*Author's note: as promised, her case notes from 'How It Happened' re-visited*

**will post 1/day**

S2 E2 – Daughters

Part 1 of 6

He is very quiet on the drive back from the villa of bikinis.

She keeps shooting him glances while driving. His reaction to all that tender young flesh had been upsetting to say the least. When he ties himself up into knots like this it's so hard to figure out WHY. Was he aroused and embarrassed that she saw it? Was he outraged at their nakedness? Was he paternal? Randy? What?

He is deep in thought about something. Finally, she barely hears him mutter, "You'd never let OUR daughters parade around like that…"

Her eyes flare wide and she almost runs off the road. It is a sign of his discomposure that he doesn't even notice. She takes a big steadying breath before she answers, "No, I certainly would NOT."

He rouses from his funk and looks over at her, "Not what?"

She pauses, frowns, gives a tiny smile, "Let my daughters parade around like that."

"I certainly hope not… er, sorry, did I say that aloud? Far be it for me to tell you how to raise…" He pauses, clears his throat, looks back out his window, whispers, "… daughters…" and thinks… Dear God… something I've never even considered...

She knows that if she doesn't break him out of this silence he will work himself up into a lather over tomorrow… the future… children… and the mother of those children. Hard enough to woo such a cautious man, she doesn't need him worrying about things that haven't even happened yet! She knows just what to do. She arches a Gallic eyebrow and lobs a ball into his court by saying, "Don't you have bathing suits in England?" with just the right touch of superior French sneer. There! That ought to do it.

It does. "Well, of COURSE we do! What a silly question. Do you know the ambient temperature of the Atlantic Ocean is 48 degrees? Fahrenheit! What's that in Celsius… 9 degrees? Do you want to dive into that? We're all for the seaside but we're not suicidal!"

"Hah! I thought that's how you all got your stiff upper lips!"

He huffs, "Honestly…"

"So, if you don't go into the water, what DO you do at the beach?"

"Mostly try not to turn an ankle and avoid the oil slicks."

"Sounds very romantic."

"It isn't. Not at all. Fun to beach comb and paddle around a bit, though. Good for kids…"

Aaaand… he is off into another funk… merde! Quick, another diversion! "So, no bikinis at all?"

He comes to, "Oh, there's bikinis all right… for sun bathing. Some Brits DO tan."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you tan?"

"Not that I'm aware off. I remember having some spectacular sun peels as a kid but never a tan. My melanin levels aren't high enough."

"Your what?"

"Melanin… you know, the main human skin pigment."

"Well, I've got enough. I could lend you some."

He smiles at that, "I don't think it works that way, sorry."

"Maybe I could rub some off on you…"

That cranks his head around to her pretty quick! Into the shocked silence, she calmly adds, "That is, if you want some… to prevent sun burn… and in the interests of international harmony, you understand."

"I'm… I'm not sure I do… actually… understand, I mean…"

She spares him a quick look, "All right. Sorry if I upset you. I rescind the offer."

"Oh." There seems a world of hidden meaning in that quiet word.

They drive several miles before she speaks again, "Do you remember my blue bikini?"

His start and tiny intake of breath reveals exactly what he remembers, "Um, no, can't say as I do…"

"Liar," she chuckles. He has the grace to look a bit guilty. "I still have it, you know. Haven't had a reason to wear it in ages… no one to wear it for, if you know what I mean." There is eloquent silence from his side of the vehicle. "I'm thinking maybe it's time to take it out of storage and get it wet again." A very choked silence now. "What do you say? Feel like braving a proper tropical sea tonight?"

"I don't own swim trunks," he stammers.

"All this way into Paradise and you don't even try?"

"Well, I didn't see the point…"

"No, but you will. Clear your dance card. You're going swimming tonight."

He sits up stiffly, "Not in the ocean! Not in the dark! I won't be able to see what's attacking me!"

She shoots him a bemused glance.

He colours, "I meant sharks… or anything else that likes the taste of human flesh…"

She gives him another glance.

He slumps back into his corner and groans, "Oh, PLEASE change the subject! I'm drowning here and I'm not even in the water!"

She relents, "So, seriously… you can't go into the ocean? At all?"

"No. I feel sick just thinking about it."

She is curious now, "What WOULD you do to avoid going into the water?"

He is relieved and sits back up, "Anything! Anything at…" He stutters to a halt at her third glance. "Um, I don't mean ANY thing, of course. I wouldn't eat seafood… or… or…"

"… or sleep in the nude?" she supplies helpfully.

He looks out his window, "Oh, god. Will you never forget the embarrassing moments we've had?"

She laughs, "Nope. I cherish each and every one! And they don't have to be embarrassing, you know."

"No? How do you expunge humiliation?"

"Is that what you remember? Humiliation? I always thought our little adventures were fun and revealing, the building of trust and friendship, the start of something wonderful…"

He scoffs quietly, "Wonderful? I seem to remember you offering to ship me home in a big box... that you might even punch some air holes!" He is chuckling to himself, starting to relax.

She is thinking very hard. "When EXACTLY did I say that?" and she pierces him with a near-fatal scowl.

END – part 1