Chapter 11: Unconventional

A/N: I'm not sure where large sections of this chapter came from. Also I do hope that I am not the only one who enjoys pushing down on a French Press a little too much.

Richard's alarm clock proved to be Danielle jumping rather forcefully on top of him and squealing something about it being time to get up. It certainly didn't feel like it was time to get up. He assumed the early awakening was Camille's revenge, when Danielle had been settled down for bed Richard had gone in to say goodnight and then told the girl about how Emilie was coming to see her the next day. Danielle was naturally overjoyed, and chose to express this joy by getting up and bouncing energetically about. Camille, who had left to get a glass of water, was horrified from the change from calm and sleepy girl to a veritable maniac and had not been best pleased with him for getting her so worked up before bed. It had taken them a good couple of hours to calm her down enough to sleep. In fact, given that she went to bed so late, Richard could not understand how she was so bloody chipper now.

"Get up! Get up! Now is the time for getting up!" Danielle was half singing as she bounced off him and over to the curtains to throw them open.

He threw an arm over his eyes to block the sudden assault on his senses from the light. "No, now is the time for sleeping." Richard explained, in what he thought was a remarkably restrained tone of voice.

"Nope! I asked Camille and she said I could get you up now!" Ah, so it was revenge. Richard grumbled to himself about her lack of professionalism as Danielle clambered back onto the sofa with him.

"And where is Detective Sergeant Bordey?" He asked in a long-suffering tone, moving him arm enough to glance at Danielle's smiling face. She was an unconventional alarm clock, but Richard thought there were probably worse ways to be woken up.

Danielle screwed her face up in confusion, "Who?"

"Camille, where is Camille?"

"Why did you call her that other name?" Danielle asked, curious as ever.

If Richard was sure it was too early to get up, than it was definitely too early to explain the police service ranking system to a four year old, but he also knew he was unlikely to be able to fob her off.

"That is Camille's title at work. It is how she should be addressed when she is being a police officer," he attempted.

"But she isn't being a police officer right now," Danielle helpfully reminded him.

Richard sighed and conceded to her point, "Yes, I know, it was very silly of me. Where is she by the way?"

"She is still in bed. She told me to tell you when I woke you up black, one sugar." Danielle giggled, clearly aware on some level of the bloody cheek of the message she was passing on. Richard was tempted to send her back with a message reminding Camille who had seniority, but he wasn't sure in this particular endeavour if he was the one in charge. He rather suspected Danielle was.

A little while later Richard found himself squinting at the French Press box and trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head that said he might need glasses. Danielle was sitting at the table, humming something that sounded a lot like The Wedding March and looking at her Dora book. He had found the coffee and the device and then realised he wasn't 100% sure on how to use one, but luckily he spotted the box in a nearby pile of cardboard for recycling.

"Are you actually reading the instructions?" The incredulous voice belonged to Camille, who had clearly decided to drag herself from bed. Perhaps he was taking too long with the coffee. Having ascertained he had definitely steeped the coffee for long enough, he pushed down the plunger slowly and discovered it to be a rather satisfying feeling. He wouldn't mind making coffee for her every morning if he got to do that…Wait, where did that come from?

Mentally berating himself for letting his thoughts drift where they shouldn't, Richard replied to Camille as he poured the coffee for her, "I haven't actually had to use one before. I am still amazed the station hasn't got LCD screens but does own a percolator. In Croydon we made do with instant or whatever sludge the vending machine dispensed."

"You're lucky you even found the box," she explained as she accepted the cup off him. "I had to buy a new one because my original broke during the move." She paused to sip the coffee, and Richard did his best to not to look too keen for her assessment. He wasn't sure what to think when she actually looked puzzled, a small frown on her face as she reached to take the box from him. "Mmm, this is good, better than I make it. Maybe I should read the instructions…"

He relaxed, clapping his hands together and nervously joking, "Ah well, perhaps with my new coffee and banana sandwich making skills there is hope to domesticate me after all."

