Chapter 24

Keats stared at the orange glow of Simon's little fireplace. He found comfort in the fake flames. They reminded him of something he couldn't quite place but felt so much calmer, so gentle. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. He felt confused and anxious, lacking memory but dreading the things he'd forgotten as though tiny bees were waiting to thrust themselves at him and sting him from head to toe. However, as he heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Simon he felt a true sense of peace wash over him. When was the last time he'd felt that? He wasn't sure if he ever had.

"Here," Simon unfolded a large, purple blanket and wrapped it around Keats's shoulders, "That should help keep you warm."

Keats smiled nervously.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Even his voice sounded so different now, Simon noted. His accent was weaker and his tone a little higher, but the most obvious difference was how much lighter it was, as though it no longer carried a deadly weight behind its words. He ducked back out the room for a moment and returned with two mugs, one of which he held out towards Keats.

"I only knew how Jim took his coffee," Simon said apologetically, not wanting to mention that the only reason he knew that was because he'd been blackmailed into joining Fenchurch West some years earlier. "I had to make a guess." He looked expectantly at Keats but received only an embarrassed laugh in return.

"I'm sorry," Keats said eventually, "I've no idea how I take my coffee either."

Simon gave him a nervous smile as he sat by his side.

"We'll work it out together," he said, "and everything else as well." He had to literally bite his tongue not to add 'including whether you sleep on the right side of the bed or the left.' He hated to admit that he had less than pure thoughts on his mind. He didn't want to swoop in and take advantage of the weakened, confused man sitting shivering on his couch. He'd be no better than the Keats of old. But he couldn't stop himself from hoping that when Keats worked out who he was there was a place for Simon in his new life. Those little smiles fanned the flames.

"I'm not sure I want to work out anything beyond the coffee yet," Keats old him quietly, "I keep getting these... headaches," he touched one side of his head, "every time I try to remember anything."

Simon swallowed as his stomach churned. He suspected there was a good reason for that.

"You don't need to remember things," he said nervously, "you need to work them out from scratch." he slipped his had around Keats's and squeezed it slightly. "James, don't think about what's gone on before right now. Think about what's ahead. Where you see your life going."

"Do I have a life?" Keats asked him bluntly and Simon nodded. He couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah," he said, feeling a sudden wave of admiration for the way Keats had beaten the monster away, "yeah, you do. A great one. For the first time, you're in control."

"That terrifies me," Keats admitted.

Simon nodded slowly.

"Me too," he whispered, "you've spent a lot of years not in control. You've bee dragged from one empty shell to another against your will and never had a chance to be you. But you have that chance now and I'm terrified of letting you down. He saw Keats splutter a little as he sipped from his mug. "Looks like I've already made a mess of the coffee-making."

Keats coughed with embarrassment and put his mug down.

"Maybe I'm more of a tea person?" He tried to joke. The little smile he prised from Simon made him feel good. Oh, so jokes were a thing he could do now? Not particularly good ones maybe, but he'd never been able to do that before. The monster hadn't liked humour unless it was delivered with malice. It sent a warm sensation across his cheeks as they rose.

"James, I promise," Simon continued, "everything... we'll work through it together. You're starting again. Clean slate. New life. And I'll be here to help you." He hesitated, a strange fluttering sensation choking him in his chest, "as long as you want me to."

"Course I do," Keats said seriously. He tired to catch Simon's eye, "I don't remember much about what happened before... before," he hesitated, "but I remember you."

Simon bit his lip, trying not to smile.

"Really?"

Keats nodded.

"Kind of."

Simon hesitated.

"What do you mean kind of?"

Keats looked away for a moment.

"It's kind of mixed up," he whispered, "I remember things. Moments..." he looked back at Simon with a fresh kind of fear in his eyes, "but they all went wrong. I fucked them up. All of them. I don't know how... I remember running away... on..." he swallowed. There were snatches of darkness covering the end of certain memories and he dreaded to think what he monster in him had done to Simon. The feeling of a hand against his cheek brought him back to reality as Simon turned his face to catch his eye.

"It's not about what's happened in the past," Simon reminded him, "it's about how you want your future to go." he took a deep breath his face flushing as he nervously continued, "and if you want me to be a part of it, then... then I'm going to be there. D-do you?" he hesitated, "want me to be part of it?" he stopped talking and closed his eyes, "not trying to rush you or force you, I just want you to -"

"No, I do," Simon had to look twice at Keats to make sure he'd heard right. Keats's expression was full of nerves. He'd never had a relationship before, not even in th days before the accident. He wasn't used to anyone showing interest in him, especially not anyone he liked himself. He wasn't sure of his sexuality or type but he knew that looking at Simon sparked something deep inside of him that he couldn't deny. "I want you in my life." he cast his eyes down, suddenly scared again. "I'm just not sure I deserve you," he whispered.

Simon shook his head slowly.

"After what you've been through to get this life," he whispered, "you deserve the world."

He wasn't sure what made him do it but he reached out and wrapped his arm around Keats, pulling his head to his chest for a moment. He needed Keats to see that the past wasn't going to affect his future, at least where Simon was concerned. That was the only way he could find to do so. But he knew others wouldn't be as forgiving or as understanding. Just because Keats had separated the man from the monster didn't mean anyone else would be able to. It terrified Simon to think how the others would treat Keats but that was a bridge they'd cross together. For now he just wanted to celebrate the fact that the man with the dark hair and deep eyes had fought away decades of evil rule between two words to start his life afresh. And if he wanted Simon to be a part of that new life then just maybe he was going to get a second chance too.