This chapter is brought to you today under the influence of strong cold medication, fevers and codeine-based pain medication. You have been waaaaaarned!

Chapter Thirty Five

Alex sipped her wine and stared at the Karaoke stage. He head was in a muddle of thoughts. She was dreading arriving home with Gene that night because she had a feeling he was going to label it as a 'funny old day' again and if that happened she just might have to strangle him. She gave him a sideways glance and tried to suppress a smile but he caught her strange expression and wanted to know what it was for.

"Come on, Bols," he said, sipping his pint, "you don't smirk at me like that for no reason. Spit it out."

"You sent six people to look for me," Alex smiled.

"At the bar?"

"No, after the explosion."

Gene cleared his throat a little gruffly and mumbled something about wanting to make sure he still had a bed for the night but his protests did little to stop Alex's smile from growing.

"You were that worried about me," she said.

"I just knew you'd be worrying about me," he bluffed into the foam of his beer, "wanted to make sure you knew I was alright."

"Six people," Alex repeated, beaming.

"Alright woman! Keep it down!" Gene glanced around, "I don't want the whole bar to know I'm going soft."

Alex decided to stop winding Gene up but didn't stop smiling. She had started to feel a little more relaxed that evening, despite the traumas of the day gone by. Her arm was feeling better in a proper sling and some of the strange faint, nauseous sensations she'd been suffering had passed. All in all, she felt more human than she had for the last few days.

Her eyes scanned the club. Sitting together at another table were Malcolm and Susannah, the latter of which receiving attention from a few random people who'd been watching the news that evening and seen her as the brave DI who'd put her first aid training to good use. Robin was flicking through the karaoke song list, his mind clearly elsewhere. Simon was at the bar, staring into an orange juice, fiddling with something in his pocket and muttering to himself.

"What's wrong with Simon?" she asked.

Gene glanced up and saw him looking fidgety and anxious.

"I hope he's not doing what I think he's doing with his hand in that pocket," he frowned.

"Gene!"

Gene sighed deeply. He knew what Simon was really worrying about. Their earlier radio conversation had given him a clue, and his rather dapper appearance that night had gone to back up his theory. He realised, in a strange way, he was feeling a little fatherly toward Simon.

"I think I'd better see if I can 'elp him with that nervous twitch," he said. He slowly rose from the chair, trying his hardest to ignore the pain in his leg and walked lopsidedly to the bar. He stopped casually beside Simon and turned around, facing away from him so Simon didn't have to meet his stare. "Evening, Shoebury."

Simon turned to him and frowned.

"Why are you standing with your back to me?" he asked, "have I offended you? It's because I haven't bought you a drink yet, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," said Gene, "although you have got a point…" he sighed. "alright, I was sitting over there, looking at you all twitchy and nervous and I thought you could do with some advice."

"What kind of advice?" Simon asked warily, taking a step backwards.

"You've got a ring in yer pocket, right?" Gene asked. He glanced at Simon who didn't reply but flushed an interesting shade of pink. "Right, first of all, calm yer bloody nerves. You're not going to get a no, are you? Barman?" he beckoned over a man with a strange little goatee, "a glass of scotch for my nervous friend here."

"You know I don't-" Simon began but Gene cut him off.

"Rule number one about proposals," he began, "get some Dutch courage into you." He handed over some money as a glass appeared on the bar. "Rule number two: pick yer moment. I suggest you wait until after Malcolm's finished his rendition of Boom Boom Boom because you don't want the rest of the club to be shouting 'wey-oh' when you ask 'im. Right?"

Simon looked at Gene as though he had come along to share with him some facts about astrophysics.

"Where's all this coming from?" he cried.

"Rule number three, don't do what Malcolm did and get a couple of pimps to serenade him when you propose. I don't care what Kite said, even the prozzies cringed so hard they got lost inside their own wrinkled foreheads!"

"I wasn't planning to!" Cried Simon.

Gene pushed the glass closer to Simon.

"You gonna drink this then?" he asked.