Camille gave him a small smile, "Don't let my mother hear you say that. As I said earlier I am currently the only one stopping her from setting you up with every lonely forty odd woman who comes into her bar."

Richard looked at her in alarm, "Actually, you didn't specify what you'd been talking her out of."

"She thinks a holiday romance would do you good, but I convinced her you wouldn't be interested in a fling. If she hears you talking about being domesticated she'll redouble her efforts and start hunting down suitable women on the island," Camille elaborated. Richard frowned, it was true that he wasn't interested in a fling, but he had to wonder why Camille would interfere on his behalf. Was she just trying to save him embarrassment, or was there something else going on? Perhaps she was trying to save other women the horror of having to spend time with him?

Richard was frowning, which caused Camille to panic slightly. Was he actually upset with her for running interference with her mother? If asked, she would say she was doing it to save him embarrassment, but she also knew deep down she really didn't like the idea of having to see him with another woman. Oh God she had been selfish, hadn't she? Denied him to opportunity to spend time with what were probably perfectly lovely women, many of whom were English holiday makers and probably, no matter what he said about not having one, exactly his type. Avoiding his gaze by rummaging in the cupboards for stuff to make breakfast with, she asked as casually as possible, "Sorry, did I presume too much? I could always let Maman know you are interested. I think she might be considering trying to set you up with Gail Dickinson."

Richard spluttered on his coffee, "God no!" he said vehemently. "Her waist measurement is higher than her IQ." This outburst was enough to attract Danielle's attention, who had stopped humming and was now watching them curiously. Richard looked a little embarrassed.

Camille frowned. "Gail has a tiny waist," she pointed out.

"That was rather my point," he said quickly, clearly wishing the conversation would end.

"I'll let Maman know she is not your type. Though if you were willing to admit what your type was, then when I finally fail to prevent her interference any longer the whole experience will probably be a lot more pleasant for you." She was teasing him now - she couldn't help it - she just found it so cute when he actually blushed.

"Type of what?" Danielle piped up. The dirty look she received from Richard indicated that she was very much expected to field an answer to that question.

"When people talking about their type they are referring to the sort of person they would like to fall in love with and marry," Camille explained. She hoped she was being clear.

Danielle then surprised both of them by replying, "I thought you couldn't help who you fell in love with." It was a rather deep thing for a four year old to say, and Camille was certainly curious about where she would have picked up such a thing. However before she could ask where Danielle got such an idea, Richard decided to surprise her even more.

"You can't," he told Danielle sincerely. "And you know sometimes people, um, do fall in love with the wrong person – somebody who isn't really right for them and won't really make them happy. But that isn't everyone, and it doesn't mean people don't have a sort of, uh, list of characteristics that if they met somebody who was like that they would want to get to know them and would thus be more likely to fall in love with them." The last bit was said in a bit of a rush, as he realised he had strayed into dangerous territory.

Danielle considered his answer for a bit (as did Camille) before turning towards her and asking rather firmly, "What's your type?"

"Yes, Camille, why don't you tell Danielle about your type whilst I make breakfast," Richard was clearly desperate to extract himself from the conversation.

Camille shot him a look to indicate she was not amused, then sat down at the table with Danielle, "Well I like somebody who makes me laugh, that's very important." Camille tried to hide her smile when she realised Richard was only pretending not to be listening. Perhaps now would be another good opportunity to drop a few hints. "And also I like somebody who is smart, and knows about lots of things, because then you can have interesting conversations. And somebody who surprises you, does things, kind things that maybe they aren't really supposed to or maybe they don't really want to do, but they do anyway because it makes you happy. I really, um, appreciate that in somebody." Her last statement was clearly a bit too cryptic for Danielle, who was looking puzzled. To Camille's amusement though, she decided to direct her next question elsewhere.

"What's your type, Richard?"

Camille smirked as Richard's hand froze as he was reaching for a pot of jam. It was this he addressed as he answered Danielle, "I don't have a type."

"Does that mean Camille is your type?" Danielle pressed.

