This is a dream. This just has to be a dream.
All I can smell is the smoke, it's all I can taste too, and see. Smoke, everywhere, everything's burning. And it's my fault. As I lie here I slowly notice more than the smoke, there's metal beneath me. I'm lying on a vast metal floor and it's cold, so cold, despite everything burning. I want to get up, to get away, but I can't move, not yet. I've lived this moment time and time again and I'm not allowed to move yet. I have to wait.
The moment ticks by slowly and I lie here, searching for shapes in the smoke. The plumes of grey twist and turn, becoming faces of people I recognise. One is of the professor, the only man who I ever trusted to drag me from insanity, and he stares at me from his grey, smoky eyes in his grey, smoky face and he opens his grey, smoky mouth and speaks. "You don't have to do this, Clive" he says.
"But I've already done it" I reply "London is on fire, soon it will be gone"
Another face appears in the smoke, this time it's Luke, 'little' Luke. "You can stop this, Clive" he says "You can save everyone"
"But London's burning" I whisper "London's burning. Fetch the engines. Fetch the engines"
The next face in the smoke is that of Flora, she looks through me with emotionless eyes. "You're right, Clive, London's on fire and it's all your fault. Fire, fire! Fire, fire!" she says.
And now I can move, now that I've heard what they had to say I'm allowed to move, but I don't have to because someone else does it for me. There are arms around me and I'm being lifted up, carried across the floor and into the fresh air. There are sirens everywhere, and screams. I close my eyes, letting the person carry me. They carry me out of my burning fortress and into the burning streets. They take me to the street where I grew up, and it's burning. They keep walking, carrying me closer to the fire, and it seems that as we walk I grow younger again, until I am the child I was that fateful day all those years ago. They carry me straight into the fire, and I let them, because this is how this is supposed to happen.
I'm carried up the stairs, flights and flights of stairs. Eventually I'm placed gently on the floor and I open my eyes. My mother's kneeling above me and we're in my old home, her hair is on fire but she doesn't seem to know. She just watches me, her eyes filled with kindness. She strokes my hair gently, the fire swirling around her head.
"London's burning, mummy" I say and the tears start to roll down my cheeks.
"Pour on water. Pour on water" she sings sweetly "London's burning. London's burning"
She sits and lets the fire swirl around us, over us. It won't touch me, but it will touch her. It engulfs her but still she keeps stroking my hair. Her fingertips burn me when they touch my skin, little points of fire on my face that I know won't leave a trace.
"This is all my fault!" I cry "I started the fire"
"No, the scientists started the fire" she whispers "The scientists started the fire, my sweet, and the politicians fed it fuel. You just finished the fight"
"I killed people. I killed so many people. It's all my fault"
"Fetch the engines, fetch the engines" she sings, cradling me as the fire eats through her.
"No mummy, don't go!" I sob "Mummy please! Mummy please, I killed people! I destroyed everything! It's all my fault!"
"Fire, fire!" she sings "Fire-"
"Fire!" I scream, jolting upright. My legs are caught and I can't move, I kick out to free myself but the sheets around my legs won't let go. Then there are hands on my shoulders and a voice calling my name. "Clive!" a girl's voice yells "Clive, it's ok. You're safe"
"No!" I scream back. The room is spinning and dark and I can't focus. I fight the hands which push me down with all my strength, but somehow I can't beat them. I have no strength left, and the delicate, gentle hands slowly force me back down.
My head hits a pillow and I close my eyes for a moment, opening them again to find myself in a semi-dark room, lit only by a single lamp. I'm lying on a bed in the corner of the room, and perched on the bed beside me is Flora. She looks at me with a mixture of concern and fear in her eyes.
"Clive?" she asks quietly, her voice shaking a little.
"Flora" I whisper and she relaxes, satisfied that I'm back in our reality.
"It's ok, Clive. It was just a nightmare", Flora brushes a tender hand across my cheek. "Clive, you're burning hot!"
"Fire" I whisper "I caused the fire"
That's when Flora notices my bedside table. The open sleeping pills, I take them sometimes to help me when my mind won't let me rest. And the painkillers are open too, more than one type, taken in the hope that they'll make the pain of my memory stop. The antidepressants are also open. And then she sees the needle…
"Clive…" she whispers "Oh Clive… Why do you do this to yourself?"
"Fire" I whisper.
"There's no fire, Clive"
"Fire" Is all I can say, my mind still addled by the various drugs swimming through my veins.
"There's no fire" she whispers, stroking my burning face. I close my eyes, focusing on her hand as it moves to stroking my hair. My eyes are only closed for a moment, but, while I'm shut off in the dark behind my eyelids, the dream starts to swim back into focus and I can hear the fire around me, I can feel the tiny burning points of my mother's fingers on my face. I kick out, desperate to be free of the nightmare but I don't quite have the strength of will.
