AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I'm adding these notes to the beginning of the chapter instead of the end as I normally do, because I wanted to add a warning regarding possible suicide reference triggers. I'm sure if you're a fan of In The Flesh, you will already be aware that suicide features in the canon, but I wanted to highlight that it will be mentioned in detail in this chapter.

Only other thing of note is that I found an error in the series. Amy Dyer has two address according to the paperwork on her, shown on screen - so I decided to go for the address she apparently wrote in her own hand. Perhaps she was trying to fiddle her medication with the other address?

Thank you to all who have stuck with me and sent feedback. I have taken note of what readers wished to see with regards to character development and relationships and have attempted to include them all. So please do keep them coming and I'll do my best with that in the future.


Kieren was here, just then. Holding her hand. He was upset. Philip was with him. Where have they gone now?

Simon's voice was saying something, or was that Philip again? Where are they? Where has everyone gone?

Something is not right.

Amy can feel there is something wrong. She feels strange. If only she could just think straight, but her brain feels fuzzy, like it is drowning in custard.

Or syrup. Maybe even honey? The runny sticky stuff her nan used to put on her toast for her. She loved it. That sickly sweet golden nectar that stuck to the corners of her lips and had her licking her fingers as it dripped down her hands.

But that is not right. She is all confused. Why can she not just think straight?

Her eyelids feel heavy and she keeps them tightly shut, afraid of opening them.

Fear? Yes, she feels fear. Fear of the unknown; fear of what is out there; fear that is all around her.

She is on her side. Was she not on her back only a moment ago?

"Amy?" A voice echoes in her subconscious, "Amy Dyer?"

Who is that?

She does not recognise the voice. Is it Dr Russo? He always gave her the creeps.

No, it is not Tom. This person has a softer voice. Has she heard it before? Maybe. But when?

"Amy, wake up now. It's time for you to wake up," the voice encourages.

She does not want to.

She can feel her consciousness pulling at the corners of her mind, but she tries to supress it. She feels cold. No, she feels sick.

She groans quietly.

"She might not ever wake, John," another voice says. This one has a different accent. Sounds faintly like Liverpool.

"Now we've brought her out of the induced coma, she will, Victor. Her vital signs are good. Brain functions are normal and when she wakes up her cognitive responses should not be impaired."

"Even so…"

"No, all her organs are functioning exactly how they should be. She's breathing on her own now. Everything is working correctly; digestive system's not been compromised, hormone levels are regular, and have you considered? She might even be able to have children? When she wakes up this is something we'll be able to monitor. We will run tests. The data we can collect from this patient in unfathomable. Everything, everything points towards a full recovery. It's what we planned for."

The voices are pulling her closer to the surface. She tries to hold on, tries to stay buried, but the harder she tries and faster the world rushes up to meet her.

Now her eyes are beginning to open of their own volition. She squeezes them shut, but still her eyelids part incrementally.

A bright light assaults her vision. It is so white and it burns her retinas. She feels a stab of pain in her head and groans again.

The first voice is still insistent.

"That's it, you're almost there."

Her eyes are open now and she looks around with blurry vision and begins to scream.


Kieren is asleep in their bedroom. He went straight to bed, exhausted as usual, after coming home from work at The Legion and so Simon is alone in the living room when he hears Amy's cry.

He looks up abruptly. Snapping his head in the direction of her room where the sound came from.

It is doubtful Amy will have woken Kieren. These days when he finally manages sleep, Simon has noticed lying beside him that he sleeps like the dead, but he is still up on his feet and knocking on her door almost immediately regardless.

Despite wanting nothing more than to be close to him, to curl himself around Kieren and hold him protectively to him, Simon has stayed away. Questions of how welcome he really is laying next to him each night - of how far Kieren's feelings differ from his own - plague his mind.

Simon tries to brush those thoughts aside.

It was the past and everyone is allowed his or her memories. It is the here and now that matters, and he will always be here for Kieren, no matter what.

But love is never logical and he simply cannot bring himself to join Kieren and sleep in their shared bed. Instead he stays up reading on the sofa. His seat is uncomfortable underneath him, with lumpy stuffing cushions and worn springs, but his discomfort helps to further distract him as he attempts to occupy both his time and mind to wile the night away.

He has chosen an old battered copy of 'The Alchemist', one of the few personal items he brought with him from the commune. The magical fable he has long cherished, about learning to listen to your heart, reading the omens strewn along life's path, and above all, to follow your dreams, does little to comfort him tonight.

Simon lowers his head to Amy's door, listening for a response as he taps gently. All he can make out are her muffled sobs, but little else. Instinctively, he presses down on the door handle and enters her room, closing it quietly behind him.

The room is dark, but he knows its layout well. Unseeing, he moves around the bed and turns on the bedside lamp. He can see plainly that she is still unconscious, in the dark depths of her sleep ridden mind, and sitting on the side of her bed he holds her face still from tossing violently from side to side as her body convulses and arms flail, while her dream continues to assault her. Gradually she comes to and her eyelids snap open in an instant.

"Amy? Amy! It's okay. You're here now. You're fine."

Her startled eyes are wide and she bolts upright, reaching for him to bury her face in his shoulder as he holds her tightly.

Reassuring strokes of her loose hair, wild and beautiful and cascading down her back like a chocolate waterfall, sooth her a little while he whispers words of comfort.

"You're okay, it was just a dream, Amy. I've got ye now."

Her breathing slows as she relaxes against him.

"You're safe, I'm here. You're home now."

After a moment Amy pulls away from him, leaning back against the headboard. She wipes the tears from her eyes with the heel of her hands.

"Just a stupid dream, I'm fine. Sorry I woke yer," she apologises, putting on a brave smile for his benefit.

"S'okay, I was up anyways," he says, giving her one of his oh-so-familiar lopsided smiles, and she is reminded of how things were between them when they were still living at the commune and when they first arrived at Roarton together. A time when apart from Kieren, he was all she had in the whole world.

She squeezes her eyes shut and rubs her forehead as if trying to rub away the ruminants of the dream from her mind.

"Must be a side effect from this new medication I'm on."

Simon takes her face in his hands, smoothing away the odd rogue strand of hair from her temples and inspects her closely. He knows her too well and can tell when she is hiding something.

"Was it about Norfolk, Amy?" he asks gently.

His own experiences had left him with nightly terrors after leaving the treatment centre, replaying the experiments carried out on him every time he closed his eyes. He was the first to respond to the Halperin & Weston drugs and Amy could well have been the first to evolve from Partially Deceased to Re-alive, so John Weston and Victor Halperin were more than likely to have made the same offer to her as they did to him. He could not bear the thought of Amy going through the ordeals he was subjected to.

"What did they do to ye?" Simon presses, moving his hand to cup underneath her jaw, pulling it up to make her look at him so he can read her more clearly.

"Nothing! Look Mr Disciple, I'm fine. Really," she protests, batting his hand away. "Honestly, you've always been such a fusspot!"

He frowns at her, unconvinced, but painfully aware how stubborn Amy can be when she puts her mind to it. Very much like Kieren, in actual fact. There must have been something in the water of Roarton Valley when they were growing up.

Shaking her head slightly to fully dislodge his grasp, Simon concedes defeat. For now, at least.

"Anyways, that's Ex-Mr Disciple now," he corrects, keeping his voice low and handing her an opportunity to change the subject if she so wishes, which he expects she does. "A few things have changed since you've been away."

