S2 E8 - Character Growth

"Sir, do you think people keep growing up? In their minds, I mean?"

Richard regards Fidel over his teacup rim before setting it down succinctly with a click, "How do you mean? Growing how? Do you allude to learning or maturing?"

"Um," Fidel looks to Camille who shrugs. "Well, I'm not sure exactly. Juliet mentioned something the other day that kind of bothered me and I've been thinking about it ever since."

Richard held up a warding hand, "Ah, ah, Fidel, don't tell me something involving your wife that you will later regret. I've seen too many cherished friendships fail over shared confidences during rocky patches in a relationship."

Fidel smiles proudly at the words 'cherished friendships' but shakes his head, "No, nothing like that, sir. She says I'm not the man she married, not quite, not anymore. She says I'm too serious and not as much fun as I was. It worries me."

"Oh," Richard crosses his arms and gives him a chummy look, "then it is definitely both." At Fidel's puzzled look, he explains, "You are both learning AND maturing, as an officer and as a man, AND, hopefully, as a husband. Juliet should be proud of you. I know I am."

Dwayne nods, "Proud, yes, aye! We see things as cops that ordinary people never see, don't want to see. We know things nobody wants to think about. You can't go through some of our cases and not have it affect you somehow."

Richard nods, "Well put, Dwayne. We see the curdled milk of human kindness and it changes a person."

"You bet," Dwayne mutters. "Take me, for instance, I used to be a wild child before I settled down."

This draws blank looks from everyone and a loud ladylike snort from behind the bar. Dwayne rounds on Catherine, "Not EVERY thing you hear in here is true, you know!"

Catherine scoffs, "Non, I don't believe HALF of it because I know the truth is even more awful than the stories! Oh, the things I've heard!"

Dwayne slumps. "Ha, ha, very funny." He pouts for a few moments then says to his table mates, "But bein' a cop DOES change you. You have to keep it separate somehow, not take it home with you."

Richard sighs, "It's called 'compartmentalization'. You must learn to shut things away and only bring them out when you need to. It takes discipline…"

"… or booze," Dwayne adds.

Richard gives him the eye, "Hmm, yes, too many officers use alternative methods in order to cope. I have to say that I am MOST happy that none of you have stooped so low." Here he gives Dwayne another look, "THAT'S called 'transference' and it doesn't solve the problem."

Dwayne laughs, "Oh, I like that word, Chief. That's what I do. I have a few drinks then I transfer myself onto beautiful young women who seem to find me endlessly fascinatin'." He looks pleased with himself.

Richard sits up straight, "Well, yes, that's one method. There are others."

Camille suddenly speaks up. She's been studying Richard for several minutes now and certain questions have been circling in her mind. "How do YOU do it? I know you compartmentalize because you never talk about your past except when it relates directly to the case at hand. You must have so many dreadful memories tucked away."

He sighs, "I do. It's the curse of an eidetic mind. I sometimes wish I COULD forget but then I might not see a seemingly random fact and make the connection. It's a fine line."

Camille murmurs, "Do you have nightmares?" He looks sadly at her. "I mean, it might explain why you are so… so tightly wound, sometimes, you know?"

He nods, "Yes, bad ones, but I've learned to overcome the effects with certain mental and physical techniques that promote peace of mind. I sometimes wonder if my life wouldn't have been happier if I'd gone into academia instead of law enforcement."

She smiles briefly, "Better for you, maybe, bad for the rest of us." She chuffs a quiet laugh, "Professor Poole, class is in session." She drifts off into private thought that she seems to find most pleasant.

Fidel leans in, distracting Richard from watching Camille smile to herself, "Yes, Chief, bad for us. Who else is going to teach me everything I need to know in order to be the Chief in turn? You HAVE to stay sane so you can pass on all your tricks to me. I'd like to hear more about those techniques when you have time." The Chief nods and Fidel sits back feeling a lot better already.

Dwayne has been watching a table of young people, noisy and boisterous, and SO young! He turns back to his team, "Do you think we really keep growin'? Are any of us ever really grown up at all?"

