Chapter 6: Some Vacation

A/N: Thanks to MaddieStJ for the beta.

It seemed a very strange way to start the vacation his therapist had ordered him to treat this week as. He looked down at the single grave his grandparents shared. Flowers from the anniversary of his grandmother's death six weeks before had still been present, looking very sad indeed, though perhaps not as sad as other graves that had been bare so much longer. He'd cleared them off and put them in the appropriate bin before putting down his own small offering.

The woman beside him shifted, perhaps a little uncomfortable with the situation, and he felt a sudden pang of familiarity.

"Have we done this before?" he asked her, struggling to visualise the situation.

"Yes!" She said brightly, before realising her tone was not sombre enough for the cemetery. "You remember that?"

"I think I do. Listen, thanks for coming and for all your help. I think it would have upset Mum lots if I'd had to ask where they were buried."

"Searching the records isn't hard, I imagine you would have done it yourself if you could remember how. Look Richard, I didn't mean to…what I mean to say is...I hate to think I triggered some painful memories for you. If you don't want to see Edie or, well me, again then…"

"Oh come on," Richard admonished her as he turned to look at her. "I loved that dog and my grandparents. I'm glad to have those memories back. You weren't to know Edie would make that dash into the road. I could have seen any bloody dog and probably have remembered. So of course I still want to see you, Clara, or are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No! I knew you wouldn't say you don't want to spend time together anymore. After all, I AM the main thing keeping your mother off your back," Clara teased him. "Are you sure you'll be okay looking after Edie for a couple of days?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm pretty sure Camille likes most animals."

Clara's smile only faltered a millimetre at the mention of Camille's name, but Richard still noticed it and felt a bit guilty, "I'll take Edie to Coombe Wood and let him chase squirrels, it's hilarious. Shall we go get him settled in before I go to the airport?"

Richard left Edie the Newfoundland in his flat with the largest chewy treat they'd sold at Pets at Home in the hopes it would keep him busy until he got back from Heathrow. And he had hidden all of his shoes just in case. He took the bus out to Heathrow, even though he was pretty sure he could still drive the accident hadn't exactly left him with an overwhelming desire to get behind the wheel. Mind, if he'd been driving then maybe he'd be able to concentrate on something other than how stupidly nervous he felt. He must have come up with about sixty worse case scenarios for what could happen during the week. He would have asked Clara if he was dressed okay, but she might have given him that look again.

Camille should have read a book or something. She didn't feel prepared. There were times when she'd spoken to him on the phone he'd seemed like the man she'd always known. Then other times he seemed to be like an entirely different person - but not one that she actively disliked. She retrieved her suitcase from baggage reclaim smiling at the memory of Richard ranting about his own lost bag. Then she grew contemplative again as she wondered if she was allowed to tell him that story, or if she was supposed to let him remember things by himself.

She'd prepared herself to not be disappointed if he was dressed overly casually. She also decided to make sure she didn't look too excited if he was wearing his usual suit and tie. Happy to see him, that was what she was going for, she told herself. However, not even the fact he was wearing trousers and a shirt (no tie, but hey half way there) could counteract the fact he'd grown a beard.

As a consequence of this shock it ended up being her greeting, "You grew a beard!"

"I'm fine, Camille, thanks for asking," he said taking her bag off her. "Yes, I've settled in really well at the flat. How was your flight?"

She supposed she deserved the sarcasm, "They upgraded me to business class. I've never flown it before. And sorry, but it is…very…different?"

"Well, I was getting fed up of not recognising my own face in the mirror and I wanted to do something to make me feel like it was my face. Is it that awful?"

"No, it's just a surprise," she lied.

She hated it.

After a good-natured argument about which one of them would carry what bags up the stairs, they managed to negotiate their way into the apartment. A skittering sound caused Camille to whip around quickly, and she jumped a little at the site of a rather large Terre-neuve skidding around the corner on the parquet floor. Evidently the dog was not intending to attack, he was just happy to see them, although he did almost knock Camille over when he attempted to climb up her.

"Edie! Get down Edie. Leave her alone. Sorry, he likes new people and he's only a year old, still a puppy really," Richard encouraged the dog to sit calmly, and Camille rewarded Edie with a bit of a fuss.

"You bought a dog," she said, careful to keep her tone neutral.

"Oh he's not mine," called Richard, who'd disappeared off around the corner with her case. "Somebody I know needed a dog sitter on very short notice. I was 87% sure you didn't mind dogs, so please tell me you don't hate them and you don't mind!"

