A/N: Firstly, thank you so much for your wonderful reviews of Chapter 1. I'm sorry I haven't answered them directly, but this has been a rough couple of weeks for me. My husband had back surgery, and then suddenly, my dad was in the hospital for kidney failure. Both are doing well now, but life happened, and obviously my story wasn't a priority. Still, I had written this chapter in my mind as I tried to go to sleep each night; I merely lacked the time to write it down. Now that I am on Christmas break, I should have more time, barring any other emergencies. I hope this was worth the wait.

Chapter 2

"Boss?"

Jason Wylie's soft call brought Cho slowly from a deep sleep, which had been filled with half-memories swirled together with new images of the beautiful Avery Brooks.

When there didn't seem to be any sign of him awakening, Wylie resorted to a tentative touch to Cho's shoulder.

"Boss? Sorry to wake you, sir, but people are starting to come in…"

Cho opened his eyes, and the first sound he heard was the dripping of water outside the window. The ice was melting.

He sat up abruptly, causing Wylie to stumble back a step in surprise.

"Sorry," the junior agent repeated, wide-eyed. "Were you stuck here all night?"

"Yeah," Cho replied succinctly, rubbing his tired eyes.

When the trooper had dropped him off the night before, the weather had deteriorated so much that Cho had decided he wouldn't risk wrecking a company SUV. So, after filching a container of Lisbon's yogurt and a couple slices of leftover pizza from the break room fridge, he'd curled up on Jane's old couch and snuggled beneath the throw blanket, listening to the steady click of the ice against the window behind him.

Sleep, however, had eluded him for several hours, and it had little to do with being stranded at the office or with the annoying way the couch still molded to a certain ex-consultant's body, and definitely not to Cho's. No, he stayed awake because his pulse still hummed with the excitement of seeing Avery again after all these years. He kept replaying every moment from that night, kicking himself that he hadn't asked her to meet for drinks or coffee or maybe even dinner. Blearily glancing at his watch, he realized he'd maybe gotten three hours of sleep.

"Well," Wylie was continuing, in that bright earnestness that was particularly grating after a sleepless night. "A warm front came in, and the temperature is going to be in the fifties today. The roads were pretty bad this morning, but clearing fast since it's already above freezing. Welcome to Texas, right?"

Cho merely nodded.

"Hey, how'd you get those two black eyes?" Wylie asked, his brows knitting in concern.

"Long story."

Wylie knew better than to question him further. If the boss wanted to share, he'd share.

"I'm going downstairs to shower and shave," Cho said, getting to his feet. He grabbed his suit jacket where he'd draped it over Lisbon's nearby chair, frowned that it was still damp, then slipped on his loafers. The training facility in the basement housed a serviceable shower, and in his locker he had a clean shirt, underwear, and a tie for times when a case kept him from going home.

"We still having that staff meeting in an hour?"

Cho gritted his teeth. He couldn't believe seeing Avery had so unnerved him that he'd forgotten all about the meeting that he was supposed to conduct.

Shit.

"Yeah. Get those folders from my office and distribute them around the fish bowl table."

"Copy that," said Wylie, smiling.

Nothing worse than a morning person to the sleep deprived, thought Cho bitterly.

"Do me a favor and make sure the coffee's fresh in the break room, will ya?"

"Will do."

"Thanks." He hated treating Wylie like a secretary, but he promised himself he'd make it up to the guy. After he'd had his coffee.

The hot water felt like heaven as Cho stood beneath the pounding spray. His muscles still ached from the accident, his head too, and he wished he'd stopped by his desk to grab a handful of ibuprofen.

As the moments ticked by and he began to wake up, an image from his dreams last night assailed him, and he closed his eyes against the sweet pain of it, resting his aching head against the cool tile of the shower. It was 1989, and Avery's slim body was warm beneath his…

"You don't have to go through with this," Kimball said, his voice raspy with desire.

"Don't you want to?"

They were naked in her twin-sized bed, her parents gone for the evening. At sixteen, neither of them was probably ready for sex, but hormones had gotten the better of them. However, being the Type A personalities they both were, they'd planned this moment down to the optimistic twelve-pack box of condoms on the nightstand. She'd even lit candles for ambiance, and Kimball tried to avoid the eyes of Janet Jackson and New Kids on the Block looking down on them from their posters on the wall.

Avery wriggled a little beneath him, and he gasped, then groaned, closing his eyes. God. All he had to do was move a little and it would be over. His virginity would be an unpleasant memory.

"You don't even know how much I want this," he managed. But he was also terrified. He wondered if the condom was on right, or if he would hurt her, or if he had the staying power to make it good for them both.

He felt her small hand caress his cheek, willing him to open his eyes and look down into those tempting pools of green.

"I want my first time to be with you," she told him. "I love you."

She'd never said that to him before. No girl had ever said that to him before.

He reached down and gently brushed her curly hair back from her forehead, his gaze softening with emotion. He swallowed.

