Disclaimer: I do not own the Princess Diaries (book or film), it's characters, or anything remotely related to it except for two DVDs and a couple of books. I make no profit from this story.

A/N: Hey guys! So here is the next instalment in this story – still on our way to San Francisco. As always, italics are flashbacks. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for your reviews for the last chapter :) I will update this and RS ASAP.

I hope you enjoy this, and please review and let me know what you think:

Sitting at the back of the plane, Joseph watched as Clarisse alternated between reading the book she'd selected for the trip and looking out the window at the passing clouds.

He knew this trip would be a tremendous step in her life – she would be gaining a little bit of the son she'd lost back, she'd be stepping out into the world again for the first time since his death, and she'd be fighting her corner, doing everything in her power to make Amelia accept her role and show those members of parliament who would doubt her just how great a queen she truly was.

He knew the queen would have no difficulty achieving her goals; but he was scared for his friend. He wasn't naïve enough to believe things with the teenager would go smoothly – there was a large chasm of difference between wanting to be a princess in a fairy-tale – something he was assured all little girls wanted – and becoming one in real life.

Just as he was sure the Queen would succeed in assuring an heir to the Genovian throne, he was certain that Clarisse – his friend – would have to go through hell in the process.

They'd been flying for over three hours and, by his calculations, she hadn't made it past the first chapter in her book. He knew she was preoccupied and wished he could somehow sooth her, but there was nothing he could do.

He knew where things stood. He'd known where things had to stand for the past 36 years. When they were alone, they were best friends; any other feelings aside, they had always been the best of friends and the security briefings which took place almost every evening gave him the chance to keep an eye on her – to make sure she was alright. However when in public, the Queen was untouchable and he could do nothing but sink into the shadows and hope she made it from security briefing to security briefing without too much pain and difficulty.

Therefore, as the flight attendants moved about the cabin and Charlotte sat in front of the queen making notes on her schedule, he forced himself to sit in his seat and remain in the shadows even as he witnessed the worry displayed in her every move.

"Your Majesty," one of the flight attendants – Joy, he thought – addressed Clarisse as her partner disappeared behind the curtain towards the cockpit, "if there is nothing else, we will prepare the meals, now," she smiled and when Clarisse gave her a soft smile and 'thank you' in response, went the same way as the other young woman.

Barely a beat passed before Clarisse looked up to Charlotte, "Charlotte, I'm sorry," she never liked bothering people, even if it was their job to tend to her, "but do you think you could…"

Nodding, already out of her seat, Charlotte completed her sentence, "remind the attendants that despite Chef's orders you would prefer not to have capers in your salad," she smiled as Clarisse nodded in thanks, and went after the attendants.

Joseph could swear the pressure suddenly increased in the cabin – and he was sure it had nothing to do with how high they were flying. As soon as Charlotte had left, the worry he'd been able to see, even if no one else had, became evident on her face as she turned to look out the window, her hand unconsciously raising to where her chest and neck met. He couldn't help but feel pleased that she was able to let go of her mask and simply be herself in his presence.

Just as he convinced himself to stay exactly where he was unless she called for him, the plane dipped and swayed a little – he would barely have registered the turbulence if Clarisse hadn't let out a startled gasp and looked up towards him in fright.

Immediately he was out of his seat and moving to her side – he knew he'd made the right move when Clarisse's expression visibly relaxed as he approached.

The moment he sat down beside her, the plane shook once more and, again, she looked alarmed as her eyes swept the cabin before landing on him.

Wordlessly, he reached across to her lap and took her hand, giving it a supportive squeeze as her eyes closed and she visibly relaxed, leaning slightly back into her seat. He couldn't help but smile as she reopened her eyes, a soft, thankful smile taking over her features as their eyes met.

For a few brief moments they sat there, eyes locked and hands clasped together, but all too soon, the sound of Charlotte returning to the main cabin forced Joseph to relocate to the seat in front of Clarisse, leaving the seat beside her vacant and her hand laying on her lap.

"It won't be a problem," Charlotte smiled as she took the seat beside Joseph, "lunch should be served within fifteen minutes. Did you need something," she then asked Joseph as if just realizing he was there.

Shaking his head, Joseph replied so smoothly that even Clarisse almost believed his professional tone, "her Majesty was alarmed at the turbulence," he explained, "I came to offer assistance while you were gone," he smiled and Charlotte accepted his words without question, "I really should be getting back…"

"Nonsense," Clarisse found herself saying, "lunch is about to be served, there is no need for you to eat alone," much as he had, she said it in a tone so casual and professional that no one could even raise an eyebrow in question at the invitation.

Inwardly sighing in relief, Joseph nodded, "thank you, your Majesty," and, with a small smile which he was sure only she could have understood, he buckled his seatbelt and turned to listen to Charlotte as she went through some paperwork with the queen.

As they awaited the arrival of their lunch, Joseph couldn't help but notice Clarisse's left hand – the one he'd held only minutes earlier – fidget, almost as if nervous. Now, Joseph knew that queens were never nervous – at least not outwardly so. He also knew that what appeared to be fidgeting to the untrained eye was really an attempt to relieve the feeling of loss that he, too, had felt on drawing away from her.

In her seat, Clarisse's mind was reeling back to the night she knew the careful balance they'd created had shifted. It wasn't that anything had changed – nothing had, really – but something had shifted in as much as, before, where a friendly offer of comfort would have been just that, now, it left lingering questions and doubts which she couldn't seem to allay.

