Just to avoid any confusion, this scene is set in the 'present' – that is, just after Clarisse and the whole group return to Genovia after PD1…and remember, I'm running the two films together so things will move quicker than you perhaps expect! Also, given the chunk I've borrowed from the film, 'Elizabeth' obviously does not belong to me…I'm just playing with it for a bit. Sue me and you'll get nothing more than books and handbags

Raising an eyebrow curiously, Joe nodded and casually wandered over to the door, twisting the key in the lock. When he turned, he noticed that she had moved out from behind the desk and, scooping up the large file of papers in her arm, was making her way towards the leather couch. Still not sure where this was going, he watched her sit down with a heavy sigh and carefully arrange the various documents and notes on the low coffee table in front of her. Turning then to smile at him, she patted the seat next to her.

Bemused, he sauntered over and flopped down, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

"Well?"

She smiled, obviously enjoying his confusion, and nodded towards the pile of papers.

"Would you help me?"

He met her gaze and she was pleased to see a mixture of surprise and appreciation of what she was asking him. She had never been one to share her responsibilities lightly, often working herself into the ground rather than risk the slipshod work of somebody else.

"Really?"

"Really. Would you mind?"

She was less certain now, he could hear it in her voice. She wondered for a moment if she'd pushed it too fast. He saw her concern and quickly took her hand and pressed it to his lips, reassuring her.

"Of course…I…I'd love it."

She smiled, running a hand down his cheek.

"Thank you."

He relaxed back into the couch as she began to shuffle the papers again, obviously looking for something specific to start with. He placed a hand on her back, caressing her lazily.

"So…darling…you made me lock the door for um…paperwork?" He pretended to be miffed and attempted a pout. Glancing sympathetically at him, she shifted back a little, and for a moment, came to rest against his arm, curling into his chest. He sighed, strategically placing a kiss on her left temple,

"Hmm…I suppose paperwork might have its advantages, though"

She chuckled and began to sit up. Reaching across to the pile, she picked up the sheet she had been looking for. To his pleasant surprise, though, she then sat back against him, letting his arm fall around her once more. Relaxing into his chest, as he casually stroked his fingers through her hair, she began to read him the first memo.

They sat like that for nearly two hours, painstakingly going through the finer points of the situation, reviewing it from all angles. For most it would have been a terribly dull task, but they were both thoroughly enjoying themselves. Clarisse was lying on the couch, her head resting in Joe's lap, his feet were still propped on the coffee table, reading glasses slipping endearingly down his nose. They had thrashed their way through the main arguments and Clarisse was genuinely impressed with his clear ability to see things from both sides. With his help she now felt confident that her position was clear and well-founded. She looked up at him as he read the final pages of the foreign attachés report. This she could get used to…this sense of partnership, of shared responsibility. He was the only one who could see her truly as an equal, he could see her when everyone else simply saw her title. With him she could still work like this, still be a queen, and yet know that he saw more. It had taken years for this…but then again, it couldn't have happened any other way.

Little by little she could feel them growing closer, each still careful and cautious, each moment rebuilding themselves from within. Losing this was unthinkable, she realised that now. Whatever happened, and something would happen sooner or later, she would do everything in her power to keep him by her side. She could not shut him out again, she simply wouldn't be able to bear it.

She raised a hand to stroke his cheek, her heart flipping a little when he tilted his head absent-mindedly to kiss her palm.

"Thank you for helping me, my darling."

He smiled, this time looking down at her and slipping off his glasses.

"Thank you for letting me."

She nodded, and, placing the report on the table, he slipped an arm under her shoulders and lifted her towards him. Kissing her delicately on the lips he smiled, whispering softly, "I want to stay like this forever…" She smiled too and, looping her arms around his neck, kissed him properly.

The shrill ring of the telephone made them both jump a little. Laughing at themselves, Clarisse leant over to answer. Joe stretched back in the couch, sorry at the intrusion, but resigned to its eventual inevitability.

"Yes Charlotte, that's fine…no, I've nearly finished it actually" she looked at Joe and winked, "I know…but it turned out to be far more interesting than I had first thought. I'll get the draft done by tomorrow." She stretched out her neck and winced a little at the stiffness. Joe's hand soon snaked over to massage it better and she smiled to herself. Mmm…this she could definitely grow accustomed to. "No, Charlotte, I've not forgotten. I was thinking, if I could arrange for dinner at 7.30, then I'll be free to join in with the film at about 9…really?…do you think she's alright?…Good. That's what I hoped….Indeed, I believe Joseph conducted a tour this afternoon…I'm not sure, I haven't had a chance to ask him yet….really?….hmm….no idea. Try the security room?…Thank you, Charlotte. Have a pleasant evening yourself."

She hung up then, and groaned loudly,

"I'm sure she's got it figured out, you know…"

He continued his slow massage, as much to comfort as to ease her muscles,

"I know…I think so too. But she's not said anything. What do you want to do about it?"

"The usual…pretend that I haven't noticed."

