A New Day: collection 7 - story list:

1. S2 E1 - The Mishap (2 parts)

2. S2 E1 - Children Are Like Rats

3. S2 E1 - Cutting Mango

4. S2 E1 - She Frets

5. S2 E1 - News (7 parts)

6. S2 E1 - The Trouble With Handkerchiefs

7. S2 E1 - The Light at the End of the Tunnel

8. S2 E2 - Secrets Old (3 parts)

... wip...

S2 E1 - The Mishap

Part 1 of 2

It's a very satisfied team returning to the station. Fidel and Dwayne have the perps cuffed and in the back of the Jeep and what with the guilty parties and proof-positive evidence and cases of detection gear, there ultimately isn't room for everyone…

... and Dwayne's bike needs to be driven back…

... with predictable results!

Richard watches the Jeep drive off then turns to Camille, "So how are WE getting back?"

She gives him a quizzical look, "We have the bike," and swings a leg over to mount. Tsk, she thinks, it's like speaking to a child... a very stubborn willful brilliant child!

He takes one horrified look at the sidecar and immediately begins to dither, stuttering, "Actually, you know what? I… I think I might walk."

She sighs, hands him his helmet then sees the look on his face, "What?"

He's nodding like he's just had the best idea EVER, "Yeah, yeah, why not? You know, it's a lovely day." He drops the helmet back into the sidecar with finality. Yes! His big man-brain is made up!

She eyes him suspiciously like maybe the heat is making him hallucinate, "Well, it's seven miles."

He groans quietly but she hears him all the same (sometimes she thinks she can hear his heartbeat). He takes a firmer grip on his briefcase and strides off heartily, "Well, I'll… I'll be brisk."

She watches his wool-clad back diminish step by step as he walks away. Her eyes drop to his hips, equally wool-clad, and smiles. Oh, you think you've dodged a bullet, Mr. DI, but you haven't. Not at all. She sits quietly, admiring his form until he's out of sight. She listens to the island sounds, glancing down at her watch. At the five-minute mark, she starts up the bike and heads down the empty lane.

She finds him reclined in deepest shade, his eyes closed, his breathing rapid and shallow. If it weren't for the stark white of his handkerchief clutched in his hand, she would have missed him completely. As she comes to a stop, she calls down to him, "That's quite the camouflage, isn't it? Those suits hide you both in town and in the jungle." He peels back one eyelid but doesn't respond.

She throws down the kick stand and jumps off, goes to him, grabs an elbow, "C'mon, you. You can't stay here. I have water in the sidecar and the breeze will cool you off once we're rolling. "

At the mention of water, he struggles up into a sitting position. "Water?" he gasps, "You have water?"

She nods. A stubborn willful brilliant cherished child who needs someone to take care of him. "Yes, of course. I grew up here, remember? No one goes anywhere without water. No one except you."

She helps him to his feet. He's woozy and a bit shaky but he can't take this criticism laying down! He shakes his briefcase at her, "I'm not a child! I HAD water." Then his voice sinks as she walks him back out into the bright sunshine, reaches into the sidecar, and brings out a big 2L bottle of Life. He drops his briefcase and snatches the bottle from her. "But I drank it all hours ago," he mutters as he twists the top off and gulps greedily.

She can see him gaining strength with each swallow but stops him after several moments, "OK, OK, that's enough. You'll get a maux de tête liés à l'eau if you drink any more." She wrests the bottle from his reluctant hands and recaps it. "You can have more when we get back to the station."

He eyes the bottle forlornly as he watches her stow it and his briefcase away and bring out the helmet once again. He wipes his forehead for the umpteenth time that afternoon, "What did you say I'd get if I drank too much? A 'mo' what?"

She chuckles as she remounts the bike, leaning over to help him into place, "A water headache."

He settles, "Oh. Right. Makes sense." A quick click of a clasp and he's ready to go.

She starts the bike up, glad she didn't have to wrestle him into the sidecar, and soon they're tooling along, the slipstream cooling them both… and drying his clothes, she is certain. He'd been sopping when she found him in the woods. She bends an eye down to him and smiles. He's riding with eyes closed, chin tipped up, with every sign of enjoying himself. But that doesn't last long. He can't help being who he is and very soon she's subject to many a mighty flinch and loud exclamation as soon as they're on the main road.

She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes, "Honestly! Anyone would think you're an old gramma-lady, the way you carry on! I'm WELL under the speed limit, there's no traffic, and it's a lovely day – so can't you just RELAX and enjoy the ride?"

He huffs and grumps a bit, "Enjoy the ride? How can I? I'm risking life, limb, and sanity! Why don't you let me out at the next village and I'll call a cab?" He perks up, sits up alertly, and begins scanning the jungle for signs of civilized alternate transportation.

