Chapter 16
Keats swallowed as the knife came closer to his throat.
"No need for that," he said a little breathlessly.
"No need?" the man with the knife at his disposal grasped Keats by the shoulder and pulled him so close that Keats could smell stale coffee on his breath, "after what you've done?"
"What I've -?" Keats hoped that stalling for time would buy him a way out but it only served to rile the men up further.
"Orders have gone out," the second man hissed, "about a sick dog that needs putting down."
"Sick?" Keats hissed.
"Got to be sick to slip the big man's woman something that turned her stone cold," the man with the knife told him.
"What?"
"See, doesn't matter what Vicky was supposed to have been or why she was with him," the second man sneered, "fact was, he loved her. "
"So what was it?" the first man asked, "rat poison? Something you nicked from a vet?"
"I don't know what you're…"
"And then you come along and kick the shit out of one of his favourites? Salesman of the month. Not really endearing yourself to the man, are you?"
"To what man?" Keats demanded in fear.
"Nick Nailer," the first man told him.
Keats froze and his heart sank. He'd had dealings with Nailer of his own. It seemed Layton wasn't his flavour of the month either. Shit.
"Maybe we can talk about this?" he asked hopefully.
"Glad to," the man held the knife against his neck, "we'll talk about how long you'll be roasting in hell for."
Something about those words brought a flash of fire back to Keats. Where Layton's bloodshot eyes lad lain a moment earlier, his own dark ones burst through with a burning anger. Something was happening to him and bringing him a strength and fight.
Maybe this wasn't going to be as cut and dried as the two men had thought.
~xXx~
Robin groaned as I Ran came to an end on the radio and the next Wham song began.
"Brilliant," he mumbled, "fucking brilliant! Like we needed to hear Club Tropicana for the second time!"
"I thought there was supposed to only be one Wham song an hour," Kim whimpered.
"They said at least one," Robin corrected.
"Bugger." Kim felt defeated. She stared at Robin. She didn't know how much time had passed by now, it felt like hours. It had been seven Wham songs worth, but that was no guide now she'd found out there could be several an hour. They'd tried just about every tactic they could think of to untie, break or sever the ropes but they'd failed every time. Even with Robin having one free arm there was little he could do. It was dark outside by now and very little light was cast into the barge.
Kim shuddered as she watched Robin's worried expression. The cold was creeping into their bones by now and the lack of food and water was weakening them mentally and physically. Kim wished, not for the first time, that she'd had more than toast for breakfast that morning. She would have given anything for a nice, greasy fry-up. In fact, she considered frying Robin.
Just as she started hallucinating that he was a giant rasher of bacon, his voice brought her out of her food-related fantasy.
"Kim?"
"Hmm?"
Robin looked downcast.
"I should never have called you," he said quietly, "I'm sorry."
"What are you talking about?"
"You shouldn't have even been on this case," Robin shook his head slowly, "I got you into this."
"I got myself into it," Kim corrected, "I volunteered to come. I chased that idiot kid when I should have known better."
"No one could have known what was lurking around the corner," Robin reminded her.
"Yeah, exactly – so stop blaming yourself," Kim admonished him.
Robin heard the scuttling of a creature across the other side of the barge. A rat maybe? Or a mouse? Something with more scruples than Keats, either way. He listened reluctantly to the sound of Wham for a few moments before he asked,
"Are you OK?"
Kim gave a tiny smile.
"Listening to Wham on a deserted barge with half the rodent population of London," she said, "it's my dream come true,."
"Your hair," Robin reached out very gently and touched it. He felt an enormous sense of guilt as she recoiled and shuddered and he wished he'd never touched it. "Sorry Kim, I'm sorry, so sorry," he said quickly, "I just… did he hurt you?"
Kim shook her head slowly.
"No," she whispered.
"What the hell did he do this for?" Robin whispered. He reached out again and touched her cut locks, "why did he -?"
Kim didn't flinch this time but her eyes began to look tearful.
"I don't know," she said bitterly, "he's gone crazy, Rob. Kept trying to make me look like I looked in the nineties. He took all my bloody make up off too." She tried to turn her head away a little as though she suddenly felt self-conscious. "He was going on about me being too skinny. I thought he was going to start feeding me pork pies or something."
