To his surprise, the room was in darkness, and as he cautiously stepped further in, he made sure the door was left ajar. The air was eerily still and, had he not known categorically otherwise, he would have sworn that he was alone. But of course he wasn't. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realised that she was lying, curled up, in the bath. The shaft of dim light from the doorway caught the top of her shoulder, highlighting her hair.

She was lying on her stomach, her arms folded in front of her, set on the edge of the bath. Her head was resting on top of them, and he wondered if she was asleep. The steady rise and fall of her back brought him a comfort that he could not even begin to describe. The relief was almost physical, and he could feel the muscles across his back slowly relaxing. He had honestly never really processed the risk of her doing something drastic, but to now be sure…he sighed, wondering where to begin.

He moved closer still, unable to take his eyes from her face, following his instinct now, rather than any sense of what he should do, what the proper thing to do might be. Kneeling down alongside the ornate iron bathtub, he realised with a start that she was not asleep. From this angle, the light revealed that her eyes were open…and staring straight into his own.

He realised that he had no idea what to say. And so he said nothing. Never taking his eyes off her own, he lifted his hand and gently set it down on her bare shoulder. She didn't flinch as perhaps he might have expected, but instead, her eyes closed. He brought his hand up to the nape of her neck, massaging it tenderly, hoping the gesture would somehow convey the words that he was as yet unable to formulate. She was freezing, the water obviously long gone cold. In the faint light her skin was deathly pale, and was chilled to the touch. He continued to stroke her neck soothingly, allowing his upper arms to rest on her shoulder. She shivered, and he quickly realised that he would have to move her soon.

"I'm so sorry, Clarisse…"

Her eyes opened drowsily, the moisture of tears glistening in the dim light. She didn't reply, her open eyes the only sign that she had heard him, but he hoped his meaning was clear. She shivered involuntarily, and he automatically wrapped his arm around both her shoulders. Her eyes closed again, and she pressed her face back into her folded arms, unwilling to move, unable to think.

He realised then that she was in no state to get out of the bath and dry herself off….and for a moment he hesitated. Would she let him? He looked again at her, curled up naked in a tub of icy water, seemingly oblivious to the world collapsing around her, no doubt seeking that oblivion. Charlotte had been right, she needed him…

Moving quickly now, he stood and removed an oversized bath sheet from the mercifully heated rail. After spreading it out on the bed, he swiftly went back into the darkened bathroom. He decided not to switch on the lights, not wanting to startle her, or invade her privacy more than was absolutely necessary. He glanced across at the tub. She hadn't moved at all. Her eyes were closed again, and he began to worry that she might be falling asleep.

Stripping off his shirt and setting it by the sink, he came to stand alongside her once again. Once more, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulders, not wanting to scare her, desperately trying to bring her back.

"Clarisse…my darling, we need to get you warmed up…will you let me help you?

It took a moment, but she stirred, and again looked at him with those worryingly glazed, tear-filled eyes. For a few seconds, she fixed him with a blank stare…then turned back, her face pressed into her arms.

He lowered himself down, wrapping his left arm underneath her chest, his right hand still resting on her back to support her. Slowly and carefully, he turned her over. Then, before she even really registered the movement, he had slipped his right arm underneath her thighs and swiftly lifted her out of the freezing water, bringing her to lie close against his warm chest. For a moment she struggled, as if she were trying to stand, but he held her firmly. Almost immediately she stopped, and, to his surprise and relief, curled into him, burying her face in his chest. Instantly he felt chilled by her cold skin next to his, and shivered himself. Thank God he had arrived when he did…

Carefully, he carried her into the bedroom, his left arm supporting her shoulders, stroking them soothingly. As he set her down on the warmed towel, she instinctively curled up, and he took the opportunity to sit down next to her and wrap the warm fabric around her. Still she hadn't spoken… but he decided not to press her.

Taking a handful of the towel, he began to carefully dry her back and her upper arms. She didn't protest…to be honest, she hardly seemed to register his presence. Gradually though, as he dried her stomach and legs, she began to come back to life. Her eyes were open now, and she watched him as he tenderly wrapped another fresh towel around her shoulders. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked up.

"Clarisse?"

She continued to stare at him for some time, not exactly scrutinising, more absorbing his presence. He opened his mouth to try again, but she blinked noticeably, and he faltered. A solitary tear worked its way down her cheek. Instinctively, he reached out and brushed it away, his palm coming to rest against her face. Never taking her eyes off him, she reached up and placed her own hand on top of his.

He sighed audibly, letting out the breath he didn't realise that he'd been holding, and swiftly wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to rest against him. She buried her face in his bare chest willingly, his hand coming down to rest on the nape of her neck. Still she had not spoken a word, and yet the trance had been broken. He could feel her trembling as she cried softly, silently against him, the warm dampness of her tears again his skin.

After a few minutes, she began to settle…her breathing grew regular, and she stopped trembling. Joe continued to stroke her neck, hoping that in his own insignificant way he could somehow lessen the pain. Words were unimportant, and glaringly empty now, and so none were uttered.