She barks, "I'm NOT stopping and you're NOT calling a cab! Don't you trust my driving?"

He barks back, "Not if your performance with the truck is anything to go by."

She glares down at him, "What ABOUT the truck?"

He stiffens in sudden alarm, hands gripping the sidecar lip, "Watch the road! Don't look at me!"

She smiles slyly, keeping her eyes on him but still able to see the deserted road with her peripheral vision, "Maybe I LIKE to look at you, did you ever think of that?" If she can just get him distracted enough, he'll argue with her all the way and forget about being nervous.

He frowns mightily, "No, and this is no time for French japes. An overloaded lorry could careen around a bend any minute! Eyes on the road, please! Oh, I hate this! I'm so low down that a passing goat could take me out! Please slow down!" He claps his hands over his eyes and yells, "Pothole! Pothole!" She swerves neatly then slows down, much to his surprise. He drops his hands and gawps up at her before regaining his tattered dignity and muttering stiffly, "Thank you. I didn't think you would."

She nods at something further up the road, "I'm not slowing down because of your whining, I'm slowing down for that."

Richard follows her prompt and looks up the road. It's an ambulance, nosed into some bushes and steaming like a poorly banked bonfire. The doors are open and the paramedics are standing well away with a small pile of boxes at their feet. Their cell phones are out but they aren't talking into them.

Camille rolls up and calls to them, "Hey, Freddo! Hey, Prince. What's up?"

The two men turn then jerk to attention when they see who it is. They quickly stoop and scoop up the boxes and rush the bike. One man, Freddo, says, "Oh, man, are we glad to see you! These supplies have to get to the hospital tout suite and neither one of us has got any bars! Dr. Johnson is waiting on an operation, he needs this stuff, and we're already late! Can you take it?"

Before Richard can point out that the pile of supplies simply will NOT fit on his lap, Camille is nodding and hauling on his collar, effectively dead-lifting him right out of the side-car, and burbling, "Oh, sure, you bet. Stuff it in and we'll deliver it right away!"

Richard gets his breath back after his brief strangle and harrumphs, "Sergeant, it's all very well and good to volunteer but I must get back to the station to begin the paperwork! I can't afford to stand around and wait for you to come back for me."

She fixes him with a level stare as the side-car is loaded up with freight, "You were willing to stand around and wait for a cab! What's your rush all of a sudden? It's a 5-minute detour up the hill road to the hospital. Someone's life may depend on us. Are you refusing to help? Sir?"

Heat rushes into his face, "Of course I'm not refusing to help… but… where am I to ride now?"

She smiles sweetly, that sassy little French smile that jumps his heart, and pats the seat behind her, "Why, Inspector, you will ride right here. There's more than enough room."

He stares at the minuscule, insufficient, definitely NOT within safety parameters, bit of seat right behind her firm rump, and swallows dryly. If he'd dithered about getting into the sidecar, he's now running in panicked circles! "You want me to cram myself into that tiny space? All of me?" he whispers.

She flashes her eyes up and down him, almost too swift for him to see, but he DOES see, and it does nothing to slow his heart, "Of course. And we must hurry. Time is of the essence." Gotcha! she thinks, All good things come to she who waits.

The two paramedics urge Richard to hurry and all but shove him onto the back of the bike where he nearly throws out his back trying to avoid actually touching Camille with any part of his body. He manages to wedge himself in but cannot bring himself to grip the bike with his thighs because that would mean… would mean… oh, dear. And he simply can NOT lay hands upon her. So he grips the edge of his narrow seat, presses his heels into the bike's body, and begins to pray.

She waits only a moment for him to settle then nods to the men and slowly rolls away. Once out of ear-shot, she scoffs over her shoulder, "You're going to fall off and kill yourself if you don't ride properly!"

He is already in trouble. The bike is vibrating and, no matter how hard he tries, he is being jostled against her in a most disturbing manner. Her remark only makes him more miserable. "I AM riding properly! For me! This is completely unseemly! I order you to drop me off and I'll walk!"

She glares back at him as they turn off the main road and start up the hill road, "Oh, relax! You worry too much. Alla time, worry, worry, worry! Can't you just trust me? After all this time here on the island and you still don't know that you're safe with me? I'm insulted!"

His anger overcomes his anguish and he snaps back, "It's my job to worry! And you call THIS safe? I'd be safer in a burning house! Look at all these twists and turns! There could be…"

She flutes back hotly, "I know, I know, there could be a lorry…"

… and she takes her eye off the road for just a second... just to pin him with a haughty look…

… but in that second she sees his eyes widen into impossible green moons and his face pale to milk as something awful flashes across his features.

END - part 1