A/N: I know it's been a while… I'm sorry I haven't updated this since the end of last year but I really wanted to get the story arc I've just finished writing out of the way because I was so utterly undecided about what was going to happen with Robin and Kim and I need to know where that was going before I continued with Kim's backstory to know how to write certain parts. But now I'm picking it back up and will be updating when I can. I hope that you enjoy this chapter (or 'enjoy' might not be the word since it involves Andrew Ridgeley's number one fan!)

~xXx~

Chapter 11

I watched him filling my glass again. Never did I ask for a refill. Not once. In fact, I was certain that I'd put my hand over my glass more than once to stop him from filling it again but somehow I'd just find myself unable to stop him nudging my hand away and letting the rich, red liquid flow into my glass again. Like a fool I kept on drinking – well, I was used to that. Night after night I'd let the alcohol blot out the harsh reality of my situation and although wine wasn't my drink of choice I was never going to turn down a free drink or a chance to turn down the pain.

I can't place exactly when it was but before long I knew something wasn't right. I started to feel strange. Different. My head was swimming, and not in a good way. I was used to the effects of tipping endless pints of beer down my throat. I'd sunk more of Gene Hunt's scotch than you can imagine. But I can handle my drink. I was used to keeping my tank topped up with alcohol all night long while I danced the hours away.

I felt my head flop over quite suddenly as though my neck had turned to rubber. Oh god, what the hell was that? It was like I'd almost gone to sleep on the spot. I righted myself again and mumbled,

"I'm alright. I'm alright."

"Are you sure?" he was peering at me over his glasses and there was a look in his eye; something I couldn't read. "Because I don't mean to call you a liar but you don't seem on top of the world, put it that way. You're looking a bit off-balance there."

"I'm fi-fine," I swallowed. Damn, the room was spinning fast, "the wine must be stronger than I realised." I started to get to my feet and I began to speak again; "I'd better get home and –"

"Woah, woah," he stood up as he watched my legs wobble all over the place and gave me a charming smile, "I can't let you walk home like this when your legs can't agree on which direction to take." He pulled his keys from his pocket. "Let me drive you."

I stared at him. Well, at least I gave it my best shot. There were actually three of him and they were all going round in a circle. I blinked a few times and tried to clear my vision until there was only one of him left.

"It's OK," I insisted, "I've heard to many warnings about not accepting lifts from strange men."

I tried to make a joke but I'd never seen such humourless eyes in my life as he stared right back and hooked me with his dark gaze.

"You accepted a drink from one though," he reminded me and he held out his arm. "Let me drive you home, Kimberley," he said seriously, "you can pay me back with coffee."

I swallowed and I stumbled. I tried to keep the room in one place as it seemed to head out on a loop the loop around my head. My guts didn't feel right, and I'm not talking about the vat of wine I had swilling around in there. I didn't trust the man. My instincts told me to run like the wind but he trapped me in a stare that held me as strongly as a air of handcuffs and those eyes were very persuasive.

"Home," he said.

Like it or not, I was in no fit state to disagree.

~xXx~

"Let's sober you up."

His voice echoed through my mind as though he was speaking into a tin can. What was the matter with me? There were nights when there was more beer in me than in the barrel and I'd still be able to walk in a straight line and string together a coherent sentence, but this was different.

I didn't even remember getting to the kitchen but suddenly there he was; moving around the room, fetching coffee and mugs as though he already knew where they were kept. A mug appeared in front of me and he told me to drink it. Black coffee stared back at me as I lifted the mug. It was bitter but I drank it down. I would have tried anything to feel a little less inebriated by then. I needed to get my head together, but it seemed this wasn't the way to do it because no sooner had I put down the mug than the spinning of the room doubled and my whole body felt like it could just float away on nothing but air.

"Kimberley?"

He was saying my name. I couldn't seem to look at him. I held my head like it was going to keep the room steady and took a deep breath but the room just kept on spinning and he just kept on calling me.

"Kimberley?"

It took all my strength to look up. My head felt as heavy as a cannon ball and as fuzzy as a bag of cotton wool. But finally I managed to look right up, then suddenly my eyes fell upon his and he used them as a doorway to step right inside my mind.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. There was a strange feeling swelling in my chest, like the strange and needful sensations his stare sent through me were filling my lungs like a plume of steam rising from the bath. And as he carried on staring, fixing me with those eyes of darkness, he reached right inside my mind, reprogrammed everything that I was and made me want to do the one thing that I never, ever would have contemplated.

To have him.

Like a little voice whispering in my ear, he put the notion deep inside my head until there was nothing that I could do. I couldn't fight back because he made me want it.

Made me want him.

And that's the part that I can never forgive myself for.