"So, how did it go?" Richard asked when they were on their way home. He had already heard about the conversation with Potter – and chuckled about her categorical announcement that if he EVER decided to wear socks in glaring colours like the ones his boss wore, she'd abandon him and never come back -, and he had introduced her to the members of the teaching team that were present at the moment – they had all gone to lunch together, and it had been fun. A few others from the international department had tagged along as well, and Camille had enjoyed getting to know them a little better.

Much to her surprise, she hadn't found it very difficult to act 'professionally' with Richard – she had been a bit worried that they'd find it hard to hide their feelings for one another, but it hadn't been all that challenging. They had fallen into their old Saint Marie routine of rolling their eyes at one another and exchanging banter very quickly again, and it had felt like they were sitting on the patio of La Kaz, teasing each other about their respective habits.

She had noticed that a couple of his colleagues had been a bit taken aback by their candid exchanges, but the explanation that she and Richard had known each other for almost 4 years now had been satisfactory enough. Michael Shaw had also come along, and much to Richard's amusement, he had obviously found it hard to divide his attention between Camille and Sergeant Andrews (a pretty green-eyed redhead) who had recently been appointed to the team to step in for Sergeant Johnson who had gone on maternity leave. Shaw, on the other hand, couldn't help but notice that his boss wasn't his usual stuffy self when Camille Bordey was around… but now that he knew that they had worked together for quite a while, he understood better.

After lunch, Camille had disappeared to discuss things with the coordinators. She had been given a temporary chip card, valid until Sunday, just in case she'd want to come to the department (she had no further official meetings, though) – and the officer in charge had assured her that upon her return to the UK after her initial phase in France she'd receive a permanent card. She had been assigned a desk in an open plan office for six people where she could sit down to prepare classes, if necessary. The French were supposed to give her a laptop, but for the moment, a regular computer had been set up on her desk, and she had familiarised herself with the telephone, the e-mail system, the calendar tool and the intranet. It was fun to get to know all the new people and learn about new procedures and customs. But by 3 p.m., Camille had hit a low and started to long for a bed, so she had been extremely grateful when Sergeant Shaw had showed up and asked her shyly if she wanted to join him and Andrews for a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette, next to the Sergeants' Office.

They had asked her about Saint Marie, and she had told them a few things about life in the Caribbean. Just as she had been describing the rustling of the palm trees and the amazing wildlife, she had heard Richard saying drily behind her "Yeah, right – and don't forget the hurricanes, the washhouse atmosphere, the free range chickens and the lizards and snakes everywhere…" Andrews and Shaw had stood straight, but Richard had said "For Heaven's sake, stand easy… I just want a cup of tea!" Camille had arched her eyebrows as she saw the teabags, and he had said ruefully "Yes, I know – it's blasphemic. But loose tea is too much of a hassle here…"

A few moments later, he had disappeared again, with his mug, and Andrews had looked after him, saying pensively "He's in a pretty good mood today, isn't he?" Shaw had nudged her and she had said "Oh, don't get me wrong, Sergeant Bordey…" "It's Camille, please!" she had interjected. Andrews had blushed under her freckles and said "Thank you. I'm Liz, and he is Michael" – she had pointed to Shaw.

Then she had continued "Don't get me wrong, Camille, the Chief is great – but he can be a bit moody at times, and he has been fairly stressed over the past two weeks. He gets a bit – er…" "Cranky?" Camille had helped out. Andrews had smiled and said "I guess I should have known – you have worked with him, after all… yes, he gets cranky when he's stressed – and it's nice to see that he's over it, whatever it was."

Camille didn't tell Richard about this conversation on their way home. She told him about the meeting with the coordinators, however, and declared that she wouldn't come back to the office the next few days – because there were no further meetings scheduled, and she'd have to go clothes shopping. Liz Andrews had given her a few useful hints regarding charity stores – she had mentioned that Camille could get fancy clothes there for a fraction of the usual price, and given the fact that she had only packed a minimum wardrobe, it seemed like a good idea to have a look at these charity shops before hitting the regular stores. She could still do that later on.

