Chapter 17

For Robin, the parallels were eerie. It felt like just yesterday that he and Kim had been sitting by Alex's bedside in 2011, saying their goodbyes before a surgery they felt sure she wasn't going to survive. Now here he was staring at Simon's motionless body as the machines did all the work for him to keep him alive.

"You can have five minutes," the nearby doctor told him, "then we need to take him to prep him for surgery."

Robin gave the doctor a crooked smile and turned to Simon. He swallowed so hard that he sounded like a comedy gulping sound effect. He had been dreading this moment. Ever since Gene had made the decision to put Simon through surgery he'd known this was coming, but now that the day had arrived his mind had gone completely blank. He slowly walked to the chair beside the bed as the doctor existed and left him alone. Sinking into the seat, he took Simon's hand and rubbed it gently.

"Shit, you feel cold, Simon," he said quietly. As he tried to warm up Simon's fingers he stared at his face. His eyes were taped shut and there were wires all over the place. Part of his head had been shaven in preparation for the surgery and it made Robin shudder to see him in such a similar state to the one he'd been in after his server accident. A shudder travelled down his spine. He felt shaken by the parallel.

"This isn't how it's going to end, is it?" he asked quietly, "I mean, no, this isn't how it's going to end. It can't be. I'm sorry Simon, but this can't be it. Because there's no way you'd just give up on life. Not now. It doesn't make sense. Why would you? You just came back from the edge, Si. Literally. You were up there on the hospital roof just a few months ago and look how far you've come since then." he closed his eyes and pulled Simon's hand a little closer to face so he could rest his chin upon Simon's fingers. "Look at you. You fought back. You got strong again. So you're not going to let go now. And there's no way that this world is going to take you away right now. It's not your time. It wouldn't make sense."

He fell silent and listened to the steady beeping of machines and the whirring of the systems keeping Simon alive. He remembered sitting by Simon's hospital bed that fateful May day in 2010; his head crushed by a box of electronics. He thought he'd lost Simon back then. Now he was going through the same thing again.

"Things might be different between us now… we might not be together," he still felt a pang of guilt as he spoke, "but, Si, that doesn't mean I don't care. I might not be in love with you but I still love you. You still mean more to me than almost anyone. I can't bear the thought of losing you again, Simon. Shit, we're only just learning to be friends right now. And I know that the night you…" he swallowed, "the night of the bombs…" he squeezed Simon's hand a little harder, "we weren't exactly getting on. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Simon. I regret that so much, I regret that more than anything." He opened his eyes and stared at Simon's expressionless face. It seemed so eerie to talk to him, not knowing whether or not he could hear.

"Where are you, Simon?" he asked gently, "Hmm? Are you in some other place? Like Gene was? Like Kim, and Alex? Or is it…. dark? Is there nothing there?" he wished that he knew. What if Simon was in a happy place? What if he'd found himself in another world where his life was better? He'd never been happy in Gene's world. "See that's the thing, Simon. It can't be your time to go because you've not even found your place here yet. You've never settled in, even I can see that. You didn't like your job, you're not that happy with your flat, you don't seem to have many friends. There has to be a reason why you're here. This world wanted you, it took you from your life so it must have a purpose here for you, you just need to work out what it is."

He wished that Simon's eyes were open so he could look into them and see a spark of recognition. It had been so long since he'd seen them open that he'd forgotten the shade of blue they were.

"it's not like you're here to step into Gene's shoes. That's clear as anything. I know how much you hate covering for him when you have to. You don't want that post, and I don't blame you." He exhaled and let his forehead flop against Simon's hand. "So what is it, Si? Hmm? Why are you here? You can't leave before you've found your purpose. You're the link between worlds, that's what Sam told you, wasn't it? That's got to be important. And you're important." He looked up at Simon again. "And you're important to me." He stared at him for the longest time in silence, just taking in the features of the face he knew so well in case it was the very last time that he would see them. When he heard the sound of footsteps approaching down the corridor he gave Simon's hand one final squeeze and kissed it softly, then he laid it carefully by Simon's side. A figure loomed in the doorway and Robin got to his feet. "It's OK, I'm going –" he began before he realised it wasn't a doctor.

"Don't run off on my account, Batman." Gene's face looked grim and stony pale.

"I-I have to go anyway," Robin said, emotions almost strangling his words, "the doctor said I could only have five minutes."

"Yeah, he said the same thing to me as well," Gene began, "but then I introduced him to the delights of the filing cabinet in the surgeon's office and now he says I've got ten."

