A/N: This chapter ended up being incredibly long, so I divided it in half. I'll post the other half once I get done proofing it. As always, thanks for the feedback :-)

He quietly closed and locked the door and walked through the house to the laundry room. He took a moment to set his boots on the back porch and drop his clothes into the washer. Adding soap and turning the machine on, he lowered the lid. He knew Barb would have done it, but she wasn't his servant. He could wash his own clothes. It was enough that she would throw them in the dryer later.

He looked around as he headed for the stairs, but he didn't see Marcus anywhere. He wasn't surprised. The big cat tended to make himself scarce around him. He wasn't sure if he was just shy or if he resented his presence, though he tended to think it more the latter. Many times when he got home after Barb did, Marcus would be in her lap but he'd jump down and vanish as soon as he came into the room. Barb said to give him time, and Goren was willing to give him as much time as he needed, but he was a little concerned how he would accept Storm. If Marcus didn't fully hate him yet, he might now if he associated him with the appearance of the small gray hurricane he brought home.

He headed up the stairs to the bedroom, quietly opening the door and slipping into the dark room. All the drapes were drawn, but he could make out her form in the bed. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. He set Storm on the floor so she could explore; he would know soon if Marcus was in the room. His phone, his wallet and his keys were on the dresser where he'd left them, and he placed his badge, his gun and his knife beside them. Picking up the phone, he turned it on and called his partner. Eames.

"Hey, it's me. I didn't want you to worry. Barb is fine. She's sleeping."

Thank you, Bobby.

"I'll call you later. Good night, Alex."

He placed the phone back on the dresser and then silently toed off his shoes and slipped out of his jeans and sweatshirt. A warm bed and a soft body...

He walked to the bed, his eyes now adjusted to the dimness, and studied her. Beautiful... Not for the first time, he wondered what he had done to deserve her. Resigned to the fact that he'd probably never know, he decided his best bet was to simply accept the fact that she loved him and not try to figure it out. Eames was right; sometimes he thought too much. Even though he suffered from mind-numbing weariness, he still found the energy to resurrect doubts in his mind. He sighed softly and slid into the bed, beneath the blankets.

Turning onto his side toward her, he tucked his hand beneath his head and studied her sleeping features before reaching out a hand to brush her hair back out of her face. She stirred and her eyelids fluttered. When they finally opened, her sapphire eyes stared at him for a long moment as sleep slid away from her brain. He knew she thought she was dreaming, so he placed his hand on the gentle curve above her hip and smiled. "Good morning, baby," he whispered.

She stared at him, reaching a hand out to touch his face, expecting him to disappear again. When her fingers made contact with a smooth, shaved cheek, she caught her breath. "Bobby..." she whispered back. "Oh, Bobby!"

She slid into his body, throwing her arms around him and dissolving into a deep kiss. In spite of his fatigue, he had no desire at all to let her go or to still the course of her hands as they explored his body. He was busy doing exploring of his own. Soft curves, warm kisses, tender caresses and a mounting desire chased away his exhaustion for a little while. Her welcome almost made the entire undercover job worthwhile...almost, but not quite.

His climax sapped the little strength he had left, and after a soft kiss and murmured "I love you" he fell into a deep, much-needed sleep. She studied him as he slept, trying to convince herself he was real, that he was home. She turned on the bedside lamp and carefully examined his body for injury, finding the open laceration on the side of his head and the deep bruising on his side. Since the bruising was well below his ribs and on the side of his body opposite his liver and other vital organs, she was not alarmed by it. The wound on his head she examined more closely. The bullet had grazed him, but the cut was not that deep, and it was clean and narrow. She slid from the bed and went into the bathroom. When she returned, she flipped on the light tied into the ceiling fan so she could see better to dress the wound. Turning toward the bed, she stopped in her tracks when she saw a small ball of gray fur curled in the crook of his neck on his pillow.

Setting the first aid box on the foot of the bed, she sat down and looked at the kitten. "Well, look at you."

Storm lifted her head and studied Barb with interest. She wasn't sure what to make of this one, but she was different from those people by the water. This person was soft and quiet. This person was gentle, like the other one who had rubbed her head. She sniffed the offered hand and found a familiar combination of smells. This person was all right. She mewed softly, then tucked her head back against his skin and closed her eyes.