When he came back around the corner, he must have assumed Camille's smile was to reassure him, but actually she was relieved. It might seem stupid, but getting a dog seemed like more of a step towards staying in the UK permanently, and it was that thought she'd latched onto when she first saw the animal.

"No, he's beautiful. Though aren't you afraid he'll eat your lizard?" She teased.

"My lizard's contained to his Vivarium, and he seems to prefer it in there anyway. I think it's too cold for him in the flat on the whole. I moved the tank into my bedroom, and there is no way I'm letting Edie in there as he'd probably smother me in my sleep when he's only trying to be friendly."

From the way Edie was responding to Camille's fussing over him though, Richard got the feeling he soon wouldn't be the dog's favourite. He also found himself just a little bit jealous.

"God, look at me just leaving you standing in the hall. You must be really tired and hungry after the flight."

"Actually it's a lot easier to sleep in business class. The food, though, isn't much better than coach."

Richard looked a little uneasy. "Yeah, I, um, haven't remembered how to cook yet. I did try but I sort of…set fire to it. The food, not the oven. Apparently, according to my mother, I never could cook, so I don't know what I was eating on Saint Marie…"

"Mango and squished bugs?" Camille suggested playfully.

Richard's face was, for a few moments, the embodiment of confusion, but then the reference seemed to suddenly click with him, "Oh! It was mango I fed Harry, not guava. God, what am I going to do with all the guava I bought?"

Camille couldn't help but laugh at his distress, "I like guava."

"Oh well then, that's dinner sorted."

They didn't just have guava for dinner. Turned out Richard was able to remember the phone number for take away perfectly well. He'd offered to take her out for dinner but she hadn't minded the idea of staying in after the long flight. All evening, she couldn't help feeling like she was searching for him - the 'old' Richard - in everything he did or said. In many ways the man before her now, this stranger, was everything she'd tried to get Richard to be when they were off duty, much more relaxed and open. His general sense of humour seemed intact, though the normal acerbic remarks were much more tempered and he seemed to have become very self-deprecating to the point where it was almost annoying.

Camille didn't know why she couldn't be happy. Back on Saint Marie, she'd had to work very hard to get him to be this open, but perhaps that was it. Her doggedness and patience ended up with her being rewarded with him opening up, however briefly. There was no challenge here, and THAT bothered her more than it should.

When Richard got up the next morning, he found Edie lying forlornly outside of Camille's bedroom door. He barely raised his head to acknowledge Richard's presence; this despite the fact Richard had quite often taken him out for walks. Just because Camille had fussed over him all evening and shared her chips with him…

"Yeah, I think I'd prefer her to me as well, too," he admitted.

When Camille got around to getting up ten minutes later, a very happy Newfoundland followed her into the kitchen. Richard was in the process of proving his statement the previous evening false, as he had managed to produce scrambled eggs, toast and bacon. Camille fed Edie a rasher of bacon when she thought Richard wasn't looking.

"Are you using the dog as a food tester, to make sure I'm not going to poison us both?"

Camille looked abashed, and Richard tried not to think about how cute it was. "I just thought he looked hungry," she said.

Richard just shook his head. "Do you want to take him to Hampstead Heath? We could let him go for a swim since it's an all right day."

Edie went mental at the word 'swim', in a similar manner to most dogs when they hear 'walkies'.

Camille laughed as the Newfoundland raced about the kitchen and almost knocked Richard over in his glee. "I don't think we have a choice in the matter."

Why had he suggested Hampstead Heath? The only logical way to get a dog the size of Edie to Hampstead was via car. He could hardly carry him down the escalators on the underground and although there were other routes, no one was going to thank him for dragging a wet smelly dog onto public transport. It simply wasn't the done thing. So here he was, staring at his father's estate that he was apparently insured to drive, wondering if he was about to lose some serious face. He was utterly grateful that his Mother and Father weren't home; he'd rung his Dad on the mobile and he'd told him to help himself. In fact his father had seemed quite pleased he'd planned to take the car out, he probably thought Richard had developed some sort of PTSD about driving them.

The thing was, he wasn't sure he hadn't. Camille showed off her talent for reading people (and in that moment reminded him of how much he had relied on her for that skill) by regarding him carefully and asking if he was okay.

"Well, you know, last time I drove a car I did crash it," he said dismissively.

"Well, if you aren't ready I'm sure we could find an alternative."