-.-

She hadn't been in his arms for almost a year – the last time they'd been in this exact position, she'd been distraught over the death of her beloved Philippe. Now, they sat again in her suite, her head held tightly to his chest as his arms surrounded her, offering her what little comfort he could.

"What will I do without him?" she asked between soft sobs, "he's my best friend," she shook her head against his chest and he tightened his hold on her.

"I know," he whispered against her hair, his chin resting softly on her head hoping to assuage the blow of yet another loss.

King Rupert had passed away that afternoon. Despite being older than his wife by eight years, at 64, King Rupert had appeared to be in perfect health – aside from an elevated cholesterol level, nothing had appeared off at his last check-up. Yet, that afternoon, he had climbed the palace steps with difficulty, after a particularly long session with parliament, and had collapsed in the foyer but a few steps from the doors.

A heart attack, they had later determined – unexpected, but fatal.

Joseph had insisted on informing her – somehow he did not want her receiving that news from anyone else. The announcement of the King's passing might have been an official event, but it was not the place of a government official – nor even of the Prime Minister – to deliver that news to her. She did not need a cold, unfeeling, formal notice, she needed a friend.

So he'd sat with her on the sofa and told her, calmly and gently, everything that had happened. Unlike a year earlier when the surgeon had informed her of Philippe's passing, she reacted quietly, her posture seeming to shrink back towards the couch, a hand over her mouth in shocked horror.

He knew the tears would come. He knew how much Rupert meant to her – regardless of everything that may have been amiss in their marriage, they had always been partners; best friends. When they did come, her tears were soft, almost resigned.

He'd reached out a hand to hold hers, a gentle squeeze indicating his unspoken support. Whether it had made the situation worse or merely given her the comfort needed to let go, Joseph did not know – nor did he have the time to question it as Clarisse's head fell towards his shoulder, her body rocking with sobs now.

And so they sat there, his arms around her as she cried into his black shirt. They remained that way for a long time, Clarisse's sobs slowly subsiding as exhaustion took over, Joseph holding her tight, wishing that if he only held her tight enough nothing else would hurt her.

"Perhaps you should try to get some rest?" he had suggested softly against her hair as she'd taken in a shuddered breath.

Clarisse hadn't protested – after a year of mourning her son, she knew better than to fight the exhaustion of grief.

Slowly, Joseph stood up, his hands reaching to hers to help pull her up from the sofa. Once standing, she finally looked up to him in thanks, a soft, sad smile gracing her lips, "thank you, Joseph."

He merely nodded gently in acknowledgement. He would normally have replied that she could always count on him –that he would always be there for her. But this was certainly not the time.

Trying to take a deep breath and closing her eyes as it involuntarily shuddered into her lungs, Clarisse looked down to her hands, her wedding ring gleaming in the soft afternoon light, "my husband is dead," she said as if almost to herself, her eyes closing as tears threatened to spill over again.

"Try to sleep, Clarisse," he said softly, bringing her attention back to him.

Nodding, Clarisse turned to look to the double doors of her suite – she was tired.

"I'll be right outside if you need me," Joseph added as he gently motioned for her to step around the coffee table ahead of him.

"Thank you," she said again in a small voice as they began to part ways, him to exit the suite, her towards her bedroom.

Laying on top of her made bed, her head throbbing, her eyes prickling and her body exhausted, Clarisse never realized how every element of her carefully balanced life had shifted that afternoon. Outside the room, standing guard, Joseph, too, was unaware of how the past 36 years would now be put to the test. King Rupert had just passed away – those thoughts never even crossed their minds. But as the days passed and turned to weeks, then months, the very tangible ramifications of that day had made themselves known. Slowly, the soft sentence Clarisse had uttered in the midst of her grief had become almost an echo in the back of their minds – 'my husband is dead'.

Clarisse's husband was dead.

King Rupert was gone, and with him went the carefully ordered constraints within which they'd learnt to exist since that afternoon 36 years earlier.

-.-

When, much later that day, the plane finally touched down at San Francisco International Airport, Charlotte quickly left to ensure everything was ready for the Queen and, after several minutes of waiting, she and the consulate's security staff on the ground gave them the all-clear to disembark.

As they made their way down the aisle, to the exit, Clarisse could practically feel Joseph standing behind.

Her thoughts during the flight had in no way helped to make her life easier. Whereas before she'd been concerned over meeting her granddaughter, now she was also preoccupied with feelings she had long-ago promised herself she would ignore.

Suddenly, she felt Joseph's breath against her neck and, just a step from exiting the airplane, froze.

Joseph had seen her tense posture as they made their way down the cabin to the exit – he knew she was letting her anxiety take hold again.

Taking the last opportunity they would have that day to be out of earshot and alone, his hands purposefully clasped behind his back – it would not do to let them rest on her sides, no matter how strong the urge might be – he leaned forwards.

"Take a deep breath," he said softly, "you can do this." He smiled as she, slowly, processed his words and did as he suggested.

The deep breath filling her with renewed courage, Clarisse stepped off the airplane and, Joseph only a step behind, made her way down the steps to the awaiting limousine. As long as he was behind her, everything would be alright.

TBC

I hope you enjoyed that, and please let me know what you thought!

Thanks,

CJS-DEPPendent