The characters of Thomas Lynley and Barbara Havers do not, unfortunately, belong to me. I have simply borrowed them for just a little while. The story is a bit of a long one, so you might want to print, and then read at your own leisure. Please let me know what you think, but kindness would be appreciated. This story was originally posted on "The Inspector Lynley Romance Mysteries" Dec. 26, 2007. Enjoy!
Note: This Lynley is a bit darker than what most fans are used to. Be forewarned, but hope you like it.[Type text]
FINALLY
CHAPTER ONE
She was late again. This was the second- no the third time this week, and she knew he was going to be livid. Barbara couldn't get straight what the blazes was wrong with herself. She stumbled out of the lift almost spilling the coffee she had hurriedly bought on the way to work. She hadn't really had the time, but it was the one pleasure she allowed herself considering the day she knew she was going to have ahead of her. If truth be told, she was stressed beyond reason. The audit was taking place this week, and everything and its brother had to be in perfect order. Every department was making sure it had each and every one of its ducks in a row Usually she was pretty tight under pressure, considering the type of work she did for her living. Almost all of the cases that they had been assigned had been closed, loose ends tied up, and her reports were in top form. Every "T" was crossed and every "I" dotted. So what the devil was it? She was just getting to her desk when she heard "the voice."
"HAVERS!" Her desk was a ways down a bit and faced away from where his office was, so that her back was to him. She could practically feel the breath from his bellow on the nape of her neck, it was that loud. "Calm yourself, old girl," she thought. "Just calm yourself." She took a deep breath and was about to turn around when he shouted at her again, "HAVERS!" She turned around with a snap, looked him straight in the eye, and yelled just as loudly and just as fiercely, "WHAT!" His head jerked back as if he had been slapped, and his eyes grew round as saucers. The room grew quiet, and he looked around at all the eyes that were upon them- he and Havers. She was already flushed with anger and wasn't caring two ways about the situation at hand. He however, looked like he was ready to bust a vein. In a very low and controlled voice he said, "Havers, in my office, now." The "now" came through gritted teeth. Barbara's green eyes looked up into brown ones that left little to the imagination as to what they were feeling- absolute and utter contempt. All for her.
"Yes, sir," she ground out. She looked around the large room where all the sergeants and constables did their work for a last time before stomping off to his office. He then turned around himself, his eyes sweeping the room, and said in that same controlled voice, "Back to work."
The "he" that was livid due to her lateness, the "he" that shouted at her like a dog that had behaved badly, and the "he" that had just now ordered her into his office was none other than her boss, Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley, the Eighth Earl of Asherton. Lord Asherton. Barbara was standing in front of his desk when he came in, slamming the door behind him with such a bang that one could feel the vibrations. He stood there, leaning back against the door with an ease that belied the anger he was feeling at that moment. Barbara's back was toward him, but she could feel his eyes burning holes into her back, two smoldering holes. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and turned around. "It's now or never," she thought. "I have a right to be treated with respect." She was looking at him full face now and was about to speak.
"Don't." Lynley said. "There is absolutely no excuse for the way you behaved just now, none whatsoever!" He spoke in a tight, loud whisper.
"Well, I beg to differ, Sir," she said smartly. "I know I've been late a few times this week, I know that; but that doesn't give you the bloody right to treat me like a misbehaving mutt. I-"
"Shut-up, Havers! I could have your hide for insubordination in a flash; in fact, I ought to write you up. It's one thing me having to put up with your mouth in a day's time, but to have you speak to me like that in front of our co-workers is inexcusable! I won't have it!" Lynley came away from the door where he had been standing to come and stand directly in front of Barbara. He was about a foot taller than she was, something she usually never minded. However, today, being on her case such as he was, she felt like a little mouse facing an elephant. Her eyes were round with shock at what he had just said to her. He'd been angry with her before, good Lord, how many times? She had always taken it in stride, even when it was undeserved. This week had been rough on everyone, to be sure, but he seemed to be especially hard on her. She didn't understand. Everything in her wanted to tell him what a sod he was being. She wanted to tell him she didn't care if he wrote her up, to go on and do it. She wanted to smack that smooth, chiseled, aristocratic face of his and show him that he wasn't so high and mighty after all. Instead she just stood there, full of rage and not able to say a word. He was looking straight down into her eyes with a slightly threatening gleam.
"I won't have it, Havers," he said in a very even tone. "Not from any of the other officers, and especially not from you. Is that understood?" Barbara was standing there quietly. "I said, 'Is that clear?' raising his voice slightly.
"Yes, Sir. Perfectly." She said this with as much dignity as she could muster. It hurt. "May I go now, Sir?"
"No, you may not go. Where is the report on the Bellson case? There are some fine points I want to go over before we pass it as ready.
"I haven't seen to that one yet, Sir. That and two others are the only ones left to clear. I was asleep on my feet last night, and decided to save them until this morning. I knew we had until tomorrow." She looked away from him, focusing on the door. Lynley gave a great, exasperated sigh. He rolled his eyes and looked over her to the window by his desk.
"Get me the Bellson case, I'll see to it. If you think you can possibly manage it, see to the other two. I don't care how long it takes you to finish. I want them on my desk before you leave here today. Understood?" She looked him straight in the eye then. It was a look that held a challenge, but common sense won out. She lifted her chin and said, "Yes, Sir. Understood, Sir."
"Good. Now get out." He ground out his dismissal with something akin to scorn. Almost, she thought, as if he hated her. She stood there a couple of seconds longer, and then she moved out from in front of him and walked slowly to the door. As she opened the door to leave, she couldn't help but turn and look. This wasn't the Inspector Lynley she had come to trust and respect. This was someone very different. Someone she didn't know. She stepped out, shut the door and went back to her desk.
Detective Constable Winston Nkata's desk was straight across from Barbara's. Everyone had been silent, wondering what was being said in Inspector Lynley's office. They all turned their heads when she came out, trying to look like nothing in the world had happened, but Winston and Barbara were tight. He looked right at her and asked, "O.K., luv?"
"No, Winston. I'm not O.K." She looked as if she was about to burst into tears. The shame and embarrassment of what had taken place was beginning to sink in now. "I'm not O.K. at all." Winston said to her, "Why don't we forget that coffee you bought in wif ya, yeah? How 'bout we get a nice cuppa for ya? Take a few 'fore we get started, eh?" Barbara looked at Winston. Tall, thin, and beautifully brown, with dreadlocks that were almost to his shoulders. He was good-naturedly cocky, and, best of all, sweet. He always knew how to cheer her up. This time however, she knew it wasn't going to work. The Inspector's knife had cut a little a bit too deeply. Almost twenty minutes at work, and things had somehow changed course for Sergeant Barbara Havers. She knew it in her bones. What it was she couldn't say because she didn't know. All this drama and the day had just begun.
CHAPTER TWO
He heard the door close behind Barbara as she left. Lynley circled his desk, pulled out his chair and sat down. He sighed. He honestly could not believe that what happened just happened. He further could not believe that Barbara was being so slack. She knew what an important time of year this was! She was usually so on the money when it came to her work. What the hell was wrong with her? A knock at the door startled his thoughts. "Come in," he snapped. It was DC Nkata.
"The Bellson case, Sir," he said, intentionally cheerfully.
"Why didn't Havers bring it in?" The Inspector asked irritably, practically snatching the case from Winston's hand.
"Ladies, Sir. The sergeant seemed a bit upset. Went to pull herself together. I told her I'd bring the case into ya, Sir."
"That will be all, Constable. Thank you." Lynley said dryly.
"Yes, Sir." Winston smiled, turned, and left.
