Disclaimer: Shocker, I know, but I do not own the show nor the characters. Trust me, it surprised me most of all.

Post Ep for S2e5

Notes: It bugged me to no end in the scene where Richard picks up the phone but never calls or texts Camille. So, I fixed it. :)

No Words Needed

He had picked up his mobile more times than he could count. Her name stared back at him each and every time his finger hovered over 'text' and 'call'. He really had never been any good at even coming close to understanding women least of all the stubborn French woman who he so desperately wanted to help.

Detective Inspector Richard Poole sighed and once more placed the mobile on the table, returning his attention to the various reports, statements and images. A blur of green ran across the table and stared up at him.

"What? I already fed you."

The lizard blinked but continued to stare.

"I'm not good at this. I tried to say what I thought were the right things all day but it only made her more upset."

Harry made no movement.

"I can't just simply call her at this hour anyway. She's probably already sleeping and waking her would certainly not be helpful."

Harry gave him a disapproving look and scampered off but Richards eyes fell on the mobile.

It went straight to voice mail and he was half tempted to just hang up but thanks to caller ID he'd be questioned about it the next day.

"Camille, I just… I… right, I really don't know what to say. I'm not good at this but, whatever you think, I'm… no, voice mail is not the way to do this. Um, I'll see you tomorrow, unless you want a day or two, which is perfectly fine but I'm not saying that you need…"

Her voice mail disconnected.

"Right, that went well," he muttered. He rubbed his eyes, knowing sleep would not be coming anytime soon for him, and went back to work.

Nearly an hour had passed and he found his mind wandering to Camille. He tried to think of anything at all he could do to help, other than finding her friend's killer. But finding the killer was his job. Camille was his, dare he say, friend. He had little problem opening up to her about his past but why was he so bad at offering support?

"Richard."

Her voice was so small it physically pained him. He turned to see Camille standing in the doorway.

"I got your message," she said, holding up her phone.

He hesitantly closed the gap between them. "I…"

Before he could finish, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him as she cried.

Awkwardly he slid his arms around her and pulled her closer. He may not be able to offer words but he could certainly offer a shoulder to cry on.

He knew this moment would never be spoken of but for now it was enough.