Hello everybody ! Here's my first Death in Paradise fic. I hope you'll enjoy it...

~ Lizard psychology ~

Richard Poole took a sip of the tea Catherine had just made for him. Definitely not the best tea he'd ever tasted. Well, far better than the one they had served in the plane, but not as good as the one he used to drink in London. And yet, to his own surprise, he sighed with satisfaction and realised that Catherine's tea now meant home. Well, in a way.

"So..."

Camille's voice interrupted his train of thoughts. She had left the bar where the boys and Catherine were talking and laughing, and had just sat in front of him. She began to play - nervously ? - with a strand of hair.

"So ?" He repeated, his brows arching a little in confusion. Did she think he could read her mind ? He was brilliant, not psychic.

"You came back", she said matter-of-factly.

He nodded and took another sip of tea. Lukewarm. How was it possible that his tea got cold so quickly on an island were the temperature was so high ? He put the cup back on the table and looked at Camille. Earlier that day, when he had entered the bar, he had noticed her orange dress but had been too upset by the weather and his lost luggage to really do something about it. Yet, now was another time and he wondered what that dress meant. Surely she had a rendezvous later that evening. One of those blind dates her mother used to set up for her. Or worse : maybe she had met someone when he was in London. He tugged awkwardly on his tie - why did the idea of Camille going out on a date with a man she had chosen seemed to upset him so much ?

He realised that she was looking at him in what seemed to be an expectant way.

"I came back and I really begin to regret it", he said in a grumpy tone.

Her eyebrows rose but a small smile stretched her lips. She was amused and he knew she would play along with him.

"Oh really, and why is that ?"

"Heat, lost luggage, hungry bugs. Pick and choose. But I suppose I should be glad there's no storm today !"

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of beer.

"And yet, you came back."

She caught his eyes.

"Why ?" She asked.

He opened his mouth and closed it. Perfect, Richard, go on imitating a fish - that's exactly what you want to do in front of her. The truth was, he was not sure how to answer that question. Camille had been one of the reasons, of course. She was a fantastic detective, clever and funny. And may he had, a beautiful woman. And way out of his league, a voice added in his head. Women far less beautiful, funny and clever than Camille had laughed at him when he had dared asking them out for a drink. Why would it be different this time ?

And yet, when she was looking at him like she was now, there was a part of him that couldn't help...

"On se réveille !" She said, snapping her fingers just under his nose.

He almost jumped.

"What ?" He asked.

French. When would she understand that he was basically allergic to her language ?

"Wake up !" She translated. "You didn't answer my question. Why did you come back if this paradise is Hell to you ?"

"Well," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, "I thought that we could keep doing the great job we've been doing lately a little longer."

And that was true. His team in Sainte Marie had been the best team he had worked with so far. They didn't have forensics, a morgue or even a big whiteboard, but they were dedicated to their job, respectful and as ridiculous as it sounded he felt he had found a family. That had never happened before.

"Are you staying ?"

"I didn't come back to leave tomorrow," he answered in a half-smile.

She was about to add something and he got the feeling that she wanted to know how much time he thought he would stay on the island – an answer he didn't have. Yet, she closed her mouth and stood when he tried – and failed – to muffle another yawn.

"You're probably tired," she declared, "I should drive you back to your house."

"Oh no, no, no. Don't change your plans for me. If you've got something to do or … someone to see, I can ask Dwayne to take me back home. I kind of missed the sidecar," he said with a frown.

She put her hands on her hips and smiled.

"I am not that cruel, Richard. Venez."

He rolled his eyes. French again.

"Can't you speak English ?" He complained while leaving his seat and his now cold tea.

"Oh come on ! You understood what I said ! Fidel, Dwayne, see you tomorrow. Au revoir, maman !"

Richard waved his hand in the general direction of the three people. He heard Fidel say that he should go back home to his wife and daughter, while Dwayne declared that someone was waiting for him anyway.

"I didn't ask", said Richard a few minutes after they left Catherine's bar. "How's Harry?"

Camille pursed her lips.

"Yeah, about that..."

Richard looked at her with wide eyes.

"What ? What happened to him ?"

Camille raised her shoulders.

"I don't really know. I saw him the first night you were gone. He came in, ate and left. I came back the day after and didn't see him. I let him something to eat but it was untouched when I returned to you house on the third day. Since then..."

"Wait, what food did you give him ?"

The car stopped abruptly. Richard was almost thrown on the dashboard. God bless seat belts.

"Are you accusing me of poisoning ?"

Camille's voice clearly betrayed her anger.

"I went to your house every day, Richard. I mashed bugs up in mangos just because you said he liked it. And now, now you're accusing me of poisoning your lizard ?"

Her index finger was poking hard on his left arm. She huffed and crossed her arms.

"I... no, it's just..."

"I can't believe it," she muttered, apparently not hearing what he was trying to say.

Silence fell in the car. One minute. Two.

"Shouldn't we... I mean, we're in the middle of the road", he said quite shyly.

Camille took a deep breath, started the engine and resumed her driving. Several minutes passed in total silence. Congratulations, Richard, you crashed your own « welcome back » party.

"Maybe he doesn't like me."

The DI turned to look at Camille. She seemed to be calm, now.

"Harry," she clarified. "Maybe he didn't come back because he... well, he doesn't like me."

"I'm not really versed in lizard psychology, but I don't think you're right."

"Oh really, and why is that ?"

"Well, first off, why wouldn't he like you ?"

She raised an eyebrow, her eyes still on the road.

"You can't say you really liked me the first time we met."

"True. But I'm not a lizard."

She smiled ; he did, too.

"You know," she said while stopping the car, "I think there might be another explanation."

They unfastened their seat belts and got out of the car.

"Maybe he considered things were not the same without you around," she add with a shrug.

"Ah, I'm not sure lizards are such complicated creatures."

They had reached the threshold.

"Maybe this one is."

Camille, always debating his ideas. He liked that.

"Maybe this one is," he conceded. "Only time will prove it to us : if he comes back, then he's a sentimental lizard."

"And if he doesn't ?"

"Well, I think we can't totally exclude the poisoning theory. Or," he added before she could react, "he went back to the wild."

"I bet he'll come back," she said.

She leaned to kiss him on the cheek, wished him good night and left. He stood there long after the car had gone, a little smile on his lips. A movement on his right finally broke his daydreaming. Harry was on the balustrade, looking at him.

"Well," said Richard, "maybe you're a sentimental lizard after all."

That would make two of them.

A/N : English is not my mother tongue and I don't have any Beta (anyone ?), so I really hope that the grammar was correct. I checked several expressions on the Web and I found a document about English ponctuation, that differs from the French one, especially in dialogues. Please feel free to let me know what you thougt of this story !