Simon stared at the glass, then back at Gene.

"I…" he floundered, "I'm too confused!" he wailed, "how the hell did you even know?"

Gene looked a little awkward.

"Alex told me what you were planning to do on the day you came here," he said, "then I heard you getting all excited at the hardware store, put two and two together."

Simon looked a little sheepish.

"You're being very open minded today, Hunt," he said.

"I'm just trying not to think about the arse bit," Gene mumbled, "now either get that scotch down your neck or I'm going to have to drink it for you."

Simon slowly lifted the glass like it had another of Nailer's devises strapped to it and took a cautious sniff. He pulled a face, remembering the stinging nature of the liquid he'd accepted when Gene had revealed the truth about this world to him. It wasn't a taste he wished to revisit.

"Thanks, but I can do this without drink," he said. He handed it back to Gene and cleared his throat. "Why don't you drink this," he glanced at Alex, "and then take your own advice?"

Gene pretended not to hear.

"Go on, son," he said gruffly, "go and do your bit for poofter's rights and the sanctity of marriage."

Simon set his face with steely determination.

"Right," he said. He paused, changed his mind about something, snatched back the glass and downed it after all. He pulled a face at the taste of the drink and left the glass on the bar before reaching into his pocket one more time then began to stride toward Robin with purpose.

Gene stared at the empty glass, crestfallen.

"I was looking forward to that then and all," he said.

~xXx~

"My hero," Malcolm taunted Susannah, but she was smiling.

"I don't know where it came from," she told him, "I just saw what was happening and knew I had to help."

"Maybe you're in the wrong emergency service" Malcolm suggested.

Susannah glanced at Robin, still flicking through the karaoke list and looking as though his mind was a hundred miles away.

"Did you hear what happened with him?" she asked Malcolm.

"Something about a boy?" Malcolm shrugged.

"The guv took his inner circle to a domestic disturbance," Susannah said conspiratorially, "and they apprehended some man who'd beaten his wife to death. He almost killed his son too. Robin picked the kid up and took him to hospital." Malcolm knew there must be more to the story than that and waited for her to continue. "Do you know what the boy's name was?"

Malcolm shook his head.

"No."

"Robin Thomas."

Malcolm frowned.

"That's got to be a mistake," he said, "they must have taken Robin's name when he took the kid to hospital and mixed them up.

"No, Mal, I saw it on the news. While I was waiting for my interview to come on," she said shyly. "They arrested a man called Jeffrey Thomas. Mandy Thomas was the name of the woman who died. The hospital confirmed the boy was called Robin."

"Coincidence," said Malcolm, "it's got to be. What else can it be?" But the hairs along the back of his neck began to stand on end.

"First I thought Kim was the key, but she's disappeared," said Susannah, "then I started to think maybe Simon was behind the strange things that have happened. Now I'm thinking we need to find out what he's all about," she nodded towards Robin. "Come on, Mal - who gets to join CID a day into their employment? What are the chances of going on a call to find yourself rescuing a teenager with the exact same name as yourself? "

Malcolm shook his head slowly. He knew Susannah was right but he didn't want to contemplate what it could all mean.

"What do we do?" he asked quietly.

"Keep an eye on that one," Susannah said quietly, "and Shoebury." She gave a deep sigh. She really liked Simon but knew he was tied up somehow in the strange happenings that were surrounding them and couldn't bring herself to trust him. "Tomorrow we'll find out everything we can about that family. Maybe he'd related to them somehow."

Malcolm sipped his beer and stared at nothing in particular.

"Am I the only one who's scared shitless right now?" he asked quietly.

Susannah looked down. He wasn't.

"We always did agree on everything," she whispered.

~xXx~

"Give me that," said Simon, snatching the Karaoke list from Robin.

"Hey! I was trying to choose a song!" Robin protested.

"No you weren't," Simon pointed out, "you'd been reading the same two pages for the last fifteen minutes. Unless you're really having that much trouble choosing between Cotton Eye Joe and Country House then I suggest you give me the book."

