Disclaimer: None of the characters herein belong to me and are the property of Disney and Meg Cabot. I make no monetary gain from writing.

Author's notes:

I think it's an established line in the films that Clarisse and Joe have a past - it's subtle to the point of possibly not existing but it is inferred. Here is my take on it.

"Ugh," the voice on the other end, distant and immature and a little young, seemed less than enthusiastic, "She's still in a meeting? It's nearly time for me to go to sleep."

"You know there's a time difference," he laughed a little, rubbing the scuffed toe of his new brogue, which was propped on the desk just outside the conference room, "And you know she's busy."

He had ducked out to take this call ten minutes ago and was still on the phone.

"Yeah," there was a pause and he could almost hear the cogs in her brain whirring, "So, what's she got planned for me?"

"Am I detecting a certain lack of enthusiasm, princess?"

"Well done Joe," she sighed, "Do you know that I've been Princess for three years come this summer. I've been to the opera house six times and the Cathedral Twelve. Do you know how many times I've been to the amusement park at Mertz? Zero. I know it's there but have I ever been? No. I'm eighteen – not eighty."

"I take your point," he answered, "How about a dance when you get here? That's fun, right?"

"Wrong. Dancing to dance music is fun, dancing the wango – not so much."

"I'm offended," he laughed.

"You're a good dancer. It's just boring! Seriously," her voice turned poisonously sweet, "Will you talk to her?"

"Ah," he laughed again, "That's your game. Very sly."

He had a very well exploited soft spot for the princess. Mia was as clever as any other woman in the world when it came to manipulation so she often asked him to 'speak to her'. He didn't mind it really; if he had, he would not have done it for her.

"Come on Joe!" She cried, exasperation evident in her voice, "She always listens to you."

"Ok, ok," he acquiesced.

"So," Mia asked, "You coming to pick me up?"

"Of course," he answered, "My flight leaves tonight."

"And you'll be here in the morning! Lily's staying tonight, then Lars and mom will bring us to the airport. Lars is looking forward to coming home – I can tell."

"Are you looking forward to coming home?"

"Of course I am," she sighed a little, "But I wouldn't mind a bit of a holiday now and then."

The door to the conference room opened and Clarisse, with Sebastian at her back, emerged. He smiled at her. Clarisse had removed her suit jacket and it was slung over her arm – obviously warm. Her shirt was blindingly white – he hadn't noticed that this morning.

"Your grandma's here," he said, before holding the cell phone out the Queen, "Princess Amelia, Your Majesty."

She smiled – flustered and thankful – and taking it from him, and swapping it for her briefcase, strode ahead.

He followed behind her, watching her closely as she descended the stairs at the back of the Chancellery, and ducked into the limo. He rather liked the view his job had to offer. It had its disadvantages of course but, on the whole, it was rather useful. She maintained the conversation all the while; how was it to be single? How was prom? Had she visited her Princeton accommodation yet, like she'd promised? Would she make sure she slept on the plane so she was ready to meet her directly?

Ten minutes after being back in the car, the air conditioning on full, she handed his cell phone back.

"My goodness Joseph," she pulled her shirt out from her damp skin, "It's terribly warm."

"It is my dear," he agreed, reaching forward and catching Shades' eye briefly and, like a scolded school boy, pressed the partition button. Shades was decent enough to pretend they hadn't made eye contact at all.

"She talks at a million miles an hour," Clarisse pulled her briefcase towards her, taking a file from within, "My ear is actually sore."

He laughed, watching her slipping her shoes off and curling her toes into the carpet underneath.

"What do I have next?"

He checked his watch, "Quick lunch. Meeting with Charlotte. Dress fitting for the Independence Day ball and parade. Dinner...with me."

She titled her head to the side, smiled and reached out to cup his cheek, "You're leaving tonight my dear, aren't you?"

"Just an overnight," he smiled, "Will you eat with me?"

"Of course," she slid her hand subtly towards his, "Of course."

"Mia asked a favour of me," he rubbed his fingers over hers.

"Oh?" She was half-listening, lost in the paper work before her.

"She asked me to speak to you," he continued, "About her schedule."

"Oh?" She placed the papers aside and said dryly, "You have my undivided attention Joseph."

"She made a reasonable point. She was talking about relaxing a little more," her mouth formed in a little protesting 'o' but he held up his hand and she closed her mouth, "I've already thought about what we could do. She was taking about going to the amusement park at Mertz and things like that. We can reschedule your time anyway – the Parliament is out of session too, meaning your schedule is more fluid. I can arrange it all."

He was aware he sounded a little earnest – and he was. He felt it might be an opportunity to get her to relax so it was indeed a matter where he was hoping to make some impact. She needed to wind down a little. He had the distinct feeling that she was punishing herself, in a sort of corporal way, with a schedule that gave her little rest and he was even more worried that he was to blame for her need to punish herself.

"Ok," she said dubiously, "You have my permission to organise something a little more appealing to her age, – she still has to have lessons though and attend the public engagements I have arranged for her. The irony is that I pay for Lily to come on every trip with her so she is not bored! It's important she understands-"

"It's important she has a balance," he interrupted, "And I know you let Lily come along with her but Lily must be bored too. Clarisse, I get bored."

"Yes. I know," she sighed, "You're right. It's very annoying, as always."

"As always," he smirked, a little unwilling to broach his next suggestion, "Would it suit you if we spent a few days at the beach house?"

He called it the beach house to give it a sort of anonymity. He never said 'my house' and, in fact, he hadn't even mentioned it for years. He had been building up to this for some time, he supposed.

She lifted her head slowly and looked at him. She brushed her hair, as was her habit when she was nervous, behind her ear. He touched her cheek, her neck, then squeezed her hand. He felt the need to fill the silence.

