his forehead. Still too hot for her liking. He was a little flushed, too, a faint pink tint to his cheeks that spread down his throat and onto his chest, visible on the patch of skin beneath the open lacings of his shirt. "Lie down." Though it was a command, her tone was softer, and made it sound less like a command and more like a request. She took the mug of tea from him as he obeyed, and, turning, she pulled a cloth from the bowl, wringing it out to free it of excess moisture.

"Thank you." Barda murmured, shifting closer to her, cheek now pressed against her leg. His eyes were closed, brows pulled together into a slight frown that told her he was still in pain. She would ask Sharn for more of the medicine later, if he did not improve. Laying the damp cloth over his forehead, she smiled.

"You are welcome."

Lindal managed to keep him in bed for an entire day, fetching him more tea and soup, and even managing to get him to force down more of the foul-tasting medicine. It seemed to have the desired effect, however, as his colour began to return, and the soreness of his throat had lessened considerably. Of course, this slight improvement had returned Barda to his usual stubborn self, and when Lindal stopped by his room the next morning, she found him up and half-dressed in his uniform.

"What do you think you are doing?" He turned, a guilty expression on his face. Damn. He'd been caught. He'd hoped to have been up and out before she dropped by, but no such luck.

"… getting dressed. What does it look like?" Turning his back on her, he pulled on his shirt, and flinched as he heard the door shut rather forcefully.

"Oh no, you are to stay in bed. You are still sick!" She caught his arm, and forced him to look at her. He looked a lot better, she had to admit, but she knew the cough still lingered, and so far showed no signs of getting any better.

"I feel fine." Barda assured her, and it was the truth. Yes, there was an ache in his chest he couldn't shake off, and although the headaches had eased off there was still a trace of them behind his eyes, but otherwise he felt fit enough to work. "I recover swiftly. I always have, ever since I was a boy. Nothing keeps me down for too long." Not even poison, he added to himself, although he'd had a little extra help on that occasion. Lindal narrowed her eyes at him, and when he showed no signs of relenting under her gaze, she dealt him a firm pat to the back that sent him into a fit of coughing.

"Oh, yes. You sound perfectly fine." Whilst he was unable to fight her off, she had the shirt stripped from his back before he could say a word, and was ushering him back towards the bed. "Will it kill you to stay in bed until you are well? Your men are not falling apart without you – have some faith in them, would you? Do not make me go down there and speak to your deputy and have you banned from work." That would surely do the trick – Barda's pride was rather easily wounded when it came to certain things, and he would not risk putting it in the line of fire.

Since he was still coughing rather badly, she fetched him some water, and sat him down on the edge of the bed. As he drank, she touched her hand to his forehead, and gave a nod of satisfaction. His temperature was down, at least. He had spoken some truth, after all – he was recovering swiftly enough.

"You are going to stay in this bed until I deem you well enough to get out of it, do you hear me?" With only half-hearted attempts to argue, Barda found himself once again tucked up in bed with Lindal at his side. When he thought about it, this wasn't such a bad arrangement. He was tired, and the remnants of his headache faded further when he closed his eyes, so perhaps it would be okay if he simply took another few hours of rest?

As soon as he felt Lindal's fingers in his hair, he knew there was no chance of him moving. The soothing touch lulled him to sleep, and he nuzzled closer to her, enjoying her warmth. He dimly registered her voice, but he was already too far gone to understand her words, and so he simply gave in to the tug of slumber. Lindal watched in amusement as he drifted off, and settled herself in for several hours spent watching over him. She dare not move, dare not disturb him when he had put up so little resistance.

"You are certainly something, old bear." She murmured, feeling a warmth spread through her chest as he curled against her, one arm snaking across her to hook her close. "You are certainly something indeed."

When Sharn came up that afternoon to bring the patient more tea, and some food for them both, she found them in much the same position. If she thought anything of their situation – sharing the bed, Barda's head now pillowed against her stomach – she said nothing of it, and simply set down the tray and inquired about Barda's health.

"It is good of you to do this, Lindal." She kept her voice low, not wanting to wake him. "I would never have kept him in bed like this, and I fear he would have been much, much worse by now if you had not come."

"All he needs is a firm hand." Lindal told her, a slight laugh to her voice. "He is stubborn, but he is not stupid. He knew you spoke sense, he just could not admit to himself, least of all to anyone else. He would have worked himself to the ground before he would admit to being sick."

