A/N: Hopefully this should make up for the last chapter…enjoy! Also, spot the BBC pride and prejudice reference :)

All we ever wanted

Was just to come in from the cold

Joni Mitchell

Chapter 5

"Barbara? Are you there?"

She stood perfectly still, transfixed by his muffled voice. It was Christmas eve; he was supposed to be in Cornwall. What on earth could he be doing here? For a wild moment she was tempted to ignore him, go to bed and pretend nothing had happened. But that was cowardly, and when it mattered Barbara had never been a coward. Besides, it might be an emergency. Why else would he have come?

She let her forehead rest against the door for a moment. She had absolutely no idea how she was going to face him.

"Barbara?"

Lynley rang again. Slowly, she undid the bolts and swung the door open. For an interminable moment they just stared at each other, and Barbara became suddenly conscious of what she must look like. But Lynley didn't seem to care; his fingers found a loose thread of his sweater and worried it. With some amazement, Barbara realized that he was nervous.

"I—happy Christmas, Barbara. I know this is irregular. May I come in?"

She cast a glance back at her dim flat, with its plate of half-eaten toast and battered bodice-ripper. She dreaded his pity but couldn't bring herself to refuse.

"Ah…yeah. Happy Christmas, sir. "

She stood aside to let him pass. He smelled of cedar smoke and whisky, and Barbara hated herself for the sudden urge to move into his arms.

"I'll, um…just be a minute."

Leaving Lynley to fend for himself, Barbara hurried around him and into the bedroom. Breathe, she told herself. She could handle this. She'd pour him a drink, see what he wanted and send him on his way. With fingers that weren't quite steady, Barbara pulled off her sweatpants and exchanged them for a pair of jeans. She'd never match Lynley in sartorial elegance, but she may as well look half-way presentable. She ran distracted fingers through her hair, gave herself a tremulous smile in the mirror and went out to face the music.

She found Lynley where she had left him, standing ill-at-ease near the sofa. His eyes were on the television, but Barbara would have guessed that he hadn't heard a word of A Christmas Carol.

"D'you want a drink?"

Lynley started a little and shook his head.

"No, thank you."

She waited for him to elaborate. Finally he said,

"I came to apologize. I—what I said was inexcusable."

Barbara nodded, telling herself that it was ridiculous to be disappointed.

"It's fine, sir. We—I think we both said things we didn't mean that night. And you should be at your mum's for Christmas. You didn't need to come all the way from Cornwall just to tell me that."

"Yes, I did." He hesitated. "I…I care for you, Barbara. Very much. As a friend as well as a partner. And I had no business commenting on your personal life; God knows I'm not one to talk."

Barbara resisted the urge to close her eyes. Please, she thought, let him leave now. But Lynely wasn't finished. In a rush he said,

"Kissing you was a…an impulse. I didn't intend—"

"Right." Barbara nodded a bit too eagerly. "It doesn't matter, sir. It shouldn't have happened. We had better just…move on."

Lynley looked at her intently, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Really? I'd thought that I would have been more memorable."

Barbara blinked. Lynely stepped closer; much closer. Then, without warning, he leaned down and kissed her. Barbara stood stock-still, completely stunned. But his mouth was warm and coaxing, and his hands ran up and down her arms in a caress that made her instinctively relax. Against her will, against all her better judgment, she leaned into him. And for a few long, blissful moments, the world fell away.

Finally, Lynley raised his head.

"Wh—what…"

"That wasn't an impulse."

Utterly confused, she reached out to push him away, but he was having none of it.

"Barbara. Look at me."

Reluctantly, she did. Very slowly he said,

"I can't predict the future. I can't give you any guarantees. But I can tell you that this isn't a game to me, or a whim." Lynely had been brought up to hide strong emotion. But in moments of stress, she knew, his breeding often deserted him entirely. Now he looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, not sure whether to jump. Barbara's stomach knotted with a dizzying mixture of hope and dread. Evenly she said,

"Go on."

"I—there's no easy way to say this, is there? The poets did it best, but you wouldn't want to hear it from them." He swallowed hard. "The truth is…I seem to have fallen in love with you, Barbara."

Barbara stared up at him, sure she had misheard. Then she saw the look on his face and knew that she hadn't. Unsteadily, she sank onto the sofa. Still half-dazed, she said the first thing that came to mind.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes; for the first time in a long while, I am." She must have looked doubtful, because Lynley said softly,

"Have I been that dreadful, then?" He winced and ran an unsteady hand through his hair. "Yes, I can see that I have. I—the truth is that I've always been rubbish with women. You know that better than anyone. I have no promises that you would believe, do I?

