TITLE: Home 2/?

AUTHOR: Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

SUMMARY: See Chapter 1

NOTES: I didn't initially think I was going to really focus on Lucien's POV too much in this fic… but the muse had other plans. Well and truly. Hopefully I capture Lucien's thoughts okay. May have gone slightly overboard perhaps? You be the judge?

And a big thank you to all who took the time to read and/or leave a review on my first attempt at a DBM fic. I was rather nervous posting it, but it seems I needn't have been too concerned. The feedback has blown me away, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. :)

Thank you, it means so much – and certainly helped inspire the muse to keep this going so quickly. I'm thinking probably 3 or 4 chapters at this stage. :)

*L&J*

Oh why did that bloody phone have to go and ring? Lucien Blake mused, sighing sadly as he discreetly watched his good friend and housekeeper Jean Beazley walk, scratch that, almost run to answer the blasted telephone. It was almost as if she couldn't get away fast enough… well I guess neither of us were expecting that to happen…

Knowing Jean like he did he assumed she needed time to gather both her thoughts and composure. Jean Beazley was a very proud, proper woman who very rarely let herself become overwrought. He had seen the person, who in the past year had become his closest friend and confidante (and something more?) cry more in the past two days than he had in the entire time he had known her. He felt a sudden flash of rage run through him; Jack Beazley had a lot to answer for. Lucien thought grimly, turning to face the back garden – one of the many things his dear Jean tended to in her caring, and concerted manner. He paused mid-thought – his dear Jean, where had that come from? And did that really just happen?

*L&J*

His precious friend and housekeeper had been through so much of late. First Father Morton was murdered about two weeks ago, which had been bad enough in itself, and then all the suspicion and subsequent abuse and harassment following Jack's possible involvement in the Dennison murders had gone from bad to worse.

His arrival should have brought her nothing but laughter and happiness. And it had, for a very fleeting moment. Jean had been so proud of her boy when he won the Dennison Gift, once she had overcome her initial shock in seeing him. In how long Lucien didn't know.

"There's a lot you don't know." Yes, she was right – as usual. Despite how close their friendship had developed over the past year, and the last few months especially, there was so much he didn't have a clue about when it came to his Jean. She kept her cards close to her chest. Then again, so did he. Who was he to judge?

He had hated the sad, tense, worried look in her eye as she dished out dinner the night before. He had hated the ensuing conversation even less. He never liked arguing with Jean, the quick-witted banter he was often on the receiving end from her sharp, clever tongue sure – not the heated discussion that caused her so much pain. That was completely different.

Lucien may not have known her inside and out, but he did know that she cried deeply later that night. He couldn't help but hear her wretched sobs from his bedroom. His heart ached to go and comfort her, but he knew that this would not be welcomed. That said, he had been too close to opening his door on several occasions in the thirty minutes she had been there. He was relieved when he heard Mattie come in, Jean needed her shoulder at the moment, not his.

When he saw the newspaper article in today's edition of The Courier his heart sank and his nerves escalated. "Oh Good god," hardly covered the depth of his whirlwind of feelings. Anger, worry, panic, fear, dread – none good - at just what Jean would be going through on her own in the house… well maybe not on her own depending on what Mattie's schedule was, while he was stuck here at the station. He honestly couldn't have cared less if Charlie went with him or not, but in hindsight having the security of the police uniform helped deescalate the chaos much sooner than what he could've alone. (Knowing him, he would have only made things so much worse instead of better.)

What he witnessed made his heart stop, and see red. The police car pulled up just as some large lout shoved Jean (his dear, sweet Jean), so forcefully the momentum drove her to the ground within seconds. He had the door open almost before Charlie managed to bring the car to a stop.

"How dare you!? You pathetic lot!" He yelled, and this was something that didn't happen too often with the normally composed and well-mannered doctor, as he marched towards the offending man. "Taking it out on the women is that the idea?"

Lucien was acting on nothing more than pure instinct and rage, and this only flared further when he saw Jean get helped to her feet by Mattie, delicately holding her right wrist. "Bloody coward!" He sent a quick and silent prayer to a deity he didn't believe in for the fact that Charlie was here, standing only a few steps behind him. "You got a problem with this Charlie?" He asked, rolling up his sleeves – he had already taken off the jacket of his suit.

Seconds after Charlie's affirmative response he threw his first punch at the other man. And he was a fair size too, quite a lot bigger than Lucien in both height and bulk… not that that was going to deter him. The hooligan had hurt his Jean, and he was going to pay.

"Doc? Doc! That's enough." If he hadn't heard Charlie, he would have quite possibly killed the man for laying a hand on the best thing that had happened to him in quite some time. "I think he's had enough."

"Go home you lot." Oh, still his stubborn, independent and at times bloody obstinate, Jean. She probably would refuse treatment on her injured wrist, (he suspected she had sprained it at the very least, she had landed hard on the ground), but he was going to look at it. He was her doctor after all. Well, that was his excuse anyway.

He did notice her wince as he gently cleaned the graze. It had to hurt, applying antiseptic on a fresh wound was anything but pleasant. Lucien couldn't help but apologise and ask if she was alright, but typical Jean shrugged him off.

She couldn't merely shirk away her emotions when he told her the latest. That her youngest child had no alibi for the Dennison murders, and was an expectant father to boot. The strain of the last thirty six hours was clear to anyone who happened to be looking at his housekeeper at this second. He couldn't help himself, he had to comfort her.

He softly touched her left, tear-stained cheek, hoping it would soothe her tattered nerves. His heart went a little faster as she almost imperceptibly leaned into his touch, her blue-green eyes portraying a myriad of emotions. Did she want him to tell her that it was all going to be alright, that her son would be cleared? Perhaps even tell her who really did it so she could just carry on as if nothing had happened? Oh Jean. He inwardly sighed.

Were his growing feelings, (that he did not yet fully understand or realise), for her becoming obvious even to that foolish boy of hers? Apparently so given the younger man's words to him outside the station were any indicator. "She has you now."

Thinking of how Jack had simply just up and left without even saying goodbye to his mother made his blood boil yet again. He was so different to Jean, and as much as he didn't want to, he found he didn't like her son very much for how he treated his own mother.

*L&J*

Lucien found Jean tending to one of her many plants in the sunroom, as Mattie had suggested. He was once again amazed at her inner strength, going about her everyday work as if her son hadn't turned her world upside down within the last few days. How much of it was just a front? Bravado? He wasn't sure, but he suspected Jean was doing what she always did in a crisis, just get on with things as she only knew how, and in doing so the problem would sort itself out.

Lucien observed her silently for a moment before quietly making his presence known to her…

"Lucien?"

Startled, he turned towards Mattie, who had a mixture of concern and perplexment adorning her features.

"You're wanted at Mrs Clasby's house." She informed him.

He stared at her as if she had grown an extra head. Mrs Clasby? Since when did Agnes Clasby want a home consult?

Mattie sighed, interrupting his thoughts. "Lucien?"

Lucien shook himself out of his reverie. "Ah, yes… yes of course. Mrs Clasby, right." He answered finally, somewhat shakily, before beginning to regather himself. "Best not keep the dear lady waiting."

He proceeded to finally leave the sunroom, where there were so many different emotions and thoughts continuing to occupy his brilliant mind. But not without some trepidation, just what on earth would he say to Jean? What would she say to him?

Despite it all Lucien had to chuckle to himself as he heard Mattie mutter something that sounded like "getting to the bottom of it" to herself as he left.

Lucien was about to grab his fedora and jacket when something caught his eye. He stared in shock at the sight before him…

TBC…

Thanks for reading. Thoughts?