Chapter 20

There were dreams, visions, hallucinations.

They didn't make a great deal of sense.

Lots of darkness… never-ending darkness. A few bursts of distant music and the occasional voice. Somewhere, in a dim corner, a broken Speak & Spell sat smoking and smouldering on the floor.

"Spell 'It's Over'," it coughed and spluttered.

That was when he realised he was back in the dark landscape of his nightmares, the ones that had plagued him since his return from 1985. Where was he now? Dreaming? Was he alive or not? Can you even dream when you're dead?

A whisper blew across the air, circling him but never quite coming close enough for him to hear the words.

A tiny shiver down his spine brought Simon to the realisation that the dream was slipping away. He was leaving the dreamscape, but to where? Life? Death? Heaven or hell? He had no idea where he was heading or even if there was a place beyond this barren land of broken Speak & Spells.

Just as he felt the dream fading and his mind pulled out of the blackness he finally caught the whisper, just close enough to hear. A familiar female voice came clearly through his mind.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

A warm sensation surrounded Simon. Alex's pleas through his nightmares had not gone unheard. He'd found her - and saved her. Now she was safe and her cries would haunt him no longer.

The darkness faded to light and brightness surrounded him, penetrating through his eyelids no matter how hard he tried to fight it. He felt his head move a little from side to side while he subconsciously tried to dispel the light as it pushed the darkness away.

"Simon?"

A voice of a woman came from somewhere around him. He knew it, but couldn't quite place it. There was a pain radiating from somewhere on his body; it felt like his stomach but seemed to be spreading far and wide. He flinched and tried to open his eyes but the light and the pain made it difficult to complete this seemingly easy task.

"Simon? Si?" the voice came again.

This time, Simon tried with all his might to open those impossibly heavy eyelids, and finally succeeded. At first, everything was a blur. Then slowly things began to take shape around him. On a TV in the corner of the room he could see images moving and after many tries to focus the sight of David Bowie singing Absolute Beginners reached him.

In a moment of cold dread he tried to sit up and found himself unable to move even an inch. His heart gave a severe thump inside his chest and a string of weakly spoken expletives came forth from his mouth.

"Fuck! I'm in fucking eighty five again! Oh fucking hell!"

"Simon! Simon, calm down!" the voice urged. Two hands gently rested on his arm to sooth him, "Nurse! Quickly, he's waking up, I think he's in pain…"

Simon tried to blink the person into focus. For a moment he still couldn't see who was beside him and found possibilities going through his mind. Alex? Susannah?

"Simon? It's OK, I'm here," the voice came again.

This time as he blinked the figure came into clearer focus to reveal his sister Elaine with a pained and worried expression.

"E-Elaine?" his voice cracked just a little.

"Shhhh, don't try to speak," his sister reached out and gently stroked his hair, "you've been through a lot of surgery. You're very weak, you need to rest."

Simon's eyes settled back on the TV where the end titles to TOTP2 were beginning. Feeling like an idiot, he rolled his eyes and cursed himself silently.

"Stupid Bowie," he mumbled, angry with himself for not noticing the flat-screen TV that would have been a couple of decades before its time. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of relief. He barely registered the commotion as doctors and nurses arrived and began flitting around him, checking vital signs and shining bright lights in his eyes.

He heard a few snippets of conversations that the doctors tried to have with him but he was too tired and relieved to care. They could tell him later, he decided. For now, all that mattered was getting some sleep. He assumed he was going to need all the rest and energy he could for when the questions came. The day's events were not going to be easy to explain - or to remember.

The next time he opened his eyes he found a bowed head on his bed and his hand being held by someone. He took a deep inward breath as he took stock of where he was. His noisy breath awoke the bowed head from its deep thought, rising up and meting Simon's gaze.

"Si?" The familiar voice of Robin was music to his ears and a tiny smile spread across his lips.

"Robin," he whispered.

"Oh, Si," Robin's eyes were red from tears and lack of sleep, "I thought I'd lost you for certain this time."

Simon's tongue ran across his dry lips as he felt Robin squeeze his hand..

"How long…" he couldn't quite gather his thoughts, "how long have I been here? How long since it happened?"

"It's been three days," Robin whispered tearfully, "you woke up for a few minutes yesterday and then you went back to sleep."

Simon flinched as the pain made itself known to him.

"Am… am I OK?" he asked, "how much damage was there?"

"The surgeons got the bullet out OK but there were complications," Robin sat forward and squeezed Simon's hand tightly, "there was a lot of internal bleeding and it took hours to repair the damage. They didn't think you were going to make it." He paused. "There was another casualty too."

Simon closed his eyes.

"Keats," he whispered.

Robin hesitated, looking a little sheepish.

"I actually forgot about him," he confessed.

"Who did you mean then?"

"Your iPhone," Robin nervously pulled some broken pieces of Simon's once-treasured item out of his pocket and laid them on the bed. "I think you must have fallen on it." he gave Simon a sympathetic laugh. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Simon gave a tiny smile, "it's only a phone."

Robin looked at him in shock.

"I think the morphine must be kicking in or something," he said.

Simon closed his eyes for a moment.

"iPhones don't seem that important any more," he said quietly, "neither do very many things.

Robin nodded slowly.