"No! I'm perfectly able to drive," he snapped at her, opening the boot and watching Edie bound happily in. He turned and found Camille looking annoyed.

"Sorry," he muttered.

He got in the driver's seat and she climbed in beside him, so she clearly didn't hate him that much for his outburst. He started the car, put it into gear and then eased up the clutch, but the car didn't move.

"You didn't take the handbrake off," Camille stated helpfully.

"I know! I was just, um, checking to see where the bite point of the clutch was. I can't remember the last time I drove this car." He was pretty sure she rolled her eyes.

Camille was no help at all as Edie dragged Richard excitedly along. Walking this dog was probably better exercise than any gym could provide. Richard knew Clara had driven the dog up here occasionally, and Edie certainly seemed to know where he was going, though Richard had a mad idea Edie might be about to plunge into the ladies' pool and make several rather redundant rescue attempts.

Luckily Edie took a sharp right turn and dragged them into one of the many small types of woodland that dotted the heath. Behind him Camille slowed, apparently examining the canopy with some interest.

"It's a bit like a fairy tale," she said absently. Richard gave her a somewhat disbelieving look. "The rainforest in Saint Marie never quite seemed like the right setting for Snow White when I was a child." She noticed the fidgeting dog. "Unless you want to go in the pond with Edie I suggest you let him off the lead now."

Richard watched the dog jump in and paddle about with abandon. "Easily pleased aren't they? Not like humans."

"I have everything I need right now," Camille said smiling, and he felt really rather uncomfortable.

They ended up spending the whole day tramping around the heath, sustaining themselves on ice creams (even though it was quite dull) and sandwiches bought from the café on Parliament Hill. Camille seemed enchanted by the views of the city, and the very idea that London should boast such a wild place in its centre. They ended up nearly as muddy as Edie. Richard was forced to buy several newspapers to protect the car, cursing himself for not having thought of bringing any towels along for the animal.

He got Camille to hold onto the animal whilst he ran upstairs to grab towels and the dog brush Clara had also thoughtfully left for him. He left his own mud-caked shoes outside of the door, thinking he'd hose them down outside later. Luckily, Edie seemed sufficiently tired from his day out to be co-operative with the mission of cleaning him up, and Camille's laugh made the humiliation of the dog licking Richard's face enthusiastically somehow worthwhile.

He traipsed up the stairs first and got the flat unlocked again, Camille and the dog behind. First instinct through the door was to put the kettle on (he really needed tea) but when he turned around to ask Camille if she wanted any he felt the sort of indignation that hadn't plagued him since he had departed his parents' house. Camille had walked into the kitchen still kitted out in her muddy boots.

"Oh for God's sake! What was the point of the last 15 minutes cleaning the dog up if you're going to come in and get mud everywhere?" he asked irritably.

"Alright, sorry, I'll clean it up," Camille tried to pacify him. As soon as she uttered those words Edie marched in behind her, having retrieved one of Richard's muddy boots from next to the door, which he plonked down in the middle of the kitchen and began to chew on. Camille looked between him and the boot like she was waiting for an explosion, but what she didn't expect was Richard laughing.

"Oh never mind, it's just a bit of mud," he said amusement still colouring his tone as he retrieved, with a brief struggle, his boot from the mouth of the Newfoundland. When he looked up, Camille seemed almost upset by his lack of irritation. "What?"

"You should be angry, I messed up your kitchen. You like things neat."

"Well I'm not going to leave it muddy forever. I just don't think I should have snapped at you."

"I think you should have," Camille countered.

"And I think that is the strangest thing anyone has ever said to me, despite the fact I can't remember most of my life…"

Now she looked almost despondent, and Richard felt utterly lost – a feeling he was pretty certain was quite a common occurrence when in her vicinity. He did still like things neat, so that he could find them, but he really didn't like the idea that he would have been the kind of person to have a go at somebody for a bit of mud. The sort of person who alphabetized their bookshelves and was a bit of a grammar Nazi. The problem was, he knew deep down he'd been both of these things, and now Camille was standing in front of him looking for that person again. He also knew he really didn't like to see her upset, even if he thought what she was upset about was a bit mental, so he threw her a bone.

"Of course, just so you know, I'm not inviting you to spend the rest of the evening around the flat in the boots, so can you get them off before there is more mud to clear up thank you very much."

She huffed, pulling her boots off as she walked away.

He remembered never being able to understand her.

That much hadn't changed.