Disclaimer: Own none of The Princess Diaries characters - i'm just stretching them as characters a little...

Author's Note: A song-fic I wrote suddenly tonight whilst listening to Coldplay's album – I highly recommend you listen to the song as it inspired me to write this so maybe it will inspire you too. Basically snippets of Clarisse & Joe through the years.

For Stoneygem – my partner in crime; for writing, having fun, singing, chatting and dreaming of other existences…

F i x Y o u

When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

Joseph watched her from down the plane, frantically searching through a folder for something, scanning sheets of note paper. He saw her sigh and remove her glasses wearily rubbing the bridge of her nose. She took a deep calming breath and put the folder down instead lifting her diary from the table in front of her and flicking it open, a small scrap of paper fell to the floor. She scooped it up and clumsily slid her glasses back on reading the note. She smiled slightly and let out a relieved sigh. He smiled too.

"Oh bother." She whispered as the diary fell and several notes covered the floor.

He observed her bend, saw her hands flit over the papers. Those perfect hands he'd watched for so long, longed to hold for so long, so many years. How he wanted to know what her skin felt like, soft and warm he'd always assumed, so silky. The tiny impurities in the skin making her all the more perfect. The shape of her polished nails. Her long slender fingers, the way they held a pen when she signed her name for the hundredth time in a day. The lines, the history, the memories, the many times she'd shook a stranger's hand, or lifted one of her sons into her arms to comfort them as sobbing children. How she'd wiped away tears of uncertainty from their faces, or held them tight when they were afraid on a stormy night.

He wished she would touch him, just once, just trace her hand down his face, so he could close his eyes and drift away into her touch… her touch…

He stood and strode down towards her, getting to his knees he assisted in collecting up her notes.

"Thank you Joseph. I'm afraid I'll have to have Charlotte rearrange these – again." She smiled for him but it was weary.

"May I suggest you rest for a while your majesty, we won't land in Genovia for three more hours."

He stood gingerly, his knees still ached somewhat, he would have to do something about that soon.

"Thank you Joseph, I would only I can never rest on flights, they make me uneasy."

He returned her smile and when she put her glasses on again and returned to her work he took the queue to back off and did just that.

After another 30 minutes of watching her struggle to try and concentrate on work Joseph went through to the galley and returned with a mug of warm milk.

Wordlessly he placed it on the table in front of her.

She never said a word neither.

He returned to his seat along the plane, a position from which he could easily observe her.

Within 20 minutes she slept soundly, her glasses still dangling around her neck. Joseph took the work from her lap and stacked it on the table.

Clearing away her now empty mug.


And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
could it be worse?

She was sobbing, openly, uncontrollably. He couldn't bear it. Such raw emptiness, such open abandoned pain. Total grief. She stumbled as she moved to sit and half fell against him. He caught her, was going to help her sit but she clung to him, her nails dug into his skin through the black shirt, her arms had him in a vice-like grip.

He reached to stroke her back, found it came so easily, to offer her that comfort, to offer her whatever he could right now.

He felt the pain burning in himself as well, the loss as keenly as if it had been his own son in the accident, such waste, such bloody waste and all that grief for her… all over again. She'd cried over Rupert but two years hence, but his passing had been easier to bear, expected.

This, this was devastating.

Still her tears came, soaking through his shirt now, seeping onto his skin. She sagged against him, her body fitting perfectly into his arms. His hands reached to stroke her hair, his voice making soothing calming noises, nothing could be said, no words would form.

Shaking violently her knees finally buckled and together they dropped to the rug. Her head on his chest, her arms still wrapped around his back… he gazed into the fire, the room golden in glow, warm as outside the snow still fell. November. Her birthday just gone, his approaching. Old age approaching. Loneliness, such utter loneliness approaching so fast. Unwanted.

What he wanted was to remain here forever holding her. Giving her whatever he could. Taking all her pain away and bearing it himself so she wouldn't suffer. For she felt it now, all those years they'd all thought she felt nothing, so many years after Pierre's disappointment and Philippe's moments of doubt and mistakes… a loveless marriage, a stoic façade of togetherness… it was crumbling around him now.

He could see it as clearly as if her life lay around him in pieces, this woman who had given so much and lost so much and felt so much but hid it away. Who would smile for the audience when inside she was dying, who would bear the brunt of her country's anger if it were asked of her.

Now anguish tore through her body, that beautiful face he'd loved for so long. For he could admit it to himself now, he'd always loved her, loved her desperately and hopelessly, passionately and angrily, beating himself up over the fact he was foolish to ever think she would be his, to think she would ever look to him as more than her security guard.

Only now she did, now she sought him, now she clung to him.

Her sobs had died away; her body that had been wracked with them now trembled against him as if she were cold. She still held onto him, pressed her cheek into his chest, the shudder in her breathing was evident; the break in her voice shattered him when she spoke.

"Please don't leave me Joseph…"


Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you


And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

He stood atop the palace, high above the gardens, early morning, the bird's overhead dancing in the morning sun. He'd been awake since dawn, turning the thought over in his mind. He would leave; it was the only way forward now. That he realised was reality.

She had turned him down. Refused his proposal. After six years of them doing this… dating, forging a relationship, bonds that he couldn't break, he thought she felt the same.

It was a kick in the teeth, a goddamn knock him down and rip his guts out refusal. For days he'd hated her, despite knowing why, despite understanding her reasons and hating himself for pushing it… He shouldn't have pushed it.

