As the pale early morning light filtered into the bedroom, Joseph began to stir. His body was well accustomed to rising for his early five o'clock shift, and he knew better than to try and sleep any longer. He had slept precious little…they had talked late into the night and, as she slept in his arms, it had taken him a long time to dare close his eyes. It had all been too much…just as she had said.

Raising a hand to his eyes then, lazily rubbing the sleep away, he was genuinely surprised to find Clarisse, propped up on an elbow, looking down at him.

The initial surprise registered, he raised an eyebrow and parted his lips to speak…only to be met by a quick kiss, over as soon as it had begun. Pulling back to her former position, she continued to watch him, contemplating him, it seemed. He smiled, and again attempted a look of puzzlement. Her lips curled a little at the edges, and once again he treated to the fleeting warmth of her mouth on his. This time, however, he was ready, and catching her head in his palm, drew her closer, deepening the kiss.

As they broke apart finally, his smile had broadened to a wide grin, and again, he raised an eyebrow,

"Clarisse?"

She smiled, stroking his lower lip with her index finger,

"Just wanted to start things on the right foot…"

He kissed her finger, closing his eyes as she tenderly brought her palm to rest against his cheek.

Many moments passed before he opened them again, but when he did, she was still watching him intently.

"Am I so very interesting?"

Another smile, that same absorbed, concentrated expression, sweeping his face, resting on his eyes,

"Absolutely captivating, my darling"

He sighed, his own expression turning to one of contemplation,

"It's such a long time since you've called me that…it's good to hear. It makes me feel needed, Clarisse."

For a moment, from her expression, he wondered if she might cry. But she didn't. Simply closing her eyes for an instant, registering the impact of his words, the unspoken need behind them, and then returning to him, nodding gently, her hand coming to rest lightly on his chest.

He smiled again, reassuring her that he had meant what she had understood. For too long he had hidden his emotions from her, desperate to maintain the same stoicism she had been schooled in since birth. For him, it could not work…and it did not, that much had been made plain by past events. Indeed, even she had faltered. Perhaps the past had meant a level of secrecy that was unusual, to say the least, but somewhere…somewhere they had both got lost in who they were trying to protect, to hide their emotions from. In the end, they had nearly lost everything.

"And I like to say it to you, my darling…I should never have stopped saying it."

He smiled weakly, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her down to lie alongside him. As he idly stroked her hair, soothing the wounds of the past, perhaps, he began to realise that the almost overwhelming need of the night before to discuss everything, to talk it all through, had all but evaporated. She understood…she really did. He just had one question left.

"Clarisse…after Rupert died…did you ever hate me?"

She shifted a little, and looked up as she answered, her eyes clear and honest,

"Yes…I did. For a moment. Perhaps for more than a moment…"

He was silent, unsure how to respond. Still she watched him, her eyes searching his, realising for the first time perhaps the profound logic that had been behind her hatred,

"But it was myself that I hated, Joseph. I'm afraid, my darling, though, at that point, you were all I had left of myself…I…I was so very tired, so 'out of it', as Amelia would say, that I didn't see myself any more. I didn't see what I was for…and so I attacked the only person who still held part of me."

He held her gaze throughout, holding her hand tenderly, listening closer to her words than he would have thought possible.

"I…I've only just realised why I did it…"

He smiled, bring her hand to his lips, kissing her gently, soothing her,

"I wondered…I mean, I suppose I hoped that that might have been the reason…"

She looked slightly surprised, and then relaxed, clearly pleased by his insight, snuggling in deeper under the covers, entirely at home with him beside her.

"And I, Clarisse, was I too cruel to make you wait…to make us wait? That day in the car…no, before then…the night I returned from Spain, I heard you on the telephone to Pierre."

"What did I say?"

He sighed, pulling her closer, stroking her back,

"Nothing…nothing and everything. You said you were fine…"

She kissed his chest, remembering perfectly how the tears had silently run down her face that evening as she had lied to her son. Of course he had known, so had Philippe, of that much she was certain. And in a way she was pleased.

"You said you were fine, and I felt sick…I couldn't understand how you could believe that, how you could switch everything off so suddenly. I…" he paused, wondering if he was saying too much, deciding that he must continue, "…I realised I didn't know you. I thought that the Clarisse I knew was not the queen everyone else saw…I couldn't cope when you became her. I suppose, until the night of Philippe's death, I didn't realise that she was simply a part of you. That night I saw my Clarisse again."

She kissed him again, swallowing hard as she did so, not wanting to cry. Still his hand stroked her back carefully, his thumb caressing the nape of her neck.

"I couldn't stand it because the woman I had loved seemed gone…couldn't cope when she began to re-emerge. As much as you might have pushed me away, my love, I couldn't lose you from my mind….God, sometimes I even thought I was losing my mind."

His voice faltered a little, and she shifted up the pillow to lie facing him. They shared a smile as each registered their expression perfectly mirrored. She touched a kiss to his nose, and felt him relax.

"Enough confessions for one morning?"

He smiled thoughtfully, and nodding almost imperceptibly, began to kiss away the tears that stained her cheeks. Bringing her arms around him, pulling his body properly against her, Clarisse shivered involuntarily. Instinctively, his own arms found her waist, his warm hands stroking up underneath her pyjama shirt.

As their mouths met, both were struck by the intense familiarity of the gesture…and yet, it was all so new, so different. They were different.