Richard had come to love that early part of the morning. The sun which tormented him when he first arrived was now his early morning caress as the first dawn of light crept through the window. As he stretched he felt Camille stir by his side.

The last few days have been a maelstrom of emotions – just the kind of ground he feared to walk on! They had gone from passion, to tenderness to angry outbursts and then right back to the beginning again!

All he knew was today was the day he had to leave for six months. And he had no idea how he would get through the morning.

Ordinarily Camille loved the morning – the feeling of warmth as the sun came through the window, the slow waking, made all the better for waking up next to Richard. But as she sensed the tendrils of light on her face, she wanted to burrow deep into the bed and never open her eyes.

She knew she had to let him go today, for six months, and in her heart of hearts she knew he would come back to her, but there was a nagging voice in her mind repeating the words she'd said to him, not that long ago – about how he'd have a pint in his favourite pub and would want to stay there.

All she knew was today was the day she had to let him go for six months. And she had no idea how she would get through the morning.

Richard glanced over to her – she looked asleep. He kissed her softly on the forehead before swinging his legs out of bed… the temptation to wake her for one last, ecologically motivated (of course) sharing of a shower was tempting… but he really could not miss this flight.

She felt him leave the bed, and idly thought of surprising him in the shower, but knew that it would hurt her even more to have him go after that. She eased herself out of bed, and headed downstairs to make him his tea, marvelling at how she had become such a willing model of domesticity.

That was it though. She wanted to be making him tea in the morning, and pottering around the house together. She had come to think of them as almost an old married couple – without the married bit. She dared to hope that was where his thinking was going, but worried that it was her mother's influence.

Standing in the shower, Richard reflected on his plan, well such as it was. He knew that first on his visit list was his parents – thankfully his dad had volunteered to come get him from the airport, so now all he had to do was rehearse what he needed to say to them. He hoped that his mother would agree to his request, and that his father wouldn't fix him with that disapproving look.

He could hear her pottering about and chuckled to himself at the thought of Camille slotting into the role of domestic goddess, honestly they were turning into an old married couple, he thought. Except he still had to negotiate that hurdle.

Small talk, he hated small talk, but he fretted that if he didn't just blether about the packing, and whether or not Heathrow was better than Saint Marie in the suitcase stakes, he was terrified he'd blurt out what he wanted to, and it was just not how he planned. And he liked his plans.

Small talk, she knew he hated small talk but she didn't trust herself to either howl like a lovelorn teenager, or just holler at him to marry her already – god WHERE had that come from. But that's what she wanted, she knew that. But how to get him to agree? She'd need a plan. Well she had six months to come up with one.

The journey to the airport was like one of impending doom. She had gone completely silent, worried that if she opened her mouth it would be filled with racking sobs, hell that time would come soon enough, so instead she listened to him muttering away to himself and tried to forget how long it would be before she head him huffing and muttering again.

He could tell she was purposefully silent but he couldn't help himself, as he just muttered about all kinds of irrelevancies to fill the silence that he once so desperately craved. For the next six months he would be on his own and probably back to being a bit of a loner, and he just needed to remember what it was like to have someone to mutter to.

Of all the things she was remembering as they stood to say their goodbyes as his flight started boarding was one of their last rows was about his clinical adherence to scientific method:

"GOD with you EVERYTHING is a question of science – why have you NO feelings?!"

Like with all things in their closing weeks, it led to an enthusiastic reconciliation, but it troubled her that she'd thrown all that at time. Why would he come back to someone who questioned the very core that made him… him?

He pulled her close as the tears now would not stop. He didn't want the last image of her to be crying over his departure, and while he tried to soothe her, all the while attempting NOT to say completely the wrong thing, he remembered one of her retorts:

"GOD with you EVERYTHING is a question of science – why have you NO feelings?!"

He pulled away from her, wiping her tears away as he tried to find the words he wanted to say.

"That row, the other day… no let me finish" he started, as she tried to interrupt him.

"I know I'm a curmudgeonly, old so and so, stuck in my ways… yes even stuck in science.

"But I want you know – I'm going away to answer those Questions of science… yes.

"But I'm coming back to the certainty of love."

They looked at each other and for a fraction of a second Richard thought he'd said the wrong thing. Again.

Camille smiled back at him through her tears:
"That might actually be THE most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me"

Richard smiled: "Well I was just aiming to stop you crying!"

She laughed – something she never thought possible that morning.

The last call came over the tannoy, prompting Richard to get in a quick last moan about why was a snotty message on a tannoy needed at an airport the size of a postage stamp.

He gave her one last kiss, and promised that he'd text her when he landed, that they'd skype. Camille tried not to let the tears start as he headed down the steps to the bus to take him to the plane. He looked up and sketched a last wave, and reluctantly as the bus drove off, she turned away.

She headed to the bar where Catherine just wordlessly hugged her – no words were needed. Camille told her mother about the farewell, and couldn't help but notice a wry look cross her mother's face.

"What?"

"It's nothing… well, no doubt you'll find out in six months," said Catherine before heading off to serve other customers, leaving Camille looking on quizzically. After all… she'd given her blessing AND one more piece of information that Richard asked her for…