"Too skinny?" Robin frowned.
"I guess this is where you tell me I'm fat?"
"Oh, nice turn around!" cried Robin, but he saw her giving a weak smile.
"Seriously, Robin, I was a bit… bigger in ninety five. Too many take-aways and pints. He wants me to look exactly like I did when he knew me. When he," She trailed away. She didn't want to finish that sentence.
Robin cleared his throat. He didn't want to ask this, but the question had been burning on his mind for weeks. He looked at her seriously and whispered,
"Kim? What happened with Keats when you were in the other place?" Immediately he regretted asking, the look on her face almost broke his heart. "Oh God, I'm sorry…" he bit his lip hard. "It's just… it's just, I know a little but I didn't like to ask… but now that he's over here, I feel like I need to know. Like it could be important. We need to work out what his plan is so that we can make sure he doesn't get away with it and all we have to go on is what he's done in the past."
Kim felt her face reddening, thankful that the darkness would mask it. She felt ashamed and embarrassed by what happened between herself and Keats in Gene's world. Although Keats and his strange blend of gas and air and hypnosis were to blame for much of what occurred she knew that if she hadn't been so easily led and hadn't been enjoying her wild nights and alcohol so much then it may never have had a chance to happen.
"He did what he does best, Rob," her voice was hardly audible above the music, "caught me when I was down. At my lowest point. Tried to sell me the world. Made me feel like he was the only one who knew I was different. Like he was the only one who could help me get home. Plied me with alcohol with an extra special ingredient. Put me under a spell." She found herself exhaling forcefully as she thought about it and all the bitterness and anger started to come back to the surface. "The bastard knew just what to do. Planted himself in my mind. Somehow he made me…" she flinched, the memories still so painful, "made me want him. It wasn't what he did to me physically, it was what he did to my head. That's what I still can't come to terms with, Robin. Not even now."
Robin watched her fragile expression with a lump in his throat. He was so used to seeing Kim as strong, fun, bright and happy – this was a different Kim and heart-breaking to see. It brought to mind a weak Alex on the run from Evan, at the mercy of nightmares about the same man. He shuddered to think of it.
"How long did it go on for?" he whispered.
"It went on for months," Kim said shakily, "every time I tried to break away he made more promises and stared at me with those dark eyes, trapped me again. Caught me in his stare." Her eyes glistened with tears. "I realised he was bullshitting me after a while. I knew I was never going to get home, but I couldn't break free. And then it all kicked off when you and Simon came to ninety five."
"Kicked off?" Robin was almost afraid to ask how.
"Simon let some stuff slip," Kim explained, "I realised he was like me. Knew he was from another time. I told Keats that it was over, I wasn't helping him any more, that someone else could help me home. He didn't like that." She closed her eyes. "left me tied and gagged on my bed. I was there more than a day when Simon and Malcolm found me. Just after that came the whole bloody showdown." She couldn't bring herself to think any further. The miscarriage was still too raw and painful to bring up. She felt herself shaking as the memories threatened to come forward.
Robin didn't think it was possible to hate Keats any more than he already did, but it seemed there was no limit to that man's depravity.
"Bastard," he mumbled under his breath as the DJ came on the radio.
"Hey, what a great selection we've had this last hour!" he said, "but we've got one more dedication from earlier to fit in before we head to the news. This one's from Jim and it's going out to Robin!"
Instantly Robin froze and his eyes bolted. They turned to Kim in fear, her own reflecting his anxiety.
"What the hell?" she whispered.
"Jim says he hopes you're enjoying your cruise, and here's an old favourite to stir up those memories!"
The very first note that played made Robin's heart stop dead in his chest. The following notes brought a terrible sense of nausea throughout his stomach and his chest. All at once his head felt as though it was going to explode with the trauma and the pain. How could one song bring back such horror and revulsion?
"Rob?" Kim's voice was loaded with fear. She'd never seen that look upon his face before. It made her start to panic. "Robin, what is it?"
