Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply. This was written for someone who wanted a new story and is a little stressed. She may relate to some of the things Barbara goes through here, and I hope she enjoys it, but I think many of you may relate to events in this story as I have borrowed from many stories I know are true. Anything you recognise? Oh, and by the way, it starts off three months before the wedding...

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

"I am arresting you for the murder of Michael… bloody hell!" Detective Sergeant Havers fell to the ground as David Smith head butted her. She reached up to feel blood trickling down her forehead and dripping onto her coat.

"Are you all right?" Her boss, the ever-suave Detective Inspector Tommy Lynley peered down at her, his face ashen and wrinkled with concern.

"Yes! Don't stand there gawking at me. Get after the bastard!"

"Winston has that under control. Here." Tommy extended his hand and helped her to her feet. Stars swam before her and narrowed into almost total darkness. "Barbara?! Here, sit down. No, lie down. You might have a concussion."

"Ta." Barbara gratefully leant against him as he lowered her onto the floor. He sat cross-legged and cradled her head in his lap. It was soft and warm, and when he gently stroked her head, she sighed. In any other circumstances, she would want this to happen. But not like this. Not with a splitting headache and the genuine possibility that she was about to throw up over his expensive cashmere suit. She rolled her head out as far as she could. "Oh God, I think I'm about to…"

"Ambulance! Now!"

Barbara felt Tommy move her into the recovery position. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, but her only thought was how could she ever face him again. "I'll pay… for your dry clean… ing…"

Barbara could hear voices but could not decide if they were talking to her, or about her. "She has a concussion, but no swelling or bleeding. She should be fine in a few days, but I will advise two weeks off work and no major decisions to be made for a month."

Concussion? I have concussion? Slowly the memory of Smith's shaven head colliding with the bridge of her nose came back. She reached for her head but something, no someone, had her hand. Must be the nurse.

"She's coming around. I'll leave you alone and come back in thirty minutes, but if she has any symptoms other than a headache, call me."

"Yes, Doctor."

Tommy? Why are you here? Barbara heard footsteps, but her hand was still trapped. She tried to free it.

"Hey, hello. How are you?"

A big, hairy hand moved a strand of hair off her face with such gentleness that she started to cry. No, no don't cry.

A tissue mopped her tears. "It's me. Tommy. Tommy Lynley."

Her faint smile stopped spreading when her head began to cleave in two. "Ah!"

Tommy let go of her hand. She had frightened him off. She wanted to yell for him to come back but her only sound was a loud groan. Before she realised, Tommy was sitting beside her, his arm around her shoulder and his hand gently holding her head against his chest. He ran his fingers softly over the top of her head, soothing away all her pain.

"Oh, that's good."

"I'm glad. I was worried about you, Barbara."

Did I say that aloud? She froze.

"You're safe now," he continued, "that's all that matters."

Tommy leant down and nuzzled into her hair. It was comforting and vaguely familiar, and she could have sworn it felt like a kiss. She closed her eyes and slowly exhaled as she buried her face against him and smelled his warm, woody scent. "Mmm, that's nice," she said, no longer caring if he heard her.

"Yes, it is." His breath tickled as it moved through her hair. She put her arm over him and drifted off to sleep.

"Come on now, Mr Lynley. Time for you to go home."

"What time is it?"

"Five o'clock. Matron comes on morning rounds in half an hour, and if she finds you here, she'll have my guts for garters."

"But Barbara might wake, and I won't be here." Tommy tried his most charming smile.

"I'll tell her. You can come back at ten. I expect they'll discharge her then but only into the care of an adult."

Tommy frowned, unsure of her implication. "I can look after her."

"I'm sure you can." The nurse gave him a saucy grin. "Now get out of here before I have to give you an enema."

"A what?"

"I will if you don't move. I'm an expert at twisting the tube all the way up."

Although he knew it was a hollow threat, Tommy blanched at the thought. "I'll be back at ten." He leant down and kissed Barbara on her swollen forehead. "I love you, Barbara," he whispered so quietly he doubted that the best sonar man in the Royal Navy would have been able to hear it.

"Love you too, Tommy," Barbara mumbled back.

Tommy stood and grinned. It was unsolicited and genuine. Underneath all the barriers that she kept using against him, she felt the same way he did. Tommy almost skipped out of the hospital. He walked to his car humming a schmaltzy love song that he knew Barbara liked.

"No."

"Yes, Barbara."

"No."

Tommy clenched his fists and tried hard not to raise his voice. "They will only let you out if someone takes care of you."

"I am not going to impose on you, Sir."

"You are not imposing. You'd do the same for me."

Barbara crossed her arms. "That's different."

"How?"

"Just is."

"Right. Well, you can stay here then. Clearly, the knock has affected your judgement more than they think." Barbara went to say something then clamped her mouth shut. "Besides, who else would put up with you?"

"You don't have to. Just because you feel guilty for what happened."

"Me? Why should I feel guilty?"

