The first week he'd spent a lot of the time asleep with the occasional moment of lucidity. One of the most memorable being where Camille had walked into his room, Richard had jerked briefly awake and stared at her in disorientation. She could tell that he recognised her in an abstract way but an instant later he groaned 'oh, God, not again', before rolling over to go back to sleep. She might have shaken him awake for that one if his mother hadn't been in the room.

The second week he had been awake more often than not, Richard's time punctuated with moderate physical therapy to ascertain his mobility after two weeks in a coma, teaching him how to move to regain condition but not tear his stitches out at the same time, as he complained vociferously all the while. Jennifer was sympathetic to her son's plight, but Graham in particular looked like he was rethinking every life choice he had ever made. Richard had been pushed to be as independent as possible from a young age, so the idea of suddenly having to share his retirement with his adult son in Graham's twilight years was certainly not to plan.

Aimèe lazed back in her pram, having been here so often in the last few weeks that she wasn't really interested in staring around anymore, blowing bubbles with her spit and giggling.

The ward was empty when Camille stuck her head around the corner and her brow crinkled in a frown, but a moment later she spotted Jennifer sitting quietly in a patch of sun, flipping the pages of her novel with a speed only a Poole was capable of. The older woman looked up over the rims of her reading glasses, smiling when she realised who it was.

"Hello, love."

"Bonjour." Camille greeted.

Jennifer anticipated her next question, not that it would have taken much effort. "He's at the pool."

"Ah." Despite herself, Camille couldn't stop the smirk. Of course hydrotherapy was a big part of regaining his strength, but Richard being Richard had decisively banned his parents or his friends from coming down to the pool during his sessions. For a man who had resolutely refused shorts and short-sleeved shirts despite the looming possibility of heatstroke, Camille wasn't really surprised. When they had taken out the Roast Beef, what felt like another lifetime ago, he had still insisted on wearing his full suit. The idea of one of them catching him in nothing but swim trunks probably shook his very English sensibilities to the core.

Jennifer marked her page and pulled the pram towards her. Aimèe clapped delightedly as she realised who was in front of her, reaching out chubby fingers. "Not that you already knew that, of course." Her eyes flicked up with a cheeky sparkle before going back down to the baby.

Just what Camille needed. Two interfering mothers.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course, dear."

She spotted Richard and his therapist at the other end of the pool. Camille could only really see his head and shoulders, but immediately saw the ugly, mottled red scar across his shoulder that his mother had mentioned.

Of course, as she had anticipated, Richard had looked moderately horrified as he spotted her, swallowing nervously and sinking down further into the water like he wished he could disappear.

The therapist had smiled at her before indicating to Richard that the pair of them should return to the side of the pool. He excused himself to take a phone call as he lifted himself out. The therapist was tall and lean and muscled and knew that he was good-looking, but Camille barely spared him a glance as he walked by, close enough to his client but far enough to give them moderate privacy.

She set aside her bag, slipped her shoes off and stuck her feet into the heated water, sighing a little in relief.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was curt, indignation covering up anxiety as he eyed her up cautiously. "Don't you have other things to do?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Did my mother send you?"

She put a dramatic hand to her forehead. "Anyone would think you wanted to get rid of me."

He scoffed a little to himself, with a slight roll of his eyes. "Perish the thought."

"You know, one day I might just take you seriously, vanish into the night and you will never see me again."

"We all live in hope."

She splashed him at that. Richard pulled a face, smoothing his damp hair back. "Actually, now you're here, there is something I have been meaning to talk to you about."

He said it with the same casual tone like he was about to send her to the shops for new pens, and Camille frowned.

"Should I be worried?"

"Whenever it concerns your mother, we should all be worried."

She screwed up her nose, wanting to leap in to defend Catherine but knowing at the same time that what Richard said was absolutely the truth.

"Tell me, what trouble has your mother been causing lately?"

"None recently that I know of." She paused. "Though it is my mother, so you are going to have to be more specific."

"I… was sitting in the garden a couple of days ago, before the sun turned into a furnace, of course, and the next thing I know, Sister Marguerite calls me by name and asks me how I was."

Her eyebrows shot up. The convent was on the other side of Honorè from the hospital, so the sister had sought him out specifically. "Ah."

He nodded. "It was going to get out sooner or later, of course, but it would have been nice to have a little more advance warning." Richard said. "The Sister and I talked about serendipity and coincidence and all that rubbish before she went on her way. The next thing I know, I'm suddenly getting cards and chocolates and all that ridiculously sentimental nonsense."