She stares at him and he thinks she is going to ask him to explain, but instead she says, "Yer got that tobacco on yer?"

Well that was completely left field. "Sure, why?"

Amy gets up and reaches for her silk kimono dressing gown, shrugging it on and tying the belt around her waist as Simon watches in silence. She smiles mischievously at him, as if she has a master plan, although for what he cannot fathom.

"Will yer roll me one?"

He opens his mouth to reply, but she beats him to it.

"Come on, it's a clear night tonight, I want to see those stars yer were always telling me about."

She is out of the room and heading for the front the door before he is able to respond and Simon is left sitting on her bed, gaping after her - the whirlwind otherwise known as Amy Dyer.

It is cold outside and now Amy can feel differences in temperature, she shivers and pulls the thin silk more tightly around her body.

"Ye want me to get ye a coat?" Simon asks as he rolls her a cigarette and licks down the length of the Rizla paper to seal it. He hands it to her before starting on his own.

She shakes her head. There is something comforting about just being able to feel the cold again after so long of feeling nothing.

"Okay," he agrees and she knows he understands why.

Amy takes the roll up from him and plays with it in her fingers until he holds up the lighter for her, lighting it and the small flame reflects a bright glow on to her cheeks.

"I never really smoked before, but to hell with it, why not?" she explains, putting it to her lips. "Ta. Last count, it was two to me, null points to the Grim Reaper."

She inhales deeply and then quickly coughs out the smoke, coughing hard and gasping for breath.

"Might need a bit of practice though," she splutters.

Simon says nothing, just lights his own and sucks on the end to take a deep bloom of thick smoke down into his lungs. He looks up to the sky, tracing the line of stars that make up Orion's Belt. She follows his gaze and he points out a few of the constellations to her. If he were not in love with her best friend, she would think it was totally romantic.

Amy takes another drag, this time managing to hold it in for a moment longer, before choking again.

Simon watches her bemused.

"Jesus, Amy. What are ye trying to do, give him a chance to even up the score with ye?"

"Nah, it's just, well," she shrugs.

She has not ever admitted this out loud to anyone before, but there is something about sitting with Simon in the quiet street, outside and alone with him in the dark, that gives her the courage to continue.

"Yer see, when I was alive, the first time I mean, I never really had a chance to live. Like, really live. I was always in and out of hospital for as long as I could remember and didn't have a chance to do anything, really."

She thinks back to those lonely days and her heart contacts at the memory.

"It was always difficult making friends, no one wants to be mates with the Chemo girl when you're a kid and I just kinda missed out on all the stuff yer get up to when you're growing up."

Amy sits down on the step where they sat earlier that morning and Simon follows suit.

"Life can be a bitch that way, that's for sure," he agrees. Simon's own experiences while alive had more than taught him that.

"Yeah, but this time around, I'm not going to miss out on anything. I'm going to do everything! I'm going to try as much as I can, experience it all. This time, it's going to be different. Life is for living and I'm going to make sure I damn well live it."

She taps the ash from the end of the roll up and puts it to her lips for a third time. The result is more coughing and she looks down at it as if it has insulted her personally.

"Well, tried that then," she says, stubbing it out on the concrete beneath her feet. "That's one thing ticked off the list. Don't think it's really for me though. Being high on life is probably going to be my poison."

"Is that so?" Simon asks, trying his best to look like he believes her.

She grins back at him. "Or maybe just vodka?"

Simon cannot help but smile at his friend. He really has missed her.

"Trust me, lot worse things out there than vodka."

"Whiskey?"

"Only if it's American or Scotch. Irish whiskey; now that I do miss."

They continue to talk for a long while. They talk the way they used to at the commune, in the days before Roarton - and before Kieren. She teases him and he tells her about all sorts of things she does not know. His depth of knowledge is profound and she enjoys just listening to him talk, the deep rich tones of his accent wrapping around every syllable as he speaks. She has always learnt so much from him. Literature, history, philosophy, religion and tonight astronomy; Amy is always riveted and astonished. She never remembers teachers at her old girl's grammar school ever making things as interesting as Simon can make the most mundane of subjects.

"Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning. That was always more my sorta thing. I always wanted to be Wendy. Meet Peter Pan and The Lost Boys. To never grow up and never grow old. Guess that was one dream that came true at least," she sighs.

"The perfect example of life imitating art, I guess. Every culture, every region has its legends, its fables. Many of them about the night sky, the moon and the stars."

"Tell me one, then?"

"I'm not one for fairy tales, Amy."

"Oh go on, just one. Bet yer have loads stashed away in that ol' noggin of yours?"

"Okay, I'll tell ye one. Ye ever seen the Northern Lights?"

Amy shakes her head. "Nope. Never really visited anywhere. Well, apart from the Lake District."

Simon takes another drag of his roll up. He blows out the white smoke in one single straight line before finally extinguishing it and Amy huddles closer to him as he begins the story.

"Okay, so to the King of the skies was born a daughter. So beautiful she was, she even made the Moon envious."

"Yer mean all white with cratered, mottled skin?" Amy giggles as Simon raises a single eyebrow at her in response. "Sorry, carry on. I won't interrupt again."

He looks doubtfully at her, but continues on.

"The King raised her the best he knew how, with all the love and kindness that he could, so she would become a proper princess and be the person everyone expected her to be. He made many plans for the future he imagined her to have, but despite all his best efforts, the princess fell in love with wild dancing. She would put on an emerald dress with flowing ribbons of light and go off and dance her way into the night."

"Yer know, I think I have a dress just like that."

"Yes, I imagine ye probably do. Now stop interrupting, or don't ye want to hear the rest of it?"

Amy looks solemnly at him and mouths, "sorry", before Simon carries on for a third time.

"Watching her beauty, many a Star fell for her and as the princess and her admirers grew, so did the King's anguish as he could not bear to watch a royal princess be seen dancing in public. So upset he became with her defiance of all that he valued, the King put forth a hard choice for the princess. She could either give up dancing to be like every other royal there had ever been and settle down by marrying the suitor he had in mind for her, or be banished for life to the edge of the Earth."

"What a misery guts!" Amy huffed, totally engrossed in the story and more than a little outraged. "Hope she told him where to go?"

"Yeah, she did, and to this day ye can see her dancing in the skies of the northern hemisphere and watch the Stars falling, all for her. Not many people have experienced her beauty, but it is said, those who have are changed forever."

"And those are the Northern Lights?" she sighs in wonder. "Have yer ever seen them?"

The corners of Simon's lips curl fractionally at the question and he nods. "Yeah, I think I might. And I can tell ye it does; it changes ye forever."

"So come on, what's the moral of the story then? Yer know every fable has a moral behind it."

"The point is every choice has its trade-off, but it's easy to choose if your priorities are clear."

Amy shakes her head in awe. "I like that."

"Yeah, me too."

Simon's priorities had never been clearer to him than they were now, but the fable was right, every choice had a trade-off.

"Simon," Amy whispers, not wishing to break the spell the story had cast upon them both. "Who are yer talking about, really?"

"It's just a story, Amy."

They sit in silence for a while. Perhaps thinking about those Northern Lights, or maybe just thinking about those falling Stars, until Amy breaks the silence once again. It was not in her nature to remain quiet for long.

"I was amazed by yer when we first met, yer know? Handsome and a genius, what more could a girl ask for? Bet yer didn't know all the girls in the commune fancied yer? They were dead jealous of me when we got sent to Roarton together and not just because I was picked for the mission."