A thousand terrible flashbacks bombarded him all at once as his body began to shake uncontrollably. Even now, after so many years, such a long fight and all he had been through he still couldn't get rid of that terrible connection.
#…And she pours herself another cup of coffee
As she contemplates the stain across the wall
and it's in between the cleaning and the washing
That's when looking back's
The hardest part of all… #
The lyrics sparked a distant memory in the depths of Kim's mind. It made her freeze as she tried to place it; one October evening in Bask, Simon as the stranger who had arrived that day, the song that started to play and Simon's reaction, his pained expression and the panic in his voice. The conversation played through her mind;
"It's a trigger."
"What?"
"This song. It's a trigger."
"A trigger? For what?"
"I have to find Robin,"
Kim didn't know what kind of a trigger the song represented to Robin but whatever it was he was in some very deep level of despair right then and Kim had never seen him like that before. Tied up, trapped and unable to escape the music, he was diving headlong into a meltdown and all Kim could do was to watch him crumble.
~xXx~
Suddenly the knife to his throat didn't seem like such a threat any more.
The stupid idiot's words had brought to Keats a burst of determination and wickedness that had been pushed away by Layton's dependency and weakness. A hint of a smirk came to his face and he turned his head toward the man with the blade.
"Roasting in hell," he echoed the man's earlier words, "interesting choice of phrase. Not me who'll be sizzling though."
As the man stared at him a strange metamorphosis began to take place. Around the dark eyes that had already displaced Layton's, smoother skin and stable features began to appear. The physical changes gave the man such a shock that he gave an audible gasp and drew back long enough for Keats to grasp his arm and wrench it away so hard that the man's elbow came out of its socket.
The scream that he gave brought the second man into action, lunging at Keats who aimed a fast, firm punch in his direction and sent him reeling backwards. As the first man made some kind of attempt at overriding the pain and coming back after Keats he found a foot kicking him sharply in the shin and a punch to the guts. Before either man could respond Keats drew his own knife from his pocket and grasped the first man by his collar. Hauling him closer, he held the knife to his neck.
"Well well, isn't this an interesting turn of events?" he sneered, "What's that about what goes around comes around?" He gave the second man a warning glare. "Your wares, gentlemen." He saw the second man's hesitation and set his deep, dark eyes into a sterner glare. "I haven't got all night!"
With shock and reluctance the second man pulled from his coat a few packets of Layton's favourite illegal wares. Keats let go of the other man and snatched them in an instant, then ran like the wind back to Robin's car. He didn't want to outstay his welcome – he'd already taken a big enough risk and he'd managed to get what he came for. Throwing himself into the seat, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His familiar features were starting to fade away and Layton's crumbling face was back in its place but just for that moment he'd seen his true self, right there, in all his glory.
What did that mean? How was that possible? Was he overriding Layton somehow instead of… sharing bandwidth? If so why couldn't he override that damn compulsion?
The drugs were calling him, and two angry men were running toward the car. He knew he had no choice but to get out of there and move on to the next step. The next phase. His mind ran over what the two goons had said about Nailer. So Layton was the one who gave Victoria the dodgy drugs? His mind travelled to the flame-haired DI back in Fenchurch West, the one he'd treated with such venom. He'd have something to say to her about this when he got back, that was for certain.
For now, he needed to get the fire into his veins again, and then hurry things along. With Nailer's men on his trail the game was coming to an end and he still had a few eager moves to make.
~xXx~
# …And she always did her best to try and please him
While he always did his best to make her cry
And she got down on her knees to stop him leaving
But he always knew one day he'd say goodbye… #
Kim came close to panicking herself as Robin's face was racked with pain and his broken voice whispered; "No, no, no, no," again and again. As tied and stuck as Robin was she could do little to help him. Her mind went back to a how to calm your customers when they freak out at the sound of the tattooing needle course she'd attended some years previously. Mike and the Mechanics was slightly more disturbing than the sound of the needle whirring away but it was the same principle.
