For Freddie Lyon, the story always came first. When there was a story, nothing else was important. When Freddie was onto something big, everyone would know not to stop him. Trying would result in failure. Freddie would always succeed, and no one would be surprised when he did. Freddie was passionate, fixated. But so much passion can cause jealousy. And when Freddie found his new case, his new story that needed the answers, jealousy took the form of Camille.
Camille.
A very beautiful, very french, woman, who was just as passionate as Freddie. But when one marries Freddie, one marries the mystery; the story; the case that needs to be cracked. Perhaps Camille didn't understand that when she married him.
Married.
The word never made sense to Bel Rowley when associated with Freddie. Freddie was always Freddie. Just Freddie. Impossible, mad, brilliant, childish Freddie. He wasn't bound by marriage. He could do what he wanted; fuck the consequences. It was only after he left that she realised her feelings were deeper than friendship.
"Run away for too long and they stop loving you back."
Freddie could always read Bel like she was an open book. He would know something was wrong just by the furrow in her brow; the twitch of her finger; the quiver of her lip... Which is why he knew almost immediately that she didn't like Camille.
"You don't like her. It doesn't matter. I like her."
"Presumably that's why you married her."
It did matter. Bel's opinion always mattered. He'd never say though; that's just so Freddie. If Bel was the open book, Freddie was the closed one. At least when it was concerning Bel. Cards held oh so close to the chest. Right until the big reveal, when all the answers came out. But if there was ever a preview for the end, it would be Bel he told it to. Not this time though. Not concerning his wife.
Bel tried to be happy for him. She did. She only ever wanted him to be happy.
"Some nice girl needs to rescue you."
"Who? It's only ever been you."
How could she have been so blind? This was unrequited love at it's finest. If only she hadn't been so bloody obsessed with finding love to realise she'd already found it. She just wished she was better at it.
"I had a friend once. Treated him like a dog. Adorable man, absolutely useless at seduction. Then he married someone else and I realised it wasn't him who was absolutely useless- it was me."
The story, the case, wasn't his this time round, wasn't Freddie's. It was theirs. And after being away from each other for so long, they needed something to put them back in sync. Pull them close again.
"I wish you'd told me. Before you did such a stupid.. st-stupid wonderful thing."
"And what would you have done?"
In that moment, Bel had never felt so far away from Freddie. She hadn't realised how much she missed being Moneypenny. It was the story that brought them together. How could he stay mad at her? Common ground, that's all they needed.
Unfortunately, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
In this case? The closer Bel got to Freddie, the further away Camille felt. Freddie was oblivious. For him it was all about finding the answers. Finding the story; telling the world! But when he came home from another night at El Paradis trying to talk to the girls to find Camille waiting inside, suitcase packed, coat on, that his world really did come crashing down around him.
"What's going on? Camille?" He put down his things, and walked towards her cautiously. (She wasn't exactly the person to be near when she was mad. Ask the cup.)
"This has gone on too long, Freddie," she said, quietly, her voice shaking, obviously trying to hold back tears.
"What-"
"Don't pretend like you don't know, you selfish, bâtard!" The screaming has started again. She throws another cup that's nearby. Freddie ducks, trying to yell over Camille's screams in french.
"You never loved me! It was always that programme! Your stupide Heure!"
"Camille, please!"
"Your stories are more important to you than I am. If you loved me, you would spend more time with me, instead of her." She spat the word out like it disgusted her. Freddie stared at her, confused and unbelieving.
"Ms. Rowley? She's just a friend, a colleague, you know that!"
"Oui. A 'friend' whom you never shut up about. It's Bel this and Bel that. You expect me to believe your lies?" A tear fell from Camille's eye, and Freddie's cracking heart seemed now to tear.
"No, Camille, it's you! I love you!-" She waved him off, picking up her case and heading for the door. He tried to grab her arm, but she pulled it away, and snapped at him;
"Don't."
"Camille, please. Please stay," he pleaded, but she just shook her head.
"We're done, Freddie. C'est fini," she said, quietly. Freddie began to cry then. Silent tears began to roll, and he was reminded of that time she read him poetry.
"Au revoir, Freddie." Camille turned, and the door clicked behind her as she left. The crashing realisation that he was alone made Freddie crumble to the floor, curl into a ball like a small child, and he cried and cried. The pain of loneliness made him want to rip his heart out of his chest and throw it in the Thames. What was the point in having a heart if it hurt this bad every time it pounded? He didn't feel whole anymore. The irony of his own words he said to Hector all those months ago came and bit him back, hard.
"She's dumped you. It gets better. Couple of months you won't feel like slitting your wrists every time you see her." (would he ever see her again?)
He eventually turned to alcohol. He didn't want to feel anymore. Alcohol numbed the pain.
"Whiskey's God's way of telling us that he loves us, and he wants us to be happy."
After a few hours, he found himself walking. Not in a straight line, but he was on the street. Tie partly undone, waistcoat unbuttoned, and wearing the coat Mr. Kish's wife let him keep from that story he looked into so long ago.
Then he was knocking on Bel's door at 3am, and he could hear her groaning groggily. He probably woke her up. But then he didn't care. He just didn't want to feel the loneliness anymore.
After some shuffling with the lock, the door opened and there she was. Glorious Bel. Still beautiful even when she wasn't all dressed up.
"Freddie, what on earth are you-" she began, but he cut her off.
"Camille's gone, Bel. She left me." He could feel the tears filling up again, as he gasped out; "I don't want to be alone right now, Moneypenny. Can I come in?" Without thinking she pulled him inside and shut the door, then turned on the small light. He stumbled over to the sofa and fell onto it without a second thought. He'd started crying again, and he didn't care that Bel was watching.
"How much have you had to drink?" Bel inquired a moment later, not entirely sure what to say. He paused a moment, as if trying to count the number of glassed he had.
"Well, I can still feel something, so obviously not enough," he replied, and then laughed at his own comment. Bel, now fully awake, slid into the kitchen and got him a glass of water. Freddie's laughter turned into another small sob. She sat down on the sofa next to his head, and he sat up and turned to her, before falling into her and clinging for dear life as he cried some more. Bel sat and comforted him as he told her what happened.
Eventually, after 3 cigarettes and a few more tears, Freddie lay with his head in Bel's lap, staring up at the ceiling as she stroked his hair. He held her other hand. Both so comfortable with the other in that moment, despite the events before, it was oddly perfect.
"I know you didn't like her," Freddie said, suddenly, cracking the silence that had surrounded them for what felt like forever.
"Freddie-"
"No, don't try and deny it. You didn't, did you?" Bel looked down at him, trying to read his face. But all she could see was the hurt man who had just broken up with his wife. He wanted the truth.
"No, I wasn't a fan. But you were happy, and after that day in my office-" she stopped, she didn't want to make it worse. But Freddie finished off the sentence for her anyway.
"You decided to leave it alone." Bel nodded, sighing. Freddie smiled up at her. "It's okay, Moneypenny. I can always rely on you for the truth. And you know what?"
"What is it, Freddie?"
"I knew you could never go on without me, but without you, I really couldn't go on." Bel laughed at the memory he referred to. His smile widened as he whispered; "It really has only ever been you, hasn't it, Moneypenny?" Bel smiled back down at him, and squeezed his hand.
"I'll always be here for you, James. No matter what."
As the sun rose, the darkness faded away, and with it, the loneliness that had settled in Freddie's heart. The tear there would take time to heal, for he really did love Camille, but as long as he had his Moneypenny with him, he would be at least okay. And he felt he could live with that.