**********
It was six o'clock. Barbara finished the last of her work, turned off her computer and went home. Winston had been a saint. He had helped her make sure everything was on point with her reports by double-checking. He had sprung for lunch, and made sure that she had taken the time to eat it. When afternoon break had come, he had seen to that as well by bringing her tea, and an enormous sweet treat that they had shared between them. He then, in a magnanimous act of chivalry, offered to take in the finished reports to Inspector Lynley. She didn't refuse him. She ought to have done so herself, but she couldn't face him after this morning's fiasco. She had asked Winston whether the Inspector had said he wanted her for anything else. He had told her no. At that, Barbara began clearing up a few last minute things and left.
Barbara lay stretched out in the bathtub. She was going to take a shower as she always did when she got home from work, but tonight she felt like she needed a good, long, hot soak. She felt like she needed to purge the day's happenings from her mind and soul, and a hot bath naturally seemed to fit the bill. The lavender scent filled her nostrils, creeping up into her brain and helping to smooth out all of the rough words that had been spoken, and all of the hurt feelings that were caused by those words. She still couldn't believe it. He had been so mean.
She couldn't get his face out of her head. She closed her eyes. She tried to concentrate on something else- a field of wildflowers, walking by a quiet stream, sitting on the peaceful shores of a secluded beach- anything that would give her mind a bit of solace. And then, his face. She opened her eyes. His face. Only now, it wasn't contorted with disgust and anger. It was as it normally was- serious but pleasant. Dark brown eyes that could see right through one; a strong, wide mouth and solid chin; and a square jaw with cheekbones to die for, and that jet black hair… His face. Inspector Lynley. Her boss. Thomas Lynley. Lord Asherton. His face. Barbara sank a little deeper into the water so that it came up to her neck. "No," she said. "Yes," the little voice inside told her. She began to stare at the tile above the faucet. She'd been feeling that something inside of her was a bit off, but she couldn't put her finger on just what that something had been. There was no way it could be love, no possible way. "Yes," the little voice said again. Barbara put her hands over her ears. It wasn't. It wasn't love. "You know it is," the little voice told her. "It's been that way for a long time now. You know that." Barbara took her hands away from her ears. She slowly sat up straight in the tub. Her eyes were shining with tears. She just sat there, letting the revelation of her feelings seep in. The tears began to fall, each one running the course of her beautiful cheeks, down to her rounded little chin, and off into the bathwater. Each one filled with the knowledge of what she was beginning to see was true. "Good Lord," she thought. "What am I gonna do? What the bloody hell am I gonna do?"
CHAPTER THREE
Inspector Lynley didn't get away from his office until well after nine o'clock. On his way home, he stopped by the Chinese restaurant that was his favorite, and got take- away. He'd ordered a bit too much, really. Most of the time he and Havers ate together, especially when they were hard at work on a case. Times like this week, with the audit and all, and having to see to so many things, they would have practically been living together. They were a good team. He knew that.
He pulled his Bristol up in front of his house, and started to get out of his car but stopped. Pulling the door closed, he settled back into his seat for a moment. He didn't feel right. He hadn't felt right all day. It just seemed that everything was bothering him lately. Everybody had been the recipient of some of his wrath in some way or other these past couple of weeks. Especially Havers. Barbara. It had been hard on the both of them. They both had superiors they had to answer to -she to him, and he to Hillier. Everything had to be right. In his heart however, he knew that wasn't the whole truth. They had these audits every year. He'd never treated her like he did today. Even at times when he was so angry with her he couldn't see straight, he had never behaved towards her as he had done this morning. Well, maybe a few times; but never in front their colleagues. Havers had been right. He had shouted at her like she was bad dog. He winced at the memory. He felt the sting of the words he had spit at her in his office, and he rubbed his heart. He felt so ashamed. Maybe after tomorrow things would be better. Their department would be one of the first to be dealt with. He could apologize to her properly and see about making things right. He got hold of his food, got out of the car, and went inside.
**********
Lynley didn't even finish a quarter of his food. He threw down his fork in disgust, and stared down at his plate of half eaten steamed dumplings. Whom was he fooling? Proper apology, indeed. What could he possibly do to make what happened this morning right? When she left his office, something had changed. He remembered the look she had given him when they had been standing there, face to face. For the rest of the day he had taken little peeks here and there to see what she was doing. Winston had been by her side practically the whole time. He was a good friend to her, and a good copper. Yet he remembered feeling something else, as well. He shook his head to dispel the thought of what that feeling might have been.
Barbara. For the past six or seven years, they had worked side by side. Along the way they had formed a friendship that was rock solid. Barbara. Cautious, untrusting, sometimes belligerent, highly excitable. The old Barbara. High spirited, tough, smart, and cheeky. The Barbara he knew now. If anyone would have told him that the two of them would ever be friends, he wouldn't have believed it. He suddenly realized that she had been with him through some of the toughest times he had ever faced in his life, some of the best and the worst of them concerning Helen. Their courtship, marriage, and near divorce. Their reunion, and then, her death. When he decided he was going to drink himself to death a year and a half ago, it wasn't his family (however well intentioned they may have been), but Barbara who had snapped his ass back to reality and made him get the help he so desperately needed. She had seen him at his absolute and utter worst, and she was still around. They both were. Until today.
Lynley got up from the table and put the leftovers into the fridge. He turned off the lights and went upstairs. Stripping off his clothes, he went into the bathroom to take his shower. He stepped in, making the water just as hot as he could stand it. Closing his eyes, he let the steaming hot liquid wash down over him. Wash away all that had transpired that day: the angry words, the hurtful feelings, the guilt. Wash it all down the drain. He opened his eyes. He was remembering her face again. That awful, hurting look and then, defiance. "I caused that," he thought. "Me." At that moment, he wished he could take her in his arms and hold her. Tell her how sorry he was, how unfeelingly and stupidly he had behaved. What an insensitive bastard he was. He wanted to hold her right now; hold her close to him. Close to his aching heart. The water was pouring down over him. He placed his hands on the tile wall in front of him, and leaned in to rest his dark head on them. The feeling- this unnamable feeling he'd been experiencing these past few weeks, began to make itself known for what it was. There had been a few women since Helen's death, but that had been grief. They had meant nothing to him; they were simply warm bodies that had been there to satisfy a need. They had never come close to the times when Barbara had held him for hours on end. Never staunched the wound his bleeding heart had become when he thought he couldn't go on another day. She had been there for him above and beyond the call of duty as a friend.
Lynley came out of the shower. It wasn't until he had dried himself off that he realized he was crying. He wrapped the towel around his waist, and sat down on the foot of his bed. The tears were flowing freely. His heart was so full it felt like it was going to overflow. He was feeling love. For the first time in a long time, he was feeling LOVE. He was sobbing loudly and heavily now. He put both hands over his heart and pressed in, leaning over slightly. It felt as if it were going to burst. "Get a hold of yourself, man," he said in loud, cracked whisper. He wept a little longer, until there were no more tears to be shed. He then took some deep breaths to calm himself. All of a sudden, he felt very tired, and drained. Lynley got up, pulled on some pajama bottoms, crawled into his bed, and closed his eyes. He needed to sleep. How this was going to work out, he couldn't even begin think about. He knew he loved her. He knew that in his soul, right now as he lay there. What he needed at this moment however, was rest. His heart and mind needed to rest. That small face with the huge green eyes, and the reddish-gold hair, was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
The audit had gone well. When the homicide department had been cleared, there had been a collective sigh of relief. When the audit was completed all together, to say that pure, unadulterated joy was the prevailing emotion throughout the Met, would have been an understatement. Everybody was asking everybody else out for a drink after work to celebrate. Winston was no exception. He and Havers were standing in the canteen, just having finished up lunch, and about to head back up to work. He was trying to convince Barbara to join him and a few others for a small party.