"You've already taken it," Robin pointed out.

Simon flicked through the pages then cursed.

"Damnit, they don't have it."

"What were you looking for?" asked Robin.

Simon sighed.

"Disco 2000," he said, "I know it's ten years out but it's as close as we're going to get. No one ever wrote a song about the delights of two thousand and ten."

"Not a very fashionable year," Robin gave a little smile.

"I can think of a few things it's got going for it," said Simon. He froze up for a moment, becoming acutely aware of how fast his heart was beating, He was worried that Robin would be able to hear it thumping out its tune of anxiety. "you're there for a start," he whispered.

Robin could see a strange look in Smon's eyes but didn't know what it meant. He wasn't sure if he wanted to, either. He was starting to learn that in this place it as often best not to ask.

"Thank you for everything you did today," had quietly.

"I didn't do anything," Simon shook his head.

"You sat on my father," Robin pointed out.

Simon glanced down with an embarrassed giggle.

"That's all I seem to have done since we arrived," he pointed out, "I promise this isn't how I got to be a DCI. It's not my usual way of working!"

"Seemed to do the trick today," Robin pointed out.

Simon looked at Robin.

"Nah," he began, "today has all been about you. You, facing something… something that no one should ever have to face. How you had the strength to go in and get him… you… I don't know. "

Robin felt a lump return to his throat. He'd been fighting it all afternoon.

"I had to," he said quietly."

Simon swallowed. The words were beginning to get tangled up in his throat on their way out now.

"When I came back the last time," he said quietly, "to nineteen eighty five, I was such a mess. I didn't cope at all. I made some really stupid, stupid mistakes and I didn't know how to face waking up in the morning, let alone anything else. I was so messed up when I got home… you got me through that. You helped me when Keats was on my tail. You got me over the nightmares and the flashbacks."

"Well, you're going to have to do the same to me when we get home, so we'll be even," Robin tried to joke but there was a serious look in Simon's eyes.

Trying hard to ignore Bammo belting out the Mike Flowers Pops version of Wonderwall, Simon reached out and took Robin's hand. It was only then that Robin noticed Simon was trembling.

"This was supposed to happen two days ago," he said quietly, "until I got a call on my day off, ended up in your car chasing Nailer through the back roads and wound up in nineteen ninety five with a Jarvis Cocker lookalike, a first-aid obsessive, a wannabe ladette and two DCIs who have spent the last ten years tiptoeing around their love for each other but are too damn stubborn to make it official." he paused. "I'm not going to make the same mistake."

Robin felt a shiver spread through his body. The look in Simon's eyes was intense and filled with layers of emotions that had been building up in the last few days.

"Go on," he whispered.

"I didn't know if I should do this here… now," Simon continued, "knowing what this year meant to you. And I'd already had all these plans, and a picture in my mind of how to make it perfect. But today… seeing what you did, going through the explosion… and the arrest… it's put things into perspective for me. It doesn't matter where or when or how because none of those things change the 'why'."

One last time, he reaching his pocket. His fingers closed around the box. Nothing was going to stop him now.

"Si…"

Simon pulled out the box and held it tightly. His hands wrapped around it and he could almost feel energy radiating from within. He slowly opened it and held it out to Robin. Swallowing hard, he decided that the moment was already cheesy enough to warrant it so he got down on one knee and looked up at Robin, his face frozen with his mouth a perfect 'O' shape.

"Robin," he whispered, his voice crackling through the sheer intensity of the moment, "I always knew we were meant to be together forever. Even time couldn't separate us. I want the world to know it." He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Marry me," he whispered.

Robin's eyes were as wide as Simon had ever seen them. His body shook and his pulse rocketed, the blood pumping through his veins.

"Oh my god," he wasn't even sure he'd spoken out loud. His eyes met Simon's. "Yes… yes, of course, it's a yes…"

The moment had stolen the breath from Robin, his head spinning with emotion and surprise. He felt Simon's arms around him in a hug with the force of a herd of migrating wildebeests and heard his own voice whispering Yes, yes… again and again.