The jam very nearly slipped from his grasp, a reaction Camille noted with a certain interest. Richard took a deep breath, turned around and asked in a slightly alarmed tone, "Why would you ask that?"

"Because if you don't have a type, doesn't that mean you like all ladies equally?"

"No, no it doesn't," he said, looking relieved. Had he perhaps expected Danielle to have other reasons why she thought Camille would be his type?

"So you don't like any ladies?"

"No, no it doesn't mean that either," he hurried to deny. Camille thought this might have been the most fun she'd had in some time.

Danielle had crossed her arms, and gave a huff of frustration, "Well what does it mean then?"

Richard, being nervous, began to gesticulate a little more forcefully than usual, "Well, um, just because I can't, you know, come up with a list of characteristics off the top of my head it doesn't, um, mean that every woman or no woman are my type it just means that I, um, I'm not exactly sure of what my type is."

"You should find out," Danielle told him seriously. "I've decided my type are boys who like Dora the Explorer. It would also be good if they liked Peppa pig but that isn't necessary." After another moments thought she asked, "If Camille turns out to be your type and you get married, can I come to your wedding?"

"Yes," Camille answered for Richard, to save him further embarrassment. "But only if you go get washed and dressed! Then I'll come help you with your hair, ok?"

Danielle ran off to do as she was told, and Camille turned to Richard, smiling. He shook his head at her and said, "If she starts calling me up every week to ask if we're getting married I am holding you responsible."

"Kids always forget these things," she dismissed. "Did you see the way she crossed her arms and huffed?"

Richard nodded, but she could tell from the look on his face he didn't know what she was getting at. "She has picked that up from you! You've only had her three days and she can already imitate you!" She explained.

"I do not do that!" he protested, though unfortunately for his argument he crossed his arms to do so. He saw Camille glance down and grin, then conceded, "I don't do it that much!"

"You do it at least three times a day," Camille pointed out.

He clearly knew she was right, so didn't bother to argue any further. Instead he said, "Well then let us be glad Danielle is leaving my care before she picks up any more of my bad habits. The last thing this island, this planet, needs is a miniature female version of me."

"A child could learn a lot of good things from you as well, Richard," she said gently. He looked at her briefly, then looked away - replying to her statement with a shrug. He clearly didn't believe her. "I mean it. Your kitchen skills aren't the only area you've shown domestic potential in. You've done a really good job. I know that you weren't that keen to take her on but you did and you really cared about getting it right. I'm proud of you."

He continued to examine the floor, than eventually muttered, "Thanks. You really helped loads though."

"I think any kid would be lucky to have you as a father," she continued to push gently. "Sort of a shame you don't want children."

He shrugged again, "Well, it's not like I'm adverse to the idea of them it's just like I said, I think it would have happened by now."

"You're right about a lot Richard, but you aren't right all the time."

He managed to glance up at her, "I wouldn't mind being wrong this time either."

Camille decided there was hope for them after all.

They took Danielle to a playground quite near the port, and sat back to watch her use up some of her boundless energy. She kept shouting at them to make sure they were watching, apparently keen to impress them with her acrobatic abilities. Richard kept cringing, convinced she was going to fall off and break something, and Camille had lectured him about being over protective.

"Well if we have to hand her over to her new guardian with a broken arm, you can do the explaining then!" It was evident from her face that Camille thought that was unlikely but she must have decided not to argue her point any further. She couldn't have even she wanted to, because Richard got a call just then that he walked away to take. He came back a few minutes later looking serious, and Camille looked like she knew what he was going to say.

"He's in custody. The Commissioner has started the proceedings to have him transferred over. Though he hasn't volunteered me for that task this time, can't think why," he told her. She spared him a small smile for his joke.

"Well, killer caught, guardian found for Danielle, guess it really is over," she sighed.

"Speaking of guardians," Richard nodded towards the other side of the playground, where Eleanor Pattison and the woman Richard assumed to be Emilie were approaching. Danielle spotted Emilie from the top of the cargo net she had climbed and jumped down with a squeal of excitement, running straight into the woman's arms and then dragging her over.