"Rob," her voice was clear, defined and compelling, "Look at me." She tried to catch his eye but his panic was gripping him firmly and keeping his gaze unfocused and distant, "Robin, look at me. Look at me," she raised her voice, almost sounding angry and finally got his attention. Panicked eyes met her own and she held his stare, "OK, listen to me. Just listen to my voice," she spoke loudly and constantly, trying to drown out the sound of the music, "just concentrate on me, don't let anything else in, OK?" she felt a bit stupid and wondered if she was making a fool of herself but it was all she could do. "Block it out, Rob. Look at me and listen to me, OK? Don't let it get in your head." She recalled advising customers to listen to the music rather than the sound of the needle. Maybe it worked the other way around?
#...Where are your friends
Where are your children
Is this your house
Is this your home
Does nothing ever last forever
Does everybody sleep alone…#
"I want you to think about your tattoo," she told him firmly. His eyes flashed with confusion but her distraction had stopped his shaking so she knew that she was doing some good. "Remember when you got your tattoo, Robin? The sound of the needle, the feeling against your skin?" she watched him give a tiny, juddery nod. "Remember the first moment you feel the needle against your shoulder. What did it feel like?" He stared on, unsure what he was supposed to do. "Talk to me, Rob. What did it feel like?"
Robin swallowed, his head torn between flashing back to the horror of his mid-teens or focusing on Kim. He cleared his throat.
"Sore," he whispered.
"Sore?" Kim repeated.
Robin nodded again, struggling to get his voice in gear.
"It wasn't like pain… it was sort of sore," he whispered.
"So focus on that," Kim stared at him firmly, "remember the feeling of the needle going back and forth against your skin. Can you feel it?"
There was a tiny part of Robin that felt very, very silly for going along with it. But there was a bigger part of him that trusted Kim completely and knew that this was the only way to cope. He closed his eyes and nodded.
"Yes," he whispered, his mind replaying the sensation of Kim working the ink beneath his skin.
"Can you smell the ink?" she asked, "hear the needle?"
Robin nodded again and swallowed.
"Yes," he whispered.
"Good," Kim found herself shaking as she watched him. If there had ever been a more intense, more terrifying time of her life then she sure as hell couldn't remember it.
#...And he tears the business tags from his old suitcase
As he packs away the pieces of his life
They all love him but they always try to change him
That's what happens when a girl becomes a wife…#
"Think about the needle, Rob," she urged him, "how did it make you feel? How did it make you feel to get the tattoo? How did you feel when you knew your skin was going to be decorated forever?"
Robin swallowed. While he was aware of what was happening in the background and knew why Kim was talking to him in that way he could no longer hear the music. pot really. All he could hear was Kim's voice and – in his mind - the sound of the needle.
"Strong," he whispered, his pulse rate up high, "powerful."
He opened his eyes again and found Kim still staring at him with great intensity.
"Did you feel different afterwards?" she asked, the strength in her voice dropping just a shade.
He stared back at her and nodded.
"Yes," he whispered.
"Different how?"
Her questions were changing now. No longer did they serve to simply keep him distracted from the music. Now they were things that she genuinely wanted to know; things that her curiosity about him were demanding the answers to.
"I felt stronger," he whispered, swallowing as he felt himself shaking for a whole different reason, "I felt," his voice cracked, "like I was in control of my own life for the first time."
#...And she pours herself another cup of coffee
As the pictures leave a clean space on the wall
and it's in between the leaving and the loving
That's when looking back's
The hardest part of all…#
Robin's words seemed so strange to Kim. It seemed like a bizarre thing for a thirty year old man to say. She stared at him, seeing a mixture of emotions flashing through his dark eyes.
"What do you mean?" she whispered.
"I always stayed in the shadows," Robin whispered, "let other people take the lead. Did what was expected of me." He felt his heart jumping as he recalled all he'd been through in the last year. "I'm different now."
Kim could see that. She could see the world of difference from the crumbling man she'd delivered a letter to in New Year's Eve to the man who'd sat in her black leather chair, the needle pressed against his skin. She nodded slowly.
"Yes," she whispered, "you are."
