Chapter Text
Richard Poole was pacing up and down early one morning in his little beach house - well, as much pacing as the small shack would allow for.
"Well, what would you do?" he asked his reptilian house guest.
Harry, the resident in question, tilted his head while keeping his gaze fixed on Richard.
"You think I should be brave, don't you?"
It occurred to Richard that if anyone were to witness this exchange between a Detective Inspector from the London Metropolitan Police Force and a green homing lizard, the human would be the more likely of the pair to find himself confined in a small space. Very possibly a padded cell.
He finally seemed to make up his mind. "Okay, but if it all goes pear shaped, it will be your fault."
Inspector Poole was thinking (of course) about his beautiful and clever sidekick, Camille Bordey. Today was the anniversary of the death of her dear childhood friend, Aimee Fredericks, and Richard wanted Camille to know that he remembered and - even more importantly - that he cared.
It hardly seemed believable that a whole year had passed since Aimee's murder, but Richard knew that Camille would be marking the occasion somehow, even if only silently and privately within her own personal thoughts.
His thoughts turned to Camille - again. How vividly he could recall that day on the beach just after Aimee had been killed, when he had very nearly confessed his feelings for Camille.
"...You know... when you care about someone... uh...sometimes it's hard to... um... be eloquent, you know... about how you feel? Uh... to... to... tell them how much... they mean to you... meant to you... how important they are in your life... and how special."
And then there were the orchids a few days later after he had figured out who had killed the poor girl. Camille had received the bouquet warmly and had told him that she and Dwayne and Fidel were his friends (his only true friends in a very long time, he realised somewhat ruefully). She had undoubtedly been appreciative of his efforts in catching the murderer, but had she also been telling him that her gratitude, respect and friendship were the sum total of her feelings for him?
Some months later, during the night of the hurricane that didn't actually hit Saint Marie, when they had been marooned in the university's meteorology department, there had been a closeness between them and, just for a moment, he'd wondered whether she had been trying to let him know that she had feelings for him, too. But then, thanks to his usual shyness with women to whom he was attracted, the moment had passed and he'd been left wondering, what if?
His earlier discovery of her importance to him had nevertheless been subsequently swept under the carpet, but after another whole year of working, laughing and bickering together, their friendship had evolved and deepened further still, and he finally knew that he was in love with her.
So, the question now was: what was he going to do about today? Should he buy her more wild orchids and let her know that he both remembered and cared, or should he simply be extra kind and thoughtful at work?
Or, dare he do something really radical and tell her how he felt?
The problem with the latter option, he recalled with no little chagrin, was that the last time he had dared to open his heart - no, more than that, he had bared his very soul - to a woman, he had been painfully and humiliatingly rebuffed.
"Alright, I know it was a hell of a long time ago, but these things run deep," he reminded the lizard.
Yes, the first cut is always the deepest, he reckoned, as he winced with decades-old pain at the memory of unrequited young love.
Harry continued to look at Richard and tilted his head in the other direction.
"What is it you're trying to tell me? 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained'? 'No pain, no gain'? 'Suffering comes with the territory'?"
Richard harrumphed to himself. "Well, I've certainly had more than my fill of that, thank you very much. Seen in those terms, you could say my life has been very full."
At this point, Harry seemed to get fed up with his housemate's indecision and leanings toward self-pity, and he turned tail abruptly and scampered off.
"See? Even you don't want to be with me for more than five minutes."
All of a sudden, the little green fellow came rushing back, jumped on the dresser in the makeshift living room/bedroom and stared hard at him.
Richard seemed to instinctively understand what Harry was telling him; well, in so far as one can ever discern what a lizard may be attempting to tell a human being.
"Time to stop feeling sorry for myself?" Harry blinked.
Then, Richard suddenly remembered Sergeant Lily Thomson's words (of self-justification) as she was being arrested for the murders of DI Charlie Hulme and James Lavender: "There's a whole world out there, Fidel."
Well, obviously Richard didn't have anything so wicked as literal murder in mind, but it did occur to him that he'd been basically killing time and wasting good opportunities - real opportunities - for happiness, and for the emotional wholeness that had eluded him his entire life.
There was indeed a whole world out there, and it was high time he started to discover it. And so, something inside him snapped and he told himself, 'No more missing out!'
He would no longer be satisfied with just being an ace detective; a phenomenal puzzle solver; even a seriously impressive amateur scientist. No, for once (more) in his life, he would take the bull by the horns and do his level best to get the girl.
Yes, Richard Poole would woo - and win - Camille Bordey.
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Camille was up a little earlier than usual on this particular morning. She'd had a restless night, dreaming about Aimee and about what might have been, if only her friend had confided in her and had shared her problems and struggles, as well as her hopes and ambitions.
Sighing deeply, and with a heavy heart, she showered and dressed for work.
I wonder if Richard will remember the date? Well, why should he? she pondered.
Camille was pretty sure that he would remember the occasion, if not the actual date of it, but to her, not only was Aimee's demise a critical - albeit tragic - event in Camille's life, but those two days on the beach with Richard were defining moments in their relationship.
As she looked back on it now, a whole year later, and with the benefit of hindsight, Camille suspected that he had been trying to convey something in a way he'd never quite done before with her. Was it her imagination; wishful thinking; or perhaps a distorted recollection of that conversation? Or had Richard Poole, the quintessential reserved Englishman, actually been more or less professing (confessing?) his deep affection for her?
They had bickered and bantered and shared knowing looks for over two years now, and still no declarations of love had been spoken by either one of them, even a full year after those conversations on the beach.
Wasn't it about time that changed? If nothing else, didn't Aimee's tragic young death demonstrate in no uncertain terms that life is short and ought to be lived to the full?
Maybe I should be the one to tell him? After all, this is the 21st century, not the Victorian age.
It did occur to Camille, however, that there were certain qualities about Richard that could probably be said to be somewhat reminiscent of a Victorian mindset, but she preferred not to dwell on that just now.
But what if he gets all uptight and repressed, and pushes me away? What if rejects me? she worried.
Then she had a moment of clarity. If he rejects me, that will be his loss, not mine.
And the realisation of this gave her the freedom and the courage to face the day with a new determination and a new goal.
Camille Bordey would win Richard Poole.