"That's… fair enough," Robin could only imagine the fear Gene had instilled in the doctor. The poor sod was probably raiding the drugs trolley right then for something to blackout the memory. "Still, I should go," he said quietly. He walked to the door and glanced back sadly over his shoulder. "Bye, Simon," he whispered and left Gene to have some time alone with his unlikely son.

As Gene crashed his backside into the hard plastic chair he started to feel so much regret for the way he'd behaved. He'd barely been to see Simon at all.

"Christ, look at the state of you," He mumbled, staring at the tape covering Simon's eyes, "they've turned you into a flipping sellotape dispenser." He swallowed hard. It felt like just a few days ago that he'd sat beside Simon as he was airlifted to safety. "Look, Simon, I'm good at this one-to-one crap," he cleared his throat, "but this might be the last chance I'm gonna get so I might as well lay it in the line." He looked down at Simon's hand lying on the bed. "Has Batman been blubbing all over yer fingers?" he asked with some disapproval. "Wet soppy git."

He leaned back and gave a deep, heavy sigh.

"I don' think me world's finished with you yet, Shoebury," he said firmly, "so this isn't it. No one leaves without my say so, whether they're looking for a transfer to another station or to a box six feet under. And guess what, smeg-for-brains? You haven't got permission." He cursed himself for using the S word. "Your geek cooties have rubbed off on me!" he said in genuine disgust, wiping his hands on his trousers as though to rid himself of them. "Listen. I don't know where you are now. I had a ruddy time of it when I was in your place." He couldn't help thinking about his own coma, the lessons he'd learnt, seeing the people he knew so well in their lives before his world had taken them and finding out who Alex used to be. "I just hope it's not a picture paradise. Because I don't want you deciding to stay there, alright? Don't say we wasted our time and cash repainting yer bloody office! Even stuck a new desk in there for you. And yer own filing cabinet. Need to teach you me proper technique. Time you learned the Gene Genie way."

The beeping of the machines seemed to get louder as Gene ran out of words and fell silent. The clean and clinical smell seemed to grow stronger too. The stark white light above them felt overpowering and blinding. Gene didn't like hospitals, not in the slightest. It was no wonder he'd avoided it for so long.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He stared at Simon's unresponsive face and just hoped that he understood what for. He was sorry for everything. He had a lot of regrets He regretted the way he'd treated Simon before he got to know him, he regretted leaving him to adjust to the world without realising how hard he was finding it, he regretted abandoning him in the hospital and refusing to see him for so many weeks. Most of all he regretted the way that the truth about their genetic connection had been revealed. If he'd known for a moment that Simon had been any part of his DNA then he would have handled things very differently but he'd never had a chance.

He didn't want to be a father to Simon and he didn't want to look at him and see a son. But over time an instinct started to kick in that Gene didn't even know he had, and suddenly he found he had no choice.

"They're going to take you away and chop off a bit of that bonce any minute now," he told Simon tactfully, "they don't give you much of a chance of making it through the op. But I'm not giving you any choice. Not leaving bloody Dawson with the latte run, he won't give me more than three sugars and never gets 'em back fast enough. I've had enough cold lattes to last me three bloody lifetimes since you've been lying on yer backside, Shoebury." He blinked and tried to keep his voice steady and calm as he said, "but… just in case," he swallowed, "I'm going to be waiting around in the corridor." He closed his eyes and ignored the wobble in his voice as he whispered, "in case you need a lift to the pub."

Those were the last words that he said to Simon. He spent the rest of his ten minutes sitting, staring, as though expecting him to sit up and peel the tape from his eyes, declare it all to be a joke and that he was fighting fit. But Simon didn't move and nothing else happened until a doctor, a nurse and a couple of porters came into the room.

"It's time for Simon to go to surgery now," one of them told Gene and before he knew what was happening he watched Simon's feet disappearing out of the doorway at the end of the trolley.

That was it. It was up to Simon now. Gene hoped that Simon had the strength, the drive and the will to fight and to make it back. The odds weren't in Simon's favour. But Simon's strength was. And despite all the odds Gene couldn't do anything but believe that he would make it. There was a newly painted office awaiting its owner and a desk that needed someone to christen it with paperwork.

And besides, Gene thought to himself as he grimly walked from the room in silence, it's not time for the pub yet, Simon. Not enough drinks lined up at the bar. Wait until there's enough to get you utterly sloshed. You deserve better.

~xXx~

A/N – Thank you, thank you so much for all the reviews on this fic so far – I am so glad that you're enjoying it! My inspiration seems to have returned full-pelt and I've written 6 and a half chapters in the last 3 days, I'm halfway through the epilogue right now. I'm planning to upload one chapter a day over the weekend and then the last chapter and epilogue together on Monday, with the next story starting on Tuesday!