As if he did not know? Still, Simon feigns ignorance.

"Is that so?"

"Have to say, I did wonder if yer were my Mr Right back then. Not sure I'd of introduced yer to Kieren had I known he was going to steal yer off me."

Simon puts his arms around her. He can feel her shiver from the night air and knows his own body temperature will do little to warm her.

Amy sighs dramatically. "And now, here yer are, the beau of my BDFF. I guess that makes yer my BDFF-in-law now?"

"The undead aren't allowed to get married, Amy," Simon points out, but she does not want to talk about PDS rights right now. She is trying to lead up to something else.

And it is difficult, because at one point she did think she was falling for Simon, just like those Stars he described. Just like he did for Kieren. Ridiculous as she feels now - knowing what she does - but back then, other than Kieren, he was the only person who ever took the time to get to know her and she loved him from the off for of it.

Blurting it out in a rush was not was she was planning on doing, but plasters are better ripped off quickly.

"Do yer love him?" It got to the heart of the matter of what was on her mind, so she guessed it was as good a way as any to bring it up.

He nods without a moment's hesitation. "Yes, I do."

Three little words. Yes. I. Do.

They did not seem to accurately convey just how much he loved the bones of Kieren Walker, but they would have to do - for this conversation at least.

Amy cannot help but smile at his response. Her reaction surprised her, but two of the people she loved the most, loving each other? That is what she always wanted, right? Okay, so she always figured it would be a different kind of love - and that she would be there somewhere in the mix - but she had Philip now and Simon and Kieren had each other. So really, it was more than she could have ever dared to hope for.

"And does he love you?"

Simon's answer is a long time coming and his voice is quiet when he finally speaks.

"Kieren, he's…" What could he say? He opts for the simplest answer; the most honest answer he can give, "I hope so."

The nature of Simon's reply does not go unnoticed and Amy wants to say something more, but there is something in his expression that stops her.

"Well, I'm happy for yer both," she says, switching back to the cheery and carefree Amy, while snuggling a little closer to him. "Truly, I am. Yes, at one point or another I might have lined you both up as the future Mr Dyer, but I'm glad the two of yer found each other."

He smiles and lays the briefest of kisses on her forehead, but says nothing more.

"You're good for him and he's good for you," she goes on. Then, as if suddenly having an epiphany, "Hey, maybe I could be the next Cilla Black? Yer know, like the undead's answer to Blind Date?"

"Great idea. Only there's a small flaw in your plan there, Amy. You're not undead anymore."

"So? Can yer imagine? What's your name and what cemetery d'ya come from?" she croons, putting on her best Scouse Cilla accent, "But, look what Redeemed yer turned down? Here's our Graham, with a quick reminder."

They both laugh, the time for serious discussion past, and it feels good to just forget about everything for a while.

"Think I could be onto something there, don't you?"

Simon stands up, offering her his hand and pulling her up too to escort her inside and into the warm.

"Honestly? I think that's one thing that should remain dead and buried."

"Yer no fun, you. Ex-Mr Disciple," she complains as she lets him lead her into the bungalow by the hand. "Nope, just doesn't feel right."

Simon quietly closes the door behind them.

"What doesn't?"

"Can't call yer, Ex-Mr Disciple. Not really the same ring to it, so what am I gonna call you now then? Yer know, I think that's going to take some serious thought!"


Simon is inspecting Amy's new medication suspiciously in the kitchen, holding the golden liquid to the light, while she makes her morning coffee.

Apart from the colour, everything about it is identical to Neurotriptyline; the Halperin & Weston glass bottle it comes in; the injector it is administered from; even the area of the spine it is injected into.

"What does this," he squints at the name printed on the side, "Replamotrexate, do exactly?"

"Oh, I can't remember the ins and outs of it. Never were good a science at school, me, but Doctor Khan said the basic gist of is, it stops me from reverting back to a partially deceased state."

"The Re-Alive equivalent of Neurotriptyline. They certainly came up with that quickly. Still, I guess if there's a market for it; money to be made."

"Yeah, s'pose," Amy shrugs, somewhat disinterested.

"Ye remember anything else Doctor Khan told ye about it?"

"Only that it balances out cell division and mi-cro-tu-bule or something." She says 'microtubule' slowly, accentuating each syllable carefully to ensure she is pronouncing it right.

Amy sits down with her coffee already half drunk, as Kieren comes into the kitchen still wearing his pyjama bottoms and the t-shirt he slept in. He looks tired like he did not sleep well.

"Morning," Amy says brightly. She is about to make a sarcastic comment about the 'very sexy sleep attire' he has go on there, but instead when she sees at him, says, "God yer look awful, hun!"

"Cheers for that, Amy." Kieren looks down at Simon who has not so much as turned his head, let alone wished him a good morning. "Did yer come to bed last night?"

Simon glances up at Kieren and then looks back at the Replamotrexate bottle he still has in his hands. "Wasn't tired, so."

Kieren waits for Simon to say more, but he is less than forthcoming.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower. Can yer give me my Neurotriptyline shot first though?"

"I'll do it," Amy says, getting the injector and vacating her seat opposite Simon, which Kieren then occupies.

"You okay?" he asks. Simon seems a little off this morning.

Simon nods, keeping his eyes on the table in front of him as Amy comes back and reaches for Kieren's collar. He leans his elbows on the table and looks straight down, preparing himself as she presses the injector to the hole at the top of his spine. Without making direct eye contact Simon watches him as Amy pulls back the trigger with her forefinger to administer the dose and the liquid whooshes as it hits the point between his vertebras.

Kieren squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain as it courses through his body. It is getting worse and trying to conceal the involuntary convulsing of his body directly after his medication is administered is getting harder. He lets out a soft cry and Simon is up on his feet, about to go to Kieren, before he even registers he is doing so.

"That normally happen?" Amy asks with concern, rubbing his shoulder as the tremors begin to subside.

Kieren looks up at Amy and smiles as if it is nothing, purposely keeping his eyes away from Simon's gaze. "Only sometimes."

Simon sits back down and Kieren knows another question is coming from Amy, so he is up and out of the chair before she has chance to ask it.

"I'm off for a shower then. Thanks Amy."

He is out of the room before either of them can say anything further.

"Don't use up all the hot water, boiler's playing up again I see. Need to get that fixed," Amy calls out, but Kieren has already shut the bathroom door behind him.

Amy huffs and turns her attention to Simon instead.

"Simon?" she asks in a voice that promises a question that she knows he might not want to answer.

"Yes?"

"What Kieren was saying, just then? Is there something wrong?"

Simon takes her now empty mug and goes to the sink to pour the remaining dregs away, before hitting the switch on the new kettle Amy had bought to make her another. He stares out of the window for a while, looking down through the valley and Amy wonders if he is going to answer her at all.

"Ye remember when ye told me about Rick Macy before we came here?"

"Yes."

Amy had told Simon all about Kieren and Rick, and Bill Macy too - and what had happened before she left for the commune. She had never spoken to Kieren about his relationship with Rick, but it was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes in their nogs what was going on there. Or rather, what was not going on between Kieren and Rick, but what should have been.

"Told yer, I only met him the once. Seemed like a right dickhead though, if I'm honest. Way too worried about what people thought of him. Drinking down The Legion with his HVF mates, laughing when that prize tosser Gary took the piss out of Kieren. Didn't like that. If yer ask me, I have no idea what he saw in him and I told him so at the railway station just before I left."