In that moment Camille was simultaneously annoyed with her mother and Richard Poole. "Well, I suppose Honorè have forgotten who you are, should they be giving you gifts." She said coolly. "All hard edges are smoothed away after death, and the Loa knows you have more hard edges than the average."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you're here." He pointed out.

Camille looked him straight in the eye. "I must have masochistic tendencies."

He gave a small smirk at his own words being thrown back at him. "Now, really, that's hardly a surprise."

Her mouth dropped open. "The sheer audacity!"

She moved to splash him again when Richard caught her arm. Camille could see it in his eyes as he pondered his choices, considering whether to simply push her hand away or- her eyes widened, seeing the moment the decision was made.

"Richard Poole, don't you dare-!"

But she got no mercy as he flipped her into the pool. Camille broke the surface of the water, coughing and spluttering.

"Ooh, bâtard, tu vas me le payer! I am going to kill you!"

"You've been saying that since the moment I met you." He said sternly, fighting the grin that was threatening to form around the corners of his mouth. "You are really going to have to work on your follow-through."

She glared at him.

"Consider it payback for all those stupid little pranks at my expense."

Camille spluttered.

"Payback? Come here and I will show you payback!"

The most common explanation that had been reached among the elders of the island was that Inspector Poole had tricked Anansi for the return of his soul, and despite Richard's general disdain for anything that spoke vaguely of the supernatural, he would be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat flattered that the people of Saint Marie thought he was smart enough to trick a trickster god.

Daily, tributes were piling up by the hospital bed, not just anything as hackneyed as floral arrangements that would have him sneezing for days, but those chosen with more care. Expensive tea leaves. Assorted chocolates and toffees. A fine silk tie in a vibrant emerald green.

Richard ran a finger down the tie as he sat back on the bed. Camille was still rather annoyed at him for tugging her into the pool, (and honestly, he could hardly believe he'd had the nerve to do something so childish) and was currently ignoring him by reading through the cards and letters. Luckily, as a mother with a small child, she carried an extra change of clothes for herself as well. Richard did feel somewhat bad for his juvenile behaviour, however.

"You're still annoyed?"

"You know, I had wanted to see you." She said icily, bristling.

He met her annoyance with his own. "You wouldn't even have hesitated in doing the same to me, and you know it."

Camille glanced up at him, scowled, and back down at the letter she was holding, but Richard could see that her eyes weren't moving. He frowned.

"Why are you here?" Richard asked curiously, feeling like an idiot for only now realising that something else was going on here. "Are you… all right?"

"Oui." She said, smoothing the frown from her brow, and his eyes narrowed.

"What is it?"

Camille hesitated for a moment before setting the letter aside.

"The Commissioner has put in for a promotion."

He frowned, squinting, and after a moment broke into a wry smile at what was undoubtedly the root of the problem. "Ah, he's pulling your strings." The smile widened a little. "It's not fun, is it?"

"Boucle-la, you." She lightly swatted him. "In the light of recent events, he is pushing for me to become a DCI."

"You know, I always wondered why you were a DS when you're French."

"Half French." She raised her eyebrow in a wordless challenge and Richard's eyes narrowed with a small smile.

"There's no such thing as half French."

"I believe it's some technicality with Saint Marie being a British Overseas Territory." Camille rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Part of why I didn't get a promotion in years. Everyone thought it was someone else's job and I was just overlooked."

"Now, that wasn't my fault and you know it."

The two of them were silent for a moment watching Aimèe on the floor playing with her lizard, some of Richard's gifted chocolate smeared across her face. Seemingly aware that she was being watched, the child frowned up at them before brandishing her lizard at them and piping out a string of shrill nonsense words, brow furrowed.

Richard chuckled. "Now that has Bordey written all over it."

She smacked his shoulder. "Rude."

"Am I wrong? She's going to be unbearable soon."

"Don't you mean unstoppable?"

"That, too."

Camille smacked him again, a little harder. After a moment his smile faded.

"Thank you… for saving me."

Camille cocked her head to the side, the expression on her face saying that she was weighing up whether after the situation with the pool she should give a heartfelt reply or a smartarse one instead.

"Of course." She said airily. "I didn't exactly have the time to go to yet another of your funerals."

Ah, smartarse it was, then. The words were flippant but as she returned the letter to the pile, Camille's hand deliberately brushed against his. Or, he thought it might have been deliberate.

"I…" For God's sake, man! You're not a bloody teenager anymore, you massive tit! "Camille, I-"

That was when the curtain hung in the ward door was thrown back and Dwayne was standing there in his island vagabond best, Fidel and the blonde Clarence Bell not that far behind him. Hands on his hips Dwayne flashed a bright grin, before proceeding to put on his best (or worst) cockney accent.