As he clung to Simon and listened to the sound of his pulse thumping through his ears he was vaguely aware of a few odd looks and one or two cheers and whistles but the crowd just seemed to disappear. All that mattered right then were the two of them and the promise they were destined to make. 1995, 2010 - it didn't matter. A line from their favourite song ran through both their minds right then - As long as we're together, the rest can go to hell. It rang so true.

"..Could wake up at any time now…"

A strange sentence ran through Robin's head from somewhere or from nowhere, but he was too wrapped up in the moment to even acknowledge it. All that mattered were the arms around him and the ring he was about to introduce to his finger.

~xXx~

"Is that what I think it is?" Alex asked Gene as she glanced at Simon and Robin.

"If you mean a bloody geek convention hen yes, it probably is," said Gene.

"That looks like a proposal to me," said Alex.

Gene mumbled something about scotch and decided to change the subject.

"How's your belly ache, Bols?"

Alex sighed.

"A bit better," she said, "nothing like getting your station blown up to take your mind off your ailments."

Gene sighed sadly.

"All operations have been moved to Fenchurch West while they assess the damage," he said "prisoners have already been moved. I'm allowed in tomorrow to get as much from CID as I can and then we're barred while the inspections take place."

"I'll help you" said Alex.

"Can't, Drakey."

"Why not?

Gene lifted his glass.

"Because I've got an 'ard 'at and you 'aven't," he said.

Alex frowned.

"I can get a hard hat," she said.

"Oh yeah? Where from?"

Alex hesitated.

"The… hard hat shop?" she guessed.

Gene snickered quietly and leaned back.

"It's been a -" he began but Alex cut him off.

"Gene Hunt, if you say this has been a funny old day I am going to personally see to it that you do not live to see any further days; funny, old or otherwise!"

Gene looked a little taken aback.

I was going to say it's been a while since Bammo got on the Karaoke," he lied.

"Oh," Alex eyed him warily.

Gene sipped his beer and glanced at Alex sideways.

"You were right though."

"About what?"

"It has been a funny old day…"

~xXx~

"Why is Alex shoving that cocktail umbrella up Hunt's nose?" Simon asked.

Robin hadn't even noticed.

"Is she?" He finally tore his eyes away from the ring that Simon had placed upon his finger. "Maybe she's trying to clear his airways?"

Simon smiled with a wave of contentment rising through his body. He realised something finally. He'd been wondering why arriving in 1995 had not affected him in the same way that his time in the 80s had. He thought maybe it was because he enjoyed '95 so much the first time around, or the fact that he was going through it for the second time so it hadn't been too much of a shock but now he realised there was only one thing that really made the difference - it was having Robin by his side.

He noticed Robin was rubbing his eyes a little.

"Is the smoke in here getting to you again?"

"Just a bit," Robin admitted, "do you want to go for a walk?"

"I'm surprised Keats didn't scare you off of moonlight walks for life last night," said Simon.

Robin laughed gently.

"What can he do?" he asked, "I wasn't impressed with his video collection. Unless he'd got the X Files in his armoury then there's nothing he can interest me with."

"As long as it's not One Breath, right?" Simon joked.

Robin gave a smile.

"Do you fancy a walk then?"

Simon glanced at Gene as he proceeded to extract a small, gaudily coloured object out of his nose.

"I'll join you in two minutes," he said. They exchanged a smile as Robin got to his feet and began to walk away. "Hey! Beware of freaks bearing gifts!" he called after him.

"Will do," Robin called back.

As Simon crossed the club to where a red-nosed Gene was sitting, Susannah spotted Robin making his exit. Something had deeply unsettled her about the name coincidence and she felt increasingly certain that Robin held more of the truth than anyone. She looked at Malcolm who was distracted with the Karaoke list, trying to decide if he could hit enough of the right notes to belt out a Celine Dion track and decided not to bother him with her intentions. She knew that there was a part of Malcolm that was too scared to probe any further and she didn't want to force him to find out more than he wanted to.