"You deserve it, Barb. Hell, we all do. We've worked hard. Now's the time to kick back wif a few of the mates, and give ourselves a pat on the back, yeah?" He gave a great, big toothy grin. "And besides, it's not gonna hurt you any bein' out wif one of the best lookin' blokes in London, is it?" Winston had his arm around Barbara's shoulders. He was all out laughing now, squeezing her to him. She couldn't help but smile.
"You just don't quit, do ya?" She said to Winston, poking him in the ribs as she did so. "What's Lyla gonna say when she hears you've been knockin' back pints with me and some of your other curvy, busty mates, eh?"
"She'll say 'Maybe I shoulda gave it up like you asked me to last night!'" At that they both started cracking up.
"I swear Winnie, you just won't do!" She put her arms around his slim waist and reached her face up to his, and gave him a big juicy kiss on his cheek. She looked him square in the face, seriously now. " Win, the other day you looked after me. I said 'thanks' then, but now everything's over, I wanna say it again. Thank you."
"Barb, I-"
"No, Win. You didn't have to do what ya did. I owe you one, yeah?" He looked down into his friend's face. The incident happened almost a week ago, but he could tell there was something still bothering her. She hadn't confided in him and he didn't push, but whenever she wanted to talk, he'd be there.
"Right then, luv. Yeah. But I should warn you, when I call it in," he looked her up and down, and licked his lips, "I'll expect full pay for services rendered, yeah? And no backtalk." He smiled salaciously.
"The only payment your gonna get are these, and this," she said, holding up both fists and a foot.
"That's alright, luv. I like it rough, anyway!" They were on their way to the lift, both bent over with laughter at this last crack.
"I can't win, can I?" Barbara said, throwing up her hands in mock despair. They arrived at the lift, stepped aside for the others to get off, and then got in. They were the only two inside, and they were still laughing.
"No, you can't win. And sadly, you never will." He was being his cockiest ever now. Barbara punched him in the arm. Winston winced, and as the lift doors closed said, "Oooh! It begins! Keep it comin', luv. Keep it comin'!"
**********
Inspector Lynley had not yet apologized to Sergeant Barbara Havers for last week's little dramatic event. They had spoken to one another when their work required them to do so, but that had been all. There had been two murders to deal with this week, (unbelievable for London), but a couple of the other D.I.'s had been assigned the cases. There was paperwork, however. Always paperwork- which meant having to ask questions about this and that; and so he did, and so she did, and that was all. She didn't even look him in the face when they spoke. Any conversation was always quick and to the point, and then she was gone. It was driving him mad. "But," he thought, "She had every right, didn't she?"
Lynley was sitting in his office with his chair turned towards the window. His office had a wonderful view that he often took advantage of whenever he needed to think. Right now, he wanted think about Barbara. Lynley brought her to his mind's eye. She was petite, but built. He pictured her bottom- a bit wide, but well rounded, as were her hips. She had a slight, but definite sway when she walked. Then, he pictured her breasts, and a thought came to him. He remembered times, loads of times, when they were on loan. Times when they had to stay at different inns and such. They would both be up late, pouring over whatever case they were on, already in their nightclothes. She always wore a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. Always. Of course, she wouldn't have on a bra, and he would see her breasts underneath her tee- free, ripe and full, his eyes lingering just a second or two longer, maybe, then what they should have. He'd even teased her a time or two about it. He would shake his head, and laughingly tell her that with "knockers like those", whatever man she wound up with, would be deliriously happy the rest of his days. She would throw back some tough, smart-assed remark, blushing like mad the whole while. He smiled at the memory. "Never in a million years did I ever think …," He thought to himself. Her face. Barbara had a strong face, and her eyes were what one first noticed about her. They were dark green, and deep set, and beautiful. Her face was softened by the red-gold hair she had allowed to grow longer than usual. It had given her look a bit of a sexy air. He hadn't told her that, though.
Lynley got up from his chair and stretched. He was still facing the window. He knew he was going to have to come clean about his feelings. Practically this entire week, it was all he could do to keep his mind on his work. All he thought about was kissing her-and holding her-and loving her. Every way imaginable. His concentration was suffering, and he was becoming frustrated; to have the one that you love so close, and not be able to say a word. At least not now. It was going to have to be soon, though. In his heart of hearts, he could feel Barbara drifting away from him, and from their friendship, everyday.
**********
Barbara Havers was in her car and heading home. She had opted not to join Winston and the others after work. All she had wanted, she'd said, was a hot shower, a meal, and her bed. Maybe a little telly, she'd see. After loudly counting her off as a complete bore, Winston lovingly popped her in the head, and said he'd see her on Monday. She smiled at the thought of her friend as she parked and got out of the car. Going into her flat, Barbara was thinking about the day she had had. It hadn't been the worst, considering. The times that she had to speak to the Inspector, she made sure were as brief as possible. She avoided him as much as she could, not bothering him at all if she could help it.
Barbara set her purse down on the side table in her small parlor, and then sat herself down in the chair. She had been trying her best to come to terms with her feelings, but she wasn't getting anywhere. "How in the world can I even think of loving someone like him," she thought to herself. "How?" Yes, they were friends, close friends, but it was only because they had worked together for all these years. Moreover, it was a friendship that had been hard forged. They would never have crossed each other's paths otherwise. Yes, she was close to his family. In fact, she was considered family by both his mother and his sister. The three had become even closer when he had been drinking; knowing that at times when they couldn't be there, someone they knew and could trust, without doubt, was. Her. Barbara. Nevertheless, that was miles away from being accepted by them as his woman or the mother of his children. Yes, she knew that he wasn't a stuck up ponce. Lynley was educated and cultured. His clothes were tailor-made and beautiful. Even when he dressed down (which was rather often now), there was an air of sophistication and refinement about him. To top everything off, he had the kind of money one could live a thousand and one lives on and still have change left over. How and where could she ever fit into that type of life? It's not that she thought of herself as nothing. Barbara had come a long way in her life. She had had to deal with a lot of hard knocks, and in spite of all that, she had managed to carve out a career for herself. Her friendship with the Inspector had made her a better person. She knew that. She was stronger too.
But loving him. To have a man share her life and to bear children, these were relatively unspoken desires of hers anyway just on their own. However, wanting these desires fulfilled with someone like Thomas Lynley was another thing altogether. Something she couldn't see coming to fruition in any realistic sense.
Barbara felt the tears start to well up in her eyes. Here she was, in love for the first, real time in her life, and it was with someone she had no possible hope of ever having the chance to be with. The tears began to spill down her cheeks as another realization began to dawn on her. How was she going to be able to continue to work with Lynley now that she was in love with him? The obvious solution to that problem didn't appeal to her at all; but what other alternative was there? She loved the Met. She loved London, the good and the bad of it. This was her home. But she loved Lynley more than all those things put together. Thomas. Barbara said his name out loud, "Thomas." No. She wasn't going to be able to stay. She was going to have to transfer. She'd give it another few days thought, but deep down she knew there were no other options.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was Wednesday. The weekend had come and gone, and today it was raining. Heavily. Inspector Lynley was a tad late due to the fact that he'd had a rather long, early morning chat with his mother. He had to admit to himself that it had given a nice start to his day. He was glad that he and his mum had grown closer. It had taken a lot of years for that to happen. Therefore, he counted the extra twenty minutes on the phone with her as time well spent.
He was coming up on Haver's desk. Ever since he realized how he felt about her, and in spite of the coolness of their relationship, he had taken a secret pleasure in seeing her there first thing of the morning. However, she wasn't at her desk, nor anything that would have said she was even in. Winston was at his desk, though, and Inspector Lynley asked him where Havers was.
" She's in with DCI Hillier, Sir. Came in, and went straight away to his office. She was so quick, I didn't get a chance to ask what was up."
"Hillier?" Lynley said in a slightly raised voice. "What's she doing in there? Is anything wrong? Has something happened?"