"I think it might be good for her to -"

"Ok Joseph," she cut through him quietly, "Yes. Yes please."

"It'll be good for her," he touched the back of her neck.

"And you think it will be good for me? I'm not naïve."

"No," he pulled her towards him, but they were nearing the palace, "I know that but sometimes it's good to go back and reminisce. I am going to ask Pierre to join us too – don't you think it'd be good for Mia to get to know him better?"

"I hate that I trust you," she said, half- joking, "And Joseph, you think so much more emotionally than I do. You are saying what I should be saying – that Pierre should know her better. Why don't I think of that?"

"Because you're interested in the smaller details – that's your job," he soothed.

She sidled neared to him, knowing that this was probably their only brief moment of the day, and nuzzled into him.

"I can't believe how much I let you away with," she laughed finally, closing her eyes.

"I know," he kissed the side of her head, "But you always do. I'll do all the cooking."

"You bet you will," she laughed dryly, sitting up and slipping on her shoes.

-0-

Mia enjoyed the plane journey to Genovia better in the daylight, where you could see miles and miles of ocean below you and the world fly underneath. Now they were enrobed in darkness and the only lights were the lights from the tails of the plane. She couldn't wait to get home and, she admitted to herself, see her grandma. At times though it was boring to be acting like a proper queen when she was still desperate to go out and actually see her country. She only ever viewed her country through the lens of others – her grandma's pragmatic one, the parliament's old-fashioned one, the media's twisted one, Joe's amusingly foreign one. She had barely spent time out in her country, with her people. She hadn't even saw the coast properly and she was irked by it.

Joseph said something, his mouth moving quickly, from across the plane, motioning for her to take the earphones out that she was sharing with Lily. They were listening to their new fascination – cheesy, slightly erotic, romantic novel audio- books. They liked to listen to them then discuss, and giggle, about them.

"Huh?" She removed the earphones and realising she was shouting, clamped her hand over her mouth. Feeling safe again she took them away and repeated, "Huh?"

"I said your grandmother asked you to sleep and I strongly suggest you and miss Lilly do that," he laughed a little, putting his laptop aside.

"What are you doing?" Mia asked, pointing at his computer.

"Looking over your grandmother's schedule, catching up on reports...my job, basically," he looked at Lars, who smiled back in a sort of glazed way.

Lars was going back home to a family he hadn't seem for 3 months; not since Mia had been in Genovia at spring. She felt sorry for him; half-way across the world because Joe had ordered him to go there. Originally it had been Joe, in the first few months, but her grandmother had called him back after the second time he had returned to the USA. Lars got a little more money, and basically the entirety of the time she was in Genovia was counted as leave, to do this job. Still; it seemed a little harsh.

"Hey," Lilly tapped her on the shoulder, "You're going to miss a good bit."

"What are you listening to anyway?" Joseph asked.

"Oh Joe, it's young people stuff," she said, nudging Lilly.

Her friend removed her ear phone. The both guzzled down a coke (the last coke she would get, since grandma didn't really approve of it being in the palace) that the air hostess had put in front of them.

"Hey Joe?"

"Yes," Joe looked up again.

She loved talking to Joe – not only because he was witty and clever – but because he genuinely wanted to talk to her. He liked her conversation and he liked her for who she was and she loved that he made that clear. She knew he defended her when her grandma was giving her a good dressing down and she liked him even more because he never told her. He wouldn't embarrass her grandmother like that.

"Why does grandma always send you for me?" She pointed at Lars, who was proof-reading something for Joe, "Why can't Lars just escort me home?"

"Because I can parachute you out of here in a moment," he answered, head still over his work.

She snorted, doing her best to keep her coke in her mouth, and Lilly laughed too.

"Shut up!"

He looked at her, a sly smile on his face. She was never sure if he was joking or not with that smile. She looked at Lars, then back to Joe. The bodyguard was smiling too in the same enigmatic way. He laughed again and wiggled his eye brows at her.

"You don't spend years in the Spanish elite force and not learn how to throw yourself from a plane with some skill," he continued, his tone pan and serious.

"You're kidding us," Lily laughed, "There's no way."

"See that?" he pointed to the rucksack that was, bizarrely, always on the plane, "I could have you out of here in 2 minutes."

"Uhu, sure," Mia stood up, going towards the rucksack.

"No," Joe stood up, grabbing for her and pulling her into a bear-hug, "You'll tangle the silk, then what would your grandma do to me? Hmmm?"

"Kill you?"

"Perhaps," he sat back down and she did so too, still unsure, "Leave my rucksack alone – it's full of terrible secrets. Now, please sweet princess, get to sleep."

He kissed her forehead.

She smiled at him just before he dimmed the lights in the cabin. The only thing that remained was the light from the monitor and it reflected off of his face and the glasses he was wearing. When had Joe started wearing glasses to read?

It seemed like the kind of thing her grandma would do – arrange for the worst possible eventually and make sure that Joe was there to look after her. She watched Joe working for a while before sleep claimed her and realised that she looked forward to these journeys because of him.

He was one of life's good guys. She liked to hug him at the airport, to smell the clean cologne and hint of leather from him. He smelled safe and honest. She thought of how he always led her home in a kind, decent way. He'd update her, give her advice, pat her head in a grandfatherly way and always make sure she had a 6 pack of coke.

"Hey Joe?" She said sleepily.

"Uhu princess?" He was lying on the couch now that ran along the cabin, scrunched up (she often forgot how tall he was) and trying to get some sleep.

"I'd happily jump out of a plane with you."

"You're insane," he laughed, "Nothing like your grandma."

"I know."

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