"Are you sure it's okay for you to eat junk food your first night home?"

McCoy grinned as he dipped a potato skin into the Styrofoam container of Boston clam chowder.

"If being shanked, as well as eating hospital food for the last 72 hours didn't kill me, I doubt a couple skins and a bowl of Flannigan's white will," he said picking up his spoon. "I'm glad I caught you before you left town. When I called you, I figured you'd be half way to Islip."

Brooke sat across from him at the kitchen table. She watched him take a few more mouthfuls of the soup and smiled at his obvious enjoyment.

"Beats IV's and hospital food, does it," she asked, as she reached for his free hand.

"A can of spam would beat IV's and hospital food," McCoy retorted as he squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you came back."

"You're just saying that because you wanted some real food,"she said with smirk.

"I acted badly,"McCoy responded with sudden seriousness."The last thing I wanted to do tonight was fight with you."

"It takes two to fight… well, except when its people like us... doing the fighting. There's certainly enough blame to go around this time. You just got home. I should have backed off. After all, it's not everyday a girl is proposed to by Jack McCoy."

"Well, the timing could have been better."

Brooke listened carefully as the conversation continued. Each party taking on more of the blame and each increasingly apologetic. Such concilitory tones was more than a little unusual for a conversation between the couple. Finally, McCoy risked another confrontation, his curiousity getting the better of him.

"Brooke, when you stopped at Flanagan's, did you… you weren't…did you call Jake?"

Brooke shook her head.

"I ran into Mike Logan. We split an order of skins," she said thoughtfully.

McCoy's eyes widened and he looked at her curiously.

"You were with Mike Logan?"

Brooke laughed at the perplexed tone and expression on her lover's face.

"God, Jack! I wasn't 'with' him in the biblical sense! Besides, I suspect you had a sounding board, as well. Who was it?"

McCoy gave her a horrified look as he pondered the possibilities the words 'sounding board' and the name 'Mike Logan' when used in the same sentence brought to mind.

"Jack," Brooke said gently shaking him out of his thoughts. "Who did you talk to?"

"Danielle," he admitted quietly.

"Danielle," Brooke said with the same confusion McCoy had a moment before. "I thought she was on a date with my soon to be ex husband?"

"She was. Well, she was on her way. She called to talk to you. I think she wanted the inside story on Sam before she met him. Anyway, when I told her you weren't here, it wasn't hard for her to draw the right conclusions. She gave me her own special brand of hell, before making it her mission to plan our reconciliation."

"Well," Brooke said pensively. "What kind of advise did Danielle give you?"

McCoy stood to take the empty take out cartons to the trash can.

"Danielle said I was sabotaging a good thing," he said bluntly. "That no woman in her right mind would accept proposals made under the circumstances I'd made them and that I was lucky you hadn't put me back in the hospital after the 'Five Stages of Love' revelation."

"I knew there was a reason I liked Danielle," Brooke responded as she slipped the dirty spoon into the dishwasher.

"What about Logan," McCoy demanded he turned the kitchen light off. "I'm sure Mike had some real jewels of wisdom to share."

"Actually, he did," she said as they walked into the master bedroom.

McCoy looked at her expectantly, as they sat together on the bed. Brooke thought about her conversation and Logan's parting words.

"He said you never would have asked me to marry you if you weren't sure, that I wasn't giving you enough credit, and that I needed to tell you how completely overwhelmed I am and why. He said you are not a mind reader, even if defense counsel often swears you are."

McCoy stared at her a moment, processing what he deemed to be the unthinkable. Brooke had confided in Mike Logan. Mike Logan traded in his wise ass routine and become…insightful?!?

"I think I understand why you're overwhelmed," he finally said, as he put an arm around her shoulders. "But, maybe I should hear it from you?"

"Jack I haven't been so unsure of the future since I was starting college," she said softly. "My whole life is about to change. You know once the house sells, it is unlikely I'll find a place in Long Island. Anything I'll be able to afford at current market prices is probably going to mean a long commute or finding another job. I haven't done a job interview in almost twenty years. There's only one thing I'm really sure of right now."

"Which is?"

Brooke looked down at the quilt on the bed as she ran a hand along his cheek.

"My love for you."

McCoy reached for her hand as he smiled.

"Then, marry me."

Brooke looked up into dark eyes that held a look of such warmth she could feel her heart melt, as it often did, when they were alone together.

"Don't you think I want to, Jack?"

"Would I keep asking, if I didn't? I just hope they're right about the third time being the charm," he said with a grin, "and before you accuse me of asking you while under the influence I want you to know, I haven't had any alcohol or drugs this evening. I haven't even taken a pain pill yet."

Brooke smiled back at him and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"I would be proud to be your wife."

McCoy leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. He could feel Brooke's hands on his neck, then in his hair. He pulled her close, as the kiss grew more passionate and the pair fell back onto the bed. When they finally broke the kiss, they were laying side by side. McCoy gazed into her eyes, intensely searching her face.

"But," he asked with quiet amusement.