"Well, well, well. Wot's all this, then?"

"Dieu, who let you in?" Camille immediately shot back, and Dwayne's grin widened.

Richard's teeth set on edge at the horrible approximation of a British accent. "Never do that again." He squinted at DC Bell. "You're still here."

"I've decided to take a sabbatical." Bell said. Now that he was no longer required to emphasise the more awkward and rather goofy aspects of his personality to avoid detection, he had settled in more than Richard expected, adapting to the island in a way that he was almost jealous of.

"London approved of a sabbatical?" He hadn't been approved for a day off since the Queen died. But then, technically Bell had a different set of bosses entirely.

Bell, Fidel and Dwayne exchanged lightning-fast looks and Richard's suspicions immediately reared.

"What?" He asked bluntly. "What have you all done?"

Once again, Dwayne was the first to speak. "First, Chief, I'd like you and the Sarge to know that I have absolutely no part in this." He crossed himself.

"Your heart is on the other side." Richard said. Dwayne looked down at his chest briefly before deliberately crossing himself on the left.

"Anyway, like I was saying, I have absolutely no part in this. An' I'm actually feeling kinda left out."

"Thanks, Dwayne." Fidel said. "I suppose you'll find out sooner or later. The Commonwealth has approached me to take up a position with the Saint Marie Police Force."

There was a moment of silence and Richard frowned, brow furrowing.

"Oh." He said. "Is that it?"

"It took Selwyn long enough." Camille sniffed. Fidel just blinked at them wordlessly.

"What?"

"I've been offered a promotion." Camille smoothed Aimèe's hair back. As soon as she removed her hand, the little girl's wild hair sprang up into place again and Richard smiled.

"Camille?" Fidel asked, a note of anxiety in his voice.

"A Chief Inspector." There was a twinkle in her eye. "I finally outrank you."

"Technically you've outranked me for a long while." Richard reminded her. "We're all officers in the Security Service, I was allowed to keep introducing myself as a DI as a courtesy."

"So you're going to go back to Paris?" Dwayne asked.

Camille and Richard exchanged a glance. "Selwyn wants me to stay."

"Are you going to?"

"I am thinking about it." Camille confessed. "It would be nice for Aimèe to grow up here."

"So wait." Dwayne paused. "Does that mean you're going to be Chief, or Parker…?"

"Details are still being finalised, but it seems that Selwyn intends for me to oversee the expansion of the Saint Marie Police Force." Camille said. "Going between the stations."

"But there's only one station."

"One operating station." She corrected. "The government still owns the buildings. Saint Marie couldn't sell them since technically the UK had paid for them. It's driven the governor wild for years."

"It's going to take a lot of money to get the other stations up and running again. And to recruit the staff." Fidel said doubtfully. "Is the Commissioner sure he can get the governor to sign off on funding?"

She bit her bottom lip. "That, I am not sure about."

Richard settled back against the pillows. As much as these people were treasured friends, he was really starting to feel a little underdressed as he sat there in his pyjamas. "The funding issue will be taken care of for some while."

At that, everyone looked at him. There was a moment of silence before Camille spoke.

"Well." She raised her chin. "What have you been doing?"

"What? Nothing! Don't look at me like that."

"Richard Alexander Poole." She said, in a way that was strangely almost identical to his mother even though they sounded nothing alike. He glared at her briefly before rolling his eyes.

"Fine. I had a video call with my Director. The Prime Minister and his staff wanted to congratulate me until I could be rewarded in person."

"Yes, I am aware of that." Camille said suspiciously.

"Well, the PM said that as thanks for my service to the United Kingdom, I could have anything I wanted." He said. "So I may have suggested that if the UK government still wanted to keep their finger in Saint Marie affairs, then maybe they shouldn't be quite so stingy with their money."

Everyone just blinked at him. Only someone as stubbornly single-minded and socially-unaware as Richard Poole would have taken the Prime Minister of Great Britain up on their offer.

"I can't believe you!" Camille exploded, astonished. "What were you thinking?"

"He said I could have whatever I wanted!" Richard protested. "It wasn't my fault he made the offer in front of reporters!" He still wasn't entirely sure what the PM had been thinking, making the offer in front of so many people. If it was done privately the offer could have been withdrawn at any time and none would know outside him and Richard. Done publicly, if the money promised to a national hero somehow disappeared, all Richard had to do was go to the media and the sitting government would be crucified by the public and potentially force an election. Something that the PM only seemed to realise as soon as the words were actually out of his mouth, but by then it was too late to backtrack.