Barb wondered about the small cat, but knew he would explain when he woke up. She wasn't about to disturb his sleep to ask about her, but she made a mental note to go to the store for kitten chow and make an appointment with the vet. She was also going to make a good dinner tonight...broiled tenderloin, baked potatoes, broccoli, maybe something with whipped cream for dessert...and she didn't care what he said, he wasn't going anywhere tonight. She had something important to tell him, and she had missed him more than she ever thought it possible to miss any person. As much as she loved her son, she had not missed him this much when he'd moved away.

She pulled the first aid box closer and shifted herself closer to him. Gently, she cleaned the wound, not surprised that the sting of the peroxide and the betadine didn't register with him. The kitten woke and watched every move she made. She closed the wound with steri-strips; it wasn't bad enough to need stitches. When she finished, she returned the box to its place under the bathroom sink.

Studying him as he slept, she felt the weight of the depression that had been with her these past weeks lift. She walked around the bed and leaned down to kiss him. Her fingers played with his hair for a few moments, then she went downstairs to make breakfast.

Turning off the stove, she was surprised when she turned away from it to see the kitten in the doorway. She looked up at her and mewed. Barb opened a can of Marcus' food and spooned it onto a plate for her. As the kitten dug in to the food, Barb took her plate to the table and ate her breakfast. Her mind reflected on how easy it had been to get used to not eating alone and how hard it had been to adjust to being alone again when Bobby was gone. It was a very different feeling from when she knew he was simply at work.

Just as she finished eating, the phone rang. "Hello?"

Hi, Barb. This is Alex.

"Hi, Alex. Bobby is still sleeping."

Good. He needs it. But I called to talk to you. We both tried calling you this morning when Bobby came in off the street, but you didn't answer. Is something wrong? He called me to tell me you were okay, so I wouldn't worry, but I'm still worried.

"When did you call?"

Around four, I guess.

"I wasn't home. One of my nurses got sick and I went in to cover for her. I didn't get back home until around five or so. I'm sorry I worried you."

You do realize he's going to get you a cell phone now.

Barb laughed. "That won't do any good in the hospital. Why didn't he try me there?"

It probably didn't occur to him. You don't usually work nights and as tired as he was, he was lucky to be functioning at all. Did you look at his head?

"Yes. It's just a flesh wound; he's fine. Say, did he say anything about this kitten to you?"

Only that he found her in an alley and they kind of bonded. While he was finishing up the interrogation, she was wandering around the squad room looking for him. He says she's feisty, and she seems very attached to him.

"So I see. Thanks, Alex...for everything."

Don't mention it. One of you give me a call later. I have paperwork to finish right now before Mr. Carver comes looking for me.

"All right. 'Bye."

She hung up the phone and cleaned up her dishes, pleased that she was able to eat again without that leaden weight in the pit of her stomach robbing her of what was left of her appetite. The kitten had cleaned her plate and vanished, but it took little mental effort for Barb to guess where she had gone. She spent the morning shopping, knowing Bobby was not going to waken any time soon, although she left a note for him, just in case. She knew how unpredictable he could be.

After returning home, she put everything away and headed upstairs. From what she could tell, he had not moved, and the kitten had reclaimed her place on his pillow. Marcus was sitting in the doorway, just staring at the bed, and she wondered if he'd met the kitten yet. She was inclined to think yes because the only form of acknowledgment he offered was to turn his head away and study the side of the dresser. "Okay, fine," she told him. "Be a snob. But she's here to stay, just like Bobby is, so you'd better just adjust, old man." In reply, he stood up and left the room. "You're a butthead, Marcus," she quietly called after the big black cat.

She couldn't help smiling. Marcus would adjust, eventually. She walked to the bed and eased herself onto it, laying down to rest her head on the pillow near the sleeping kitten, who opened one eye, saw that it was her, and decided it was all right for her to stay there.

Resting her hand on his chest, Barb closed her eyes, for once not annoyed at her recent tendency toward fatigue, and she slept.