"But, weren't you the guy that woke up literally screaming, when you had that nightmare about us getting married in Atlantic City?"

McCoy laughed at the memory of the nightmare they both had begun to refer to as 'The Wedding from Hell" due to its vivid content and musical overtones. McCoy waved a dismissive hand.

"That was then, this is now. Brooke, ever since Sam returned, I've tried to give you the space I thought you needed," he said seriously. "I didn't want push you. I know you thought that was generous, but it wasn't. I thought if I pushed you, I'd push you back into Sam's arms even sooner than…"

Brooke looked at him uncertainly. The look he gave her back reminded her so much of a young boy. A young boy seeking approval. She was ashamed she hadn't realized sooner, what was so obvious at that moment.

"You thought I'd stay with Sam."

"That day at Rachel's," he said looking away from her. "The day I was so miserable to you? When I realized you'd slept with him, I … I thought I'd lost you."

McCoy wrapped himself around her as he kissed her once more. Brooke responded to his kiss by pressing herself closer to him. As he ran his hands over her, Brooke realized how long it had been since they had made love. She knew this was a conversation they needed to finish, but she wasn't sure how long she could ignore what was quickly becoming a physical ache, to be with him in the most basic way...to leave no doubt in either of their minds they belonged to each other completely.

As if he'd read her thoughts, McCoy reluctantly, pulled back.

"You realize this is just a brief postphonement," he asked as his fingers began undoing the buttons on her blouse."This conversation isn't over."

"We can talk and touch," she said suggestively, while she ran a hand up his thigh.

"Not if we do the touching right," he said with a soft laugh, as he blouse dropped to the floor.

Brooke laughed as well, as she eagerly unbuttoned his shirt.

"Before this goes too far," she said cautiously, "you're sure you're up to this? We won't pull any stitches or-"

McCoy silenced her with another kiss as her bra and his shirt were discarded. Whether it was the intensity of his mouth on hers, the emotions of the past few hours, or the fact they hadn't make love in over a month; by the time the last garment found the floor they were both touching and tasting each other in a hurried frenzy .

Usually a teasingly slow lover, McCoy found himself exercising every bit of self control he had to not immediately push himself inside the warm, slippery, smoothness between his lovers legs. McCoy made an effort to slow his curious fingers, as well as his breathing. He closed his eyes as the pleasure he felt from Brooke's demanding caresses almost overwhelmed him.

"You better slow down," he whispered. "Unless you want-"

"I want," she replied imploringly.

McCoy opened his eyes. The look on her face immediately ended any uncertainty he felt.

"Tell me," he whispered seductively as he spooned his partner, one hand alternately fondling the tips of her breasts, as two fingers effortlessly slid inside her.

Her gasp of pleasure was all he needed to increase the thrusting of his fingers. He could feel her hands frantically groping, searching behind her for him.

"I want you…now," she cried out as her body rubbed against his. "I…want you to have me…now, Jack!"

McCoy ravished her with kisses and caresses as he drove himself inside her. Brooke's back arched as she moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder, as the rest of her body fell immediately into the rhythm of McCoy's thrusts. The feel of her backside sensuously rocking against his abdomen, only served to intensify his desire to please her.

"God, I've ached for you," he said, his lips pressed against her ear.

"Yours…I'm yours, Jack… always, only, yours,"she whispered as pressed herself against him.

"God what you do to me," he answered as he pushed deep within her, feeling her body stiffen against him.

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"You know I wanted to have you there and then, when you made that comment in the courtroom," he said as his hand gently caressed her hip.

"You mean when I questioned your idea of reasonable bail," she replied, innocently.

"No. Not the bail hearing. At the venue hearing, when you remarked on what excites me."

Brooke smiled up at him.

"Come on Jack, you know I never dish out more than you can take," she countered as she snuggled against him.

"Maybe that's why I think we have a chance of making a marriage work," he said as he kissed the top of her head.

"I knew you were serious but…you really have given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Enough thought to know who really has cold feet this time."

Brooke nodded. She glanced at the clock on the table beside McCoy. By the time they had finished making love it was close to midnight. Although McCoy had wanted to talk, she could see by the way he moved, he was hurting. The only way he would agree to taking a pain pill was if she gave him her word that they would discuss his proposal before his daughter arrived at nine that morning.

The clock read six-forty-seven.

"I told you last night, I'd be honored to be your wife," Brooke said as she traced the line of stitches on his chest. "I just don't think it's a good idea to jump in to a marriage with so many other changes going on. Besides, even if Sam and I finish the settlement on Monday, the divorce won't be final for another six months."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I have a few suggestions that might make your transition to 'divorcee' at little less painful."

Brooke pushed her pillows up against the headboard and sat up facing him.

"What kind of suggestions?"

"Well, let's start with your living arrangements. If we get married, eventually we will probably need to find a place here in the city. That is, if your instructs are right and the party asks me to run next year. It seems counterproductive for you to buy property that you might turn around a sell in – what – a year, maybe two?"