Simon remains standing with his back to her. He is quiet, but she could tell he was taking in every word.

"Just made excuses for him of course. That's Dopey though for yer, in't it? Said it was all an act he put on for his dad. But I've seen blokes like him before and they never change. Kieren thought he would of course, ever the optimist, but then he was totally besotted with him."

She remembers back to the night at The Legion; the look on Kieren's face when he saw Rick again for the first time. They had stood staring at each other in the segregated area of the pub, Amy on one side of Kieren and Philip on the other. She suspected the reunion might have been a little less formal had they not both been there to witness it.

"Yer should have seen the way he looked at him though, like…"

Simon turns to face her, leaning back on the kitchen counter. His expression is unreadable.

"Sorry, probably shouldn't have mentioned that bit. Not the best thing to say. He being," she continues on in a singsong tone to cover the awkwardness, "your beloved's ex and all."

Simon shakes his head. His hands are pressed down into his pockets, his shoulder hunched. "It's part of Kieren's life. No sense in pretending otherwise."


Kieren is glad to be away from Amy and Simon in the state he is in. The tremors have subsided a little, but there is no doubt about the fact they are getting worse. Much worse. And not just when he was administered his medication. His hands shook of their own accord, several times during the day, for long periods and he had been getting a pins-and-needles sensation down both his legs and feet. Kieren was even beginning to feel hungry too. He was sure he caught his stomach rumbling a day or two ago.

His hands are still shaking as he turns the taps on and pulls the knob up on the bath, so the water runs through the showerhead instead. He has been getting some sense of touch back and could now determine a little of the temperature. It is hard after all to get the water right when you cannot feel and had spent half his showers under freezing cold water or boiling hot.

Kieren pulls his t-shirt over his head and shrugs off his pyjama bottoms, laying down the bath mat to step in under the spray of the shower. Hopefully it will wake him up a bit as he feels so tired this morning, having woken several times in the night to find Simon not there next to him. He had got used to his presence beside him at night all too quickly and felt bereft of that sense of security when sleeping alone.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he is about to step into the bath when he stops dead.

He notices his hands. They are covered in black bile.

Turning towards the mirror, he gazes at his reflection...

And passes out.


Simon and Amy do not hear the thud as Kieren hits the bathroom floor.

The water is boiling in the kitchen and Simon spoons the instant coffee into the mug along with two sugars, just the way Amy likes it. Reaching for the kettle, he stirs the mixture as he fills up the mug. Amy remains silent as he adds milk and then sets it down in front of her, taking up his chair once again.

"Simon Monroe, yer never struck me as the jealous type?"

Jealous? That surprises him. He did not know he was the jealous type either, but then he had never cared enough about anything to be jealous over.

"We all have our insecurities."

"So?"

All of a sudden, Simon really does not want to talk about this.

"So, it's nothing. Nothing for ye to worry about, anyway." Better to bury the feelings, as there was nothing he could do about them anyway - or Kieren's come to that.

"Look I don't know what's going on, but don't let ghosts of the past ruin things between yer. Rick's gone, and sure, he might have been Kieren's first love, but that doesn't mean he has to be the love of his life. The person who defines him, that role's still up for grabs!"

She thinks back to that night.

"I met Philip when I went with Kieren to The Legion to find Rick. Hated him. Phillip I mean, not Rick. Well both actually, now you mention it. And look at us now?"

Kieren is running late. He had spent what seemed to Simon like an eternity in the shower, but Simon did not feel like going to village hall without him.

Amy, now not being PDS, did not have to participate in the Give Back Scheme anymore and for that he was grateful.

"Here comes Brokeback Mountain," Gary calls out as they walk through the village hall entrance, arriving for the day's Give Back humiliation. "You two are late. Again."

"Fuck off, Gary," Kieren snaps back. He is really not in the mood for Gary's crap this morning.

"Have to go on the report. Twenty-one Rott… Give Back workers," he corrects quickly, noticing Philip's eyes on him, "And yer two are always the last ones in."

"Whatever."

Simon is directly behind Kieren now, giving Gary daggers. He looks about ready to start a fight if he carries on at Kieren.

Philip decides to intervene. It would look far worse on the report if this turned ugly, not to mention the earache Amy would give him for allowing Simon and Kieren to get into trouble.

Having Amy now has given him a newfound confidence and he is not going to be that 'Lippy' he used to be known as at school. Not anymore.

"Well they're here now, Gary, so suggest you and Dean get on with it." And just for extra clout, he added, "Pronto."

"I was just…"

"You were just wasting time, so I'd appreciate it if yer would just get on with the job at hand please, otherwise plenty more out there would be happy to do it in yer place."

Both Kieren and Simon look impressed by Philip's sudden assertiveness. Gary does not look so pleased, but the authority in his voice warns him not to push it further.

They all take a seat, while Philip and Gary join Dean at the front of the hall. They go through their register and start delegating jobs for the day.

"Simon Monroe and Kieren Walker?" Dean calls out, looking up from his clipboard. Both men raise their hands to show that they are in attendance. As if Dean had not noticed already.

"Right," Dean continues, squinting at the sheet in front of his eyes and holding it up a little closer to focus on it. "You're on graffiti clean-up detail. That'll be all the spray paint on the bus shelter and that."

Kieren rolls his eyes, while Simon stares at Dean with undisguised loathing as if he is still more than ready to attack him at any moment. Dean must have noticed, as he clears his throat uncomfortably before giving them further instructions on their duties for the day.

"Anyway, yer got a list of places for today. Here," he says, taking a printed out sheet of paper from his clipboard and leaning over to give it to one of the PDS Sufferers in the front row to hand back to them, "It's all there."

Kieren takes the paper from the person in front of him and scrutinizes the list of locations. Simon glances at it with disinterest, his arms still folded tightly in front of his chest.

Dean takes a breath to read out the next name and the next set of instructions, when Kieren interrupts.

"Err, hang on. Have yer seen how many places are on this list? We're never going to get through all these in just one day. One of them is right out in the woods, it'll take us a couple of hours just to walk there and back."

"So? Yer just do what's left the day afters, don't yer? Got loads more for yer after that lot anyway, so yer will be well practiced by the end of it. Be able to get them done in no time."

Kieren shakes his head and huffs loudly, following Simon's posture and folds his arms indignantly until 'class' is dismissed.


The first location on the list is the bus shelter in the centre of the village. It is a short walk from the village hall, but even in the five minutes it has taken Kieren and Simon to reach it, Kieren is painfully aware of tension between them. He steels a sideward glance at Simon, wondering if maybe it is just his imagination, but he just keeps his head down, eyes fixed on his boots as he keeps walking.

As soon as they arrive, Simon gets on with cleaning the spray paint off the glass almost immediately. They have been given cleaning fluid and a couple of buckets and brushes each for the task, and he begins scrubbing at the bright red letters spelling out VICTUS FRAUDS on the far side of the shelter. Ironic really, given that the Give Back Scheme was thought up by the Victus party, but especially as it is one message both men would happily leave on permanent display. Kieren makes a start on the more artistic penis illustrations on the back glass.

"Pass me that, will ye?" Simon asks Kieren, gesturing toward one of the two 5 litre bottles of solution they brought with them. On the side of the container the words GRAFFITOFF SOLUTIONS are emblazed on the side, and on the other, a very large chemical hazard symbol. Kieren notices that neither of them has been issued with protective gloves. Not that they need them, as the chemicals will not have any ill effects on their partially deceased skin.