"Not that I know of, Sir. I will say she didn't have to good of a look on her mug; like she had something she wanted to get over and done, if ya know what I mean." Winston was not his usual jokey self, that was very clear. He was concerned about his friend, Lynley could see that plain as day. But what the deuce was Barbara seeing Hillier for?
"Tell Sergeant Havers I wish to see her in my office as soon as she gets back, Constable. Immediately."
"Yes, Sir," Winston said, soberly. Lynley turned and walked on to his office. He went in and leaned his wet umbrella in the corner by the door, hung up the black leather jacket he was wearing, and went to sit down at his desk. Turning his chair towards the window, Lynley looked out, worry creasing his smooth brow. He had made up his mind to make amends with Barbara today. It had been almost two weeks since their row, and he'd finally gotten up the courage to apologize to her. Now this. Why did she not come to him if- Lynley checked himself. Of course she wasn't going to come to him for anything. Not after everything that had gone down. Things were barely civil between them now. The phone rang, startling the Inspector out of his thoughts. It was DCI Hillier.
"Lynley?"
" Sir?"
"A moment of your time, please. There's something important I need to discuss with you."
" Do you wish me to come your office, Sir?"
"Yes, please. It's rather delicate, and I'd prefer to handle it in person. You are free to come now?"
"Yes, Sir. I'll be right there." Lynley hung up the phone. He did not have a good feeling about this. He knew it had something to do with Barbara, he could feel it. He got up and made his way to the door. Coming out, he looked down towards where Barbara's desk was. She still wasn't there. He caught Winston's eye, and with his own eyes, asked the question of whether Barbara had returned. Winston shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, silently stating she hadn't come back. Lynley sighed, shut the door to his office, and made his way to Hillier's office. Maybe he could shed some light on what the blazes was going on.
**********
Unbeknownst to everyone else, Barbara Havers had left the building. She had agonized over her decision for four days. Today, she bit the bullet and went to see DCI Hillier. Barbara had been surprised that Inspector Lynley had not come in yet, but then again, she was glad. It saved her having to face him, knowing what she was planning to do.
There was one thing she knew for sure about DCI Hillier, and that was his trustworthiness. The man knew how to keep a secret. He was a pleasant person, and didn't lord it over everyone the way Webberly had done. Hillier had also showed faith in her as a detective, by giving her the lead in two of the cases she'd worked on during Lynley's leave of absence. She'd handled them well, earning kudos and a great deal of his respect, as well as the Inspector's, which had put her on cloud nine for almost a month. Today though, had been a different story. She had debated whether to tell Hillier the entire truth about why she wanted to transfer, but in the end decided not to. He had asked how things were getting on between them, and she did not lie. She told him that their friendship was not what it was, but that they were getting the work done.
Barbara's hands were folded in her lap. She would look down at them periodically while she was speaking, reminding one of a shy, little girl. She had noticed that Hillier had been staring at her for some time, and she'd asked him why. He had smiled and said, "Because I was listening to all of the other things you weren't saying." Barbara's jaw dropped to the floor. How did he guess? Were her feelings that evident?
"Sir, I-"
"Are you sure really want to do this, Sergeant?" he'd asked gently, but firmly. "No beating about the bush." It was clear what he was asking her. Barbara looked down at her hands again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she reopened them, she looked Hillier full in the face. Her eyes were brimming with tears she couldn't hold back any longer.
"Yes, Sir," she said, her voice cracking just a bit. "I'm sure."
"Here, here- let's get you together, now," Hillier said in a fatherly way she'd never heard before. He gave Havers a few minutes to calm herself, and then said, "Listen, Sergeant, I don't want to lose you. I've got your paperwork. Let's give this a week or two more, shall we? In the meantime, I'll assign you to another DI. Take off the rest of the week-"
"But Sir, Inspector Lynley and me was just assigned to that Barker case, remember?"
"Then I will reassign it. And leave Lynley to me, alright?" Hillier placed both of his elbows on his desk, and clasped his hands together. He looked at Havers and said, "See here, Barbara. You've come far these past several years. I also know that you will go far. Things happen in our lives that we have absolutely no control over. I know you know that. What we do have control over however, is how we react to those things. Whichever way we choose to go, we have to stick with it, all the way. I'm sure you've heard that a million and one times before, I just want you to be absolutely positive that this is the way you want to go. Alright?" Barbara smiled, feeling a little better.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." DCI Hillier stood up, at which point Havers stood up as well. He told her then that they would talk in a couple of weeks. As Barbara got to the door, she turned and said to him, "Sir?"
"Yes, Sergeant?"
"Thanks, Sir." Havers smiled a weak, wounded smile. Hillier gave a slow nod, and then smiled understandingly. She went out of his office, down one of the alternate staircases, and quietly left the building.
CHAPTER SIX
Inspector Lynley sat at his desk. Right now he was feeling about three or four different emotions all at once, fury and rage both being at the top of the list. He was so angry right now, that he felt as if he was going to explode. The cause of that anger came from two things that Hillier told him: One, that Sergeant Havers felt she could no longer work with the Inspector due to "personal and irreconcilable differences." And two, that she was considering transferring due to a "desire in change of venue." When Lynley left Hillier's office, he was so stunned he didn't know what to do or how to feel. He had somehow made it back to his own office, sat down, and there he had been until now, the anger slowly seeping into every nook and cranny of his mind and body. An hour had passed before he realized it, and then only because Hillier's assistant had come to remind him and the other DI's about the meeting that was to be held in half an hour's time.
The day had crept by at an agonizingly slow pace. He had tried reaching Barbara on her mobile, but she wasn't answering. He expected that. Fine. She couldn't avoid him forever. In fact, he wasn't going to let her avoid him at all. They were going to have this out face to face, he'd see to that.
Lynley had left work between five thirty and six. It was still raining out, although not as heavily as this morning, and he was sitting in his car debating whether or not to go straight to Barbara's flat, or to try and ring her once more. He decided upon the latter, and made the call. To his surprise, she answered.
"Hello," said the voice, cautiously.
"Where the hell are you?" The Inspector growled. He didn't try to make himself sound even remotely civil. He ground it out. He wanted her to know how angry he was. There was a long pause, and then, "Havers! Havers, are you there?!"
"Yes. I'm here. And I don't appreciate bein' yelled at, thank you." She said this in a quiet voice that was tempered with tolerance.
"Well, I've been calling all damn day, thank you. And I don't appreciate being given your voice mail at every turn," he said nastily.
"If there's something you want to say, Sir, then please say it. Otherwise, I'm gonna hang up. I don't have to be spoken to this way. I'm not workin' under you anymore!" Another pause. Then she heard him sigh.
"Look, I'm sorry. For very obvious reasons this has not been a very good day. Havers, we need to talk. I thought maybe I could come over to your place -"
"No," she said, cutting him off. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Everything's been seen to that needs to be, Sir. There's noth-"
"What the hell do you mean 'everything's been seen to?' He broke in. What about between us, Havers? What about that?" Silence. "If it is your intention to leave, we need to settle things." His voice was still agitated, but a bit calmer.
"Alright, Sir." Barbara didn't want to see him. She didn't know if her heart was going to be able to take it. It felt like it was being sliced in half already. One thing was sure, she could not see him here at her flat. It would be too much for her. It had to be on neutral ground. "You pick a place and I'll meet you."
"I could just come round to your fl-"
"No. I'd rather not. Just pick somewhere and I'll meet you there."
"Havers, this is ridiculous! It's twenty minutes to your-"
"Sir, Please!"
"Alright, bloody hell!" Lynley hollered. He gave an exasperated sigh, and thought for a moment. "The Black Lion. It's a quiet place, and we can talk in relative peace. Does that suit you?" He bit out.