#...Where are your friends
Where are your children
Is this your house
Is this your home
Does nothing ever last forever
Does everybody sleep alone?...#
Although Kim stopped talking the music barely registered to Robin as the end of the song played away. Thinking about everything from his time in '95 onwards – helping Alex, tracking Layton, his friendship with Kim, the arrival of Keats – he could hardly comprehend how much things had changed. He closed his eyes as he focused again on the memory of the needle on his skin. Empowering. That was a word so often overused by society but it was true. It gave him a sense of the inner strength he'd only just started to find.
#...Don't look back
Don't give up
Pour yourself another cup
Don't look back
Don't give up
Pour yourself another cup…#
The music came to an end and a cheesy DJ started to waffle instead. As though waking from a spell, both Robin and Kim stared at each other, trembling and breathing heavily. Both felt drained, exhausted from the intense moment that passed between them, unsure how they were supposed to recuperate from that. Robin's lips felt very dry. No matter how many times he ran his tongue around them they never seemed to become any the less so. He tried to clear his throat but it felt heavy and choked with emotion.
"Thanks, Kim," he managed to choke out between jagged breaths. He knew there was a tear falling from one eye but he didn't move to wipe it away. He felt a little numb and couldn't really feel it roll down his face anyway. He swallowed. "God, I'm… I'm sorry… I'm…"
Kim shook her head quickly.
"No, no, don't be sorry," he hissed urgently, "please, Rob, don't waste time apologising for something way out of your control." She stared at him, "please. Just…" she found her lips were dry too. The moment had left her almost as much as a wreck as the music had made of Robin. "Just tell me… tell me what that song meant to you. Can… can you tell me that?"
Robin felt a lump swelling in his chest as he thought about that terrible day. It had been so long since he'd spoken about it. He wasn't even sure if he could bring himself to speak those words. But if there was one person who could coax it out of him, it was Kim.
"It was my reason for going back to ninety five," he whispered. He swallowed. "And the reason…" he took a deep breath, "the reason why I've changed."
~xXx~
Pure, unrivalled ecstasy.
The feeling as the drugs invaded every inch of his body and sent his mind reeling overwhelmed Keats again. He sat back against the wooden hut in the dark, desolate park and let the feelings wash over him. He lost track of time, had no idea how long he had been there for when he decided it was time to move on. Just because no one was around for now didn't mean he'd have the park to himself all night. At some point there'd be some lonely jogger or desperate mutt dragging its owner along.
It was with some reluctance at first that he returned to Robin's car and sat in the driver's seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two photographs which he stared at in turn. The first was the picture he'd rescued from his old flat before setting off on his Evan-hunting mission; the photograph of his parents, the one picture he had of them. The good-for-nothing father he knew nothing of and the mother he'd doted upon, dragging out of him the one ounce of sentimentality he had in his body. He pushed the photo back into his pocket and studied the second picture, the one he'd stolen from Robin's flat from the anti-beard event; Kim and Robin, less than impressed with their awards or with the whole anti-beard movement in general. His blood started to boil over again as he thought about the unlikely friendship and the hatred he was building against Robin.
In a moment of fury he ripped the picture in two and scrunched up Robin's half without hesitation, throwing it out of the window and turning his attention back to Kim's image. The picture showed her with the long hair he'd done a hatchet job on just a few hours earlier. His fingers traced the line of her body. For so much of the day he'd been focused on the hate and the chaos. Now there was another part of him that was making its hunger known. He couldn't fight them any longer, the feelings for Kim that he tried over and over to hide. He found himself literally salivating as he stared at her picture.
Now he knew Nailer had set the drug dealing population of London on Layton his time was running out. There were three things he still wanted to achieve before he left, anything more than that would be a bonus. One was some form of revenge on Robin for being the one person who'd ever resisted temptation. One was to pick up an unwilling passenger to take back and recruit into Fenchurch West. The third?
The third, quite simply, was Kim. To be with Kim. To be with her again, to trap her with his eyes and make her want him the way he used to. He had no gas and air, had none of his favourite substances, but he still had that stare and the determination that he was starting to claim back.
He was chasing the threads of Layton away and becoming the man he'd always been.
More than that, he was becoming the monster he'd always been. And the monster always got what he wanted.