The simple request is the first thing Simon has said to Kieren since they left the bungalow this morning. It is not exactly a love sonnet, but it is a start, at least.

Kieren picks up the bottle and unscrews the lid for him, handing it over to Simon so he can refill the bucket by his feet.

"Simon, really is there something up? It's just…" How to put this? He did not seem in the greatest of moods, so best to tread carefully - especially as he has been on the receiving end of Simon's anger once before and would rather avoid it a second time around. "It's just you've been acting… I dunno."

Simon stops what he is doing and glares at Kieren through the wet glass. He does not look happy and gestures "what?" for Kieren to continue.

"A bit, well… weird, actually," Kieren finishes. Possibly not the best choice of words, all things considered.

Simon resumes focusing on the cleaning and does not look at Kieren again as he answers, "Nothing's up with me."

"Really? Yer sure?" Because you could have fooled me.

"Like I said, I'm fine, Kieren. Alright?"

Simon sounds agitated. It is not like him. He is almost always calm, no matter how stressful the situation. In fact, the only person he has noticed that can get him rattled like this is Kieren himself.

"Alright. S'long as we're okay?"

Kieren dunks his brush into his bucket and starts removing the name of who 'Jamie Loves' - whoever Jamie is.

"We're okay," Simon agrees, although it sounds to Kieren's ears like they are anything but.

Yes there was definitely something up.

Kieren has moved on to the other side of the shelter and is working on 'PDS Game Over', while mulling over possible reasons for Simon's mood, when a car pulls up next to them. It is an old mini in that seventies muddy putty colour and looks like its best days are behind it. The driver's door opens and a tall man, in his late twenties who seems far too big for the vehicle, unfolds himself as he clambers out.

"Excuse me?" he calls over to Kieren and Simon, leaning on the roof of the car. "Don't happen to know where Conyers Road is, do yer?"

Kieren looks to Simon who says nothing. He begins to wonder if he is just being paranoid as Simon's silence clearly is not exclusive to him.

"Yeah," Kieren tells him, "Go on up the hill, past the playground and carry on over the bridge. Take a left and it's the turning on yer right."

"Ta. Must have driven straight past it."

He turns to get back into the car and then pauses as if having second thoughts.

"Sorry, one another thing?" Kieren nods for him to go on. "Yer know an Amy Dyer, at all?"

Kieren is about to answer when Simon catches his attention and stares at him stonily, before shaking his head in warning so fractionally, Kieren wonders if he imagined it. But to any onlooker, they may well think he was just deferring the answer, not knowing it himself.

Simon shakes his head properly now, giving a good impression of trying to think if he has heard the name before.

"No mate, sorry, can't say that rings any bells." He looks at Kieren, who appears a little startled, but recovers quickly.

He shakes his head too. "Can't be any help on that score, I'm afraid."

"Ah, no worries, thanks anyway," the stranger says, before folding himself back into the car and driving toward Conyers Road - and the street Kieren and Simon live. Not that he needed to know that.

They both watch as the car disappears down the road.

"What was that all about?" Kieren asks Simon, confused by what had just taken place.

"Dunno, but if ye don't know him and I don't know him, ye can bet ye life, Amy don't know him either."

More than two hours must have passed with them both putting more than a little elbow grease into ridding the bus shelter of the copious amount of graffiti. The majority of the time they had passed had been in silence.

Kieren knows he should leave things alone, let Simon get over whatever was eating away at him, but he cannot let it lie.

"So, just to be clear then, it's nothing to do with that stuff with me dad?"

"Oh, we're on this again, are we? How many times, Kieren? Everything's fine."

"Because, I just wondered…"

"Ye just wondered what, exactly?"

"That maybe it might have brought things back. Things between you and your dad."

"Ye don't know what you're taking about."

"Don't I?"

"No, ye don't. Me dad and me, we didn't have some falling out, because he didn't approve of who I took to bed. What I did; it's not something ye get over it in time."

"Yer don't know that. He might do. Yer came home in your untreated state. Yer didn't know what yer were doing. It wasn't your fault!"

"And ye believe that do ye? All those things ye did before? The people ye killed; ye can forgive yeself for them can ye? Because from where I'm standing, Kieren, isn't doesn't look that way to me."

"Well at least I'm trying. Yer could at least try? Why don't yer just go and see him? I'll come with yer if that'll make things easier?"

That seemed to stop Simon in his tracks. He looked stunned for want of a better word.

"You'd do that?"

"Course I would."

At that very moment a bus pulls up. A few locals disembark, most of which pretend they have not seen Simon and Kieren working in their orange bibs. They each pass them by without saying a word, making their way to wherever they are going next.

"Hey, yer missed a bit," Jem says, poking her head around the side of the bus shelter. "So what's up, scrubbers?"

Jem is clad in a pair of skinny jeans, fitted leather jacket and heeled boots. It is a far cry from the old Jem, who would not be seen dead without her combats, army issue boots and her Colt revolver. Kieren notices how happy she is. Why do you only ever notice when people are happy when you are not? Jem is practically bouncing around this morning and after what she has been through; he will not begrudge her that. Today is obviously a good day for her - and for that, he is glad.

"You're in a good mood. Jem, what are yer doing back here so early? Aren't yer meant to be at school? Mum and dad will have a fit if they catch yer skiving."

"On study leave, aren't I? Got time off as meant to be revising for me GCSE exams next month. Remember, dickhead?"

"Oh yeah." Kieren had forgotten with everything else that had been going on lately. "Going well then?"

"Boring as fuck. Still, Matt's coming over later to help me with some sciencey stuff, so that's a bonus."

Matt is coming over to help Jem revise? Kieren cannot believe his parents feel for that one. Still, she is twenty now, a grown adult with the right to do what she wants.

"So would that be biology sciencey stuff?" Kieren asks with a smirk.

Jem wrinkles her nose. "Oi! Kier, that's well rank."

He laughs at her indignant expression. "So, yer off home now, to swat up?"

"Meant to be, if I can be arsed," she says, sitting down on the shelter bench, not looking like she is going anywhere in a hurry. "I could use some help going through some of those texts for English Lit, Si, if you're up for helping me again?"

Two of the works she has been studying for English Literature are Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird and the play DNA by Dennis Kelly. Simon helped her with her essays during the term. Kieren had watched them both in the evenings after school, from her bedroom door, until she told him to "piss off" and "go bother mum and dad instead."

"Tell ye what? I'll help ye with your exam revision, if ye do me a favour before ye head off home?"

Jem narrows her eyes suspiciously. It was unlike Simon to ask for anything in return. "What sorta favour?"

Simon nods his head towards the hill and Conyers Road. "Ye go visit Amy for us?"

"It's true then, about her being back? What yer want me to see her for? I know I went to her funeral, but we weren't exactly what yer call bestest friends."

"Just want ye to check on her, is all. Yeah?"

"Okay, but only for you," Jem smiles, and for a second there Kieren wonders if Jem is flirting with Simon, but then she continues, "And only because yer gonna help me get an A* in English Lit."


Jem has only been to the bungalow a couple of times before, but she remembers well enough where it is. She passes a dilapidated mini that is parked on the opposite side of the road and walks up the pathway to the bungalow, knocking on the door.

