Automatically, Joe switched into professional mode, taking a deep breath and, for a moment at least, fought back the myriad of questions racing through his mind. He cast a glance around the despondent group massed in Charlotte's office, and decided it was time to take charge. Clearing his throat discreetly, he began to address them,

"Right everyone…until all the details come to light, I will be unable to tell you any more than you all already know. Whatever has happened, the next few days will not be easy on any of us, and in the light of this I ask you for your assistance."

He paused, trying not to think about her, where she might be, what she must be going through…trying to concentrate on the task in hand.

"The palace must continue to run smoothly. Indeed, more so now than ever. We must all return to our respective roles and fulfil our duties as best as can be achieved. The family need us to keep things going."

Was she alone? He presumed she must be…God, he had to stop this, it had taken so long to create this distance from her, he couldn't crumble now.

"I will arrange to meet with all staff tomorrow morning at the latest, and will update you all on the situation. In the meantime, I remind you of your duty to the Crown, and respectfully request that no-one speaks to the press."

He looked up, desperately hoping that his voice betrayed nothing of the inner turmoil he was experiencing. No one, except perhaps Charlotte, seemed to be looking at him.

"Thank you everyone. That will be all for the moment."

Quietly, all but Martin and Charlotte filed out of the room. For a moment, an awkward pause hung over them, no-one quite knowing what to say. Looking up at the clock, Joe noted that it was nearly seven. Almost dinner. But he couldn't even contemplate eating. He felt sick, and his mouth was dry. Sick with worry, sick with the knowledge that the reality of Philippe's death had still to sink in. Right now he was numb, worried more about Clarisse. The grief, he knew, would come later.

Martin sat down heavily on the sofa, and Charlotte wandered over to the window to draw the heavy curtains. She was nervous, Joe could tell...her hands were fussing with the fabric, and her shoulders were tense. He moved to the seat opposite Martin, and sat down himself. After taking a moment to compose himself, he looked up at the young man, ready to hear the answers to questions he'd never thought he would have cause to ask.

"What happened?"

"This afternoon...at three, we think. No one is quite sure how it happened yet, but the car ploughed off the road before they entered the tunnel...it went through the security rail and straight down the embankment."

Joe closed his eyes, momentarily unable to shake the image of a young Philippe playing hide and seek with his brother, and sheepishly coming to tell him that he'd accidentally knocked over and broken a lamp stand in the billiard room. He'd been so innocent, and so afraid to tell his mother. And so he had confided in Joe.

"They didn't stand a chance, Joe...we got the call at about 3.20. The second car with the other security staff in lost radio contact and phoned it through."

He remembered when he'd come to tell him about his first girlfriend...how they'd laughed together about how his mother would disapprove. And how Joe had then spent the evening telling a bemused and enchanted Clarisse about the girl.

"The police are at the crash site, still investigating. They've retrieved the bodies, and I've arranged for them to be flown home in the morning."

He remembered Clarisse confiding in him when she found out about Helen, about the angry fights between Rupert and Philippe. All for nothing now. God, that poor child…Amelia, wasn't it?

"Joe?"

He started a little, coming back to himself. Not now. This was not the time to reminisce, to think even.

"Thank you Martin, you've done the right thing. I'm sorry I was not there to help..." His voice trailed off a little, his mind still distracted by the power of the images he'd relived. "Martin…one more thing."

"Yes, sir?"

"Who else was in the car?"

"Simon, and the driver, Anton"

"Someone must speak with their families." He sighed, suddenly wondering what one could say in such circumstances.

"Leave it to me sir. It would be an honour."

Joe nodded, proud of the young man who had matured considerably in the last four hours, thankful that someone had been there to co-ordinate things. Pleased he would not have to face the families…fearing already the eventual encounter he would surely have to arrange with Clarisse.

Martin rose and made his way to the door, pausing only to glance back questioningly at Charlotte. Joe was oblivious. Entirely unaware of the strained conversation that had preceded Charlotte's call…how Martin had wanted him there immediately, how Charlotte had insisted that she inform the Queen instead…Both hoped that the sharp words that had been uttered in the heat of the moment would be forgotten. She nodded, assuring him that all was forgiven. He nodded back, knowing what she was about to try, glancing down at the clearly fragile Joe and understanding now why she had hesitated so long before calling him.

As the door clicked shut, Joe looked up from his hands, and turned to face her,

"Has Pierre been informed?"