"It's fine, Inspector. I'll see ya in half an hour, then." She hung up. "Well, this is it, my girl," Barbara said to herself. "No more dodgin' the ball. If you're gonna keep at least a piece of your heart, you've gotta make the break now." She picked up her purse, and left.
**********
It took Thomas Lynley about ten minutes to get to the pub. The Black Lion was a nice place. It was decorated in the traditional sense with rich, dark woods, and fine genuine leather. The tables were laid with white linen tablecloths, and there were beautiful pieces of artwork adorning the walls. Very tasteful and dignified. Lynley walked in, and found his way to a booth towards the back of the pub, right next to the window. The waiter came over to take his order. What he wanted was a scotch and soda. What he ordered was a Pellegrino. Except for a celebratory glass of champagne now and again, he hadn't had a drink in a little over a year. Lynley knew he wasn't alcoholic; he had been through a very tough time and handled it in a very bad way. By the grace of God, and with Barbara's help, he was past that. All the same, he watched his step.
Lynley knew he had to pull himself together before Barbara got there. He honestly hadn't meant to be so rude and callous over the phone, but his heart was in shreds. When he heard her voice, his blood just boiled up and over. He just could not believe that things had progressed to this point. Transferring was serious business. Any officer wanting to make anything of himself was trying to make it to the Met, not bid out.
Lynley looked up as the waiter arrived with his water. Some crisps and some nuts were placed on the table as well. He poured some of the water into the glass, and took a large swallow. The cold liquid felt good going down the back of his throat. He took another, and looked out of the window at the falling rain. It was steady and quiet. He was beginning to regain his composure. That's when it came to him, when he knew without a doubt, that he would never let her go. Not ever.
"Sir!" Lynley jerked his head around. It was Barbara. "That was the third time I called you. I was startin' to wonder."
"Sorry. I didn't hear you come up." Lynley stood up. "Sit down, please." She sat down in the booth, then Lynley. The waiter came over to take her order.
"Half pint, please."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, cordially, and was off. Barbara glanced over at the Inspector who was staring at her. She was unable to look him straight in the face. She was nervous, so she looked down at her hands which were folded on the table. His eyes had a way of seeing right through one. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, he was staring even harder.
"I wish you wouldn't do that, Sir." Her voice wavered, bespeaking her uneasiness. She fidgeted a bit in her seat.
"Do what, Barbara?" he quietly said.
"Stare at me like that. It's making' me uncomfortable."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't want to do that," he said a little sarcastically. She did look at him then, but didn't say anything. The waiter was back with her drink. He set it down, smiled and left. Barbara took a sip.
"This is really good," she said appreciatively, glancing at Lynley as she did so. "It's a really nice place as well," she said giving the room a once-over. He didn't say anything. He looked at this woman in front of him. The love of his life, and she wasn't even aware of it. He took a sip of his water, and then slowly said,
"So tell me, do you feel better?"
"About what, Sir?"
"About giving me a taste of my own medicine?" At this, Barbara furrowed her brow. Medicine? What was he talking about? Then it hit her. He thought she was getting back at him for blowing up at her. She looked at him, eyes wide, and mouth gaping.
"No! Oh, Sir, no! I never! I-" Barbara almost knocked her drink over.
"Really, now." She wasn't fooled by the quiet way in which he said this. She could tell he was fit to be tied, but he was holding his temper in check. She made no response, and instead focused her sight on the leather backing of the booth seat in which he sat.
"Look at me, Barbara." She looked out of the window. Her nerves were starting to get at her.
"I said, 'Look at me.'" She turned her head around and looked at him. He leaned in, both hands clasped together before him on the table. In a voice that was low and tight, he said, "Do you know what it was like sitting in my superior's office, and having him tell me, to my face, that the sergeant with whom I have worked for almost seven years, no longer wanted to do so because of, let me see, what were his words, 'irreconcilable differences,' yes, I believe that was it. Not only that, no. She had to get out of town altogether, because she needed a change of scenery." He gave a short, hard laugh. "I wasn't to worry though, that despite the incident of which he'd heard had taken place between us, that you had nothing but good things to say about your boss, which, of course, made me feel so much better."
"You don't have to be nasty, Sir, I-"
"Well, I feel nasty. Would you like to know what the crowning glory of the whole thing was, Havers? The fact that my 'loyal to the end' sergeant couldn't come to me, and tell me first what she was bloody hell planning to do! I had to hear it all from Hillier. You didn't even come to me afterwards, Barbara. You didn't even do that! "She could hear the hurt in his voice, as well as see it in his eyes. Hurt, anger, and betrayal.
"Sir, I had to do things the way I did." She looked down at her hands. "It was for the best. You have to believe me, it was," she said pleadingly. "I didn't do it to get back at you, I swear. I just- I -" She dropped her head to her chest, took a deep breath and then looked at him. "I love you so much, Thomas. I love you so much," she said to herself. Then in a flat, monotone voice, "It's what I wanted, Inspector. Plain and simple, and I seen to it. I've made up my mind and I won't change it." The Inspector had a look on his face that she couldn't fathom. It was almost as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes that he couldn't say aloud. There was a long silence in which they both just sat, each unknowingly being loved by the other, and each of them hurting inside.
"And what about our friendship, Havers?" He asked. "Cards at Christmas and on birthdays, hmmm? Keep in touch for the old time's sake?" Barbara looked at him but didn't say anything. She couldn't. She started to get her things together.
"I have to go, Sir," she said in cracked whisper.
"Do you know what's ironic about this whole ordeal? I was planning to apologize to you today. It's taken me two weeks to get up the courage to say 'I'm sorry,' to admit how awful I was to you that day, and to tell you why I acted the way I had done. But, it's a moot point now, isn't it?" Barbara got up. She felt as if her heart was going to fall out of her chest.
"I reckon so, Sir. I have to go. I'll be seein' ya." She turned and half ran out of the pub. Lynley sat back against the soft leather of the booth seat. He stared after her long minutes after she had left. Again, that feeling came over him, that knowing. Now, more than before, he knew he would never let her go. Not in this lifetime. Not ever. He finished the rest of his water, paid his bill, and went home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day had been a nice one. It was early evening, Friday, and Barbara Havers was taking advantage of her days off by doing a little house cleaning. It had helped to take her mind off her troubles for a little while at least. She was rearranging the shoes in her closet, when she came across a large, black duffle bag. It belonged to the Inspector. She sat back on her heels, and gave a loud, heavy sigh.
A few years ago, they had been working a particularly difficult case. It had been six months of interviews, stakeouts, and pouring over evidence. What they didn't cover at the office, they took home, sometimes to his place, sometimes to hers. It had been his idea to keep overnight bags at each other's flats. Helen had never really cottoned to the arrangement, but to her credit, she had seen the necessity of it at times. She smiled a bit because she remembered that whenever she wound up staying at his place, it always felt like she was staying at a fancy hotel. Mrs. McGreevy, his housekeeper of fifteen years, was a dream, and always made the most delicious suppers, and the best breakfasts. Her clothes of the day before would be washed, dried, and folded away into her overnight bag, which was put away in what was jokingly referred to as "Haver's Hideaway."
If, however, the Inspector found himself at her place, it was every man for himself. They would usually order take-away of some sort, eat, work, and work some more, and then fall asleep where they were. The rare times they actually closed up shop and went to bed, Barbara always slept on the couch. Lynley was too big and tall to rest comfortably on it, but it was just right for her, so she would give him her bed for the night.
She would lay and listen to him ring Helen to tell her goodnight, and then poke his head out the bedroom door to tell her the same. He would often joke that it was hard work juggling two women and a career, but not impossible, as he was proof of that. She would ask him if Helen was aware that he was an incorrigible twit, to which he replied very smugly, "No"; and that if Barbara ever told her so, not only would she be out of a job as a copper, but that she would no longer be his "other woman." He would wink at her, and then say his goodnight, grinning as he did so. She smiled. Those were good times.