"Listen, Mal, I'm going outside for a moment," she began a little guiltily, "I'm going to see if the paper stall on the corner has tonight's edition out yet."

"Looking for your photo?" teased Malcolm.

"Something like that," Susannah lied. She stood up, finished her drink and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be back before you get on stage," she promised and quickly made her way out of the club.

~xXx~

"That looks sore," Simon commented as Gene rubbed his nose.

"I'm starting to understand how Metal Mickey feels," Gene mumbled, "look at that, Bolly - everyone will think I've pierced me nose now!"

"I warned you not to call it a funny old day," Alex sad innocently.

Simon sank into a tableside Gene and leaned toward him.

"I just came to say thanks," he began.

Gene looked at him, a little confused.

"What for?"

"The pep talk," said Simon, "I needed that."

"That an' the scotch," said Gene. He paused, "I hope you're not about to ask me to be best man."

"As much as I'm sure you'd love to throw a stag night for me with no alcohol and male strippers," Simon giggled at he thought, "I'm afraid not."

"Good," said Gene, "I don't do speeches."

Alex reached out to tap Simon on the arm.

"Congratulations," she said with a smile. She meant it as genuinely as anything but there was a tinge of sadness behind it too. She knew she was wrong to hope for something that she was never going to get but it didn't hurt any the less. When she first discovered that she was still alive, that Keats had likely been halting the progress of resuscitating her, she didn't know how long she would have left with Gene. A few weeks? Months? A couple of years? The fact that they'd had a decade, more or less, meant that now she looked back and saw them as wasted years. They'd spent so much time waiting for the inevitable that they'd forgotten to appreciate every day.

"Where's yer future husband, Mister Shoebury-Thomas?" Gene asked.

That was the first time the engagement felt real to Simon. He felt his cheeks flush and he looked away with a coy smile.

"Gone to get out the smoky club for a while," he said, "I'm joining him for a walk. Anyone else coming?"

"It takes me long enough to get to the door," Gene lamented the state of his leg, "I'd better stay where I am."

"Alex?" asked Simon

Alex didn't want to play gooseberry and made some excuses about her arm and needing to stick umbrellas in places.

"Suit yourselves," said Simon, getting to his feet to find Robin.

Alex gave a sad sigh as she watched him go.

"Love is complicated enough without time getting in the way," she lamented.

Gene raised his glass.

"I'll drink to that," he said.

~xXx~

Robin hadn't been altogether surprised to see a bespectacled figure lurking outside. He'd followed him the last two nights after all - why should tonight be any different?

"What a surprise," he rolled his eyes, "I should have known you'd be waiting."

"And yet you still left the safety of that stinky club," said Keats, "I'm flattered." he paused. "Did you enjoy the video?"

Robin took a deep breath.

"There's a video at home of me somewhere from the school nativity in nineteen eighty seven," he began, "Halfway through, I hit one of the shepherds over the head and try to pull Mary's knickers down." He relished the blank look on Keats's face. "It's not a tape I'd like to enter the public domain. It's not who I am now. It's in the past. I can't to back and make it any different but it's not something I would do again in the future." He stepped closer. "That's the problem with video. It freezes you in a moment any anyone who sees it can only make their judgement on you from that one, captured glimpse." He paused. "Luckily I've had the chance to get to know DCI Hunt better. He's got to spend a lifetime living down his actions on that tape, but I know that's not who he is now."

Keats stared at Robin. He removed his glasses and cleaned them off a little, then put them back on.

"Are you really stupid enough to think that man's changed?" he asked, "he just hides it better these days."

"Where as you're just as much a bastard on the outside as you always were," Robin could feel himself beginning to shake with anger, "what you did to me and Simon back home… If you think a tape can take that away then you're as stupid as you are evil."

"Yes, well," Keats scratched his forehead, "I wasn't quite feeling myself back then."