Charlotte moved away from the window and came to sit next to him.

"Yes, he'll be here the day after tomorrow."

He hesitated, twisting his hands nervously, and she watched him closely, knowing what he wanted to ask, wondering whether he would.

"And the Queen?"

She sighed, still looking at him, unsure of what she should do. She bit her lip, and decided not to attempt a lie.

"I don't know."

He looked up suddenly, and met her gaze, for a moment unable to mask his obvious confusion.

"You don't know?"

She reached out and took his hand, more to keep him from running than for comfort. They had become so much closer over the past months, firm friends indeed…brought together, she thought wryly, by something that neither of them had ever dared mention. Clarisse. They had become friends because she was the only person had understood, had given him the space to be with his own thoughts. And they had stayed friends because she had never asked the impossible question, had never show how much she had understood. She realised now that, however much she might risk offending him, and might risk losing his trust, the time had come for her to reveal how much she'd seen.

"She won't say anything, Joe...she, she...I told her and she just looked at me...through me...and then she told me to leave. I didn't know what to say...and so I left. And she locked the door."

She looked at him, and watched as the carefully constructed composure began to falter. He still loved Clarisse…that much was certain. He was trying so hard to look professional…and that made it somehow worse. She herself had been so weak, had done it all wrong. Maybe she had made the situation worse? Perhaps if she had just explained it differently…waited a few more minutes? Tears that had been threatening to fall ever since she had fled from Clarisse's room began to well up again.

Realising how hard she was finding it all, Joe pulled her into a hug, hoping she would keep it together. They needed to stay professional. Pressed against his chest she wouldn't see the concern that was so obviously plastered across his face, a concern that betrayed more than his professional duty.

"Hey, it's ok...you did your best. Don't worry."

Don't worry? He was worried though, and so was Charlotte.

"But I am worried, she looked terrible...for a moment I didn't recognise her."

He didn't say a word, not sure if he could trust his voice. He felt her shift slightly, drawing back a little.

"Please go and talk to her Joe."

She held her breath a little, wishing she could see his eyes. He was eternally grateful that she could not. He closed them, and the images returned…but this time it was Clarisse. Her cheeky smile when she winked at him across a crowded dining table; the way her heels clicked on the terrace when she walked; the way her skin felt like velvet when he would trace a finger down the curve of her back as she slept in the early morning light. Still he didn't reply. Trying desperately hard to shift all those images into a past tense. Pulling back a little, she tried to look at him, but, to her surprise, his eyes were shut. He looked exhausted. When he finally spoke his voice was rough, as if it might break,

"Please don't ask me that, Charlotte."

She rubbed his arm soothingly, and opening his eyes, he smiled weakly. She continued,

"I'm sorry, but I have to...she won't talk to me. She has to...has to say something... I know she'll talk to you."

He sighed again, sitting back again in the chair, rubbing his brow. He looked at her and shook his head, more to persuade himself than anything else.

"Not any more. She's changed."

He looked almost as if he might cry, and for a second she hesitated. Then she remembered the pitiful image of the Queen, hunched up on the sofa, not saying anything, just looking at the wall.

"She needs you, Joe...please just try?"

"If she wants to talk she will just ask...you know the Queen, she deals with things differently."

They both knew this wasn't true, and his words hung in the air between them. A lie that would convince neither of them. Each holding on to its fiction while it lasted. Getting up, she moved back over to the window,

"She's locked herself in her room, Joe...I'm worried."

His heart sank, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There really was no choice. He would have to face this. Face her. Charlotte was right. She needed him.

Opening them slowly, he wasn't surprised to see Charlotte staring back at him. He sighed again and, looking down at his hands, tried to explain.

"You don't understand what you're asking me to do, Charlotte."

For a moment she hesitated, unsure how far she should push this, how much she should reveal. He looked so tired...but there really was no option now.

"I do Joe, that's why it took me nearly two hours to call you. I tried...really I did, but she won't listen. She's..."

He stood suddenly, and she wondered if he would leave. Shaking his head and obsessively straightening out his creased jacket, he realised that he couldn't walk away now. He could never walk away. He remembered the promise he'd once made…'not unless you ask me to leave.'

And so he didn't.

"Tell me what happened Charlotte."

She exhaled the breath she didn't realise that she'd been holding, pleased she'd finally got through to him, pleased he hadn't been angry. Turning back to the window, she started to speak.