Another thought came to Barbara. She also had a set of his keys. "Bligh me," she thought. "I'm gonna have to return these things. I can't bloody well keep them." It had been day before yesterday that she saw him last. She didn't want to see him anymore than what she had to, it hurt too much, but it had to be done. She would have the weekend to get herself sorted, and be ready to face her new boss. All ties with Lynley would be cut, professionally as well as personally. It was for the best. That's what she had to remember, no matter how painful.
It was about seven when Barbara pulled up in front of Lynley's flat. She didn't have the courage to ring him before she came. She just got his stuff together, got into her car, and drove. Now she was here. "It'll only be a few minutes, girl. Just do it," she thought to herself. She grabbed her purse and his bag, got out of the car, and went up to the door. She looked around before ringing the bell. His neighborhood was sooo posh. It never failed to have that effect on her, even after all these years. She took a deep breath and rang the bell.
Lynley got to the door on the second ring. He opened it, and did a double take. "Havers? What are you doing here?" he asked, genuinely surprised. She looked at him a bit shyly. This was not going to be easy.
"Evening, Sir. I brought ya overnight back to you."
"I see," he said, evenly. Come in." Lynley was wearing a pair of jeans and an old, but still nice blue t-shirt. He was barefoot, and a lock of his dark hair fell across his forehead. He looked so good, thought Havers. He was such a beautiful man, inside and out. "Let it go, girl. Do what you came to do, and go."
"I can't stay long; I just wanted to drop this off. Oh, and these," she said, handing him the bag and the set of keys." He took his things from her, slightly brushing her hands as he did so, and set them in the chair by the hall table. He stole a sideways glance at her. She was dressed in jeans herself, with a tan pullover shirt. A tad low cut, but she occasionally wore them like that. He had seen this one lots of times. She had on her Nike trainers, and her purse was draped across her chest as always. She had changed so much from when he'd first met her, he thought. His Barbara. He could feel his insides begin to warm.
He turned towards her so that they were standing face to face. Lynley did not forget his manners. "Can I get you anything, something to drink maybe?" He asked, politely.
"No, thank you, Sir."
"It's no trouble, Havers."
"No, really, I'm fine. I- like I said, I just wanted to drop your things by.
Everything should be there. I mean if it's not, you can just let me know, and I'll find it and bring it to work." She smiled a nervous smile, and then looked to the beautiful Oriental rug they were standing on in his hallway.
"Thank you." He noticed that she was beginning to shuffle her feet a bit. She always did that when she was nervous about something. "Havers, is there anything the matter? You seem a bit on edge?"
"No. No, I'm fine. I'm good, I'm good. It's just that- well, it's just that with everything that's happened and all, it's a bit awkward bein' here, if ya know what I mean." Lynley looked at her. He was staring at her the way he did at the pub the other day. Barbara tore herself away from his intense gaze. She looked at the painting that hung over the hall table where they were standing, then she looked back down at the rug.
"It doesn't have to be this way, Barbara," he said quietly. "You don't have to do this." She looked up at him, hoping her face wouldn't show the love she was feeling so strongly for him right now. She wanted nothing more than for him to take her in his arms, and hold her close.
"Yeah, Inspector, I do have to do this. I have to. Look, I don't mean to be rude, but- my uh, my things."
"Your things." He crossed his arms, and walked around to stand at her back. "What about your things, Barbara?" His voice was low and silky. She turned her head to look to the back of her to where he was standing. She moved enough away from him to turn around and face him. "Be tough girl. You can do this."
"I thought I would collect them while I was here, Sir. That is if you don't mind?" She said this in a very businesslike way, but Barbara could feel herself start to blush. She dropped her head so he wouldn't see. Lynley narrowed his eyes, irritated by her tone.
"By all means, Sergeant. You know the way." He moved aside, and made a slight bow with a sweeping hand gesture toward the staircase. She rolled her eyes at him, took off her purse, laid it on the chair, and went up the stairs. She felt the tears stinging her eyes, but she willed herself not to cry. She got to the room and opened up the door. Her bag was always kept on the shelf in the large closet, her shoes on its floor. She reached up and got the bag, and then bent over to pick up the shoes. She was just about to shut the closet door, when she heard the bedroom door close. Barbara spun around. The Inspector was in the room. He leaned back against the door and just looked at her.
"What are you doin', Sir?" She asked nervously. "Why'd you close the door?"
"Because it's my house, and I'll do what I want, Barbara," he said, very coolly and very calmly. "I am allowed to do what I want in my own home, am I not?" Barbara cleared her throat and clutched her bag tightly.
"Course, Sir. You can do whatever you want. I'll just get out of your way-"
"You are not going anywhere." Silence. Lynley eased up off the door, and slowly walked over to where Barbara was, never taking his eyes off her. He came to stand directly in front of her. She was looking straight up into his eyes, her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was shaking. She tried to look away, but she couldn't.
"Please, Sir-"
"If you call me 'Sir' one more time, I swear I will break your neck. My name, just in case you didn't know, is Thomas, Barbara. Thomas. And from now on, that is what you will call me, is that understood?" Barbara's nerves were getting the best of her.
"Please let me pass," she said in ratchety little whisper. He snatched the bag out of her hands, making her drop the shoes she was holding as well, and threw it across the room. He then grabbed hold of her shoulders and pulled her to him. His brown eyes were so dark with emotion, that they looked almost black. His face was right down in her face, so close she felt as though she couldn't breathe.
"Do you honestly believe that I'm going to let you go," he said threateningly. "Do you really think that I'm going to let you walk out of this house and out of my life?!" He was squeezing her shoulders so hard now, that it felt like knives digging into her flesh. "Do you?!" He shoved her away from him so forcefully that she stumbled back onto the bed. Barbara sat there, stunned. She had a flash memory of that fateful day in his office when he lashed out at her the way he had. She was seeing that man again, but the words… The words that were falling from his lips now were not the same. They sounded like the words of somebody in lo-
"Answer me, damn it!" Lynley was flushed, with anger and with passion. His eyes bore into her like two drills set at full power. Barbara was frozen to the spot she sat.
"Of all the times that I've lost my temper with you, of all the rows we've had over the years that you would have had a perfect right to pack up and go, why bloody now?!" He leaned down so that he was eye level with her. "Why?! What the hell was so wonderfully special about this time?! WHAT?! WHAT BARBARA?!"
"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU BASTARD, THAT'S WHY! I LOVE YOU!" Barbara screamed at the top of her lungs. She arose from the bed, and flung herself at him, beating his chest with her fists. Her attack was so sudden; it took Lynley a moment to get his bearing. When he did, he grabbed both of her hands and wrestled them behind her, at the same time pulling her to him. "Oh, God help me, I love you!" She was crying uncontrollably, her chest and shoulders heaving with emotion. Lynley bent his head and took her mouth in a kiss that was absolutely brutal. He released her hands, and as he did so, let his own travel to her waist, and then up to her breasts. He tore his mouth away from hers; he bent his head and bit into her right breast so savagely that she screamed. Barbara tried to shield herself, but he roughly threw her hands to the side and continued his onslaught. His mouth left her breast and made its way up along her neck, and back to her lips where he ravaged her again. Barbara was trying to pull away from him, but he was having none of that. He simply held her that much tighter, and kissed her that much harder.
When Thomas Lynley at last released her lips from his, he took a few deep breaths in order to calm his wildly beating heart. He didn't, however, release Barbara from his arms. He continued to hold her close, not taking the chance of letting her go. Her tears wouldn't stop coming. Lynley rested his chin on top of her head, tears streaming down his own heated face.