"This is Emilie! Emilie this is Richard and Camille, they have been looking after me. I am going to be Emilie's flower girl!" She told them excitedly.

"Brilliant!" Camille told Danielle, then accepted Emilie's offer of a hand.

"Uh, Danielle, why don't you show Emilie how you can climb up the slide backwards?" Richard suggested, and Danielle went off to enthusiastically do just that. Eleanor instinctively knew Richard was after a moment alone with Emilie, so kept Danielle over there by asking her questions about what sort of dress she was going to wear to the wedding.

"I didn't realise you were the one looking after Danielle, thank you so much," Richard was more than a little embarrassed by her gratitude, so waved a hand in dismissal and then proceeded to update her on the killing of her cousin.

"The man who killed Marie was identified via physical evidence he left at the scene, and has since been arrested on Guadeloupe. He'll be transferred here for trial. The evidence is pretty water-tight, I'm confident of a conviction. I haven't told Danielle yet, I only got the call moments before your arrival, perhaps it would be better coming from you." His tone was professional, which was good, because he was starting to feel some anxiety that he hadn't actually been expecting.

"Well yes, of course, there is so much I need to explain to her." Emilie looked a little overwhelmed, he supposed that was to be expected. This was a rather unconventional way to find yourself a parent.

"Well perhaps you could take Danielle to lunch and get started. Detective Sergeant Bordey and I are required back at the station shortly." He stood up, getting ready to go. Camille was giving him a funny look, the sort that he would normally interpret as a hint that he might be getting things wrong. But if she suspected he would be anything other than professional now she was wrong, it wouldn't be fair to let Miss Beauchamp sense any of his own feelings regarding parting with Danielle. Not that he had any particularly strong feelings.

"Of course, yes, I will do that. Then I'll bring her to the station to say goodbye to you."

Richard paused from gathering his jacket, he had been surprised by the sudden shock of emotion he had felt when Emilie said the word goodbye. He forced his face into a more neutral expression and thanked her.

When they were in the jeep, Richard held up a hand when Camille opened her mouth to prevent her from berating him for his behaviour, "I wasn't being insensitive, I was just being professional, so don't lecture me."

He expected Camille to huff with indignation, start the jeep and drive back to the station in sulky silence - but she did none of those things. Instead she gave a small sigh and told him gently, "I wasn't going to say that Richard."

"Oh right," he mumbled, a little embarrassed by his incorrect presumption. "Sorry."

"I was going to say that I knew what you were doing back there, acting all detached and professional. You don't want Emilie to feel like it's painful for you to have to part with Danielle, even though maybe it is. It's also why I didn't say so much." Now Richard really looked at her, Camille did look a little sad. "I just wanted to tell you that you didn't have to pretend when it was just us."

Richard wasn't able to form a reply, so Camille just started the vehicle and they drove back to the station in silence after all.

Camille noticed the concerned looks Fidel and Dwayne were sometimes shooting their boss (and when they thought she wasn't looking, herself) but neither of them said anything. That was actually probably a very sensible thing. Time ticked on, and Camille began to worry that actually Emilie Beauchamp would not bring in Danielle to say goodbye after all. She could understand her potential motivations for refraining from doing so – a desire for the girl to have a clean break, to get her away from things that would remind her of her mother's murder, which must include the police officers who were investigating it. But she really hoped that wasn't the case, she thought it might just break Richard's heart – and hers a little as well if she was honest.

Camille need not have worried. Three hours might have been longer than she expected it to take, but then she supposed there were a lot of things that would need explaining. At four o'clock (Peppa Pig time, her brain supplied) they heard a knock on the doorframe and the whole station looked up to see Emilie and a slightly more subdued Danielle clutching her hand.

"Danielle and I are going to catch the ferry back to Guadeloupe soon, but we wanted to stop in and say goodbye and she wanted to say thanks you for looking after her."

