S2 E1 – Children Are Like Rats

He's tightly focused, his mind fixated on the astonishing discovery of the slave tunnel, his brain on fire. He's practically thrumming with high voltage. When he's like this, she knows better than to interrupt. He'll talk to her when he's ready. Right now she's on the phone with Fidel, asking him to bring the evidence cases once more. DI Poole will need hard proof to uphold whatever fantastical thoughts are whizzing through that gorgeous head of his.

As she watches him pace, pumping his fists as the clues slam together in his mind, he's glowing. He looks other-worldly, like an avenging angel... and the handsomest man on the island, maybe even the whole planet. This starts thoughts whizzing through her own mind... thoughts she'll keep to herself until all this is over and he loses that 'whiteboard look' and becomes just Richard again. Sometimes it takes days for him to return to being an everyday man. She snorts. Yeah, an everyday man, when he's easier to talk to and harder to resist! But I've got a question burning inside me. I have to know!

Her moment comes several days later as they drive to check on a possible break-in. He gazes out the window at the passing scenery, very quiet. Maybe now's a good time? "Um, Richard?"

"Hmmm?" he murmurs absently, not moving.

"A few days ago, at the Seymour plantation, when you found the tunnel, you said something..."

"Mmmm," he nods. Does he know what she's going to ask? It wouldn't surprise her.

"You said... you said children are like rats." She waits. She can tell by the shift in his shoulders that he's thinking. Thinking to tell her to mind her own business? Thinking she's a bossy prying French busybody? Thinking he'd rather not be cooped up in the truck with her? Until he speaks, she's guessing, but she has a very serious reason for wanting to know. "Why would you say such a thing? You looked angry. Do you not like children?" He sighs. Is he going to start a spat? Before he can speak, she adds, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, it's really none of my business." Please, Erzuli, don't let him ask why I want to know!

As if she'd spoken that last bit aloud, he mutters, "Why do you want to know?"

She bites her lip, "I'm afraid to tell you." He turns from the window with cautious green eyes. She brings her shoulders up and mumbles, "If it's too personal, forget I asked, OK?"

"OK," he sighs again then, "I realize now that was rather crude... but I wasn't thinking about political correctness at the time." He looks down at his hands. "Are you sure you want to know? It's a boring story from my earliest days on the force, nothing exciting."

EVERY thing about you is exciting, she thinks, even the boring stuff. Instead, she nods, "Yes, please. I love hearing about your past."

"Do you? Well, if I tell you, you must tell me why you want to know. Agreed?"

She gulps, "But I already said I like to hear about your past..." He just gives her a stern look and crosses his arms. She can feel his gaze like fire ants on her skin! If he keeps this up, I'm going to run us off the road! "OK, OK," she blurts out, "Agreed! Stop staring at me... merde..."

He gives a satisfied little smile and sits back, once more looking out the window, not seeing the lovely island greenery but something grime and long ago. "I was 24. A youth gang was using young children and the sewer system for smash and grab robberies, home burglaries, purse snatchings, that sort of thing. Our guv'nor ordered drastic action. We staked out the streets and the young plods were set to go down into the tunnels armed with torches and wellies…"

"What's a wellie?"

"Gum boots."

"You make boots out of gum?"

"What? No, of course not, it's just a holdover from the days when the gum of rubber trees…"

"OK, I'm bored now," she quips and is pleased with the little frown he makes. Those dimples!

"Well, as luck would have it, the kids ducked down my manhole. Down I went and when I crawled out five hours later I hated rats, children, and dark dank dirty places."

"Not ALL children, surely?"

"Well, no, not all. Children with responsible parents are tolerable but I have limited exposure so I never really developed a rapport with any."

"What about Rosie?"

"Rosie? Rosie Best? Well… I… er… what about her?"

"She thinks you're a super-hero, Richard. Fidel says she keeps her classmates enthralled with stories about you catching the bad'uns."

"For someone who's only exposure to me is sicking up on my 4th best tie, she shouldn't be telling tales in OR out of the classroom."

"Nonsense, she sees you at La Kaz and didn't you visit the preschool just last week?"

"The Commissioner 'suggested' that I embody Law & Order with our impressionable youth."

"You made an impression alright. The kids crafted badges and they're patrolling their neighbourhoods. Fidel says Rosie is their DI and she sends them out on missions."

"Missions? What kind of missions?"

"Oh, watching who litters, who's mean to pets, smoking in posted areas, that sort of thing."

"And the parents don't mind?"

"Mind? They're proud of their 'Junior Community Watch'."

"Well, the kids better not take the law into their own hands otherwise the whole caboodle will find out what it's like to spend a night in the cells!"

Her eyebrows shoot up, "You wouldn't!" Then she smiles, "Frankly, I think they'd be thrilled."

He ponders all this over. "I think I've changed my mind... not rats but cats... curious, wanting their own way, so sure they're right all the time…" A bit like you, he thinks but doesn't say.

She frowns again, "I saw you flinch at Dwayne's kitten, you don't like cats, do you?"'

"'No, except as vermin exterminators."'

"And… don't you eventually want one of your own?"

"What?! A cat?! No, thank you! Never!"

"Oh, ah, no, not a cat."

"Well, what then?"

She's quiet for a few moments then pulls over, parking beside an opening in the trees. "Let's go for a walk down this quiet lane, there's something I need to discuss with you."

He looks skeptical, "We're having a perfectly good discussion right here. Why do we need to wander off into the trees?" He peers into the shade. "There might be snakes."

She gets out, goes around to open his door, gives him a hot look, "Because I'm a bit worried about your reaction when I tell you why I wanted to hear your story." She stoops, picks up a stout branch, flicks it back on forth, "I'll take care of any snakes. You're perfectly safe with me."

He looks undecided, "What about the break-in we're supposed to investigate?"

She shrugs, "It can wait 5 minutes," and begins to walk. He follows her.

Trust his sense of duty to outweigh his fears, she thinks. Like him reliving a horrible bit of his past for me. He could have ordered me to go down that tunnel... but he didn't. I'll ask him about that too, but not right now. Right now I have a very important question to ask him again.

Once they're away from the road, she takes his hand. He startles a bit but allows it. In fact, he tightens his grip. They stop beneath a flowering red hibiscus. She turns to face him, taking both his hands. He looks calm but his colour is high. She takes a deep breath... he holds up a finger to hush her... reaches up, plucks a fiery scarlet bloom, and tucks it behind her right ear.

"There," he gusts and takes her hands again. "Now, my dear, why don't you ask me again whether or not I want children."

END