"You love me. You love me," he said. "Do you know how much I've wanted to hear those words? These past few weeks, that's all I've wanted to hear. I love you, Barbara." He was kissing the top and the sides of her small head. "I love you; I love you, my precious baby. I love you so much."
"How can you say you love me?" She asked in disbelief, her tear-stained face lifted to his. "Those few weeks ago, you were so mean to me, so hateful." Her body was still trembling from the frightening way in which he had behaved a few minutes before, as well as from the love that she felt for him; a love he now knew about. He took her head, and laid it against his chest, cradling it. He rubbed her back in a circular motion in an effort to soothe her.
"I know, I know I was. If I could take back every single word, I would. All I can do is apologize, and I am sorry, my love. I'm so sorry." He hugged her to him even more, rocking her from side to side.
Barbara's nerves began to settle a little, and the tears began to subside. Her arms had ventured around his waist, timidly at first, and then they encircled him completely, pulling him close. She wanted to hold him, to hear and feel his heart beat. She wanted to do this, because for these few moments, she wanted to know that he was hers and hers alone. Just Thomas and Barbara, the loves of each other's lives. She wanted to do this, because she knew that, in essence, nothing had changed. She would never be able to share his life in the way she wanted. Not ever. She closed her eyes and held him even tighter. She would, at least, have this.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They sat at the kitchen table, drinking a pot of strong tea that was both welcome, and needed. Both were quiet, each slowly regaining their equanimity as well as their dignity. They were on their second cups when Barbara looked over at Lynley. She was surprised to find him looking at her, as if he had been doing so for a while, maybe.
"Was wondering when you were going to come up for air," he said with a slow smile. She blushed, and dropped her gaze back down to her teacup. "You know, the top of your head is lovely, but I really would rather be looking at your face. That is, if you don't mind." He was flat out grinning now. He reached over and took hold of her hand, then began to trace the backside of it with his fingers. Barbara looked at him and then rolled her eyes. "I can do without your cheek, thanks," she said smartly, making him laugh out loud.
"Yes, Ma'am. No more cheek, Ma'am." Barbara couldn't help but smile. Just as quickly however, the smile faded. Lynley ceased his laughing. "What is it? What's the matter, sweetheart?" Worry wrinkling his brow. He squeezed her hand and leaned over, concerned. She had to say it. She had to lay it on the line. It was the truth, wasn't it?
"Sir- I mean Thomas, this isn't gonna work, me and you. How can it?" He pulled his hand away from hers, and sat back in his chair. He gave her a hard look, one that was telling her to watch her step, whatever it was she was about to say. Barbara caught the unspoken meaning of his gaze, but went on with what she knew she had to do.
"That night, when I first knew I loved you, I was scared to death. I didn't know when or how it happened; I just knew something wasn't right. I'd felt like that the whole week, and all the week before. That morning after our row, it's like everything changed. Everything. That night after work, it dawned on me what it was. I couldn't believe it, I just couldn't. I was tryin' to deal with what I was feeling when it hit me about something else. You." Lynley looked at Barbara curiously, cautiously.
"Me?" He asked.
"You. Your life. Who you are, where you come from, how you live. If you'd just be Thomas Lynley, DI, I could manage. I mean it's happened before, officers fallin' in love. The truth is though, it's more than that with you. Way more. The truth is that no matter how you cut it, I will never be fit to be yours. Our years of workin' together, bein' close to your family, our friendship, they're just not enough to be the kind of woman a man like you would be expected to marry. The truth is that I will never be that woman, and you don't know how much it hurts to say that. That's why I asked to transfer. I couldn't see you every day, knowin' how much I loved you, and not bein' able to have you." Her emotions were starting to get the best of her, and she got up from the table, and went over to the counter. She had started to cry, but silently. Lynley, however, did not get up. He sat there for a long moment, not saying anything.
Barbara wiped her face on her sleeve. She turned around slowly, and she saw him just sitting there, looking in front of him. She couldn't be sorry. They had to be realistic about what a life together would be for them. Nothing. Probably the best thing to do now would be to leave. They both needed some space. She started for the door leading into the hallway, saying as she went, "I'd better go." She turned once more to look at him, and still, he just sat. 'Night, Sir," she said quietly, and then she left.
**********
It was almost nine o'clock when Barbara Havers arrived home. She had thought about going over to Winston's for a bit, but had decided not to. He'd probably be at Lyla's anyway. She sat in her favorite chair in her nice, clean parlor. She was still in awe of what had happened tonight. Barbara had always figured Lynley for the sweet, romantic, knight in shining armor. Tonight, she saw a side of him she never knew existed. He was so rough and brutal. It had frightened her, but then she'd scared her own self as well. She had hit him. Several times. The anger, and the love and the passion, it seemed like they were all mixed up together, as if one couldn't be had without the other. She put her hand to her breast, remembering, and massaged it. It was still sore. "Just like my heart," she thought.
A hot shower and bed were what was needed. It had been a trying evening, and she just wanted to clear her mind (as if that were possible), and rest. She had said what needed to be said so they could both move on. It hurt like all hell, but maybe the powers that be would one day see fit to bless them each with a good, solid love. Maybe.
Barbara arose from the chair. She was just about to head into the bedroom, when she heard the lock on her door turn. She turned so that she was facing the door, she picked up a book from her coffee table, prepared to throw it whenever whoever came in. She waited. The door opened. It was Thomas Lynley.
"Oh, my God! Oh, Lord! Sir, you scared the life out of me!" She dropped the book on the table, and flopped back down in the chair, trying to catch her breath. "Why didn't ya ring the bleedin' door bell?" She asked irritably.
"Because I had my key, that's why," he answered, as if she had just asked a foolish question. He closed the door and locked it. She looked at him, very much wanting to smack his face for that remark. She had forgotten he had a set of her keys as well.
"Yeah, well I wasn't exactly expectin' you was I?"
"Why weren't you?" he asked. He stood there looking at her as if he truly didn't know. She saw he had a bag with him. She recognized it. It was his overnight bag. He set it down on the floor next to the sofa. He then took off his leather jacket, laid it across the back of the sofa, and sat down.
"Why do you have your bag with ya?" She asked, a little wide-eyed. "I-"
"Is it me, or do you seem to be asking a lot of stupid, idiotic questions, tonight?" Barbara looked at him for a long moment, before she said very evenly, "I don't appreciate bein' talked to like that."
"And I don't appreciate the woman I love walking out on me, so now we're even, right?" Barbara stood up. She looked at him and said, "I think you'd better go. I can't-"
"I'm not going any damn where. Not now, not ever." Lynley stood up, and went to stand face to face with her. She looked as if she had just been slapped.
"Let me tell you something, Barbara. No one tells me how to live my life, do you understand me? No one. For the first time in ages, I know what I want, and who I want it with, and that is a life with you."
"And I'm telling you that I cannot be that woman! Please! I-I- Why are you even here?! Why can't we just let this go, and-"
"Because I have no bloody intention of letting you go, that's why!" He shouted. Lynley could see she was getting upset, but he didn't care. "And as to why I'm here, it's simple, I'm not sleeping alone. Not anymore. So until we're married, it'll be between here and my flat."
"MARRIED?! No! You're talking foolishness. I-" Lynley took a few steps closer towards Barbara.
"I know exactly what I'm saying, thank you. And for the record, I don't consider myself a fool either. I am a man trying to explain to his woman what the deal is going to be concerning their relationship," he said in a deceptively calm voice.