Actually, Danielle wasn't saying anything, she was staring at the floor and clearly attempting not to cry. Camille glanced over to Richard was also trying not to look stricken himself. She walked over and perched on the edge of Richard's desk, then called Danielle over. She dragged her feet over, and looked between the two of them so sadly Camille very nearly burst into tears like an over-emotional teenager.

"Why are you sad?" She asked Danielle.

"I'll miss you," she replied, miserable.

"We'll miss you too," Camille told her. Danielle glanced at Richard who hadn't responded verbally, but he managed to nod at the girl's enquiring look.

"Can't you come live on Guadeloupe as well?"

"No, I'm sorry we can't. We're police officers here you see, Guadeloupe already has lots of police officers. Plus Richard can't speak French so he'd be completely useless," Camille explained.

"She's right. I'd always be getting lost or accidently ordering worms for dinner in a restaurant," Richard added.

"If you come to Guadeloupe for a visit will you come see me?"

Richard glanced up at the girl's new guardian, before explaining gently, "If it's ok with Emilie than yes."

"Of course," Emilie said immediately. "You have my number just call I'm sure we can always sort something out."

Danielle seemed to be struck by sudden inspiration, turning on her heel and running back to Emilie. She tugged the woman down and whispered something in her ear. Emilie gave a small smile and nodded her ascent before turning to Richard and Camille, "Danielle and I would both like it very much if you could come to the wedding next month. And I mean that, I really am grateful for what you have done for Danielle. So, I'll send you the details and you get back to me, ok?"

Camille didn't bother to do the polite refusal thing, even though she knew it must be a pain to add two guests to your wedding party at this stage in the proceedings. Emilie did seem sincere in her invitation, and protesting would probably just upset Danielle further as well. Richard seemed to have reached a similar conclusion.

"Ok, I'm afraid you'll have to say goodbye now Danielle," Emilie said.

Camille opened up her arms and the child ran into them, then climbed briefly into Richard's lap for a hug, also favouring him with a kiss on the cheek. She seemed a lot happier with leaving now she knew she would see them again. She waved goodbye enthusiastically to Fidel and Dwayne as she left. Camille looked back at Richard, to find he'd swung his chair around to face the wall. Dwayne and Fidel didn't need telling, they announced loudly that it was about time they went out on patrol, and left the two of them alone. Camille remained perched on his desk, resisting the temptation to just go round and hug him. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable by forcing him to show her emotions he clearly wasn't entirely comfortable with.

"There was a time," she said lightly. "That I would have said you were dead inside."

She didn't see him smile, because he was still busy staring at the opposite wall, but she could tell he did from the change in his shoulders and the hint of his amusement in his voice when he replied, "I am a bit."

"Ah no, there is no fooling me. You're just very English. I realised that pretty quickly. Maman took more convincing though, in fact we had a bet on awhile back that I would never be able to prove you had actual, real, human emotions," she continued.

"Going to go collect on that?" She asked, and she could tell he was a little worried by what her response would be.

"Oh, Maman stopped thinking that a long time ago – though she never did pay up. I suppose I could go remind her of the bet and the evidence I have collected but I'm not going to do that. I'd hate for somebody to overhear and for you to lose your reputation, I mean what would you do if it got out that you were actually a kind, decent and caring human being?"

He finally turned the chair around, and Camille decided to ignore the fact that his eyes looked a little red, "Why I'd never work again."

"Exactly," She agreed, sharing a smile with him. "Though it is a shame because the bet was for an entire evenings worth of drinks."

"Well then," he said, gathering his jacket and case. "I guess since you have sacrificed your winnings for the sake of my reputation, the decent thing to do would be to repay you exactly what you lost out on. So, can I buy you a drink or 7?"

"I'd like that very much."

As they left the station together, Camille thought they might just be heading towards something more than just her mother's bar. It might not be the normal way couples develop their relationships, but they had a tendency to be unconventional.

And she rather liked it.

A/N: Man that ending was difficult to write. But yes, it is over!