A few more minutes passed before he registered that she had fallen asleep in his arms. For the first time since he had heard the news, he allowed himself a faint smile. He glanced at his watch and, noting that it was quarter to nine, wondered how Charlotte and Martin were coping. As much as he longed to remain here, with this sleeping beauty in his arms, he really should go and reassure Charlotte at least, that everything was alright…or at least, that it would be.

Twisting a little, and looping his arm under her knees, he lifted Clarisse into his arms. Pulling back the heavy covers as he set her down again, she sleepily complied as he eased her into the warm bed. Her face was still tear-stained and, he was sure, there would be more tears to cry, but at least she was resting now. He brought the covers up to rest around her shoulders, making sure that she was warm enough. For a moment he hesitated, his hand dangerously close to her face…yes, he had seen her naked but five minutes ago…but this was different, so very different. He swallowed, desperately trying to push back the feelings of longing surging within him. He could not allow himself to get involved now. Especially not now. Carefully removing his hand, he dropped a chaste kiss to her forehead. She stirred a little, still asleep, but drifting…"Joseph?"

His heart leapt, and he almost faltered, almost kissed her awake, almost pulled her back into his arms. But he didn't, and instead stepped back a pace, waited with held breath for her to settle again. Not now, not like this. He couldn't let it all happen again. They had hurt each other so much…it was too soon to even think that it might be possible. Stepping back into the shadows, he moved quietly towards the bathroom to retrieve his shirt. With one last glance back, to check that she was still sleeping, he left the room.

Just after eleven, having spoken with Charlotte, taken a shower, and forced some dinner, he went back to the suite to check on her. The cameras were still off, he was pleased to note, and, apart from the bedside lamp that he had deliberately left on, the rooms were still dark. He hoped that she would still be resting peacefully.

Stepping into the bedroom, however, he was surprised to find her dressed in a pair of warm pyjamas, standing by the window. He knew that she had registered his presence by the way her shoulders had tensed as he walked in. Perhaps this was a good sign? Slowly, he walked towards her.

"I can't do this, Joseph…"

Her voice was uncharacteristically small, and so very tired. He frowned, still unsure of her meaning. She continued to stare out of the window into the blackness outside,

"I can't go out of this room tomorrow and face everyone, meet the press, arrange what needs to be arranged…I can't do this anymore."

He stepped forward a pace, and laid his hand firmly on her shoulder. Slowly, he massaged her with his thumb, thinking carefully how he should respond to this. He felt her relax a little against him, leaning back, almost imperceptibly, but enough.

"You don't have to. You won't have to. I've organised all your appointments to be suspended indefinitely, the press know that they are not welcome here…and Charlotte is more than capable to make arrangements for the funeral."

She flinched slightly, and he regretted his frankness. Soothing her with his thumb, he instantly conveyed his concern, and she understood, once again relaxing against him. She lifted her hand to her face, and he realised that she was crying again. Bringing his other hand to her shoulder, he ran his palms up and down her arms. She trembled a little, and then seemed to regain control. She was stronger now, the initial shock having worn off…she was herself again.

"Joseph…"

It wasn't a question, and for a moment he didn't know what to do, how to respond. All that was sensible and rational told him to leave now. She was alright, she would cope. But he realised now that it wasn't about her just coping…she would be better if he stayed, helped her to cope. And he wanted to help her. She seemed to understand his inner turmoil, and stepped forward slightly, not leaving his touch, but permitting him to withdraw.

He didn't. Ignoring his better judgment, he pulled her even closer than before, bringing her to rest against his chest. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, he felt her relax against him. Her hands came to rest on top of his. They both stared out into the darkness, each in their own thoughts.

"You came back…"

Again, his mind whirred, unsure of her meaning…this moment, this evening, from Spain?…he was lost. She understood his hesitation, suddenly aware of the truth in her originally casual words,

"I didn't think you'd come back this evening…"

He smiled, pleased that she wasn't reading too much into this…this gesture of friendship. Her hand traced the back of his and his breath caught, his body betraying once again precisely what his mind was still too closed to accept.

"How could I not?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Back to 'present' – i.e. Clarisse in a slightly warmer bath, and Joe keeping watch!

He winced a little, his knee getting rather stiff from sitting too long. He glanced over to the bath and couldn't help but smile as she screwed up her eyes, obviously dreaming about something or other.

That terrible night, he had left her quite soon after their conversation by the window. It had been difficult, and he knew that she would have let him stay had he asked, but he was glad now that he hadn't. She had needed to grieve alone, needed time to think for herself, as, indeed, had he. Looking back, he was amazed that he had been so strong then. With a sigh though, he wondered perhaps if it had not been more a case of fear than strength. He simply hadn't dared face the potential heartache once more…

As he stood, to stretch his knee a little, the chair scraped on the marble floor, and she stirred. She blinked a few times, obviously not expecting to see him standing there, but then she smiled,

"Hello you…"

He smiled back, and reaching for a large towel, set it on the stool by the tub.

"Nice bath?"

She grinned, stretching her arms lazily in the water,

"All the better for having a charming attendant."

A/N This one was hard…and I'm still not convinced I did it justice, but never mind. Next time, it will be a bit of Clarisse pov…in the car after the funeral (with Joe, of course!) when she tells him what she wants, and he tells her they should wait. Any reviews, good or bad, are most welcome ;o)