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ANOTHER critical moment

When Barbara finally woke up the afternoon after she was shot, she looked round the hospital room, groggily noting the flowers that seemed to fill it, and the man watching her. "Sir…?"

He crossed over to the bed, smiling broadly at her. "Barbara! What a relief! I'm so glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "I was shot, yeah?
"You certainly were! I've never seen anyone so brave." He took her hand, but she removed it from his grasp. Not right, she thought.

"Stupid, more likely," she said. He just shook his head, no. He sat down, both of them quiet, absorbed in their own thoughts, until she closed her eyes and fell asleep again. When she woke, she was surprised to find him still there, sitting at her bedside.
"So," she said tentatively, "how's Helen doing?" He stood and walked over to the window, looking out.
"She's fine," he said.

"Oh come on, sir, don't give me that 'fine' crap. She lost the baby, she's not fine."

He was silent for a moment, then took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how she is," he said. "She's at her sister's in the country, and she….well, she really doesn't want to talk to me."

She tried to sit up in the bed. "That's terrible; you've got to go after her, talk to her!"

"Barbara, relax, please," he said gently. "This isn't your problem, and I don't want you to upset yourself thinking about it. Your job now is to get well."

"Well, okay, but yours, I think, is to go after Helen."

"I'll try to talk to her," he said, "to tell her about Dr. Jellico, and about you being shot. Maybe she'll be willing to at least hear that. And how sorry I am that I've let her down."

"Oh sir," she said. "You're suffering too. I know that, and I'm sure she does as well."

He looked away. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Anyway, Barbara, I'd better get to the office. Everyone will be glad to hear you've survived the surgery. I'll come by tonight."

"You don't have to do that, sir."

"I know I don't have to, Barbara. I want to." He bent down, and she turned her head so that his kiss landed on her hair. "Goodbye for now."

Kiss! She thought, he was going to kiss me. Oh, God….

The next day, more flowers arrived, and as the nurse was getting her into a chair, they both admired the way they cheered the sterile room. "He's quite keen on you, isn't he?" the nurse remarked. "Oh no," Barbara said. "He's my boss, my partner; he's upset because I was shot." The nurse looked skeptical. Barbara shook her head. "I can't begin to tell you all the reasons you're wrong."

Just then, someone knocked lightly on the open door. She looked up and murmured to the nurse, "and here's one of them - his wife." She smiled at the visitor. "Helen, I'm so glad to see you."

Helen came over, took her hands. "Well I heard what happened! Tommy told me what a brave thing you did."
"More foolish than brave," she was getting tired of saying. "But don't you wish I'd let Mrs. Finnigan shoot her? She wanted to kill her."

"No," Helen said thoughtfully. "I'm glad she'll have to stand trial…for the killings, if not for costing me my baby."

"I am so sorry about that."

Helen smiled sadly. "I know, Barbara, I do know. I only wish Tommy was as sorry."

If she could have, Barbara would have leaped to her feet. "Oh, Helen, he is! He's devastated. About the baby. And about you."

"He has a funny way of showing it." Bitterly.

"That's just his way," she said. "It's hard for him to show emotion, you know that. His way of handling it was to find out who was responsible, to catch the killer. He has to DO something. He kind of thinks that everyone will get that…his practical side."

"Well, he's lucky that you get it," Helen said, gathering her things to go. She took Barbara's hand again, holding it for a moment. "Get well soon, Barbara."

"Yeah, thanks. You too."

A week later, Barbara had reason to remember this conversation. She was discharged from hospital, with orders to rest, to heal, to stay away from work for another week. Winston had come to take her home. "The boss was planning to come," he said, "but Hillier wanted to see him 'immediately'. I think there's talk of giving you compensation."

"Really? That'd be nice," she said, grimacing a bit as she moved from the wheelchair to the car. When they got to Chalk Farm, Winston tried to take her arm. She shook him off. "Cut it out, stop hovering! I'm okay." She hesitated when they got to her door. "Winnie, my place was a tip before. I'm sure it's a disaster now, so maybe you'd better go. I can settle myself in."

"No," he said with a grin, "I'm under orders to see you into your bed. And, Barb, be prepared. It's not a disaster."
"What?" She pushed the door open and gasped. Her flat was tidy, immaculate, with flowers on the table next to her magazines in a neat pile. "That insufferable ponce!" she said. "What's he done this time?"

"I think he sent that man of his, Denton, over with the housekeeper, with orders to make it cozy. I think the frig is full too."

She walked into her small kitchen and, opening the refrigerator, found it was indeed stocked with all kinds of food she would never buy. She began to seethe, and it got worse when she limped into her bedroom. The bed was piled with pillows of all shapes and colors that certainly hadn't been there before, and when she sat down, she saw that the sheets and duvet were new, of a quality she also would not have bought. "What right does he have to do this? To meddle in my life?" she demanded. "Now I have to find a way to pay him back for all this stuff. Damn him!"

Winston shrugged. "C'mon, you know he won't take money from you. I think he just wanted you to be all right. You know how he is."

She suddenly remembered saying the same thing to Helen, and the anger slowly receded. "You're right," she said. "That is how he is….the practical side of him."

"So you're not mad?"

"I'll get over it." She kicked off her shoes and lay down on her transformed bed. "I'm fine, Winnie, you go back to work. I'll talk to you later, after I've had a nap and a nice lunch. My frig has to get over the shock of all that food it's never seen before. It might explode from the strain."

He leaned over, kissed her on her cheek, and smiled. "Good, Barb. We all want you to get well and come back as soon as possible. It's a struggle without you."

"Who's taking my place?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"Barton," he said.

"Barton? That gorgeous blonde? You want me back when you've got her to look at?"

"Yeah well, the boss was fed up with her after one day. He doesn't know how she made sergeant, said she isn't smart enough. He made me acting sergeant and he has her doing all the paper work, what he thinks she might be able to handle. He's furious and he's sick of looking at her, can't wait till you're back. I think he'll want to come over, to run some things by you, stuff we've been working on." He pulled the duvet up over her legs, and she saw an envelope that had been tucked under it.

"Go on, Winnie, let yourself out. And thanks."

Alone, she took a deep breath before she opened the envelope and read the note. "Barbara," it said, "please don't be angry. I just wanted to do something to make sure you're comfortable and glad to be home. It's the only thing I could think of. Much love, Tommy."

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