Chapter 2
Strike awoke suddenly, looking around, it took a few seconds for him to realise where he was. He then remembered, with a sinking of his stomach that he had been woken up by a shout from upstairs. He listened again carefully and could hear disturbed moanings. He considered for a second it could be Nick and Ilsa but he could also hear Nick's rumbling snores in the back ground. Knowing that Robin still occasionally suffered from panic attacks, unsurprisingly considering what she has been through in her life, he wondered if she was having a trauma nightmare. He had suffered them many times himself. In those dreams you relive the worst moments of a traumatic experience over again with such a reality that it can cause panic attacks. He decided he would go up just to check on her. He wasn't going to bother with the prosthesis and so hopped into the kitchen area, grabbed a broom from the tall cupboard in the corner and used it to help get up the stairs hopefully as quietly as possible. As he passed the first door on his left he heard Nick's snores even louder now. He briefly wondered how on earth Ilsa gets any sleep lying next to that every night but at least it made sense why she may not have heard Robin.
He edged as quietly as possibly to the room at the other end of the landing. The spare room was the same one he had stayed in in the past when trying to avoid the press. He turned the handle slowly conscious not to wake her in case he scared her even more. As he opened the door the light from downstairs illuminated the bed where the beautiful girl was tossing and turning apparently wrestling an invisible attacker under the sheets. It was distressing for him to see despite him having seen much worse sights in his life. He made his way a little quicker across the room, put the broom down on the floor and knelt down next to the bed. He knew if he stood over her or she awoke to find him sat on the bed that could be more upsetting for her. Instead he knelt there, grateful for the fluffy rug on the bedroom carpet, reached out for one of her arms and started to stroke it gently and making an absurd shushing noise like you do with babies. He whispered her name and rubbed her arm a little heavier in the hope this might wake her up gradually or just settle her down.
Robin suddenly became aware of a noise close by and a gentle, soothing touch to her arm. She could see flashback images of the awful dream she had been having which had included a gorilla mask, a big heavy wait on top of her and a gun being help to her head. She started breathing heavily and could fell the panic rising in her and then felt again the soothing action on her arm. She focused on that touch and her breathing and then when ready she opened her eyes. Initially wondering where she was, Robin looked over to see Strike's big hazel eyes looking back at her and a soft smile on his face.
"Don't worry, everything's OK, It was just a dream" he whispered. She flew her head back concentrating on her breathing, all sorts of emotions were bubbling up through her now. The panic was still there, the embarrassment, the relief. She realised that it was Strike who was slowly stroking her arm and the pressure and repetitive action was relaxing and reassuring. She was not alone. She may at one time have wanted to hide this from him but since the incident on the side of the motorway they had talked more regularly and casually about the CBT exercises as well as his stretches for his leg.
"Everything's OK" he repeated, softly whispering. She closed her eyes again briefly then said "I'm so sorry, did I wake everyone?"
"No, I was up anyway" he lied "and the others are still zonked out"
Robin's ears seemed to kick in again and she became aware of the clock ticking on the wall and of Nick's deep snores in the next room. She realised that Strike was kneeling and shuffled her body a bit suggesting he sit on the edge of the bed. He moved up without speaking and when settled she reached out for his hand and held it tightly. Neither of them said anything for a while but just sat or laid there with horrors, remembrances and breathing techniques running through their heads.
"Are you ok now?" he asked gently.
In a panic that he was about the leave she held his hand tighter.
"Corm, would you stay with me?" She said it before she could stop herself. It was a genuine desire to not be alone. She immediately feared he might say "best not" or "I'm only downstairs" but he didn't, instead he said "of course," then looking about added "Shall I…?" and indicating the other side of the bed he shuffled around, a bit wobbly without his prosthesis, and lay on top of the bed next to Robin. She threw part of the top blanket over him but seeing that it wasn't nearly big or warm enough she said "You might as well get under here," and added in the hope of lightening the mood "I trust you". He smiled and thought to himself if this was a different circumstance he wouldn't have trusted himself.
She lay on her front facing him and they joined hands again under the covers. She didn't know if it was the sheer tiredness, the booze still or the fuzziness in her mind following the near panic attack but she did not feel awkward or uncomfortable next to Strike. Instead she felt safe and therefore dropped off to sleep again almost immediately.
Strike lay there, his mind spinning. How had he got himself into this situation? But he could not be angry with himself; he would do it all over again because Robin had needed him. She had looked so scared and then he saw the calmness flow over her features when she saw him. That was because of him, he did that and he felt so privileged. He reminded himself that he was not going to overthink anything but acknowledged the list of things he was not going to overthink was getting longer and longer. He laid there, her hand in his, and fell asleep.