"Jemima Walker! Now this is a surprise," Amy exclaims in mock shock, as she answers the door. "Yer know Kieren isn't here? He's on the Roarton chain gang today, otherwise known as The Give Back Scheme, with Simon."

"Yeah, I've just seen them. I was looking for you, actually." Amy just frowns at her.

"Si asked I come up and see yer," Jem clarifies.

Amy's frown deepens; giving a good display of an expression that was the product of confused and suspicious breeding with each other.

"Why?"

"Dunno," Jem shrugs. She is still in a good mood and getting wound up is not on her agenda today, so she leans in towards Amy, as if she has a secret to share, "He can be a bit weird sometimes."

Amy laughs in good-humoured outrage. She knew Jem would warm up to her eventually.

"Hey, that's yer brother's other half, yer talking about there."

"Don't yer mean better half?"

Both women smile and the ice seems to thaw between them.

"Loving the boots you're rockin' there, by the way," Amy says, encouraged by the idea of making a new friend in the village.

Things seem to be going well and Jem is pleased by the compliment.

"Ta."

Amy is just about to ask her in when someone coughs behind Jem and they both turn to look at him. Neither recognised the man, but both automatically look him up and down, sizing him up.

"Is either one of you, Amy Dyer? Was told she lives at this address," he asks.

Amy opens her mouth to speak, but Jem is the one who answers.

"Who wants to know?"

"My name's Karl Richardson, I'm from the Roarton Gazette," he says, offering his hand, which neither of them takes.

Amy finds her voice, "What do yer want Amy Dyer for?"

"Got a tip off that she's what Halperin & Weston are calling Re-Alive. Came back a Roarton Riser, died again, and now back for a third time. Could even be one of the first to come back in the Re-Alive state, so wanted to ask her a few questions, like. Get a picture for the paper, give her a chance to tell her side of the story."

Alarm bells are ringing in both women's ears and they stand together united, both on the defensive.

"Why would she want to do that for a local fish paper like the Roarton Gazette? Not exactly OK! Magazine, is it?" Jem scoffs.

The journalist is unflustered. Gets this seven days a week no doubt.

"We'll pay. Lots of folk out there want to know what this Re-Alive is exactly. Amy's a local, would be in the community spirit to give us an interview."

Jem gives him a sour smile. "Sorry, Amy did come back PDS and died last year. If yer want an interview, suggest yer go down to Roarton cemetery."

He knows one of them is Amy Dyer, but in his rush to get the scoop, he had not done any research as to what she looks like. He knows he is on a hiding to nothing if neither of them will come clean.

"So, neither of yer have seen her then?"

"Like she said," Amy pipes up, "Haven't seen her, so if yer know what's good for yer, I suggest yer do one, before I call yer editor and tell 'em you're harassing women."

"Alright, love." He is backing off now. "Look I'm just trying to do me job here."

It is at times like this that Jem wishes she still had her Colt on her.

"Yeah, well yer can fuck off right now then and do it somewhere else."

They both watch as he heads towards his car and slams the door shut as he gets in. It is a surprise that it does not fall off its hinges, the amount of rust on it. Obviously, this journalist is in desperate need of a good story for the cash.

He drives off and neither says a word to each other until he is safely down the road. He pulls away into the main street and the tyres of the old mini squeal as he goes.

"Go, you!" Amy laughs, "Do yer think he believed us?"

"Probably not."

Amy opens the door wide for Jem in order to let her pass.

"Better come in then quick, before he changes his mind."


As predicted the list of places to get through on the sheet they were given is too much to get through working together. The cleaning chemical fluid supplied has not made the job of removing the graffiti an easy one and it has taken time to clean all the spray paint off glass and brickwork. Their work will no doubt be inspected in the morning and the threat of non-compliance is ever present in the minds of all Give Back participants.

It is well past three o'clock in the afternoon now and if they do not hurry to get through the remaining two locations, they will start to lose the light. The clocks are yet to change to British Summer Time and the evenings still draw in early.

Simon and Kieren decide by mutual agreement to split up in order to cover more ground and finish their task for the day. It is not like they are enjoying each other's company anyway at the moment. Not like they usually do.

Recently it had not mattered what they had been doing, as long as they were together, everything was all right. But today, Kieren has given up trying to second-guess Simon. He threw in the towel hours ago trying to make sense of his mood and stopped attempting to make conversation. It was only making matters worse anyway.

Simon volunteered to take the cave in the woods, which is fine by Kieren. It was the one place he avoided at all costs if he could. It held so many memories. Some good, but certainly the bad had outweighed those of late, and he could not help but wonder, that despite Simon's attitude toward him, perhaps knowing how he felt about the woods was why he had offered to take it and leave Kieren to the Roarton village bridge instead.

It was a long walk through the woods to the cave, but Simon did not mind. Both men could do with the time alone, and the separation was the first thing they had managed to agree on since the day had begun.

Simon puts down the bucket and almost empty bottle of cleaner on the ground when he arrives at the mouth of the cave and reads the words BEWARE ROTTERS sprayed to the right of the entrance. The light is fading fast and he has not thought to bring a torch with him, so he begins working on it without pause. The sooner it was done, the sooner he could get home.

Dean had been right, with all the practice he was getting to be a dab hand at this lark and the harsh Lancashire weather had eroded much of the paint away anyway. The rock was completely free of graffiti in no time at all and he chucks the brush into the bucket on completion of the task. More than a little fed up and totally exhausted.

Time to go home then.

He picks up the equipment and pulls his jacket back on, which he had taken off to avoid it getting wet, and turns to leave.

Only he is curious.

This was the place Kieren had died. Inside the cave, in this lonely place. His life ebbing away as he sat inside, all alone.

He dumps the bucket back down where he stands and enters the cave cautiously. After a few steps he can barely make out anything, even as his eyes become accustome to the dim light. Taking the lighter out of his pocket, he lights it so to make his way further down until he comes to a cluster of candles positioned on the ground. Presumably this is the spot where Kieren took his life.

Something catches his attention.

To his right, there is writing scratched into the cave wall. He should have expected to see something like this, but it still hits him like a punch in the gut.

Sinking down to the ground in front of it, he pulls his knees to his chest, laying his arms over them and resting his chin on top, huddling in to himself in an echo of someone before him sitting on that exact spot five years before.


Kieren has finished. The bridge is clean of graffiti and he has really had enough for the day. Thank God he does not have a shift at The Legion tonight, because he does not think he would have the energy to survive it.

It is not yet dark and he wonders how Simon is doing. As it turned out cleaning the graffiti off the bridge took no time at all and he feels slightly guilty that Simon had to go all the way into the woods.

Whatever was wrong, whatever he had done – and he was sure it was something he must have done - he had to make it up to Simon. Without him, Kieren knew he was lost. Life - alright then, second life - without Simon, did not even bare thinking about. He had come to rely on him, depend on him. He needed him. He loved him.

He had to sort it out.

Decision made, he heads in the direction of the woods, hoping to catch Simon on his return trip as there was only one route there and the same one back, so he should not be able to miss him.

Kieren was not expecting for Simon to still be there, but he had not passed him on the way. He began to wonder if Simon had finished up faster than he had and already made it back to the bungalow, when he came to the opening in the trees and saw the cave.

He stands paralyzed for a moment, instantly transported to that dark night on November 30th, 2009.