Here goes nothing, he thought.

"I love you too," he told her, pleased his voice only trembled a little.

"Then let's do this," she said bravely, smiling up at him with straight, white teeth newly free of braces.

He bent and kissed her, and suddenly, all his fears melted away…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Avery sighed and took off her white coat, hanging it in the doctors' locker room. It had been a long night. Lots of accidents from the ice, but fortunately, only one fatality and one emergency surgery. It had been surreal in more ways than one, least of all from the intensity of the storm. Avery was normally pretty good at putting aside personal issues when she was working, but forgetting about seeing Kimball Cho after nearly three decades had been a constant struggle last night. Now, as she untied her surgical cap, all the thoughts and memories that she'd pushed away came flooding back, and she closed her eyes, her hands covering her face as she sat on the bench near her locker.

She remembered the very last time she'd seen him before she saw him crash his Camaro into a light pole. It had been 1990, and she was sitting in the passenger seat of her mother's old Plymouth, following her dad as he drove the U-Haul truck east. Kimball had sat on the stoop looking as devastated as she felt, and she couldn't even summon the energy to raise a forlorn hand to wave goodbye. She was as miserable as she had ever been in her young life, and indeed ever would be in the years that followed. But how had things gone so badly so quickly? Just a month before, she and Kimball had been so happy…

After their first time together, the pair of young lovers met as often as they could, sometimes in his house, sometimes in hers, sometimes beneath the bleachers of the school football stadium in the cover of darkness. They were young, but they both knew that what they had was special, that it was more than just sex between them. They were both passionate people; though those who didn't know Kimball on this level would be very surprised to hear it.

Making love had turned out to be more incredible than any of her fantasies, despite the sweet awkwardness that came with their inexperience. But what Avery loved most were the talks they shared afterwards, as Kimball enfolded her in his strong arms on a blanket on the soft grass. They laughed. They spoke in hushed whispers of their future plans. She would become a doctor; he, a pitcher for the Oakland A's. In two short years they would be able to begin living their dreams, and nothing could hold them back.

They told no one—not even their best friends—about their frequent interludes, and the secret of their love seemed to insulate them from the rest of the world, kept them safe from the violence of innercity Oakland, from the wrath of her father should he ever find out. They thought they were being smart, planning their meetings carefully, meeting only at her house when her mother was at work. What they didn't count on was her father's surprise return from his deployment to the Persian Gulf.

There wasn't a lock on Avery's bedroom door, and she and Kimball were so wrapped up in each other that neither of them heard the knock. Next thing she knew, Kimball was ripped violently from her arms, his naked behind literally kicked out of her room by her furious father.

"Daddy!" she cried, pulling the blanket up to hide her own nudity. She watched as Kimball landed on the shag carpet on his knees, before her father tossed his jeans at him.

"What the fuck were you thinking, you gangbanger punk? Sleeping with my daughter under my roof! I oughta tear your head off-"

Kimball was hastily pulling on his pants, while Avery got out of bed, fearful for her lover's life. Her father was a Marine, his hands lethal weapons, and she had visions of Kimball beaten to a pulp before her eyes. She pushed her way past her father and into the hall, standing between him and Kimball, her hands holding the blanket to her breasts.

"Daddy, please!"

"I suggest you get the hell out of the way, little girl, or you won't be sitting down for a month." His voice was low and dangerous, his dark eyes bright with fury.

Kimball was standing now, his broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms nothing to scoff at. He worked out faithfully, becoming as strong as he could to pitch the ball as hard as he could, to bat like a pro.

"Leave her alone," said Kimball icily, pulling Avery protectively behind him. "This is my fault, not hers."

As much as Avery admired that Kimball was defending her, she knew by the way her father's hands closed into hard fists, by the way he towered over Kimball by a good six inches, that the younger man would not win this fight.

"You think you're a man, now, do you? That gang you hang out with teach you how to fight a Marine?" He laughed without humor. "I've put Iraqis down ten times as badass as some Korean banger wannabe." Her father advanced a menacing step. "I suggest you get the fuck out of my house and stay the hell away from my daughter, or shock and awe will be nothing to the shit storm that will rain down upon you."

They were at an impasse, neither of them backing down; neither of them making a move that would make this thing more real.

"I'll be okay, Kimball," she whispered near his ear. "Please, just go."

Kimball turned to look at her, and that pleading look she reserved just for him had him once again willing to do whatever she asked. Even losing his honor.

"If you hurt her, I'll kill you," Kimball said, his final stand.

Staff Sergeant Brooks's derisive laughter followed the barefoot young man out of her front door and out of her life forever.

Or, so she thought.

Avery's pager buzzed, and she looked at the message. Apparently someone wanted to see her at the ER desk. Her heart skipped a beat.

Had Kimball come back?

She stopped in front of the mirror, fluffing her hair and putting on lip balm from her pocket as she hurried out of the locker room.

