Work Text:
You say you don't believe in signs from up above.
And you laugh at the thought of putting your faith in stuff like love…..
Camille almost choked on her breakfast latte the first time she heard the opening lines on the radio, earning an odd look from her mother who had been trying to add up what Camille's odd behaviours might mean seeing as she hadn't noticed any new men hanging around, but hadn't got very far.
It might have been different, Camille supposed, if she hadn't already been thinking about him – again.
The day before he had caught and saved her.
Literally and metaphorically.
She had been too busy looking over her shoulder and laughing at Dwayne's description of his latest entanglement whilst skipping gracefully down the steps towards the Police Land rover. Or it had been graceful until she missed one.
It could have ended nastily and messily, with lots of pain thrown in for good measure, but Richard who had been ahead of her had reached out an arm and had pulled her to him. With reactions much faster than she would have ever given the pale Englishman credit for.
So when the song had started, her mind had still been full of memories of adrenaline racing through her body, of his strong arms and crisp suit pressing against her lightly clothed body. And of his clean male smell, which as well as arousing her more than it ought, had surprised her a little given the amount he complained about the heat.
Camille had cleaned up the spilt coffee, ignored any questioning glances from her mother and had set off for work, putting it out of her mind.
In the fortnight that followed though, the song appeared to be playing everywhere. It invaded her brain and every line screamed Richard the more she heard it. Or rather everything she wanted to say to him. She craved holding him still at his desk to make him listen to the song in silence, or grasping him by the shoulders as she quoted the words of the chorus in his ear. She needed to beseech him with her eyes, so that he would just know it was her song to him.
In short, the song was driving her insane. She knew by now that she felt more for her boss than could ever be called professional, even in the laid back Caribbean, but the song did not seem to be giving her any respite at all.
She shook her head. And now it was playing in her mother's bar, the opening bars a dead give away. On cue…
You say you don't believe in signs from up above…
Flashing across her minds eye – she feared it was linked forever now – was an image of Richard discounting Creole beliefs as he stood outside Fidel's old school, the scene of a murder, that had not been a murder, but a suicide to catch a murderer. She remembered accusing him of being the most annoying man she had ever met.
It was still true.
You never see the rainbow, you just curse the rain…
Not strictly accurate for an Englishman who volubly longed for cool rain on his face, on an hourly basis, but Camille would have placed bets on him moaning about it when he lived in London, before he knew her. In fact she should probably start a book – and then place a sneaky call to the Met.
But that's all fine if it's how you want it to be.
But if you're feeling alone and afraid and you can't breathe….
The line always wrung a sigh from her body. When Richard had first arrived, he had appeared to be secure, pretty good at his job, in need of no-one to prop him, or confide in, and even dismissive of those around him. It hadn't taken the team long to realize how wrong they were. Beneath the shell, he was vulnerable, and it had taken time, but he had started to let them in a little. He wouldn't admit it, to them or himself. But he had; and her more than the rest of the team.
Believe in me.
Believe in the way I look at you and stand beside you. The way I speak the truth, I'd never lie to you.
If you'd just believe in the things that your eyes can't see,
Believe in me…
It was embarrassing and chastening, and a million other emotions, to recognise yourself in a song. To have someone putting to music exactly how you felt about another person or everything you wanted to say to that person.
Camille didn't lie to him and she knew he respected her for it. Indeed she thought he probably enjoyed the cut and thrust of their lively 'discussions' as much as she did when she didn't agree with what he was doing, or how he was going about something.
But did he see how she looked at him? Did he hear her heart pounding sometimes when he smiled at her? Did he notice the slight drop in her smile when he talked about home as being on some other continent, or on the occasions when he didn't turn up to share a drink with her after work?
Tonight being a prime example.
What ya gonna do when your ship is sinking?
And you're crying out for help and just the seagulls listening.
In the dark of the night, in the middle of the fight,
When you're reaching out for something and there's nothing.
Believe in me…..
If only.
He had made huge strides towards making friendships but Camille now wanted more.
She wanted him to have faith in her.
To let go.
To let her hold his heart; she would never break it if he entrusted it to her.
Camille sighed as the song came to an end; thankful that no one she knew had joined her, but now longing to be pulled out of the morose mood she felt she was falling into. Richard would find his own way. She had to stop rushing, and hoping, and all this silly pining. If he was going to form strong and lasting bonds with her, even if they never went beyond friendship then she ought to be more than happy with that.
He wasn't even her type.
This had to stop – she would ask her mother to change radio station, and insist Dwayne only listened to the cricket at work in future. Once the song dropped out of the charts it would be easier to focus again. Decision made, she threw down the last of the drink she had been nursing, hardly tasting it and then pushed her chair back. It was time to call it a night. She lifted her eyes to the bar… and stopped breathing.
Richard was perched awkwardly on a bar stool, perfectly motionless and staring at her with an odd look on his face that she initially couldn't read.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. How long had he been there? Had her emotions been obvious?
Long enough, and oh yes were the answers she found in his eyes as they continued to hold one another's gaze across the room.
Her move or his? Camille gulped air in, and started to take slow steps towards him.