Yet what the hell was there? To go on with their lives this way. The odd dinner in her suite late at night when nobody else knew. The odd conversation when they were alone or she needed guidance or support. Dancing in the dark, hardly allowing himself to breathe for if it disappeared. Feeling her body pressed against his, longing to touch her, longing to take that desire they shared and be with her. To hold her in his arms for the entire night and love her like no other man ever could… because they couldn't, they would never, could never… he would lay down his life for her. Give her his soul, hell she already had it.

She always had it. Heart and soul. From the moment he'd seen her face. That face. That face. Her eyes that haunted his dreams. Her mouth.

He used to dream of kissing her mouth. Holding her face.

When they'd first kissed it had been her that had been holding his face, for he had shook like a child, a teenager experiencing his first human contact, first sexual rush of longing and desire flooding veins. He had been flooded, her scent, the world had spun around him, particles of dust had settled around him like silver stars, his head had spun, the light had shifted… and her mouth on his, gentle, warm, as fresh as the first rain after a long summer, the first buds in spring. Rose petals. Dew on the dry earth. She had kissed him and everything had altered.

The centre belonged in her. Everything he'd ever wanted or worked for or dreamt of or fantasised centred in her.

And what was there now? His guilt, embarrassment, some fucked up childish dream of marrying her. As if they could ever, as if she would ever really, truly entertain the idea of marrying him.

He turned at the barks of Maurice, watched him dart through the gardens. Clarisse. She bent to scratch the dog's head. How alone she looked. How solitary. Who did she turn too? When things were bad, when she was down, depressed, unhappy, just needed escape… who did she look to for comfort, a hand to hold? When she was happy, when she smiled or laughed, full of joy, who shared that with her? Who witnessed that beauty as she laughed, rejoiced in her happiness?

For he was leaving now, he was leaving… and she would know soon enough.

He didn't know where to go.


Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you


Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I…

Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I…

He had expected her anger, had prepared himself for it. Perhaps sadness, perhaps hurt, perhaps rejection and disappointment in him. He was weak, he always had been.

That morning when the palace should have been joyful he stood there in her office, arms folded behind his back trying desperately not to look to her face.

He hadn't been prepared for the love in her eyes.

"I don't want you to leave."

"I feel… I can no longer stay, not now."

She moved around the desk to him, dropping his letter of resignation on her desk. Stepping to him, he noticed she was trembling, her eyes full of moisture. The tears daring to be wiped away, her fumbling over what to say, what to do, how to beg him not to leave her now.

"After all these years." She shrugged.

"Yes, Clarisse, I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. You've always been there for me, my strength, my only friend sometimes it seems. You still are."

He nodded resolutely.

"But you need more now."

He swallowed, there was no point hiding anymore. "I can't pretend anymore, I can't make do on stolen moments, this is my life, this is forever… I'm offering you, I offered you, everything, I want to give you everything. I can't feast on these scraps of relationship you throw my way. I need all of you."

"But you…" Now her tears fell, silently, coursing down her face, he followed their journey down her cheeks, along her nose, her chin, down her neck.

"Clarisse." He reached to take her hands. "I want to marry you, I want us to be, just be together, grow old and relax, hold each other at night. I want to be able to kiss you everyday, wake with you every morning, make love to you for once in my whole god damn life, share that with you."

She shivered; he felt it close in around him.

"But you don't want that."

"I… I…"

"Perhaps you do, but you can't have it, or we can't… whichever it is, it hurts too much to stay, to be around you and not have you, I can't stand it anymore, my heart aches."

"Joseph please…" she cupped his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He kissed her hands. "I'm weak, I'm foolish, but I do love you Clarisse, and I would never do this to hurt you. Never anything to hurt you."

"You're the one who saves me." She whispered letting go of his hands.

She furiously wiped at her face.

"Today of all days." He mumbled. "Mia will be married in a few hours and you will be happy, I hope everything goes well, and I wish you…" He couldn't finish, she glanced up at him, her tear-stained face, the red blotches on her cheeks, those astonishing eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I had to try, you realise that don't you, I had to ask and find out."

"Yes, yes I understand that. I wish you well too Joseph, you know that. I do love you. I just have no idea how to show it. How to make you believe." She swallowed uneasily and more tears tumbled for her eyes as she squeezed them tight. "Oh god I feel I'm losing something, something I can't ever replace…"

He moved forward and caught her arms, held her gently, wiped at her tears with his thumb. "Don't cry my love, we make mistakes, we can only hope god has a plan. I can't bear to see you cry, be happy today, be there for Mia."

He kissed her forehead, one last touch before he departed.


Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

They lay together in the darkness, wrapped together, legs, arms stroking the other. Mouths worshipping, hardly parting, never ceasing in their exploration.

Whispered words of forever, promises, apologies, love and trust and hope and completeness…

The light from the stars was heavenly, filling the room; the oversized bed seemed to have shrunk, the couple laying in the centre of it the only thing that existed.

He took her hand, kissed her wedding ring, breathed in the scent of those perfect hands, hands he'd watched for so many years.

"Joseph…" she whispered. "I'm so sorry for the pain…"

"No, no I'm the one who caused it, pushing you, I knew you couldn't… I knew." He kissed her forehead. "God I thought I'd lost you forever. Lost your love."

"Never, never, how could I stop? How could I ever not want you or need you. You're in my soul, you're part of my being, my very bones."

She kissed him, slowly, sensually. Holding his body tight against hers.

"All this time we've been so blind." She whispered. "I want to fix it all."

"You already have." He replied gently. "You've brought me home."


Well i hope some of that made sense to you - please leave
me a little message, thanks x Rhonda