"We got the call just after three...I decided straight away that Her Majesty should know immediately, and that I should tell her. She was in her private study, reading something...I can't remember...she stood up to greet me, and I told her that I needed to speak to her. Then she smiled at me, and joked that I was terrible at breaking things gently to her, and that, whatever mistake I'd made, she was sure it wasn't the end of the world. I didn't know what to say..."

She paused for a moment, obviously fighting back the tears,

"I asked her to sit down...and I just told her...straight out like that. Maybe I was wrong? I don't know...She just stared at me, Joe...she just stared. It was if I hadn't said it...and for a moment I wondered if I hadn't. She looked at me straight and asked if I was sure. I could only nod. Then she blinked and her eyes seemed to change. Just like that. I think I moved next to her then, and asked what I should do...she just kept staring out the window. Then she looked down at her hands, and I thought she would cry. But she didn't. I was so confused...I...I put a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched. Flinched, and then she told me to leave. I didn't know what to do...I had to leave, she...she... So I did. And she didn't even look up Joe, nothing. As I left the room I went to the security post to look at the cameras. I hated myself for it, but I had to look..."

"And?"

"Nothing...she sat there for nearly an hour. Then she got up and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. About an hour ago I tried knocking...but she won't answer. So I called you."

He stopped pacing, and looked straight at her.

"She's in shock..."

Charlotte nodded, wrapping her arms about her, shivering a little.

"You did the right thing, Charlotte...", he paused, suddenly aware of what he was about to do. For the first time since he had entered the room, she allowed herself a weak smile.

Again he felt himself switching into autopilot, "Don't worry...I'll go and find her. I'm...she...perhaps you could make sure that all the security cameras covering her suite are disconnected...and that we're not disturbed?"

For a moment he wondered if he'd said too much, but Charlotte simply nodded calmly, and picked up the phone. Plunging his hands into his pockets, Joe headed in the direction of the door.

"Good luck..."

Silently closing the main door of the suite behind him, Joe wasn't surprised to find the sitting-room area shrouded entirely in darkness. He swallowed, and desperately tried to plan what he would do, what he might say. The walk down the corridors to the door had felt almost endless, but now he was there, inside, he realised that he had no idea what he would do, what he should do. He sighed…perhaps plans were no longer the best approach.

From what Charlotte had said, he was pretty certain that she would be in the bathroom, and that the door would still be locked. Moving through to the bedroom, unhampered by the dark in this inner sanctum he had once come to know so well, he felt his way to the balcony window. From memory, he knew that there was a small table next to the right door, on which sat a soft, art deco style lamp. Clicking the switch, the warm light filled the room with shadows, and for a moment his mind played tricks with him. He half-expected her to wander casually out from the bathroom, in her blue gown, stroking her hand lazily down his cheek, asking him teasingly why he was still so overdressed. He blinked, and the memory was gone. All the shadows were still again.

It was time. Slipping off his jacket and draping it over the foot of the bed, he moved towards the door. He knocked gently. And waited. As he had feared, there was no answer. He knocked again. But he quickly realised there was no use.

"Clarisse?"

This was no time to distance her with titles…

"Please open the door…"

Again, nothing. Not even movement. She didn't tell him to leave, tell him to get the hell out of her rooms. Not a word.

He sighed, realising the impossibility of the situation. Sliding his hand into the pocket of his trousers, he pulled out a small metal device, and flicked it open. Twisting the various clips into place, he slipped the skeleton key into the lock. He heard the soft thud as the key on the other side fell to the thickly carpeted ground. Taking a deep breath, he battled with his conscience. This was for her own good, he told himself… One hand on the knob, the other treacherously grasping the key, he turned both, and the door clicked softly open.

A/n So…as you can see, I've decided to take this whole episode seriously slowly! I hope you don't mind…I really think it'll be worth it ;o) Things will definitely pick up in the next chapter – Joe will sort out a seriously stunned Clarisse, and then, with something of a mutual agreement, we will see the start of the kind of relationship (the details of which I'm not going to reveal in a silly summary!) I think they have at the opening of PD1. Then, it's back to the present…

I know it's a cliffie, and for this I'm sorry – but I promise I'll update soon! PS. Thanks ever so much for all your reviews – it's really useful to know what everyone else is thinking. Please do continue letting me know! ;o)