"Agreed. But, if you think I should move in here until –"

McCoy shook his head as he sat up, as well.

"I realize if you do that, it's just a matter of time before the commute wears you down. To be honest, out of all the changes you mentioned last night, I think changing jobs is the one that has you most anxious. I know it woul dbe the hardest change for me to accept."

"So what's the solution?"

"Well, there are two. First, you could let me loan you the money to keep the house-"

"I thought your name was 'McCoy', not 'Chase'," she replied in disbelief.

"You forget, I have interest in a house that was paid off years ago. A house that has tripled in value since Becky's mother and I bought it in the early eighties. There's enough equity that I could loan what you need to buy Sam out and pay off your part of the insurance debt. You could keep the house."

"You're serious," she said with amazement. "Jack, as generous as that is, that house is your legacy to Becky. Yours and her mother's. I love you for offering to help, but I can't accept."

McCoy shrugged his shoulders.

"Figured as much, but I promised I'd try. That was Plan A. Plan B is the one I think you might like," he said confidently. "Becky's mother is a judge. Most of her weekends are tied up here in Manhattan. She rarely gets out to the beach house. In fact, we've been talking about renting it out for quite some time."

Brooke stared at him, surprised and touched by his generosity.

"You want to be my landlord?"

"Actually, My ex wife has an accountant that would handle things like a lease, rental agreement, etcetera. I know it's small, but you would still be close enough to Islip to keep your job. It would be your place, to decorate as you see fit. Even my ex says the stiriped wall paper in the master bedroom needs to go."

McCoy watched as his lover tried to weigh the pros and cons in her mind.

"What about Becky," she finally said. "You told me the plan was for Becky to inherit the house when you and her mother are gone. I'm sure she looks forward to using the house whenever she's in New York. Won't she feel like this is an intrusion?"

McCoy grinned victoriously.

"Who do you think suggested it? Actually, Becky thinks you should borrow the money and keep your house. She really liked the stain glass work at your place. She thinks it's a shame for you to lose something you put so much of yourself into.But, I told her you'd feel like a kept woman taking that kind of money from me, even as a loan."

Brooke blushed at the accuracy of McCoy's statement. The house and job situation had been nagging at her more than even the divorce and property settlement. Even if she didn't end up following through, just knowing she had a viable fall back plan was enough to make her less anxious.

"This was Becky's idea? Really?"

McCoy nodded.

"I don't know which is more thoughtful: You asking me or the fact your daughter likes me enough to be willing to let me stay in the first house her parents bought together?"

"You scored major points early on with my daughter," McCoy said as he eased her back into his embrace. "It's the little things you do for her Dad, like keeping him from getting shot by a deranged defendant+… as well as the fact you're not working for me or young enough to be her older sister…. "

Brooke laughed as she played with the stray stands that covered part of his right eye.

"So I'm old and willing to kill for you? These are traits your daughter values in a stepmother?"

McCoy's eyes widened and a roguish smile played on his lips.

"If that's what you're willing to be to my daughter. You know, the more I ask the easier it gets. Maybe I've been missing something all these years," he said teasingly. "Should I ask a fourth time?"

"That won't be necessary," Brooke said.

"Before you make it final," he said taking her hand. "I feel obligated to state for the record, I drink more than I should, I've been told more than once I am a real son of a bitch when I think I'm right and I don't get my way, and if you think you might want children…I am willing but chances are good you will end up a widow before a child of ours would be out of high school."

"Jack, that's a chapter I closed long ago," she said somberly. "I miscarried once."

"While you and Sam were together," he asked gently.

"You don't seem surprised."

McCoy rested a hand on her stomach, while he nodded.

"I've seen you with your niece, as well as my daughter. You're a loving woman, Brooke. You were in a solid marriage. It just makes sense… you would be a wonderful mother."

Brooke leaned over and kissed him, her eyes stated to moisten.

"I'd love to have your child, Jack. But I think at this stage in our lives, maybe we should let the chips fall where they may and enjoy what we have."

"You know, I am serious…you are still young enough-," he began.

She looked at him, amazed at how quickly he'd managed to take her surprise, yet again. Brooke took his face in her hands and kissed him full on the lips.

"When you decide to move forward, you move in giant steps, don't you," she asked with amusement.

"I don't want you to have any regrets, Brooke."

"I love you for that. But, Jack you're forgetting, you asked me to be your wife. How could any woman have regret's after accepting an offer like that?"

McCoy tilted his head as he beamed down at her.

"Others have accepted the offer and lived to regret it."

"Jack, there's only one regret I have at this moment," she said as she ran her hands over his chest.

McCoy watched her hands move over him. He leaned over her as he laid her back down and moved closer.

"At that would be," he asked with a half smile on his lips.

"That we didn't ask Becky to take the afternoon train, so I would have more time to practice my wifely duties," she replied as McCoy muffled their laughter with another kiss.

FYI reference to Brooke shooting Samantha Weaver in Prosecutorial Misconduct (just in case you haven't read it yet).