"You shouldn't, but you do."

Barbara was right, he did feel guilty that she had been hurt. "Yes, but that's not why I am going to look after you."

"Why then?"

Tommy looked at the infuriating woman lying on the bed. She was quite sexy when she was angry. As she was often angry, usually at him, that could be quite good for their relationship. He felt his face blush as deliciously wicked thoughts and desires crossed his mind. "Because believe it or not, I like you. We are friends, and friends take care of each other."

"Okay." Now Barbara was blushing.

"Okay? You mean you are surrendering?"

"No. I am not surrendering. I am choosing to leave the hospital, and to do that I accept that someone needs to be with me for the next 72 hours."

"Week."

"Week?" Barbara gave him a withering look.

"To be safe, yes."

"One week." It was a strong statement of intent. Tommy knew she did not intend to stay one second longer.

"We are agreed. I'll just get a wheelchair."

"I'm not an invalid."

Tommy shrugged. "Hospital policy. Wheelchair or stay here."

"Hurry up."

He smiled at her and saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

"I want you to feel at home here," Tommy said as they came back to the kitchen after a quick tour of his house.

"Thanks. And thanks for stopping by the flat to let me get my things."

"My offer to stay there with you was genuine."

"I know." Barbara felt a surge of affection for him. "But not practical. You have a spare room. I could only offer you my couch."

"I'd sleep on barbed wire if I had to."

Barbara could not look at him. "Good job you don't have to then. Am I allowed coffee?"

Tommy twisted his mouth in thought. "Technically no, but I have decaf."

"What's the point of that?"

"You'd feel as if you'd had a coffee."

"Bloody hell. Yes. Alright. Decaf sounds good, but you have to have one too."

He was about to protest then thought about it from her point of view. "Deal."

"Really?"

"You expected me to argue?"

"Frankly yes."

"I'm a man of surprises."

"Not too many please. I have a head injury and have trouble separating reality from fantasy."

"Sometimes, they are one and the same." Tommy made the coffees and handed her the mug. "Here or the lounge?"

"Here." With difficulty, she perched herself on the stool at the island bar.

"Don't fall."

"Stop fussing. Why are you grinning at me?"

"Climbing onto that stool, you reminded me of those You Tube videos."

Barbara raised her eyebrows and regretted it. It made her head hurt. "Which ones?" she asked as she took a sip of the incipit hot brown liquid that Tommy was trying to pass off as coffee.

"The panda ones where they roll over and fall off their play equipment." Barbara spat a fine mist of coffee over the white marble bench. Tommy laughed and handed her a sponge. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you laugh."

"I look like a panda?"

He nodded and smiled into his cup. "Mmm. Two black eyes and a cute round face."

Barbara rushed over to the wall oven and checked her reflection. Her face was swollen, and her eyes had dark rings around them. She did look like a panda. She turned back and gave him a wry smile. "Got any bamboo in the fridge?"

This time Tommy almost choked on his coffee. He put his cup on the bench and walked over to her and stood so close she could feel the warmth of his body. "When I saw his head crash into your face I felt sick. Then you collapsed, and I was scared." Tommy put his hands on her shoulders. "I don't ever want to feel that way again."

"Sir, I'm okay. I'm sorry it upset you."

Tommy's hands slipped around her, and he pulled her into his embrace. "It's not your fault. I… I should have protected you."

Barbara wondered how much of this was about him not being able to protect Helen. She had no words to express all the confusion and conflicting emotions she felt, so she put her arms around him, shut her eyes, nestled her face into his chest and hugged him back.

"Come on; you must be tired. Do you want to watch TV?" he asked after a few minutes. Tommy was afraid that if they stayed like that much longer, he would kiss her. It was only his breeding and willpower that had stopped him. It was not the right time to tell her how he felt. She was unwell and still dazed and needed his friendship. She would always think he had taken advantage of her.

"Is it rude to say no?"

"Of course not. Would you like to rest for a while?"

"No." Barbara paused. "Would you read to me?"

"Read to you? What do you want me to read?"

"Something you like. I just fancy curling up on your couch and listening to your voice. You can read the phone book if you like. I might drift off to sleep. Is that alright?"

Tommy's ears began to burn. She liked his voice. One day I hope you like me calling your name. He coughed and shook the thought from his head."The phone book? I think I can do better than that. And sleep will do you good."

They walked through to lounge room. Tommy selected a book and sat in his armchair. "They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did. But we were not in their ranks. The Jamaican ladies had never approved of my mother, 'because she pretty like pretty self' Christophine said. She was my father's second wife, far too young for him they thought, and, worse still, a Martinique girl. When I asked her why so few people came to see us, she told me that the road from Spanish Town to Coulibri Estate where we lived was very bad and that road repairing was now a thing of the past. (My father, visitors, horses, feeling safe in bed - all belonged to the past.)..."*

*Opening lines of Wide Sargasso Sea, by Jean Rhys, 1966