Barbara was half-tempted to leave it at that. He said he loved her, didn't he? For a moment the thought made her want to hurl herself into his arms. But it wasn't enough, she knew. Lynley had the habit of turning to women in times of emotional turmoil, and he often convinced himself that he loved them. But once the novelty wore off and the loneliness abated, Lord Asherton would surely tire of her. She forced herself to say what she must.

"You thought you loved Helen."

Lynley nodded, looking defeated.

" I did love her. Just…not the way she deserved." He paused. "I would like to think that I learned from my mistakes. I don't love you because you're a distraction, or a comfort, or an escape. I love you because…because you shout back. Because when I talk to you it seems effortless. Because you would step in front of a shotgun to save a stranger, and you do an impossible job with remarkable courage. Because you're lovely when you smile and--." Lynley turned away. His voice was strained. "And now you think I'm a sentimental fool. But…are you truly indifferent?"

Barbara sat transfixed. Jaded she may have been, but even she could see that this was something new. Those were not the words of a casual affair or a man missing his work partner, and Lynley had spoken them with a passion she hadn't believed would ever be directed at her. In truth, it was terrifying. It was safer to simply go on as they were, wasn't it?

The though brought on an unexpected trickle of anger. She had been safe for a long time. Telling herself that she enjoyed living alone. Dating but not really trying, carefully maintaining that reserve which kept men at a distance. And still, despite everything, here she was. It came down to trust, she thought. Trust, and something more.

Very softly she said,

"I'm not indifferent."

Lynley turned back.

"Aren't you?"

He tilted her chin up gently, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Not indifferent. Then what?"

He would know instantly if she lied, and Barbara silently cursed his skill at interrogation. This was it, then. She thought back over the years of stake-outs, arguments, pubs and B&Bs. She thought about her Christmas Eve, going to Mass and then waiting for Lynley to call.

Wasn't Christmas all about faith? Recklessly, she decided that maybe it was time she took a leap of faith herself. She would always regret it if she didn't try. And when it all went to pieces, well, she would just put herself back together and carry on. She had before, hadn't she?

Praying that she wasn't going to end up heartbroken too quickly, Barbara twisted the sleeve of her sweatshirt in her hands and mumbled,

"I'm—the opposite of indifferent, really. "

She winced. It was definitely not the most romantic of declarations, but she couldn't quite bring herself to say the words. Lynley was completely silent for a long moment. Then he sat down on the sofa, reached out and pulled her down into his arms. He pressed his cheek to her hair.

"Are you?"

He sounded incredulous, but delighted. So he knew, she thought. She nodded a little against his chest, not daring to speak with a throat that suddenly felt too tight. After a moment Lynley murmured,

"You're trembling. "

"I—I'm alright. " She faced down cold-blooded killers on a daily basis, but somehow this was worse. Feeling miserably awkward she managed,

"I'm no good at this. It won't work—it can't."

Lynley's hand moved slowly through her hair, and she resisted the urge to tilt her head onto the caress. He was quiet for a moment. Finally he said,

"You're worried about work, I suppose."

"Aren't you?"

Lynley paused; the silence somehow managed to sound guilty.

"I…may have talked to Hillier."

She gave a quick breath.

"Tell me you didn't."

"I saw him at the Christmas party. I asked what he would do-hypothetically-if two officers in his division were to consider a relationship."

Barbara looked up at Lynley, torn between humiliation, terror and hope.

"What did he say? Hypothetically."

"Officially, the metropolitan police force doesn't encourage such activity." Lynley's voice was distinctly mocking. "But...if there is no direct chain of command, it's out of his hands." He paused. "Unofficially, Hillier gives us his blessing."

He was watching her carefully, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction. But Barbara was simply too shocked to do much at all. Her head was whirling. He'd thought about this, she realized. He cared enough to clear it with Hillier, even when it must have meant some considerable personal embarrassment. The thought was nearly overwhelming.

And if work wasn't an obstacle, then…what? There were still so many other problems. Her background, his title, his family, his experience in committed relationships and her lack of it. But somehow, right now, none of that seemed very important at all.

Lynley took advantage of her paralysis to pull her a little more securely into his arms.

"Happy Christmas, Barbara."

Barbara blinked and looked at the clock. Christmas. It was 12:03 and she hadn't even noticed. She took a deep breath and looked up, into his brown eyes.

"Happy Christmas, Tommy."