"Totally agree," he said.

Simon looked at him seriously.

"I suppose I'm going to be answering a lot of questions, am I?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll probably be charged with the murder of that bastard," Simon said nervously, "won't I?"

Robin gave a tiny smile.

"I seriously doubt it," he said, "CCTV camera in the corner of the room. It caught everything. You're a hero, Si."

"I'm a what?"

"For what you did to save that poor woman," Robin continued. He indicated the TV. "Look."

As Robin increased the volume, Simon noticed for the first time the footage being shown on the news.

"…late on Wednesday afternoon. It's thought DCI Keats burst into a hospital room belonging to a long-term comatose patient, armed with a firearm. He shot her visitor before attempting to smother the patient with a pillow, but the victim - DCI Shoebury - fought their attacker despite his own injuries. It has since emerged that Keats, who died during the scuffle, was suffering from mental and emotional difficulties following a four year coma. Police are still gathering evidence from his one-bed roomed flat, including photographs, diaries and the date rape drug known as Rohypnol…"

Simon felt a lump rising in his throat and looked at Robin.

"The tests," he began weakly, "what did they find in the coffee?"

Robin looked at him sadly.

"I think you just found your answer on the news," he whispered.

Simon closed his eyes again and felt a tear slipping down his cheek.

"Bastard," he whispered.

Robin bit his lip.

"Si?" he whispered, "I… I am so sorry." He looked down at where Simon's pale, trembling hand lay within his own. "I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for thinking you could ever cheat on me. And knowing now what we do about Keats…" he threw his head into his hands. "They found pictures, Simon. Hundreds of photos of you, just walking down the road, or sitting on a bench or doing the shopping. They even found some taken through the windows. He's been stalking you for weeks. Stalking both of us. He was completely crazy."

"Tell me something I don't know," Simon sighed sadly.

Robin looked at him, his eyes filling up and glassy.

"Do you think," he whispered, "that we are ever going to be able to get back to how we were before?"

Simon hesitated. He stared at Robin. He'd never seen his boyfriend looking so lost and down, shattered into pieces by the truth of one man gone mad and assumptions he had made based on trickery.

"I will never be able to forget waking up that morning," he whispered, "knowing that something had happened and having no idea what, reading the message that you left for me, hearing your message that your colleagues so kindly passed on to me… I want to forget it Rob. I just don't know how."

"Just like I'll never forget the image of you cuddled in the arms of another man," Robin whispered.

"I had no choice!"

"And I had no choice but to take the scene at face value!"

Simon sniffed, a second tear threatening to fall.

"I know," he whispered, "and I'm sorry. I know that you saw something there was no coming back from. I know that you will never be able to forget it, any more than I'll be able to forget the sound of him whispering in my ear or the fear that he might have…" he choked as he couldn't quite bring himself to fill in the word that still terrified him. He took a deep breath to calm his emotions. "You asked… if we could ever go back to how we were before."

Robin nodded.

"Yes?"

Simon hesitated, then very slowly he shook his head.

"No," he said quietly, "I don't think we can."

Robin's heart leapt into his mouth. All his worst fears seemed to be realised at once.

"We can't?"

Simon shook his head again.

"We're going to be stronger," he whispered, "unbreakable. Untouchable. Hell, Rob, you come through this, you can come through anything. And mean it." He gave a slight cough which hurt his wound and caused him to grimace for a moment before continuing, reflecting lyrics that . "I absolutely love you."

Fir the first time, Robin smiled as he caught Simon's eye. It wasn't a weak smile that tried to reassure him; it was a strong, relieved, reinvigorated smile.

"We're going to be OK," he agreed. He gazed into Simon's eyes for the longest time. Lapping up every second of it. He had thought for some time he would never see those eyes open again. Now they were open, alive and glistening there was no way he wanted to turn his gaze elsewhere. Finally he spoke again. "They say you'll need a week or so to recover. You were still not totally back to normal from your server incident."

Simon rubbed the sore spot on his head where Keats' foot had struck him.

"Don't remind me," he said quietly.

"But once you're home," Robin continued, "there's so much we can do. We'll make up for everything that's happened. Make a fresh start. I think we should finally take that holiday we promised ourselves. What do you think? And there's plenty taped on out Sky Plus box to snuggle up and watch while you're recuperating…"

Simon slowly let out his breath as Robin almost replayed conversations they'd had after he had woken up from his coma. He nodded and smiled, and let Robin make the plans. It didn't really matter to Simon what they did, or when, or where, or with whom. All that mattered was that he had another chance - another chance at life, another chance with Robin and another chance to live without the shadow of Keats darkening every moment.

He smiled and listened to Robin for several minutes, happy to just go along with anything his boyfriend planned out, until finally Robin asked of him a very important question.

"So," he began sincerely, "what do you want me to do with your iPhone then?" he gathered up the pieces and slipped them into his pocket. "Shall I see if I can get someone to repair it? Maybe you can claim it on the insurance and get a brand new one!"

Simon sighed and shook his head slowly.

"Actually, he began, "I think I've lost a bit of my enthusiasm for Apple."

Robin frowned.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Simon nodded slowly, "I think I might try some other brand next time…" he paused and smiled. "I hear good things about those Android phones, you know…"