Richard thinks a moment, "Good question. It depends on your capabilities, I think. That and…"

"And what?" Camille asks.

"The drive to better yourself. Most people seem to reach a point where they are satisfied and they stop. Maybe it's curiosity. Maybe it's restlessness. I don't know. I only know what drives ME."

"And what's that, Chief?" Fidel asks, taking mental notes.

"To be a better person. To learn from past mistakes. To trust in people who have proven themselves to be trust-worthy. To take chances that I never would have last year." Here he darts a quick glance to Camille, "Or even yesterday." He subsides into silence as if something has just popped into his head then mutters, "But can you be too abrupt? Can you veer too suddenly into unknown waters? Can you map uncharted territory without losing yourself? Will people allow you some new twists and turns that you've never shown before?"

"Whoa, Chief, those questions are WAY above my pay grade," Dwayne laughs. "If you figure any of that out will you explain it to me in small words?"

"Yes," Fidel agrees, "me, too!" He stands. "Thanks for the pep talk. I won't worry about changing. I'll just learn to leave my work at work."

The Chief sits up, returning to the conversation, "But remember to bring a little bit of your home to work. It helps. A LOT. Sometimes I wish I could bring Harry with me to the station. He's quite good company, in a totally non-mammalian kind of way."

Fidel nods and bids them good night. Several minutes later, Dwayne stands and does the same. Now it is just Camille and Richard left at the table.

She smiles, "THIS is a first! You outlasted them both. What's wrong? Aren't you feeling crowded and seeking the solace of your monk's cell?"

He frowns and places a hand quite close to hers on the table top, "About that, I've been thinking about what was said here at the table tonight. A person has to keep growing if they want to keep growing." She shakes her head at him. "I mean, you can't stay the same person, can you? That would be like… like being a character in a book. No matter how many times you read the story nothing changes except your perception of the story. The character can't change one word or deed. It is the READER that changes."

She nods slowly, "Hmm, isn't that the definition of insanity? Reading something over and over again and expecting it to change?"

He chuffs scholarly, "Something like that, yes." He is silent for several moments. She watches him think. He takes a sudden breath, "Camille?"

"Yes?"

"I need to say something to you. I don't know how you'll take it. All this talk about growing and taking chances and trusting other people has made me wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

He looks deep into her eyes then down at their hands so close upon the table top. She can feel his body heat very faintly. Her own body heat flashes into white-hot incandescence. Her eyes widen. Why do I suddenly feel so excited? This is Richard. Good old dependable clueless Richard. He's not going to…

…but he does. He does something totally out of character! He leans in very cautiously and breathes in her scent right at her shoulder as she freezes in place. He sits back, sighs, "Mmm. That's good."

She shivers, "What is?"

He gives her an inscrutable look then murmurs, "Lean in. Smell me."

"What?" she quavers.

"Smell me. Please." She does so in a herky-jerky fashion, not quite believing what's happening. She takes a deep breath, her eyes slip closed, and she is carried away. His voice shocks her back to herself, "That's pheromones. I wonder how far they can drift before we can't pick up on them anymore? That would be a fascinating experiment."

She conquers the shivers by sheer force of will, "What would?"

His eyes flash and he smiles, "How far we can be from each other yet still react to one another."

She gulps, time to speak the truth, "Oh, well, I can only speak for myself but…"

He whispers with dreadful hope, "…but?"

She gathers her courage in both hands and says, "You being in England wasn't far enough."

He freezes, his face pales, then flushes, then pales again before he manages to say, "Funny you should say that. My being in England wasn't far enough for me, either."

She hears the raw want in his voice and decides to cut to the chase, "We're in the same room right now. Together. Pretty close."

"Mmm-hmm, which leads me back to my earlier statement, I have something I need to say to you and I'm going to say it come hell or high water. I only hope you will take it in the best possible manner."

She blinks, "If it's what I HOPE it is, I'm gonna take it every way possible. Also come hell or high water."

He blinks back, "Oh, well, maybe I don't have to say anything after all?"

They lapse into silence, two people sitting at a table in a crowded room, a bubble of silent expectation in a sea of noise.

Their moment is upon them – and the silence spins out.

END