"I can't change who I am, Barbara. I am who I am. I am Thomas Lynley, born and raised in Howenstowe, in Cornwall. I am the Eighth Earl of Asherton. I am Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley of the Metropolitan Police, London, for almost twenty years. I am Thomas, the man who loves you. The man you are going to marry, the man whose bed you are going to share, the man whose children you are going bear. The man who is telling you right here and right now, that he will have no other. I will have no other, Barbara. I will have you, I will have my life with you, and no one is going to keep me from it- not family, not work, and most of all, not you. You need to understand what I'm saying to you, because I mean every word of it. This is for keeps, my girl. There won't be any turning back for either of us." He was looking her dead in her eyes. Her heart was all over the place. She couldn't believe the words she was hearing, that they were coming from his mouth. She didn't waver though, she stared straight back, lifted her chin and said defiantly, "And what if I don't want to. What if I decide it's too much for me to deal with, which it is, then what? You can't force a person to marry you, or to love you, for that matter."
"Then I will have you however I can. It's as simple as that. Whatever I have to do, I will do. We're going to be together, one way or the other."
Barbara stood there, not really knowing what to say or do. The way he was talking… Lynley turned away from her and went back over to the sofa. He picked up his bag, and went into the bedroom. He set his bag down on an easy chair that sat not far from the bed, and turned on the bedside lamps. He took off his trainers, and set them next to the chair. Then, he went over to the bedroom door and stood there. Barbara was still standing by the chair, in the parlor where he left her. They stood in silence, staring at one another. Then, in a very quiet, gentle but firm voice, he said, "Turn off the lights, Barbara, and come to bed."
"No," she said, barely audible. "I can't. If I do that, and this- this doesn't work out, my heart won't be able to stand it. You're askin' me to jump a gap that's too wide, and I can't do it. I can't. I need to let go now, while I still have some strength and can move on."
"Really," he said, contemplatively. He leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed in front of him. His gaze was fixed upon her, and he didn't blink an eye. "Move on. Hmmm… Move on to where? To what? Another relationship?"
"Maybe. Definitely away from here. I told you, I can't stay here, close to ya, and expect to be sane. I believe down the line, there'll be somebody for us. Someone to suit each of us so that we can have some bit of happiness," she said, not quite believing her own words. She looked down to the floor.
"So what you're saying is that you have faith that if we scratch this relationship and 'move on,' we each stand at least a minimal chance of happiness. But you don't have faith in us staying together, and trying to make what we could have, work?" Lynley gave a short, hard laugh. He shook his head, and just looked at Barbara. "You're amazing. You are absolutely amazing!" He said, incredulously.
" Yeah well it seems to me, I'm the only one of us willing to be realistic about what's goin' on, here, Sir." He eased up off the door, and stood tall. There was a menacing gleam in his eye, but he didn't move. Lynley stared directly at her and said, "I'm going to tell you this once more, and once only, do not call me 'sir'. And if you think you're the one being realistic, obviously, you'd better think again. If anything, you're the one doing your best to run away from reality," he snapped.
"Run away?! I made the decisions I made because they were the only choices available." Tears were stinging her eyes, but she would not let herself cry.
"Except the decision to stay and face your feelings. To do whatever it takes to make it work, because it's worth it, Barbara! My Lord in heaven, it is worth it."
He raised his hands in a half pleading gesture, and sighed heavily. "This whole evening, ever since we confessed our feelings, you've done nothing but proclaim how wrong we are for each other. Well, guess what? All we have is each other, and it is going to have to be enough. This love is going to happen" There was a long pause. Then, in a softened voice, he said, "I just want you to love me, Barbara. Just love me." The tears she had fought not to cry began to fall.
"No. No more tears. No more doubts, no more excuses, alright? Just come to me. Come to me, and love me." He was looking at her in the most tender way. "Please."
Barbara, all of a sudden, felt so tired. Her mind and her heart wanted peace. "Don't fight it ," the little voice said. "Go to him, and love him. Don't be afraid." I'm so scared, she thought. I'll never be enough for him. "Trust him. You love him, now trust him" She lifted her red, weeping eyes, and looked at him. She stood there for a few seconds longer, and then, looked over to the lamp sitting on the side table. She turned, and reached over to switch it off. She then walked over to the table by the sofa, on which sat another lamp. She reached underneath the shade, and turned it off, as well.
Barbara then fixed her gaze upon the tall, dark, lean figure standing in the doorway of her bedroom. A few feet more, and life as you know it will change forever, my girl, she thought. Forever. She began to walk towards him slowly, one step at a time. When she was almost there, he reached out, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her to him. He crushed her against his chest, holding her so tightly, that he practically took her breath away. Thomas brought both of his hands up to cup her face. He looked at her full on, taking in every line and curve, before lowering his mouth to hers. He wasn't gentle. He was hungry for her, and his kiss was ferocious and biting. He ravished her lips, her neck. His hands left her face, and moved down to and over her breasts, kneading them, massaging them; and then on to her hips, grabbing them, and roughly pulling her even closer. Barbara's arms had wound themselves around his waist. She held on to him, refusing to let go in spite of the gruff way he was handling her. This was where she belonged, right here in his arms.
When Thomas ended the kiss, he took a huge, deep breath. Barbara was breathing raggedly, and her face was flushed. They stared at each other for a long moment, drinking one another in; knowing what was about to come, and ready for it. He took her hands in his, never taking his eyes off her. She looked at the hands that were holding her own so firmly. He had told her he'd never let her go, and she knew now that he meant it. He never would. It was time for her to let go. Finally, it was time to take courage, and claim the love she so desperately wanted.
Barbara looked up into the face of the man she loved with all of her heart. Her man, Thomas Lynley. She looked deeply into his dark brown eyes, and said in a still, but resolved voice, "I love you, Thomas. Make me yours." He nodded his head, and gave a slow, understanding smile. He stepped backwards into the bedroom, taking her with him, whispering, "Yes, ma'am," as he quietly shut the door.
CHAPTER NINE
Thomas was sitting in the chair that was just a little ways from the bed. The sun was shining in through the window, and a soft, mild breeze was wafting in, promising a nice, warm day ahead. He had been up for while- turning on the morning news, which was playing low, and making coffee, a big mug of which he was sipping off of right now, as he sat there. He was leaning back in the chair, with his long legs stretched out before him, and smiling lazily at the woman who was fast asleep on the other side of the bed.
They had made love, off and on, for most of the night. Barbara's sexual experience was limited to two very brief affairs she'd had before they had started working together. She had told him about them ages ago. For that reason, he had tried to be gentle, but his hunger for her had been all-consuming, and had overruled any self-control he'd had. She would be sore when she woke up. What mattered to him most right now, though, was the fact that she was his, body and soul. Finally.
He knew it had been difficult for her- surrendering her doubts, her misgivings. In fact, he knew she would carry one or two within her, always. He could deal with that. As long as he had her, that was the important thing.
If truth be told, he had to admit to himself that it wasn't going to be an easy ride, this relationship. Especially in the area of their work. He would give things a few weeks before talking to Hillier; get things settled, and then see what there was to be done. As far as his family was concerned, however, he felt they would be the least of any trouble. They already knew and loved Barbara. It would just be a matter of accepting her in a new role. He felt reasonably confident that they would. He prayed so. Come what may however, he was ready to take on whatever had to be dealt with. No turning back. It was what he had told her, it was what he meant.
The small, sturdy figure in the bed stirred. Thomas could see that she was still half-asleep. She had turned over, her arm sweeping the side of the bed he had slept on, feeling for him. She whimpered a bit, and then drowsily called his name. He arose from the chair, and set his coffee on the nightstand. He stood for a minute, looking down at his other half with all the love a man could possibly have for his woman, and smiled. It was going to be rough waters for sure, but he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather be tossed about with. The love of his life was underneath those cool blue sheets, naked, warm, and alive. Barbara raised her sleepy head, and groggily called out for him, again. "I'm here, my sweet baby," he said, as he lifted up the sheet, and slid in beside her. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."