"You are very good for him." Sharn could not help but smile as she studied the pair. She had seen love – she saw it in Lief and Jasmine – and she had felt it for herself, and it was impossible not to see it here, too. She knew Barda perhaps a little better than even Lief and Jasmine, or at least she knew a side of him they were not so familiar with. She had been there in the months after the invasion, had seen the young man he had been – barely more than a boy in the face of such devastation and loss. Years on the streets of Del had hardened him, but he had built up walls inside himself long before that, to protect himself.

Lief and Jasmine had broken through some of them, she knew. He might not have been too thrilled about travelling with her son in the beginning, but by the time they returned to Del with a completed Belt, she had seen the fondness he felt for him, and for the strange wild girl they had picked up in the Forests of Silence. They were his family, even then. He had welcomed in Marilen and Ranesh in their time, too, and even Doom had managed to break through his walls – which could be hard to believe, given how often they butted heads. Sharn knew better, however. Their bickering was simply an old habit they refused to break for the sake of pride. The two were firm friends – family – even if neither would ever speak it aloud.

But Lindal… she had come as a surprise to all of them, save perhaps for Lief and Jasmine, who had almost certainly seen it develop. Barda had left Del much the same man, if a little more tolerant of public displays of affection and a little less closed off to those he cared about, but had returned rather different. It had taken her a while to put her finger on what it was exactly that was different about him, but as soon as she had seen him and the woman of Broome together, it had all fallen into place.

Love had had him searching for her after he was blinded, and it had brought him instantly to her side after he was cured. It was love that had rushed him to Lindal's room the moment he had heard she had fallen to the 'Toran Plague', just as it was love that had brought Lindal all the way from Broome to tend to him in his sickness. It was love she saw so clearly now, in the way she stroked his hair and soothed him when coughs racked his body, in the way he clung to her in his sleep.

"I hope so." She almost missed Lindal's response, so quietly it had been spoken, and it brought more warmth to her smile.

"Well, I shall leave you two in peace, though I suspect you may have further visitors later." At her questioning look, Sharn laughed. "Lief and Jasmine are very concerned for him."

"Then tell them he is doing well, and ease their minds. I am sure he will be back on his feet soon enough."

True to her word, it was only another couple of days before Lindal relented, and admitted that Barda seemed well enough to return to work. The cough was still present, though it was not nearly as severe, and seemed little more than a frustrating tickle in his throat once again. His temperature had returned to normal, and the headaches had eased up completely. She saw no reason to keep him in bed, and he knew that as well as she did.

"Take it easy, at least, would you? Do not take on too much at once." She watched him shrug on his jacket, and didn't miss the roll of his eyes as he buttoned it. "I am serious. You are not completely back to full health, so unless you want to go back to spending days in bed, I would suggest taking things slow for now."

"Yes, ma'am." Barda muttered, dragging fingers through his hair. She stepped up to him, and reached to smooth down the strands that were now sticking up. As he had done days before, he caught her wrist in his hand, and pulled her hand down – though this time he tugged it to his lips, and kissed it. "Thank you, Lindal. For being patient with me." He paused, grinned. "Well, somewhat patient."

"You did not make it easy, sometimes." She laughed, taking his hand firmly in her own. "But lucky for you, I know how to handle a man." His brow quirked, his grin turning sly.

"Is that so?" He tugged her closer, until they were chest-to-chest, and he could feel the ghost of her breath against his cheek. "I shall keep that in mind." Laughing again, she hooked her arm around his waist, and leant in as he did. It was not the first kiss they had shared – far from it – but it would never lose the same thrill. There was always something so intimate about their affections, mostly due to the privacy of them. Neither of them were one for public displays, although there had been one or two moments when they had stepped out of their comforting boundaries for the sake of romance.

They had danced together during the celebrations for the king's engagement, for example. She had been as surprised as their friends when Barda had crossed the room to her – and bringing with him the faintest scent of whiskey, which he had knocked back as a form of liquid courage – and asked her for a dance, and also incredibly touched that he would ask in the first place. He was a private man, easily embarrassed by such things, and yet he held his head high as he led her onto the floor, and smoothly stepped into a dance she herself had little practice with. She was much more used to the faster dances of Broome, and knew very little of the dances practiced in the palace. Barda, however, was either a natural or had been taught as a boy, for he led her around the room as though he had been doing it all his life.

Doom had threatened to make a comment about it when they returned, but a look from her had silence him – and a challenge from Barda over who could do it better had then led to the scarred man whisking Sharn onto the dancefloor amid fond laughter from their friends. It had taken her several minutes to realise Barda had not released his hold on her hand.