He smiled, and once again she relaxed back against him, eager to steal just a few more moments before she had to unlock the door and prepare for dinner.

By 7.45, Mia was nearly finished with her dinner. Clarisse still couldn't understand how that girl could eat so fast. It was really quite an art to behold…she wasn't messy, and had learnt almost immediately the various points of etiquette that should govern her use of cutlery and the like…it was just that she seemed to manage it in half the time that would be seemly. She smiled, remembering the way she had always had to tell Philippe off for eating too quickly.

"Grandma?"

"Yes, Amelia?"

"Oh nothing…you just looked kinda spaced out. Are you alright?"

Clarisse smiled, and considered for a moment whether she should share the thought,

"I was thinking how much you act like your father at mealtimes…he could never take his time either."

Mia smiled and met Clarisse's eyes. Poor Grandma. It suddenly hit her how hard it must be to have a living, breathing miniature of her son wandering round the palace. Did it upset her? Mia wanted so much to know about her father, and all his little habits and interests, but could she really ask? She bit her lip, and immediately Clarisse noticed her indecision. Maybe she had misjudged telling Amelia?

"Amelia?"

"Can I ask you something Grandma?" She played with her fork a little, obviously nervous.

"Of course, you know that. What would you like to know?"

"What was my father really like? Did he like pizza? Did he like sci-fi movies? What was his favourite Christmas present ever?"

Clarisse smiled, and tried to ignore the lump that was forming involuntarily in her throat. She set her knife and fork down and folded her hands under her chin, resting her elbows on the table, and sighed.

"I wondered when you might ask all those kinds of questions…"

"Do you mind, Grandma?"

She shook her head, watching her granddaughter closely. This was going to be difficult, but she had a right to know. Clarisse couldn't remember the last time, apart from with Joseph, when she had spoken about Philippe in any detail. And even with Joseph, it was never about these kind of things.

But of course they were not forgotten.

"Of course I don't, my dear. I…I want to tell you about him, I've wanted to for a long time. But you must forgive me if, if I find it a little difficult."

Mia smiled, and got up from her place at the table. All the serving staff had left long before, and now it was just the two of them. She came to crouch by Clarisse and gently placed an arm round her shoulders. It still felt a little strange, but she didn't flinch as perhaps she might have done a month ago.

"It's okay, Grandma, I understand. That's why I haven't asked before. I never met my father…all these things are new and interesting. They don't have any memories attached…I'm just making new ones. I don't want to upset you."

Clarisse smiled, and wrapped her own arm around Mia's waist, pulling her a bit closer.

"You really are a smart little lady aren't you? I'm fine…I promise." She eased away from the girl's embrace and, picking up her fork again, shot her a mischievous glare,

"Just let me finish my chocolate mousse and then we can talk. Tea in my sitting-room in ten minutes?"

Mia nodded enthusiastically, and, pleased to see her grandmother looking happier, raced off to go and choose the movie for later.

As Clarisse finished the last of her dessert, she gazed absent-mindedly at the family portrait hanging at the far end of the room. He couldn't have been more than fifteen when that one was painted. She set the fork down and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She decided there and then that eventually Amelia must know everything, even the details surrounding his death. Not yet, but one day.

Sighing, she suddenly realised how cold she was, and stood up. Rubbing her hands briskly up and down her upper arms, she wished for a moment that Joseph was there to hold her. More and more frequently, this thought occurred to her these days, always leaving her a little confused as to her sudden emotional need. She hoped he would come and see her later.

In the warmth of her sitting-room, Clarisse and Mia talked for nearly an hour. As it turned out, Mia's questions were mainly factual, wanting to know his favourite foods, his music tastes, whether he preferred cats or dogs. All trivial, reasonably safe things. Clarisse answered patiently, often surprising herself with the depth of her memory and her ability to recall the most random details. Only once did Mia ask about something deeper, something that inadvertently touched a nerve.

"Did Dad get on with Pierre? I mean, I know that sounds weird, but some people really don't get on with their siblings…"

For a moment, Clarisse was surprised at the question, but then her face grew sad as she remembered the day the two boys had built themselves a den in one of the oak trees by the lake. They had worked on it all morning and afternoon, not even arriving for dinner. That was when Clarisse had grown concerned, sending Joseph out to find them. Eventually he had returned, a ten-year old Pierre wandering sleepily along beside him, and a seven-year old Philippe curled up and dreaming in Joseph's arms.

It was nothing, just a memory, but it brought it all back. Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked, smiling at Amelia.

"Yes, darling, they were the best of friends. Until they discovered girls at least…" She smiled, wiping the stray tears from her cheeks. Mia looked up and she decided that perhaps she had asked enough. Shifting along the couch to sit beside her, she wrapped her arms around her grandmother and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you, Grandma. You've made him real for me…"

"I know…it just brings it all back."

Mia smiled, and rubbed her back soothingly, deciding a change of subject might be in order,

"Now…are you going to come and watch this movie, or am I going to have to prise you from your work by force?"

