Usual disclaimer - I didn't create characters or show (so wish I had).

I'm still trying to grasp the characters enough to write a stand alone story but for now this is another post ep. This one is I think s2e6 - it's the one where Richard's old colleague continues to bully him.

Thanks for reading!

Validation

Orange melted with turquoise as the sun sunk beyond the horizon. Richard Poole found himself seated on the steps of his veranda sipping a chilled, local beer. The memories he had left behind in England came pouring back full force in a matter of hours with the latest case. Part of him felt silly about it. He was an adult. As an adult he had let Doug Anderson get to him, bully him as it were. Part of him felt embarrassed that of all people, his partner, Camille Bordey, had witnessed it. That she had heard some of the horrible things Doug said to him about never being married, never remember him having even a girlfriend, calling him Dick.

He took a long swig of the cool liquid. A long few days indeed.

"Would you like some company?"

Inwardly, he grinned when he heard the soothing voice of the gentle, French accent he'd come to take comfort in. Outwardly, he didn't dare let her know how much of an effect she had on him so he simply shrugged. "There's another beer in the fridge if you'd like."

She sat next to him, took his bottle, had a sip, then handed it back with a smile. "I'll get the next one."

A moment of comfortable silence passed before, "Richard, I hope you did not believe him. You are right, he's a bully and nothing more."

"I know. It still... it still gets to a person, though."

"He's a murderer. As you said, he was out getting drunk during work while you were working to help people."

Richard sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I have missed out."

"On what?"

He looked at Camille. "Life. Fun. I'm not exactly the life of the party."

She gave him a warm smile. "No, you're not. But sometimes being the 'life of the party' as you say is not what matters. You are smart, brilliant. You care about getting answers for the victims. You have your quirks but you have something many don't - compassion and that means far more than being popular." She grabbed his beer again.

"You are allowed your own you know," he smirked.

"I know." Deciding to test the waters, she leaned against his side. "Yours is better."

With his guard down slightly, he said, "There's one thing I don't understand."

"Just one?" she teased.

He chuckled. "Just one for now. Why you haven't given up on me."

Camille thought for a moment. "When we first met I thought you were stubborn, typical English." She sat up and turned his face towards hers, allowing her fingers to linger there. "But as I got to know you I saw much more. Along with stubborn, by the book, frustrating you are kind, compassionate and I enjoy the moments like this when you are just you."

Unable to stop the smile that spread across his lips, he did stop himself from speaking, too afraid of ruining the moment by saying something stupid.

Her hand slowly slid down his cheek and she stood up. "I'd say it's time for another beer."

As he watched her walk into his house it started to dawn on him just how fortunate he was to have met someone like her. In many ways they were complete opposites yet she stood by him, supported him even when he knew she thought he was wrong and, in his own way, he tried to meet her halfway to show he cared. Sitting on the sand without laying his jacket down first when she had lost her friend, letting her lead him to the dance floor, though he had quickly returned to their table. Somehow, someway, the stubborn, feisty, beautiful French woman had found her way into his heart and somthing told him she was there to stay.