When Kieren had heard the news about Rick, he simply didn't know what to do with himself. Life did not mean anything anymore. That was the way he felt, like he was out of kilter with everyone and everything around him. He could not stand in a single place for more than a minute, could not rest when he sat down. There was a building pressure inside him, so much noise in his head. He could not concentrate.

He was exhausted, but when he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, the room was spinning. He had to get up; he had to get out of the house. He could not breath, he needed to be away from it all, needed space and needed to be alone.

Alone. That is all he had now.

He probably should talk to someone. Let it all out; the pain; the frustration; the despair. But there was no one, not anymore. Rick was gone, and all there was, all there had ever been, was Rick.

No one else understood him. No one else really cared.

Yes, his parents loved him, but they did not understand him. They saw who they wanted to see in him, not who he truly was. Would they be appalled if they really recognised who he was? Would they think him a freak?

He just did not fit in with everyone else, he was not like everyone else, so would they try and change him if they knew? Even if they could understand him, they would surely want to try and fix him, make him like them. But he was not like them. He never would be, he knew that much. So who was there left?

He had no real friends, no one he was close to. Acquaintances yes, but when he ran through the short list of people he knew, people he could speak to, he came up empty.

Alone. He was entirely alone in this world now.

Only months before he was full of hope, full of excitement for what lay ahead. Getting accepted into Art College, he had his whole future laid out before him, his escape where anything was possible and he could just be himself. He used to visualise it like a long motorway in the dead of night. No cars on the road, just bright motorway lights in the central reservation, stretching out on and on before him, lighting his way. He could see so far ahead of him and although his sight could not reach miles down the road, he knew it was there and it was where he was headed. It was one way traffic and he could only go forward, there was no slip roads, not turn offs, no way to make a U-turn, and the momentum of it all was propelling him forward.

But that was all before.

Now, as he travelled along that motorway he watched as the lights went out one by one ahead of him, leaving darkness in their wake. He could not see ahead him now, it was pitch black and there was nothing there. No future; no way back; no return. There was no escape and nowhere to go. All that was left was nothing and he had not the energy to fight it. If nothing were all that was left, he would gratefully take nothing and pay the toll to cross into it.

The pressure was rising inside him and his chest felt like a black hole. Empty as if it had caved in on himself and it hurt. It actually physically hurt. He had to do something to make the pain go away.

His first thought was to go to Shop 'n' Save and he bought a bottle of White Lightning and a packet of cigarettes like he and Rick used to. Drinking himself into oblivion and poisoning his lungs seemed like the most immediate way to distract himself from the pain.

He knew where he was headed and his feet took him there automatically without any real conscious thought on his brain's part. He found his way to the entrance of the cave and edged his way inside in the dark, taking out his lighter from his pocket to provide just enough light to find his way to his and Rick's spot. They had left candles there and he lit them with the lighter one by one as the cave came alive with dancing shadows like ghosts of memories past from happier times there.

Leaning against the side of the cave, he stared ahead at the inscription on the wall and slid down it until he was huddled on the floor.

REN + RICK 4 EVER he read, over and over again as he unscrewed the bottle of cider and took a long deep gulp, allowing it to burn his throat as he swallowed the sweet but potent liquid.

The cigarette gave him a head rush and for a moment he felt light headed and drowsy, not quite the drug induced outer body experience he was hoping for, but it was as close as he was going to get.

Still the pain continued as the pressure increased within him.

It hurt. It hurt so much and he had to let the pain out somehow, before it consumed him entirely.

He had noticed when he reached into his pocket for the lighter that he had the Swiss Army Knife his dad had giving him for his birthday and pulled it out to look at it for a moment, bringing the sharp blade out that was tucked away inside. He pushed his sleeve up and raised his arm up and stared at the fine fair hairs on the topside of his lower arm. If he just made a small cut, just one, then maybe he could let some of that pressure out.

He had to do something. Anything. So he pressed the sharp edge of the blade to his skin and drew it toward him leaving a bright crimson line in its wake.

The pain seared his flesh and for a moment it was blissful, but as he took the knife away, the pressure, the total despair, was still there. Ever present. Never wavering. Never ending.

It was not enough. It was pointless. It was hopeless.

Everything was hopeless.

There was nothing left for him anymore and there was nowhere left to go, he knew that now.

He just wanted it to end. Flick a switch and be gone. No more. Nothing.

He pushed up his other sleeve now and turned both his hands over looking at his bare wrists. He knew which way to cut; knew which way the exit sign pointed and all of a sudden he could see a slip road after all on that darkened motorway. There was a way out. There was an escape. A way to make it all stop, and he put the blade of the knife once again to his pale fresh and pressed down hard.

And there it was. Relief.

Suddenly, he was free.


Simon did not know how long he had been sitting in the cave for, but hearing a noise outside the cave rouses him from his thoughts.

"Hello?" he shouts out. The word echoing down the passageway. "Someone there?"

The entrance goes dim as someone stands in front of it, blocking out the remaining outside light.

"It's me," Kieren calls back, making his way to where Simon is sitting.

Kieren glances up at his own graffiti. The lasting words written, that Rick and he had left there many years ago now. He felt ashamed suddenly, he should have realised Simon was likely to see it. Simon had told him once that Amy needed to see that she was loved so he showed her love. It was only after, as Kieren got to know him a little better, that he came to the conclusion that Simon had understood this so well in Amy, because it was something he recognised in himself. The last thing Kieren wanted to do was hurt Simon, but remaining in Roarton, with memories around every corner, was bound to impact on their relationship eventually.

They sit in silence for a while. Kieren beside Simon - close, but not quite touching – and it feels like there is a gulf between them.

Eventually, Simon speaks.

"I always knew you were important, Kieren. From the very start. Didn't know exactly how important back then of course."

Kieren looks up sharply at the sound of his voice. This sounds like the beginning of a goodbye and a hot streak of anger floods through him at the thought.

"Why, because yer thought I was The First Risen?"

"No, because…" How to explain? "Ever heard of the Persian poet, Hāfez of Shiraz?"

Kieren shakes his head.

"I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being."

Simon had always thought those words were beautiful, but they had never held such profound meaning for him until recently.

"Yeah, well…" Kieren mutters, shrugging off Simon's implied suggestion.

"Ye see, when ye look at yourself in the mirror, Kieren, I know who ye see looking back at ye. Ye see someone who doesn't fit in; someone who's not like all the rest; out of step with everyone else around ye."

"I don't want to be different," Kieren whispers, almost to himself. "Why is it so hard for me to be like everyone else?"

Simon looks at the beautiful boy in front of him. Twenty-four now, but forever eighteen.

"Because you're not like everyone else and don't let anyone tell ye ye should be."

That's easier said than done. Words are easy, putting them into practice is a different thing entirely. Surely, Simon must realise that?

"When I first came back, I couldn't bear to look at myself in the mirror. Not without me cover-up on anyway. I never told yer that before. I'd put a towel over the bathroom mirror so I didn't have to see. But, it went farther back than that."

"Before ye died? It's not about being alive or undead, is it? Not for you. Kieren, have ye any idea?" Simon asks, shaking his head in awe.

Kieren shifts uncomfortably as Simon gives him what he thought of as his 'Messiah look' again.

"You're braver than you'll even know."

Kieren lets out a laugh, but it is a bitter one.

"I don't feel brave. I feel useless. Powerless. Always have."

"How are you useless?"