As it turned out, Clarisse did actually manage to get half an hour of reading in before the film began, and successfully finished off her (and Joseph's, she reminded herself with a smile) notes on the French issue.

At nine, she tidied her desk and locked away the confidential file in the safe. Clicking off the light, she made her way to Amelia's suite. As she reached the door, however, a small note with her name neatly written on the front greeted her,

'Grandma,

I just heard that we have a film-room! Why didn't you mention it before – it's awesome! Hope you don't mind, but I'm setting up down there. See you soon,

Mia.xx'

She smiled and shook her head…honestly, that girl. And there she had been all concerned about her settling in at the palace. Turning, she walked back along the corridor and down the stairs to the screening room.

Mia had already set the room up and was lounging in a huge comfy chair at the front, an enormous bowl of popcorn on her lap and several cans of Coke at her feet. Her face lit up as Clarisse entered the room.

"Grandma…you came! On time!" She looked at her watch, "Well, as good as…"

Clarisse merely chuckled and faked a disapproving look.

"A Queen is never late, everyone else is simply early, my dear…"

She glanced at the seating arrangements, and then up at the screen.

"Amelia, do you mind if I don't sit next to you? I'm rather long-sighted and I don't think sitting so close to the screen would be a pleasant experience. Would you mind if I sit at the back?"

Mia shrugged and opened a can of Coke.

"No, of course not…though you'll have to miss out on the popcorn if you do…"

"I think I'll probably survive…"

As the lights were turned off, the film began. Clarisse raised an eyebrow at the choice…Elizabeth. The opening scenes were powerful, with the execution of several heretics under the reign of Mary Tudor, and for a moment she wondered whether Amelia had made a mistake. Peering at her in the darkness, though, she could see her settling into the her seat, happily munching away.

The film went on, and Clarisse became increasingly absorbed in the plot. Of course, she knew well the actual history of Elizabeth I and the rumours surrounding her love for Sir Robert Dudley, but this was different. Yes, the script most definitely had departed from historical fact, but the results were compelling.

The young princess became Queen, and her young lover, Dudley, suffered terribly. All of England pressed her to marry, but she refused. They threatened her, but she refused again. He became a senior figure at her court, and spent his nights in her chamber, but the rumours put a stop to that. Sometimes she favoured him, other times she simply ignored him.

A French representation arrived, and a wonderful party was held on the Thames, all in small gondolier-style boats. She lay in his arms, and he whispered in her ear,

"Marry me"; she smiled, and replied coyly, "On a night such as this, could any woman say no?"; he took her hand, and met her gaze, "On a night such as this could a queen say no?". She smiled, and kissing his hand, "Does a queen not sit under the same stars as any other woman?"

Clarisse smiled ruefully to herself. They may very well be the same stars, but sometimes it is necessary to keep one's eyes shut. She hadn't thought of marriage for such a long time…she shook her head, aware of the risky path that train of thought was following.

The plot thickened and the young queen rejected her lover, pushing him away. In desperation he joined the Spanish to seek her hand in marriage for their King, trying anything to be close to her. The words of the Spanish ambassador rang in Clarisse's ears, "What would a man not do for love?"

And so it continued, and the man betrayed her, committing treason. By the time the film reached the final scene between them, Clarisse could feel her eyes growing moist.

"Just tell me why." The young Elizabeth was cold, detached. Hardened to him, ruthless in the denial of her unmistakable love.

"Why? Madam, is it not perfectly plain to you? It is no easy thing to be loved by the queen. It would corrupt the soul of any man." A broken man, preferring death to life without her.

Clarisse felt a hand on her shoulder in the darkness, and almost cried out. A kiss was pressed against her temple and he perched himself on the arm of the chair.

"Are you alright, my darling?" He whispered it so softly that she almost couldn't hear him. She glanced at Amelia who was still engrossed in the film. She didn't know how long he'd been there, and self-consciously brushed away the tears from her cheeks. She felt his arm wrap firmly around her. Nodding, she took his hand and motioned towards the small projection room. He smiled in the darkness, and helped her up, placing his hand at the small of her back, guiding her towards the door.

As he closed it behind them, she quickly turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. From the dampness growing on his shirt, he could tell she was still crying and he pulled her closer, stroking her hair. Not since that night when Philippe had died had she cried like this, and it worried him. As her sobs subsided, he eased back a little and, taking her face gently between his hands raised her up to look at him.

"Why did you never leave Joseph, why did you never hate me?" Her eyes were sparkling with tears and for a moment he lost himself in them. He smiled, then, kissing her forehead, murmuring against her hair,

"Because, my love, no matter what happened, I never wanted to…"

A/N Hope you liked this chapter better! I've kept it all in the same period, so as to let some of you catch up with my shifting all over the place! Next time, though, will probably be the most difficult chapter of all, at least in terms of depressive-ness. Seen mainly from Joe's perspective, it will be on the events surrounding Philippe's death. So, good times ahead then…hmmm.., Will be happier though eventually!