She had decided to get at least two more 'business outfits', as she called them – she had two now, but would need two more for Paris, so she wanted to see what was available. Plus she'd need more casual stuff that was suitable for the climate. She had left her very short shorts and the sleeveless tops on Saint Marie – she couldn't wear them here, anyway…

Richard was happy that she didn't ask him to come along – he would have found it hard to make the time for that at this point, and he didn't want to sacrifice half of the weekend for shopping – they had promised to visit his parents, after all.

At home, Camille went right upstairs to get changed, and when she came downstairs again, Richard couldn't help but smile – she wore the jeans and the blue checkered blouse that she had worn when she had visited him in rehab about a year ago. He couldn't quite decide which look he preferred – the business-like outfits or the casual ones… the casual ones were what he was used to, but Camille looked fabulous in the more formal clothes, too. Well, whatever – she was a beauty, no matter what (with or without clothes, actually… as he mused, feeling a little guilty for his not entirely politically correct and socially acceptable thoughts).

They discussed dinner – since they had been out for lunch, they didn't feel like cooking much and ended up having some bread with cold cuts and pickles. Camille asked a few more questions about the department and some of the people she had met today, and Richard told her what he knew about all of them so far. "You know I haven't been there for very long yet," he said, "so, I can't say all that much about most of them, but I'd say it's a pretty easy going gang of people, but they do their jobs, and so it's all good… even for someone like me…"

Camille laughed and said "Oh, I know… you're such a stickler, and you get fed up quickly with lazy bones and idlers. I quite like Andrews and Shaw, for that matter… they are friendly, but still respectful."

Richard said thoughtfully "They are. The other two in their office are okay as well. Peterson is a bit cheeky sometimes – he's the one who stared at you when you came in this morning." Camille took a gherkin and tried to remember Peterson, but she had met so many new people today that she couldn't recall his face. Oh well, she'd survive. "You know, they made me all feel so welcome," she said thoughtfully, "and I couldn't help but remember how nasty I was when I first met you. And how I kept teasing you about the least little thing… that was so bad-mannered, wasn't it…"

"Oh, Dwayne and particularly Fidel evened it out for you," he countered. She laughed out loud and said "Yeah right… Fidel worshipped you from the moment you had put together that vase… with superglue… I don't think he had ever met anybody quite as pedantic and meticulous as you before. He kept talking about that for months, and it was one of the first things he told me about you. And mind you, I can't blame him… you were quite a change from Charlie Hulme, apparently… he had always been a bit too slack, from what I've heard about him, and you know how accurate Fidel is, so he didn't like that so much. You were his idol, however… with a few quirks and idiosyncrasies, but generally a paragon of virtue – at least when it came to police work and decency… Nobody else ever earned Fidel's respect like you did."

She saw him giving her a sideways glance. "What?" she asked.

"Tell me about Humphrey," he said.

"What do you want to know?" He shrugged. "You just never said all that much about what he's like… except for a few complaints here and there…" He knew it sounded lame.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, I didn't want to spoil what little time we had together, you know. He's not important enough to me, really. But well, what can I tell you? That he's a nutcase and completely disorganised? That his clothes look like he's sleeping in them? That he can be a pain in the neck? Or that he's a genius detective, kind, friendly and caring?" She chuckled. "All of that is true. He's also tall, lanky and boyish."

She noticed how his face fell. Softly, she continued "I've said it before, Richard, and I'll say it again – he couldn't hold a candle to you. From a professional point of view – yes, he is clever, and he has solved a lot of cases that others couldn't have solved because of his unique approach, and yes, he's got that certain something that makes all the difference between a 'good' and an 'excellent' detective. In that respect, he's on a par with you. You have different approaches to cases, but you get there in the end – both of you. And yes, he's pleasant, he's interested, he wants to do fun things, and he doesn't want tea all the time or is obsessed with getting the sand out of the shack."

She laughed and took a bite of bread - and Richard looked down on his plate. He was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, but he had asked, and she was only making a reply…

Camille knew what his question was really about and said tenderly "But if you haven't noticed, Richard, I'm here. With you. I have spent all those months waiting for this. I have been loving you for so long… and nobody else ever stood a chance because I knew you were the one I wanted to be with."

She leant over to kiss his cheek. "When I came over for the first time last summer, I didn't know what to expect. Your mother had said that she was sure you'd have stronger feelings for me than you were aware of, and I wanted to believe her… I needed to know, and so… I don't think I ever told you how scared I was that you'd push me away and I had only imagined the bond between us."

