Chapter 8
Simon scrubbed until his skin was raw but it didn't wash away the guilt. He stayed in the shower for so long that the water changed from hot to tepid to stone freezing cold but it did little to stop him feeling dirty and used.
As the horrible truth dawned on Simon while he watched Keats falling asleep without a second thought for his actions he could hardly cope with the guilt and the despair. The gravity of what he'd done hit him with a great force and he would have done anything to die right there and then.
He hardly knew how to cope as the truth sunk in. He wanted to scream, he wanted to escape his own life. He had never hated himself so much before. He dressed quickly with trembling limbs, left Keats's flat and walked home howling in anguish. One he arrived back he stripped naked, threw all the clothes he was wearing in the bin so he'd never have to look at them again and stepped right in the shower where he scrubbed and lathered and rinsed over and over but it made no difference. The guilt and the dirt remained.
How could he have betrayed so many people with that one act? So many people whom he loved and cared about so much. Robin, Gene, Alex, Kim – oh god, how could he have done this to all of them? His own feelings on infidelity deepened the layers of guilt as he realised just what he'd done.
The part he found the hardest to come to terms with was that he did it of his own free will. It wasn't like Kim and Alex under the influence of the drugged wine and the gas and air, he did what he did because he wanted to. He knew there was alcohol involved but it was more than that. He got caught up in a moment and he wanted it.
He scrubbed again at his torso as he tried to work out why he'd felt so drawn to Keats. There was something that he couldn't explain and he hated himself for that. It had gone back further than that night – there was that moment on the hospital roof; that very strange moment where something… almost… happened. And there had been so much anger and so many battles between the two of them over so long that things had exploded in an unexpected way.
Keats had been on his tail from the moment he first arrived in Gene's world in 1985 and then he literally followed Simon to the ends of the earth to get 'the one that got away'. Oh god, what the hell was he going to do? Keats finally had him in the palm of his hand.
He finally turned off the water as he realised that the dirt wasn't going to come off through washing. The dirt was made of guilt, engrained in his conscience. He thought about Gene and Alex. How was he ever going to face them again? How was he ever going to look them in the eye when he'd quite literally slept with the enemy? And what about Robin? He'd felt little brushes of reality from the other world, there had been moments when Robin was so close he could almost reach out and touch him. One day he was going to cross over and on that day Simon was going to know that he'd have to tell him what he'd done.
He stepped out of the shower and dried his face with a towel. He stared at himself in the mirror. God, who the hell was that mess of a man? He didn't recognise himself, that was for certain. He almost understood Keats headbutting the mirror now. The temptation to copy him was very strong.
This was it. He'd reached the lowest point of his life. Well, technically the lowest point of his death.
He shook his head, horrified at what he'd become. What would Robin say if he saw him like this? He couldn't bear the thought of it. He needed to do something, he needed to learn from this god-awful night and find a way to change.
Quickly he dressed in a smart, clean suit, all pressed and perfect. It had been a while since he'd made an effort to look smart, or even vaguely presentable. He found his hairdryer and blow dried his hair for the first time since he arrived in Gene's world, finally getting rid of the curls he hated that kept creeping in. He took out a razor and gave himself a thorough, close shave ridding himself of the constant stubble he'd been wearing for months. Finally he saw a different man starting to look back from the mirror. One he recognised. There was nothing he could do about the dark circles under his eyes right then but it was a start.
By now it was dawn and the day about to begin. He sat at the kitchen table, the first morning that he had woken up knowing Kim wasn't there to greet him, insult him over coffee and head off to work together. Kim's departure had left a big gap in his life.
He even got a proper breakfast, a bowl of cornflakes, but he was so unused to eating proper meals now that he only managed half. It was a start though. It made a change from the black coffee and caffeine pills.
By the time he left for work, in his mind he knew it was a new beginning and time to turn over a new leaf, but the one thing he couldn't get rid of was the crushing feeling of guilt. He was wearing it on his sleeve like a badge and he didn't know if he could ever get that stain guilt to budge.
~xXx~
"This is your Gene Genie alarm call, Bolly."
Alex opened one eye and looked up at Gene who stood in front of her with a steaming mug.
"Hmm? What time is it? She asked quietly
"Tine you got up and dressed," he said, "Fenchurch East won't run itself.
She slowly sat up and shook off the blanket that she'd snuggled down in, then took the mug from Gene.
"Thanks," she whispered.
Her stomach felt more settled now and she thought she just might be able to manage that. Maybe she'd gotten her morning sickness out of the way early for the day.
Oh stop, it, Alex, it's not bloody morning sickness, she told herself crossly, you don't know anything for sure yet, Stop getting paranoid.
"Didn't expect to find you on the couch," Gene commented, "not yearning for yer old days are you? Couch and TV, that was the Drakey special, wasn't it?"
Alex gave a tired smile.
"Just couldn't sleep very well last night," she said quietly.
Gen sat opposite and stared at her.
"Things on yer mind?" he asked.
"Yes," said Alex, "well, one thing… sort of." She bit her lip a little awkwardly and put down her mug. "Gene, there is one thing that's worrying me," she drew in her breath. This wasn't an easy subject to approach with no idea what reaction she was going to get. "It's… I've not been feeling… a hundred percent recently," she began.
"Oh halle-bloody-lujah!" Gene threw up his hands, "finally she notices! Been worried sick about you, Bolly. Waiting for you to go all transparent and trip the light fantastic back to two thousand and bollocks again."
"I don't think it's that," Alex said quietly but Gene continued.
"You're seeing the station doctor. Today. That's an order."
"You haven't had the authority to give me orders for years," Alex pointed out.
"You seemed to listen to me when I told you to get the handcuffs the other night…" Gene began but Alex cut him off.
"This is serious gene," she said, "I'm worried –"
"Me an' all," said Gene, "but right now I'm worried that the clock seems to be telling me we're ten minutes late and you're not even dressed yet."
Alex looked at the clock on the wall and cursed.
"Shit! I had no idea it was that bloody late – why didn't you wake me, Gene?"
"First time I've seen you looking relaxed in weeks," said Gene. Alex scrambled to her feet and trudged to the bedroom to fetch some clothes.
"Funnily enough I stop feeling quite so relaxed when my morning routine has to be completed at the speed of a game in the Crystal maze," she said.
Not a good time, she told herself. She'd have to find some time at work. She needed to talk to Gene ASAP but that didn't include while she was trying to dress, clean her teeth and drink a coffee at the same time She'd already dipped her toothbrush in the coffee twice and tried to clean her teeth with a pair of tights.
Finally she was ready to go as Gene hustled her out of the door.
"Stop fiddling with yerself, Bols!" he said as she tugged at the top of her skirt.
"Bloody thing's shrunk in the wash," Alex mumbled, going a little pink on the cheeks.
As she trudged towards the car with Gene just behind her she cursed herself for being in denial for so long. Even though she still didn't know for certain, the symptoms were ganging up on her and making it impossible for her to think of anything else but the tightness of her skirt and the sense of nausea that just wouldn't leave her alone.