"No, you were 'feeling' Simon!" Robin spat.

Keats gave a lopsided smirk.

"Your loyalty to that man is touching," he said, "misplaced, but touching."

"Give up, Keats," Robin hissed, "You're not going to break us up and you're not going to get me to help you bring down CID, no matter what you promise or how many tapes you show me."

Finally Keats gave a smile.

"Actually, I'm afraid you've already don't that," he said, "sorry about that."

Robin frowned, a scowl across his face.

"What?"

"You've already helped me," said Keats, "thank you for that."

"What are you talking about?" Robin demanded.

"It was beautiful, wasn't it?" Keats beamed, before jumping at Robin and yelling, "Bang!"

Robin took a step backward, disturbed by his actions.

"What was?"

"Tearing through the corridors," Keats marvelled, "Flames and smoke everywhere. All those people caught in the blast… some of them haven't even been found yet." He turned to walk away, glancing over his shoulder to say, "but I found them."

Robin swallowed.

"What are you talking about?" he whispered.

"Didn't make up for letting Simon get away, of course," he continued, "but I won't make that mistake again."

"Tell me what the hell you're going on about," Robin demanded.

"I was there at just the right time," Keats sneered, "to help them move on. All thanks to our friend Nailer and his lovely bomb-making abilities."

Slowly a dreadful realisation came over Robin as the truth dawned upon him. It filled every bone in his body with lead, his whole form becoming heavy and his stomach awash with nausea.

"The photos," he whispered, "the tape was never your bargaining chip at all, was it? That was just a bonus, to have your fun after I'd already given you what you wanted," he swallowed, his body shaking from head to toe. "You wanted us to catch Nailer because you knew about the booby trapped computer."

"You're not the only one who watched news reports in nineteen ninety five, Robin," Keats said amiably, "I remembered them too. Bomb in a computer in the middle of nowhere… bit different when that computer's been seized as evidence and a couple of techies are trying to obtain every scrap of evidence they can.

Robin felt his heart stop for a moment as his mind raced. He'd been used as a pawn, a bloody pawn in a dangerous game.

"You tried to destroy CID by breaking up the team and failed," Robin whispered, "so you went for it in a more literal sense this time."

"I couldn't believe my luck when I saw you and Shoebury waltzing through the corridors" said Keats, "My friend Kimberley wasn't exactly coming through for me. I'm very disappointed in her. I really thought she could see who was on her side, but just like all those before her she ended up flocking back to The Guv." He paused and thrust his hands in his coat pockets. "But you… fresh into ninety-five, desperate to get home and on the trail of Nick Nailer." He smiled. "It was almost too good to be true."

"What's the deal with Nailer anyway?" Robin demanded, "why are you so interested in him?"

Keats ignored the question.

"Remembered where the explosion was, paid the yard a visit and found him there," Keats continued, "just like I knew he'd be. Took a few snaps and left you a little present."

"And we arrested him just in time for the bomb to wind up at the station," Robin whispered.

Keats smiled as spotted an angry-looking Simon leaving the club and heading in their direction.

"Timing is everything," he said, raising his voice a little and looking past Robin to ask Simon, "what is the time, by the way?"

"Time you fucked off !" cried Simon. Anger flashed in his eyes and pure hatred ran through his veins.

"That's no way to speak to someone you've shared a bed with," Keats gloated.

"You what-?" Simon pulled back his sleeves and strode forward, preparing to take a swing at him but Robin held him back.

"Si, no, this isn't the time," he cried.

"I can still see your hairy backside when I close my eyes…" Keats taunted.

"Right! Now's the time," cried Robin, lobbing a punch at Keats's smug face and sending him backwards.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you come outside on your own!" Simon admonished himself.

"He set us up, Simon," Robin cried angrily, "he knew that bomb was in the computer, that's why he left the photographs of Nailer!"

Keats stumbled a little to get back on his feet, a red mark forming on the side of his face. He watched Robin shaking his sore knuckles and sent daggers their way with his glare.