Her stomach dropped when she saw it wasn't Kimball, but a handsome blonde man with a killer smile. Then she noticed the sleeping little angel in the stroller parked beside him, and her cheeks stretched into an answering grin..

To her surprise, the man moved toward her as if they were old friends, extending his hand to take one of her cool hands between both of his warm ones.

"Avery, you're as lovely as I pictured you."

"Uh, thanks. And you are-?"

"Oh, sorry. Patrick Jane. And this is Samuel. We're friends of Kimball's. Very good friends. Kimball is actually one of Samuel's godfathers."

"Nice to meet you both." Her forehead wrinkled suddenly in concern. "Is something wrong? Has Kimball been admitted-?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to thank you for rescuing him last night. I know he's very appreciative as well."

Avery smiled in relief. "I was glad I could be there."

"And what are the odds that not only a doctor, but an old friend would be the one to see the accident? Crazy. My wife thinks it must have been kismet."

"Maybe," she said, schooling her features. She wondered if this was some sort of fishing expedition on Kimball's behalf. If so, she didn't quite know how to feel about that. Was it weird, or was she flattered?

"I'm not here at Kimball's request," said Patrick Jane, as if reading her mind. "This is all me. As a matter of fact, he'd probably punch me in the nose if he knew I was here." But he didn't look particularly afraid.

She looked at him expectantly, and at the same time, felt him giving her the once over himself, but not in a sexual way. Clinically. Methodically. It wasn't a particularly comfortable experience.

"Then why risk it?" she asked, remembering Kimball's muscular arms with a slight shiver. Jane's eyes sparkled in quick recognition of her betrayed emotion. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, then dropped them as she realized what she'd done.

"I'm here to ask," said Jane brightly, "if you'd like to go to a Christmas party at my house. Kimball will be there, and my wife of course, along with a few other close friends. All very casual and unthreatening. We would love to have you, to thank you as well as to get to know you better."

"Why?" She didn't dare to hope that Kimball-

Jane reached out his hand and wrapped it gently around her wrist, almost as if he were feeling her pulse. His smile grew softer, more understanding, his voice lower as he leaned closer.

"Let's not beat around the bush, shall we? You know why. Come to the party."

Avery opened her mouth in surprise, closed it, then opened it again, her green eyes wide. She pulled her hand from his.

Jane reached over to the ER desk, flashed his smile at the nurse who was sitting there and took the pen and sticky note he asked for. On the counter, he jotted down the directions to his cabin, then his cell number. For good measure, he put Cho's too. He tore off the yellow slip of paper and held it out to her.

"Tonight? Around 7?"

"Tonight?" she repeated, startled at the suddenness.

She looked from Jane's welcoming face down to his proffered note, stared at it for a few heavy moments, before taking it, almost against her will.

"Good," he said. "See you then."

The sound of a baby bottle hitting the floor took Jane's attention away, and he bent to retrieve it, but Avery had beaten him to it. Samuel held out his little hands, rocking up and down against his seatbelt and grunting a little for his bottle. Avery squatted down and held it out to him, chuckling softly. He took the bottle in his hands and found the nipple with his mouth, sucking greedily.

"Someone's hungry," she said, looking into his big green eyes. Avery reached out and tenderly touched the baby's soft, blonde curls.

"Such a sweetheart," she said under her breath. She looked up to see Jane looking down at her, grinning knowingly.

"You'll make a good mother someday."

She blushed and stood again.

"Seven o'clock," repeated Jane, wheeling the stroller back toward the exit. He seemed completely confident that she would come, and the stubborn nature that pushed her to graduate from medical school at the top of her class had her almost throwing the damned sticky note in the trash.

But as Avery watched the handsome, mysterious man depart, crooning softly to his infant son, a wild thought occurred to her. She looked down at the paper in her hand.

Here was her second chance. How many people got one of those, especially with their childhood sweetheart?

Kimball had spoken of her to a friend of his, had inspired Patrick Jane to invite her into Kimball's orbit again. Perhaps he wanted this too. But was it too late for them? They were two different people from those two love-struck kids of decades ago. This could all end in heartbreaking disappointment—for the second time.

Was it worth the risk?

She remembered how she'd felt when she realized she was standing in the sleet with Kimball Cho. Warmth had seeped through her veins despite the bitter cold surrounding them. She hadn't felt that way for anyone since him.

There, she supposed, was her answer.

With a deep breath, she strode back to the locker room to retrieve her things. Her body was dead tired, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get to sleep until she stopped by the mall.

Dr. Avery Brooks had the sudden, impractical urge to buy a new dress.

A/N: I will continue to fill in the blanks of Cho and Avery's past, as well as update you on what our other old friends have been up to. Oh, yeah, and I definitely have a party to plan for Chapter 3. Thanks for hanging in there. More soon!

PS: Someone asked me if I took the name Avery Brooks from the actor from Star Trek. That was completely unintentional, but a funny coincidence. I wondered why the name sounded familiar when I came up with it, lol. Note to self: Google it next time.