S1 E5 You're Missing Your Party
Camille finds him at his desk.
They argue.
Her anger and hurt feelings flare up then suddenly vanish. A thought has just popped into her head. A sad thought. A bad thought. But it is there and every bit of her professional training validates it.
She crosses her arms and studies him.
He is calm, cool, collected. A stone face. But… is it, really? Can it be a shield? Guarding what? His heart? A bruised and battered heart that has been buried and covered up but not soon enough? Not soon enough to save it from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune?
Merde, she thinks, I must be truly upset to quote that trumped-up English bard! Then, just as surprisingly, she realizes, I AM upset! On his behalf! I came up here to tear a strip off and drag him back to the party but… now I want to comfort him. To help him.
He finally looks up, "Something?"
"This is how you coped at Croydon, isn't it? Shutting people out. Never letting them inside your defenses. Guarding your heart." She sees his wince only because she is watching carefully.
"Nonsense." He straightens the pages in front of him. The boss. On the job.
"Um hum." She isn't buying it. "Do you realize the damage you are doing with this defense of yours?" His hands still. He is listening… just not admitting it. "It's one thing to shut yourself off from toxic people, people who mean you harm, bullies and liars, people who take credit for your work and treat you badly." His shoulders tense up. She can tell he is remembering bad things. Her heart goes out to him.
She can see him, a younger him, full of ideals and shining promise, being thwarted, shocked, worn down by the casual cruelty of mankind. And not just mankind, she realizes, womankind too. But that is a thought she pushes aside. That will have to be another conversation. Right now…
She leans down onto his desk, "But!" She holds up a finger and she has his full attention, "But… it is another thing to slam the door on people who truly care for you, even love you. You guard your feelings inside that fortified heart of yours but what about OUR feelings? Don't you care about our feelings?"
Now he is thinking hard, toying with a pen, eyes downcast, "Yes, I care."
She waits.
He sighs, lays down the pen and folds his hands, "It's just… I find it very difficult to… let people in. I've been a copper for 23 years. That's a lot of water under the bridge. And it's not just horrific crimes and awful people but… horrible work situations. I don't talk about it because… "
He stops. She has laid a hand atop his. He looks at it with surprise and a slight frown.
If he were back in Croydon right now, this would be a set-up of some kind, another cruel prank by Dougie Anderson, a come-on by yet another ambitious constable, the inexcusable behaviour of a superior officer, the desperate ploy of a despairing suspect… he's experienced it all… and more. With supreme effort, he stills his racing heart and remembers where he is.
This isn't Croydon and this isn't any of those nightmares. This is here. He is now. And she is…
He looks up. Her face is calm, cool, collected. A stone face. But… is it, really? Can it also be a shield? Guarding what? Her heart? What did he know about HER past… HER bad memories… HER fears?
Their eyes meet and, for a moment… just a moment… they see each other.
It is incredibly joyous… two souls recognizing each other… seeing the possibilities… glimpsing the future.
It is also incredibly frightening… the exposing of hopes… the baring of the heart… the peeling away of the last possible hiding place.
Their eyes drop. Too much. Too soon. But… they both give a tiny smile to themselves, I have a secret, they both think, and he/she doesn't know it yet.
Their quiet repose is broken by his deep sigh and the pat he gives her hand as he stands.
"Camille, you are entirely correct. I am completely remiss in my actions. I am ready to descend into the maelstrom of festivities and 'celebrate' yet another year of marking time on this earth."
Coming around the desk, he takes her arm and links it in his, "I DO apologize. Friends are rare commodities and should never be ignored. Lead on, MacDuff." Just as they begin to move away, he quickly turns and scoops up a file.
"What's that?"
"The widow Hamilton's financial statements. I would like the team's thoughts on something." He pats her hand again, "After all, what are friends and colleagues for if not to help one in times of trouble?"
As they descend the steps into the fragrant night, she asks, "And are you? In trouble?"
He shakes his head, "No, I don't think so. Not anymore."
They stop just outside the bright umbrella of light ringing La Kaz. He looks through the windows, like watching a TV show in another language really. Sees Dwayne dancing with two beautiful women. Sees Fidel laughing. Sees Catherine watching the doorway, waiting for her baby girl to return empty-handed.
I'm part of their world now. I have a place. There is a Richard-Poole-sized shape missing from this kaleidoscope of colour and furious motion before me... and I'm ready. I'm going in… but not to fight for a spot… not to struggle and resist and confront… but to ease and rest and be subsumed. Bit like a Venn diagram, really. Here's the bit that is me. Here are the bits that are everyone else. And here, in the centre, in the heart of it all, here is everyone together.
With one last glance at Camille, seeing the pleased look on her face as she no doubt relishes the reaction their entrance together is going to elicit, he is doubly satisfied. Here is his new shield. She will guard his heart unto death, given half a chance.
As they step into the light and go boldly into the fray, he suddenly feels like a gambling man.
END – S1 E5 – You're Missing Your Party