Richard remembered how gobsmacked he had been to see her. It had been like a dream come true – he had spent so much time thinking about her and chiding himself for having wasted so many opportunities… and then she had showed up, out of the blue… It had been a brave thing to do – after all, he had never given her any reason to believe that she was more to him than a coworker and a friend. Well, okay… he had let on that she was more, maybe once or twice, but he hadn't been sure if she had understood. Yet, she had not given up but come over… and run the risk of getting disappointed.

He also remembered that evening on the couch when she had stayed with him after Christmas – how she had cried in his arms and opened up to him about all the pain, fear of rejection and feelings of worthlessness that had been bottled up inside her. It had taken courage to talk about this – knowing that it would be painful and taking the risk that he – Richard – would perhaps not understand. But she had trusted him. She had always trusted him. She had trusted him, despite all the pain, grief and disappointments she had gone through in the past, with her father leaving the family, Aimee getting killed and all the other experiences that had shaped her.

Why couldn't he just be happy with her trust and faith in him? Wasn't it silly to ask her about Humphrey?

She didn't notice his pangs of remorse but continued "I spent time with the team and with Humphrey because I was lonely. I didn't want to connect with new people. The team felt safe. I needed that cocoon for a while. It was easier to spend time with them than meet new people – who would have asked all sorts of questions that I didn't want to answer. Dwayne and Fidel knew how I felt when… well, when you were attacked… I didn't have to explain. As for Humphrey, I was grateful for how quickly he solved the case, and he was okay to work with – since you were gone, we had to get used to someone new, whether we wanted it or not, and he did his best to fit in and make us feel valued."

For a moment, she was lost in memories. Then, she went on "It seemed safe to spend time with him also because he was married. I didn't expect him to be more than a friend, and to me, he never was more, anyway… I realised too late that his marriage already was doomed when he moved to Saint Marie and that he was idolizing me. Fidel gave me a hint before he left for St. Lucia, and it was then that I began to understand that he was putting me on a pedestal. Seriously, I couldn't understand it because I never encouraged that. I was impatient with him very often, and I rolled my eyes at him constantly…"

"You did that with me, too," he threw in. "Yes, I know," she admitted. "But with you, it was different. I didn't only respect you as a detective, I respected you as a person, once I got to know you better. You are reliable, you take responsibility, and you are organised. You…"

She faltered, then said a little sheepishly "You compensated for my shortcomings. I'm not very organised myself, and well, you know how I tend to bend the rules. I could be the wild girl with you, and you were forbearing with me, once we knew each other and you understood that I did my job and wasn't only playing around. You let me be me. You accepted me. I'm not saying that you understood me, but although I must have been such a pain in the neck very often, you never tried to change me. We argued, yes, and I loved it. Constant harmony is boring. And unnatural… Whereas… Humphrey pushed me into the role of the mature one, the nanny, the babysitter. You know how often I complained about his clumsiness and the awkward situations he got into because he wanted to please everyone. It was… tiresome. And at the same time, he didn't respect the boundaries that I set. He's been good to me, yes, and I appreciate that. And I find it admirable how he keeps getting up after having fallen down, if you know what I mean. But other than that… there's not much to say about him."

She fell silent. Looking at him, she tried to figure out if her explanation had reassured him.

He looked up and said "I'm sorry, Camille… I shouldn't have asked. I guess I just wanted to get a clearer picture. I – I suppose I'm really an idiot."

"Well, I love you, anyway," she said softly and smiled at him again. "Seriously, you can't be an idiot. You organised all this so we can be together, and I'm happy… and it's a good thing that we can talk about all these things. I'm glad that you asked because that way, it won't stand between us. As I said, I never considered the whole thing to be all that important, but obviously, it has been bothering you in some way, and so it's good that you gave me the chance to explain the relationship and dynamics between Humphrey and me."

With that, the topic was finished, and Camille hoped sincerely that it wouldn't come up again. Richard had no reason to feel threatened by Humphrey – who was on Saint Marie, anyway, and no longer part of her life. Maman had told her in their brief conversation on the phone that Humphrey had pretended to be entirely unperturbed by her departure after his initial 'doom and gloom' disposition, but really, Camille was beyond caring. Florence would take her place quickly, and what was more, she would reciprocate Humphrey's feelings – so all would be well on Saint Marie.