"Clive" Flora says calmly "Clive, open your eyes"
And suddenly I'm back in reality again. "I'm just going to get something, I won't be a minute, stay awake for me please" she says. I don't want her to go, don't want to be left alone, but she carefully disentangles her hand from mine when I reach out and grab it. "Just a minute, I promise" she says before slipping out of the room. I feel very alone when she's gone. The air seems to grow much colder and I start to shiver, dragging the blankets tighter and tighter around me. Despite being freezing I can hear the fire, it's all around me, and I can hear screams too. They echo around the room and even when I clamp my hands over my ears I can still hear them. They grow louder, and louder, becoming all I can think about.
"Clive? Clive?" says a voice, a real voice, and hands are peeling mine away from my ears. It's Flora. "Here, drink this" she says, placing a mug in my hands.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Tea" she replies "it'll help"
And she's right, it does. The tea is warm, but not too hot, and as I drink it my mind feels clearer. It tastes familiar and comforting. Slowly I start to feel a normal temperature again.
Flora sits with me while I drink, although I'm not exactly up to much conversation. At one stage I look to my bedside table and notice that it has been completely cleared, all the bottles and jars, empty or not, gone. I didn't notice her doing that. Flora smiles but says nothing.
Gradually I calm down enough for conversation, and I want to tell Flora about the dream, I want her to understand.
"I was dreaming. Everything was burning" I say quietly "There was fire everywhere, and people screaming"
"It wasn't real, Clive"
"My mother… She took me into the fire"
"It wasn't real"
"It was all my fault, Flora" I sob.
"What was your fault?" Flora asks, she keeps her voice low and reassuring and I get the sense that her question is just a way to get me to talk. She knows exactly what.
"I destroyed so much. I caused all those people to get hurt. I killed people"
"You're right Clive, you did, but you can't hide from that. Drugs aren't going to make it all go away"
"What else can I do? It hurts to think about it. They make it so that I don't have to think, I don't have to feel"
Flora shifts on the bed next to me so that she takes up most of my view and I can't look away.
"But you're supposed to feel, Clive. You could still be in prison, but you're here with us. Why is that, Clive?"
"I wish I was still in prison, I deserve to be there"
"Why are you not in prison, Clive?"
"Because they let me out"
"And why did they do that?"
I open my mouth but I can't form the words, so instead I just shake my head at her. Flora takes my hand in hers. "They let you out because you weren't in there to be punished, you were in there because you were a danger to other people. You're not anymore though, are you?"
I shake my head.
"No you're not. They let you out so that you could make up for all the damage you did, and you're doing that. You're helping people now, not hurting them. All the charities, all the volunteering, you're making amends. You have to feel the pain of what you did, if you keep trying to hide then it will destroy you"
"I don't want to feel it"
"You don't have to do it alone, Clive. We're all with you, we all want to help"
"But I don't want help!" I snap, and instantly regret it. Flora looks a little hurt and more than a little taken aback. "I'm sorry" I say, much quieter now "but the things I did are unforgivable. When I came to my senses and realised what I'd done, I hated myself and I still do. I don't feel like I deserve anything good and yet here I am with so many people being kind to me and trying to help when I deserve nothing at all. I'm being treated like a victim and yet I am the monster"
"You're not a monster, Clive. You made mistakes, pretty huge ones, but you're not a monster. You deserve a second chance, a chance to make things right. Let us give you that. Let us help you. Let me help"
The last sentence is added after a pause. Flora keeps her eyes locked on mine, as if she's trying to keep us connected until I admit she's right. But I can't. I am a monster.
"You have people who care about you here Clive. I suppose you could call us a family, of sorts. We're not going to let you destroy yourself, not after we saved you. The Professor seems to be making a habit out of saving you, don't make him do it again. Not after everything we've been through to get here"
Flora is gentle and genuine, I find it impossible not to believe the things she says. "It seems I don't need the Professor to save me. I have you for that. Thank you"
Flora merely smiles in response. "It's nearly morning" she says "There's very little point in us going back to sleep, we'd only be up again soon. How about you and I go and make some breakfast, and we can watch the sun rise over London. I do love the sunrise"
"I'd like that"
And so Flora and I wrap up in dressing gowns and watch the sunrise from the Professor's small balcony while eating toast and jam.
"London looks so beautiful at sunrise" Flora remarks.
"You're right. It's so peaceful. I've never seen it like this. I'm glad those good people intervened and stopped that idiot from flattening it"
Flora smiles and leans against me "So am I"