Saying goodbye before she left for Broome, both of them knowing she could be gone for some time, had been difficult. They had stood together at the gates of Del, her hands in his, foreheads touching as they shared a final moment. She had turned to leave, had taken all of three steps, before she found herself turning back and dragging him down for a kiss. She kept it quick, knowing how he felt about such public displays, and had left him staring after her in a daze that fixed a satisfied grin on her face as she walked away.

When there was a knock at Barda's door, they sprang apart, and Barda busied himself in brushing imaginary dirt from the front of his uniform as the door opened, and Lief's head appeared around it.

"You are looking much better!" He exclaimed immediately, stepping into the room, Jasmine in tow. The two of them seemed to rarely be out of each other's presence these days. "How do you feel?"

"Fine." Barda told him, and rolled his eyes skyward as Lief fixed him with a look of suspicion. "Honestly. I have been given the all clear by Lindal, if you do not believe me." Lief's eyes slid in Lindal's direction, and she gave him a nod.

"Well, good, because we were worried." His hand sought out Jasmine's, and their fingers interlocked smoothly. "And we have missed you, odd as that may sound, since you have not really gone anywhere."

"Although the dinner table has been quiet without you and Doom bickering like boys." Jasmine put in, shrugging one shoulder. "That, at least, has been pleasant."

"You are not one to talk of bickering," Barda pointed out dryly, "when I had to listen to the pair of you for months on end, always at each other's throats over this, that or the other." He crossed to the door, holding it open for them. "Now, off with you. I have to get back to work – finally – and I am sure you two still have many things to plan for." He ushered them out of the room, promising he would see them that evening if not before, and then he closed the door, sinking back against it with a sigh.

"I always thought you seemed like a man always chasing after rowdy children." Lindal murmured, amused. "It was not until I spent time around the three of you that I realised that was almost true." She crossed to him, and took his hand. "Come along then, old bear. I know you will be restless until you get back to work, so you can start by giving me a proper introduction to your new deputy." She let his hand drop as they stepped out into the hallway beyond, and felt a flutter in her stomach when he laced their fingers together almost immediately. "He is an old friend of yours, I believe?"

"Oh, yes." Barda smiled at her, and gave her hand a squeeze. "Since we were boys, actually."

"Then I am sure he will have many interesting tales to tell me." Her eyes gleamed with mischief, but Barda showed no concern, and merely laughed.

"Aye, he does indeed, but you will have a hard time getting him to share them." He grinned, the same mischievous gleam in his own eyes. "For the tales I have of him are far, far more embarrassing."

When the time came, at last, for Lindal to return to Broome, she would leave knowing Barda was back to full health, and certainly back to his usual self. She would return in only a matter of weeks, of course, for Lief and Jasmine's wedding, but to the pair of them it felt like a lifetime away. Everyone gathered to say their goodbyes, Barda standing back from the others, waiting his turn. He enjoyed simply watching her, still amazed he had managed to find someone as unique and as special as she was.

"And you," he broke out of his daze, realising she had now turned to him, and was stepping up to him with a smile on her face.

"Yes?" He met her eyes, lips twitching into a faint smile of his own. She stood with hands on her hips, staring him down in what was now a very familiar manner.

"The next time you get sick, do not be so stubborn." She reached out with one hand, and fisted it in the front of his jacket. "If I have to come all this way again to tuck you into bed, there will be serious consequences." Despite her words, she was grinning – and Barda couldn't help but imagine what those consequences might be. "So, do me a favour, old bear…" she trailed off, considered their friends standing nearby, and decided she really didn't care, "and do as you are told." Before he could shoot back a retort, she tugged him forward, and brought their lips together.

There was the briefest of pauses before he returned the kiss, and she felt one hand lift to touch her arm, drawing her in even closer. For a moment the world fell away, and they were alone, but then she pulled back, a grin on her face, and he was back at the gates of Del, saying goodbye once again to the woman he loved. The smile he gave her said as much, a silent declaration that she returned with her own. Those words were private, for moments alone together, at least for now. As she lifted her hand in goodbye, the gathered company raised theirs in return – and then she was gone, following the road around to the east.

Barda watched her go, the smile not once fading from his face, until he became all too aware that he did, indeed, have company. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he found sudden interest in the cuff of his sleeve, and pretended not to hear Lief and Jasmine's fond laughter as they turned to make their way back into the city. Sharn touched his arm as she passed him, and gave him a knowing smile, which he also pretended not to notice. It wasn't until Doom turned that he lifted his head, and spoke.

"I am going to marry her." He declared, keeping his voice low. Doom hesitated at his side, and then he laughed warmly, and gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder.

"About time."