Indeed after, Richard's Director had privately congratulated him for having the stones for taking him up on it, while recommending that he probably better not try that again in case he didn't come back from the dead the next time.

Camille's eyes narrowed, a smirk hovering around the corner of her mouth. "I knew you really liked us."

"Lies and slander." He immediately shot back, and her grin widened.

Later when he finally had his discharge papers, Richard was slowly changing into his street clothes in the ward's tiny bathroom. His mother had offered to help, of course, but Richard was fifty years old and he was damned well not going to have his mummy dress him. Buttoning up his shirt, Richard grimaced at his reflection. There were bags under his eyes a mile long, and his beard, bereft of any sort of grooming, made him look like he'd slept in a skip.

"The years have not been kind to you, old boy."

He came out of the tiny bathroom only to see that he had yet another visitor.

Commissioner Patterson was standing by the hospital bed, peaked cap in hand.

"Inspector Poole." He greeted pleasantly.

Richard immediately felt himself go on high alert.

"Commissioner Patterson."

"You're looking better."

Richard snorted, knowing that it took very little effort to look better than he had been.

"What are you doing here, sir?"

"I thought I would drop in and see if you had put in any more thought into the proposal."

Ah, The Proposal. Richard had been hit with The Proposal from the moment he woke from a morphine-induced haze. In fact, he strongly suspected that Selwyn Patterson had been crafting The Proposal in some form or another since he had been faced with irrefutable evidence that Richard had indeed not perished many years before.

"Trying to collect the set?"

The smartarse reply was out before Richard could stop it. He blamed the mental exhaustion for interfering with the connection between his brain and his mouth.

Patterson didn't react. "I assume your Director has spoken to you?"

"He has."

"Then you know that we are in agreement on this." Patterson said. "These are high-profile arrests, Inspector."

"I am rather aware of that." Richard couldn't quite keep the edge out of his voice. The arrests were not just limited to police. They were lords, politicians, military. One or two had been identified as members of the SIS. There might have even been a minor royal. It truly went all the way to the top.

"If you returned to the United Kingdom right now, it is very likely you will be killed."

The same bloody thing had been circling around in his head for weeks, and was probably the last straw that had made him reluctantly agree to his parents' ridiculous plan to abscond to Cuba, of all places. It was perhaps the first time Richard had been incredibly grateful that his personal circle was incredibly small. It would have been harder to hurt him by hurting someone he loved. Wait, no, not loved, tolerated at best-

"I am fully aware of the ramifications." Richard said testily. "I am also highly aware of your machinations, Commissioner Patterson."

He ignored Richard's edge. "After all these years, you have most certainly earned permission to call me Selwyn."

Oh, lucky me.

"Your Director has agreed that indeed it would be a fine move for the Security Service to have a liaison officer between the UK government and the handful of Caribbean British Overseas Territories." Patterson continued. "Of course I expect that it's only going to be a matter of time before the other Territories will be reaching out to see if you wish to be based there, but I have already cleared out an office at Government House."

He said it like of course anyone would choose the insignificant little island of Saint Marie instead of, say, the Cayman Islands or Bermuda. Richard started to pile his sickbed offerings into a handful of shopping bags.

"You seem very confident that I'm going to say yes."

The Commissioner paused to consider his answer. "Let's just say that the Loa have their suspicions."

Richard had a brief moment to be furious that even this normally dangerously-rational man had succumbed to mystical hysteria before realisation struck and he suddenly went cold.

"He said he wouldn't make it an order." As much as Richard felt stupidly possessive of this ruddy little speck in the middle of the Caribbean, he didn't think he could survive his personal agency being stripped once again, being told to lie back and think of England.

"And so he hasn't." Patterson said. "Richard."

It was the first time that the Commissioner had ever addressed him by his given name, and Richard blinked, brow furrowed.

"I won't pretend that having you accept is not what I want." He said. "Of course I want to reunite the best investigators I've seen in years, the value to Saint Marie would be invaluable. I could finally start what I've wanted for years! I could truly start preparing for the future of the island. You are important to Saint Marie. You have become part of the island, and we would be honoured to have you back. But." Patterson paused. "At the core of the proposal is the intention to keep you alive, and I want you to remember that."

With a nod Patterson replaced his cap, inclined his head briefly and left the ward, leaving Richard sitting slumped on the hospital bed, staring at the discoloured linoleum floor before putting his head in his hands.

bâtard, tu vas me le payer - bastard, you'll pay for this

Boucle-la - zip it