Part 5 of 7

Richard watches her out of sight before turning like a mechanical toy and gazing through the door. He can see Camille's desk but no Camille. He straightens his shoulders, smooths his tie, takes one last breath of much needed air, and strides stalwartly into the lioness' den.

He stops at Fidel's desk. He can see her sitting with her back to him in the break-area. A mug sits forgotten between her hands and she is slumped over as if the weight of the world is on her slender shoulders. His heart immediately goes out to her. How awful to be lonely with no one in your life, with no one to share the everyday things, with no one to trust and love and adore. How empty the days. How dreadful the nights.

He shakes his head, suddenly realizing that he's just described his own dreary existence! He looks to her again. Can it be possible? Has she tried to get my attention and I didn't see it? It's true, she can be sassy, brassy, and bossy but is she really? Or was it all failed attempts to make me see her? Make me think of her not as my DS but something else? Something better? Something wonderful?

He makes a sound like a sheep clearing its throat, "Um, Camille?" She starts, spilling her cooling coffee, a mini-wave of brown liquid washing towards her. Richard's handkerchief is in his hand in a twinkling. He reaches over her shoulder, mopping up the coming flood with aplomb.

"Thanks," she mumbles, resuming her slump, head down, hair hiding her face.

He finishes mopping then folds the linen, lays it atop the table, pulls out a chair, and sits down. Having gotten this far, he waffles. What do I say? What do I do? I'm useless at inter-personal relations, especially inter-personal relations with a woman that I REALLY want inter-personal relations WITH! He clears his throat again, not knowing how to start. Usually, at this point in a case, Camille takes over and gets all the intel with her feminine super-powers, leaving him to listen and deduce and piece everything together. Well, he thinks, if it works one way, it must work ALL ways.

So he places his hands atop the table, lacing his fingers, and says, "I have a problem, a big problem. Something's happening and I'm not sure I understand it. I need your help but I'm afraid to ask because… well… not to put too fine a point on it but you're part of the problem. Without help, I'm afraid I'll cock it up and make you so angry that you'll hate me forever, or quit, or both."

His voice hushes on those last few words. He's never spoken so brazenly to a woman before, revealed his feelings, dared to show the tiniest piece of his heart. Not since… he shakes his head… no, I'm not going to waste one more neuron on her, she's the past. Camille is my future. At least, I hope she is. Now if only I can feel my way along this dark unmapped terra incognita without stepping off a cliff!

His musings are interrupted by a weary small voice. "Oh, why bother? It's all such a mess. My life is off the rails and I'm floundering. Maman hates me. You hate me. Everyone hates me. Except…"

His hand flashes up, he simply has to stop her from saying that dreadful name! "No! No one hates you. Everyone likes you. Surely you know that?"

She gives a tiny scoff, putting a hand over her eyes, "Yeah? Do they? Where are they all then, hmm? Oh, I know Maman has to like me, she's my mother. You three here at the station like me well enough because we work so great together. People in town like me 'cause I'm island-born. My blind dates like me until they find out they can't tumble me into bed." Richard winces at this but wisely stays silent as she continues, "But 'like' isn't enough, not any more. No, it's love I need, it's love I'm searching for."

He waits but she is silent so he speaks up, "And… and do you think that… that smirking disrespectful git… him… that he's the one you seek?"

She shrugs dispiritedly, heaving a mighty sigh, "Who knows? Maybe. He's OK looking and he makes me laugh. He's turned his life around this past year, thanks to you, and now he's a legitimate consultant working with businesses and people who are in trouble. Gordon Foster believes in him and you believe in Gordon Foster, don't you?" Richard nods wordlessly. Yes, he's spoken to Gordon Foster. Camille somehow senses this without seeing it and sighs again, "Well, there you go then. King's not quite in Law Enforcement but he's close... close enough to… to…"

Richard's lips press down into a thin line, "He's close? How close? What do you mean close?"

She ducks her head, "Um, I mean I realize I need someone who's a match for our kind of work, who understands why I do what I do for a living. He hunts for bad guys, searches for clues, follows the trail, tries to help people, just like we do. But… but…" Now her voice fails and she twists her fingers in anguish, "I don't know if I should tell you this or not. I just don't know anything anymore."

He hears his voice passing somehow through stiff lips, "Tell me, Camille, I'm listening."

She seems to think this over for an awful long time before groaning, "Oh! I just don't know." Her head finally comes up and hot anguished eyes slam into his, "And do you know why I don't know?"

Once again, he shakes his head, hoping like hell that sometime soon this conversation will start making sense.

She sees his confusion and covers her face with a sad little sound, "OH! You're killing me. Killing me! You say I'M the problem? Well, here's a news-flash for you, Mr. DI, YOU'RE the problem too."

His eyes flare up but he keeps silent. Ah, he thinks, now we're coming to it. Now I'll get some hint about what's going on here. Once she's given me a clue, I'll be able to participate in this discussion like a sentient being and not a stump. He nods once and gestures to her to go ahead.

She sees this and gives a tired laugh, "Yeah, you're the problem alright. You sit there like a stump and don't say a word or give me any idea what's going on in that beautiful head of yours and I'm left to guess and fret and wonder…"

He jerks in his chair and interrupts her, "Beautiful? You think I'm… ?"

She claps both hands over her eyes now and moans, "Oh, stop it! Just stop it. How can someone so handsome not know it? It isn't possible. You drive me crazy with your smiles and your big words and your courtly manners and those amazing eyes and there's nothing I can do about it because you just don't SEE me!" She drops her hands long enough for him to see the tears standing in her eyes before she hides once more, murmuring, "You never see me, never, never, never…"

He hasn't taken his astonished gaze off her for a second. He sits paralyzed, his ears taking in her sounds and his mind refusing to translate, refusing to accept what she's saying. She called me handsome, said I was beautiful... there was some other stuff about smiles and manners and eyes but I didn't get any of that so come on, Poole, say something! ANY-thing!

He forces his lips apart, not having the slightest clue what will pop out, and says, "Do you love me, Camille?" His hand claps over those traitorous lips but it's too late. The question twists sinuously in the air between them. Christ, he panics, when I said ANY-thing I didn't mean that! Never that! Oh my god, she's going to kill me, she's going to laugh and mock and run me right out of town! He watches her sit up and turn to him with his heart in his throat, his eyes begging her to let him take it back.

She stares at him, first in surprise, then puzzlement, then resignation. Finally she grunts, "The truth? You want the truth?" He can't move, just flashes desperate eyes and begs her to let him take it back.

She huffs, "Yeah, OK, I can see you're in trouble here so I'm going to be as kind as I can."

He flinches and closes his eyes. Here it comes, the unvarnished truth, the raw gut-punch of rejection, the rough laugh of a perfect female-10 at the audacious nerve of a mere male-3 (or maybe even a 2!) to think he stands a chance with her. He is steeling himself so hard that he actually misses her first few words. His eyes creak open a tiny fraction and he whispers, "What? What did you say? Start over."

This earns him a tiny smile and his heart leaps in his chest before he squashes it down with a stern command. The human heart. Such a stupid organ. Always ready to jump at the slightest sign of friendliness. When will I accept the fact that I was born friendless, grew up friendless, lived friendless, and will die… but now she's speaking and her words hit like bullets.

"I SAID I don't know if I love you, you've never shown the slightest hint of any feelings for me at all."

END – part 5

*Thanks to P. G. Wodehouse for the sheep imagery*