Thoughts
Thanks for the reviews. Our pair never make it easy for themselves...
Through the remainder of the evening and on late into the night bewilderment turned into worry which led to him scolding himself followed by stress and then, finally, concern for Camille.
Worry that he had overstepped the mark and performed an action, which was wholly inappropriate. Internal condemnations that he had so little control over his own will that he had allowed himself to take advantage of an injured colleague. Stress over the potential implications, and he had counted quite a few, and then concern that Camille might be more injured than was first apparent. After all, she had responded quite passionately to his clumsy kiss. Richard cringed, his body hot and cold all at once as his memory taunted him.
Despite Camille's protestations, and her wide-eyed plea to Richard, which he hadn't seen such was his intense study of the floor, the medics, encouraged by Tiny's version of events, had insisted on transporting her to the hospital for observation. Her friend had evidently been worried about her since her mother was waiting impatiently by the front doors as the ambulance pulled up and two medics, a boy with a suspected broken leg and his father, Camille and Tiny all exited. Satisfying herself that her daughter was alive and not critical with a caressing hand over her hair and face, Catherine joined the group heading towards the examination cubicles. Camille could just imagine what they all looked like, this odd little entourage flanking the two patients in wheelchairs. She twisted around awkwardly, attempting to catch sight of her boss, who she was fairly sure would have followed in the Defender but she couldn't see him. She sighed, resigning herself to a few hours of questions and lights shining in her eyes, and poking and prodding if she so much as dared to drift off to sleep.
Where the hell was Richard? Damn Tiny and his timing. That kiss had been mind-blowing. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined….
And he had made her feel so…..
It was certainly answering any and all the questions she had determinedly NOT been asking herself recently.
Where was he?
"Are you allowed to drink yet darling?" Catherine popped her head around the curtained area. "If we're here for a while then I was going to see what is on offer at this time of night."
"Only water I think Maman. You go."
Her mother nodded before disappearing to leave Camille working her way through the day's events once more.
She couldn't remember talking about Eloise to anyone before, she had buried it deeply within her to avoid the feelings of guilt and responsibility she had taken upon her shoulders, feelings which would sweep over her in waves in the middle of the night and steal into her dreams. The idea of getting back on the ice herself had pulled all the anxiety back towards the surface.
Except when Richard held her, with the secure warmth of his hand in hers and the play of the surprisingly solid muscles in his thighs and abdomen as he cruised around the rink. He had made her feel safe. She couldn't and would never be able to hurt anybody else whilst he was in control.
And then tonight, when she felt at her worst with flashbacks plaguing her, he had, with a few incisive comments absolved her of blame. And she believed him. She believed in him.
But she needed to talk to him now. Camille hit the mattress with a fist. She knew him well enough to realise that without encouragement he might run in the opposite direction. So confident in his work…. and his skating it seemed, yet so reserved and unsure outside of that.
And oh, that kiss. He couldn't run because then she might never get chance to repeat it.
Catherine wandered back down the quiet corridor, can of cola in hand. She had known her search of the hospital for a drink was likely to prove fruitless, and so it had until she had, quite literally, bumped into a nurse coming back from a mid-shift break; an old friend of the family who had rustled up the soft drink from somewhere, promising to come and find out how Camille was after work.
Turning the corner she could see Richard ahead of her and she slowed to observe him surreptitiously. Frown deeply in place and leaning forward with his hands clasped he looked entirely lost in his own world, yet carrying the weight of that world on his shoulders.
He looked up as she approached, jumping to his feet to greet her politely with a nod. "Catherine."
"Hello Richard." She smiled pleasantly in response. "Are you waiting to see Camille?"
"Erm." He glanced down at his feet, cleared his throat and then focused on the wall across the corridor. "I was just waiting for an update really. Check she's ok and then….have you seen her?"
"I have yes. She's still to be seen by the doctor. Getting impatient now I might add! Why don't you pop your head in now? I think she will be glad of the distraction."
He shook his head violently and took a step back. "No, no. It's ok. I'd just be in the way. Best to…. you know, let her rest."
Catherine toyed with trying to persuade him, then let the thought go, suspecting he would dig his heels in. Perhaps hospitals stressed him out as much as nuns did, or maybe he was blaming himself for whatever had caused Camille's fall. She didn't get the impression they had argued though; she would usually have been able to tell from her daughter's reactions and Camille had looked preoccupied but not angry.
"Ok. I will tell her you are asking after her though."
Richard looked panicked, face draining of colour. She wondered how he was going to respond as he opened his mouth to speak but after a second or two, he closed it once more, nodded briefly in her general direction and sank back into his seat, withdrawing within himself.
Tiny was perched on the hospital bed by Camille's knees when she got back to the room; entertaining his friend with stories of his travels and adventures in Mexico. Her daughter's eyes flicked to the door as she entered, other than that there was little evidence to suggest she was perhaps hoping for alternative company.
Five minutes later the doctor arrived and Tiny and Catherine were encouraged to leave the room.
Finally, finally Camille was allowed to leave. She wasn't surprised they had kept her as long as they had; her blood pressure must be through the roof now.
Leaning on the balcony as her mother unlocked the door to the apartment she looked around her; hardly noticing the dawn glow in the quiet streets. Why hadn't he come to check on her?
It was all very well being poor at dealing with emotions but even the most un-empathetic of people would surely check on an injured colleague? As time went on, the crosser she was becoming.
"Camille?" Her mothers hand on her arm brought her back to the present. "Come in darling. I'll make us both something to eat and then you can get some sleep."
"No. I need to…" Catherine was stood patiently waiting for the rest of the sentence but she trailed off.
Oh what was the use? It could not be described as morning yet. She had had no sleep and she had a cracking headache. On top of that she must look dreadful; hair a mess, clothes crumpled and tired from almost twenty-four hours use, and a large colourful lump above one eye. Her mother's suggestion of food and sleep was no doubt the better option for now. Add a shower to the list and she might even feel vaguely human.
Then.
And then she could go and beat some sense into her DI.
She took a breath and smiled. "Oui Maman. That sounds like a good idea."
Try as he might, sleep would not come.
Richard tormented himself. He had tried reading and music, a hot shower and then a cold one. He had tried focusing on contracting and relaxing each individual muscle in his body in turn, and then on an internal image of a ball which rose and fell in time with his breathing. The ball had slipped away, bouncing into the recesses of his mind and giving way to yet another recounting of his afternoon and evening.
Would it have been better to see her after all? There was, after all, only so much she could have said or done to him with other people in the room.
And what if the doctor he had finally accosted in the early hours of the morning was wrong? From the unsurprising instantaneous male response Richards enquiry had brought about, he was fairly sure that they had been discussing the same patient; once he had shown him his Police Badge and convince him it was official police business that was. She did not appear to be suffering from concussion and was imminently being released under the care of her mother, but what if he had missed something?
A few times Richard got as far as tying his shoelaces to go and check on her, the thought of facing her and her mother after the liberties he had taken too much to follow through with the action.
Even if those liberties had been responded to? Arrgggh. He felt his head might burst. Or feasibly he might just empty the contents of his stomach. It was almost worth hoping Camille had a touch of amnesia.
Not that that would help his brain, or his heart.
Their kiss had been…..it had felt right. Messy and passionate and wrong on so many levels yet perfect.
Finally body and mind gave way and he fell into a restless sleep, waking with a start to loud knocking on the door.