You see the thing about Simon was, he would keep chipping away at you, until he found what he knew was lurking deep within. They say a sculptor can see a formless chunk of marble and the sculpture yet to be uncovered would be revealed to them just by looking at it, and Simon had the ability to do this with people. He would chip away tiny pieces at a time of the outer wall you put up around yourself until he got at the real you buried inside. It did not matter how hard you tried to hide within, he worked and he worked and he worked, until he finally saw you.

Every contour. Every flaw. Every crack.

And every magnificent facet of a person's soul.

If it were there to be found, Simon Monroe would always find it, and expose it to the light.

And it drove Kieren crazy, because with every discovery he made of Kieren, he would admire it, and appreciate it, and cherish it and adore it. And how could anyone ever live up to that?

When it should have made Kieren feel loved, it just made him angry for not being able to see himself in the same way.

In frustration he begins to raise his voice when he next opens his mouth, and it echoes down the length of the cave.

"I'm useless, because I couldn't save Rick, alright?"

Simon lays a hand on his in an attempt to calm him, but Kieren shrugs it off. He does not want to be touched right now. He needs to get this out. He needs to make Simon see him as he sees himself.

"I couldn't see what Jem was going through. I failed them both and I've put my parent's through hell and back. I mean, what sort of person am I, ay?"

Simon could not bear to see Kieren in pain, especially when it was so unjustly self-inflicted, as it was now. He tries to reach out for him again, but again Kieren recoils at his touch.

"No! Will yer just listen to me a minute? Because do yer know what the worst part of all this is? I'm still doing it. I'm still hurting people."

"But you're not!" Simon's tone sounds desperate even to him, but Kieren is shaking his head again. So stubborn, he was not even willing to listen.

Determined, Simon presses forward and take Kieren's face in his hands, not allowing to be pushed away a third time or be resisted further. He is going to get through to Kieren and stop this, stop this right now.

"Now ye listen to me, Kieren," he says, speaking quietly but firmly, resting his forehead against Kieren's as if the closer their minds were physically, the clearer he could get his message across. "You're incredible, d'ye hear? I could live a thousand lifetimes and never meet another person who takes my breath away like ye do."

"Yeah, well. Ye don't mean that."

"Don't I?"

"Yer should leave; leave Roarton. Yer said so yerself, it's not safe. When Rick came back, I got him killed. And now? Now, I'm really bloody scared the same thing's going to happen to you."

He says these last words practically as a whimper. His anger is all but burnt out now and all that is left is a vulnerable and fragile boy.

Simon pulls back just far enough to look at him.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"But if yer stay with me, the same thing could happen to you." Kieren is on the verge of tears now. "The ULA are already after yer because of me. Christ, it could happen all over again, be exactly like before and I don't know how to change it. I don't know how to stop it!"

Kieren was crying real tears now. Clear, salty tears and not the thick black liquid that Simon had expected to see falling from a Partially Deceased Syndrome Sufferer's eyes.

Simon was even more gentle when next spoke. "The ULA are not after me, Kieren, and even if they were, it's because of what I did and the decisions I made. It has nothing to do with you."

"But it does though, doesn't it?"

Simon needed to hear about Rick. He did not want to, but it was clearly at the root of the problem, so hear it he must. So he grits his teeth and asks.

"Tell me about Rick."

Kieren looks away and stares into the darkness beyond. Allowing himself to go there, to think about Rick was not something that could be done without pain. He had tried to kid himself all this time, tried to tell himself he was past all this, moving on. He even thought if said it out loud then it would make it true, But the real truth was, it was still there, just below the surface, and where the memories were buried so was the pain. He could not have one without the other.

"He were one of the only mates I ever had. When we first met, I actually couldn't believe he wanted to hang out with me, because he was always popular. Always a laugh, good at sport. His grades were never up to much and at first that's why I thought he wanted to be mates, to copy homework or something, but we just, I dunno, got on. He wasn't the same with me as he was when he was around everyone else, but…"

Amy had already told Simon what he was like around other people.

"He wasn't the same with ye when he was around everyone else either?" Simon finished for him.

"No. I knew it was an act, something he just put on, yer know, acting the lad everyone thought he were. And I used to think, why couldn't I be like that? I sometimes thought Rick wished I could be like that too. It would have made things a lot easier."

"In what way?"

"Rick and I, it was always there and as time went on we just got closer. Never did 'owt though about it, his dad would have gone mental if we did and he found out. Never even got to kiss him. There was this time when he came back, we were in the truck and for a moment, there didn't seem any point in pretending anymore, but then Bill called on the walkie and Rick jumped like he always did. I got it, Bill were his dad, but he didn't have to do everything he told him to. Rick used to have these posters on his wall, pin ups. His dad approved, thought it made him a real bloke. Things might have been different it we'd have been able to get away, but that never happened."

Simon is starting to understand now and everything begins to fall into place. The damage inflicted, the scars it had left.

"They were Rick's issues, not yours."

"Yeah, but I owed him. He was all I had and when he died, the first time, I thought it was my fault. I'd driven him to it. He'd joined the army to get away from me."

How could Kieren have been carrying this around for so long? And it angered him. To think someone who was supposed to love him had done this to Kieren. He was not to blame, he had been collateral damage, caught in the carnage left behind between Rick and his father.

"Ye ever thought that maybe he joined the army to run away from himself? It wasn't your fault. This place, they have a skewed view of what is normal."

"It's alright for you, Simon, yer come from a city. It's different there. People are more accepting. Everyone's different in some way or another. But here, here yer gotta fit in."

"That's just being a sheep, Kieren."

"So what does that make you, the good shepherd?"

"Not really, always been a bit of a black sheep meself." Simon smiled for the first time and it seemed to break the tension between them. "Kieren, other people's problems are not yours. Ye have a right to be proud of who ye are. I'm proud of you."

"Are yer?" How could he be? Really.

"Wouldn't love ye as much as I do, if I wasn't."

Kieren looks into Simon eyes and sees the truth in his words.

"How can yer love me though?"

"How can I not?"

Simon pulls Kieren to him and holds him tightly, wrapping both his arms around him and tucking Kieren's head underneath his chin. Kieren submerses himself in Simon, practically burying himself against his chest and disappearing beneath his open coat.

When he pulls back, he looks directly at Simon and his eyes are questioning even before any words have chance to catch up with his expression. "So, we're alright then? You and me?"

Simon lets his arms drop now from around Kieren's body. "Well that depends?"

"On what?"

Here it comes. The make or break. Every part of Simon was screaming at him not to say it, but he knows he must. He has to know.

"If ye feel the same for me? Because if ye don't, ye gotta do what is right for you. Ye have to find what makes you happy, Kieren."

"If this is the whole 'If yer love them, set them free' speech?"

Simon smiles sadly at him. "Something like that."

"I don't need to be set free," Kieren says, and grasps the front of Simon's jumper with both hands, pulling him in as he advances forward.

Their lips crush together and they both grunt as it knocks the air out of their lungs. Kieren kisses him hard, pressing his whole body into Simon's, but Simon can take it and pushes back equal tenacity. It is a desperate act, a reaffirming act and it is what they both need. Kieren pours out his soul through the kiss and Simon accepts it greedily until they are both dizzy and exhausted.

Simon pulls away just far enough to see Kieren's face clearly and brushes his fringe away from his eyes. His smile is warm and tells Kieren everything is alright between them.

"Come on," he says, getting to his feet and pulling Kieren with him. "Time to go home. Think this has all been enough for one day."