As soon as he had come within sight of his car he knew that something was wrong, terribly wrong. Nearly throwing down his fuel can he ran to the car, a lump had risen in his throat as his bowels threatened to turn to water. He could see the wide open passenger side door, the keys dropped carelessly onto the ground. The light was still on, its bulb flickering from unusual exertion. His heart was beating in unison with the flickering of the light, each beat coming faster than the last, each one quivering, wrenching and putting painful pressure on his lungs. With sweat running down his forehead he stopped just short of the car. His eyes watered as a feeling of total helplessness overcame him, it made him want to throw himself to the ground in anguish of the decision he had made without thinking over it properly.

There was no one in the car.

He had taken her into his care, he had offered to take her home and return her to the man he continued to think of as her father and he had left her alone to get fuel when he should have either called for help or taken her with him. She had refused him, he knew how poor her mobility was but he could have carried her, it would have been very little effort to do so. Instead he had allowed her the opportunity to either be taken or remove herself from the car. He didn't know which and could by no means bring himself to think of the former for more than a few minutes. It impressed upon him the fact that he would have to notify the police who in turn notify Robbie, which in turn was a thought that turned his nerves to liquid and made his stomach churn as if someone was wringing it with their hands. It was a feeling that clawed its way to his throat and constricted his airway. He was being strangled by guilt, by an extreme panic he couldn't escape from and couldn't shrink from even in the face of the consequences he had placed in front of himself after making that irrational decision.

There he stood, incapable of movement, locked in thought, pained by the sensations gripping his entire body. Light passed over him. A bright, blinding light but he didn't see it. His back was turned against it and even though his eyes detected the glow that had cast his shadow enormous over the ground in front of him he failed to notice its presence. Even the loud bang of a car door being slammed shut did nothing to rouse him from within the shell his panic had locked him. A hand tapped him on the shoulder but he may well have been made of stone for the lack of sensation the touch put upon him. An enquiry towards his health followed by the repeating of the question a moment later fell upon deaf ears. His shoulder was tapped again with much more force but still it did nothing. Only when something tweaked his earlobe painfully was he drawn from his stupor and became aware of the person standing in front of him with their face contorted into an expression of concern. A bashful smile twisted his own face as he looked back at the person with now seeing eyes. He had been blind to them before.

"What's happened, Doctor Malone? You look terrible and you barely noticed me when I was speaking to you." The person asked the concern in their face easing into relief, "I don't know if you remember me, I'm Nurse Kathleen. I was one of the team looking after Robyn when she was in the hospital."

Doctor Malone's face fell at the mention of the name of the person he had lost. A hand raised itself to his temple as the colour drained entirely from his features. He'd been reminded of what he'd done. Now there was someone here, he'd have to tell her what he'd done. She'd ask him what was wrong.

But all was not yet lost, she could help him.

Doctor Malone licked his parched lips, "I remember you, Kathleen. In answer to your question something quite disastrous has happened of a delicate and embarrassing nature."

"Like what?" Kathleen frowned, she could tell by the tone of the Doctor's voice that he wasn't exaggerating when he said something bad had happened.

"There is no easy way to say this," Doctor Malone began, wondering if he should really be doing this, "Robyn was at the hospital tonight, I was en route to taking her home when my car ran out of fuel. I know I should have taken her with me while I went to find a garage but I was foolish in thinking she'd be alright if I left her with the keys so that she could lock herself in until I came back."

Kathleen looked towards the car, "Where is she now?"

Lowering his eyes to the ground and letting out a deep sigh, Doctor Malone shrugged. He just didn't know.

Sportacus clenched and unclenched his hands, he was nervous. He had every right to be. Just one look at Kit had been enough to know that Robyn had told him everything. He could feel Kit's large brown eyes boring into him, burning him from the inside out with razor sharp, red hot daggers.

He didn't know how long those eyes had been fixed on him or how long he'd been in the room. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. For all that time he'd been unable to look Kit in the face or even utter a word. He knew the slightest attempt to speak would be cut off instantly by a harsh verbal onslaught that would rip him to shreds in seconds. It was an attack he was ill prepared to defend himself against. He would barely have a chance to draw a breath as the words battered him into submission. The only thing he could do to prevent such an attack was keep quiet and let Kit make the first move.

It didn't take long for that to happen.

Kit's tone was deceptively light as he spoke, "So what brings you to my humble abode? I wasn't expecting any visitors so late. Shouldn't all good little heroes be in bed by this hour? It's after eight past eight."

"Kit-"

"WHAT?" Kit cut in sharply his voice just lower than a shout, "You know you're lucky I'm stuck in this bed because if I wasn't you'd get a smack for what you did to Robyn! What were you thinking? Were you thinking? I mean you couldn't have picked a better bloody time to tell her! Why did you have to choose then? That time? I'd only just got her out of the bloody safe house!"

"Robbie started this, not me." Sportacus replied keeping cool. He didn't want to fuel Kit's anger further.

"At least he told her almost as soon as he knew the results of that test! It didn't take him twenty one godforsaken years to. When were you going to tell her that you were actually her father if you hadn't told her then? When she was thirty? Forty? On your deathbed? What were you going to do, write it in one of her birthday cards? A little message like, 'To Robyn, happy birthday. Love dad'? Or were you not going to tell her at all?"

Sportacus remained silent. Kit already knew the answer to that question. He didn't have to be told.

"I thought so," Kit grumbled settling himself back down on the bed.

All of the shouting he had done had made his body ache, he wasn't feeling very well and it was something that Sportacus didn't fail to miss when he'd gathered enough courage to spare another glance at him. He could see those icy blue eyes fill with concern as they gazed at him, longing to help him but held back by a wall of sheer fury. There was an understanding in those eyes that seemed to know that the object of their focus required nothing of them except to be left in peace. They seemed to argue amongst themselves before finding a resolution. The eyes closed and the mouth exhaled in resignation before the feet moved the body from the room. A hand pulled the door shut and left Kit completely alone.

Still angry and far from satisfied, Kit turned over and tried to go back to sleep. Something in him didn't feel right as he slowly fell into a doze and then onto sleep where dreams filled his restful mind.