"Got what I wanted," he sneered, "hope you'll both be very happy together."

"I'm sure we will," scowled Simon. He put his arm around Robin and tried to haul him back toward the club.

"He set the whole fucking thing up!" Robin cried.

"Come on," Simon pulled him a little harder, "we'll talk to Hunt. Leave this slug to crawl around on the pavement. He's not worth any more of our time or energy."

"Ha!" Keats gave a laugh, "Time and energy! Two things you don't have!"

"Ignore him," Simon pulled Robin firmly back into the club, leaving Keats to rant and raven nonsensically to himself.

From around the corner, Susannah's head slowly emerged. She had tried to listen to the kafuffle from a distance but had only caught half the story. She was nervous, terrified even, of the bespectacled man before her but her dream played through her mind again and again. She recalled Keats begging her, imploring her to find him; promising that through him she would learn the truth.

Before she knew what was happening she found her feet taking charge of the situation, walking her along the pavement toward him, edging closer to a man she felt sure had once tried to take her life from her. Why was she doing this? She couldn't explain it. She just knew she had to.

Between the pain in his cheekbone and his over-excitable state, it took Keats a few moments to notice Susannah heading closer. It t him even longer to recognise her.

"Well well, DC Kite as I live and breathe." he smirked. Living and breathing were two things he'd tried to steal from her.

"It's DI Kite now," Susannah told him quietly.

"Haven't you progressed up the ladder?" Keats raised an eyebrow, "who you been screwing to get that position?"

Susannah licked her dry lips. Her fear was threatening to get the better of her, but she didn't dare let it.

"I'd forgotten how charming you were," she said sarcastically.

"If you've finished insulting me," Keats began and turned to walk away but Susannah called him back.

"Wait!" she cried. She watched him turn slowly back to face her, then gathered her courage in both hands. "I heard Kim talking to you on the phone. I need to know what she knows."

Keats hesitated. A glimmer of hope and promise appeared in his eye as he contemplated the anxious, strained look upon her face. He remembered seeing that expression on the faces of Ray, Chris and Shaz so many years ago.

"'What she knows'?" he repeated, "what kind of thing do you think she knows?"

"I think she knows something about DCI Hunt," said Susannah, "about why people keep disappearing around here. About why we see starlight and wild dogs and other things that aren't really there." She bit her lip. "I think she knows the truth. About all of us."

"So why not ask her?" Keats sighed wearily, starting to walk away.

"Because she's disappeared!" cried Susannah. She jogged a couple of paces to catch him up. "Please?"

Keats stared at her for a moment.

"And if I knew the answers you were trying to find," he began, "why should I tell you anyway?"

"Because I've been dreaming about you!" Susannah blurted. She saw Keats raise an eyebrow with interest. "No, not like that…" she shook her head. "I know there's something big. Something's not right. But I don't know what it is. I remember, you know… I remember you died. I know you died, and tried to take me in the process. Simon died too, but yet you're both here. How? Why?"

Keats stared at Susannah. The desperation in her gaze was beautiful. Exquisite. He could almost taste her anguish. He closed his eyes for a moment as though listening to a beautiful sonata somewhere inside his mind, then gave her a sly smile.

"If you really want to know," he began, "and I mean really want to know, then come with me right now and I'll show you the truth. I'll give you the answers you're looking for. But I'll warn you, the moment you know," he flicked up his collar, "it changes everything." He turned his back to her. "Forever." He took a pace. Two. Three. He glanced behind him to see Susannah still standing in the same spot. "Well?"

Susannah stared at him. She wished there was someone there to hold her hand, to make the decision for her. To trust the man she'd felt try to take her life or to give up her one chance of ever learning the truth? The decision weighed heavily around her shoulders and stole the breath from her lungs.

Finally, a twinkle of starlight made the decision for her.

"I want to know," she whispered, then before she could change her mind she set off after Keats down the dark, cold street to find answers to the questions she wasn't even sure how to ask.