A/N: I hope everyone survived the second anniversary of the end of A2A intact. I just about did; I made the all too common mistake of watching 3:8 before I went to bed which got me all riled up about Alex again and her miserable fate of getting NOTHING and NO ONE! Grrr... seriously, while I'm thankful to those who created this wonderful show for us to play about with and keep alive in our own ways, Geoff has a whole new set of loofahs at the ready should he ever encounter certain individuals who saw fit to send Alex off into the pub alone!
I also managed – with much blood, sweat, pain and tears – to complete the winning 'deleted' scene which I posted as a new story last night. Cannot write straight smut, does not compute in Misty-brain! (Brain?)
Anyway, tissue alerts sounding here, because I ended up horribly miserable and angsty by the end of this! The next chapter is the second climax to the story and might take a little longer but I'm hoping to post by the end of tomorrow at least.
~xXx~
Chapter Twenty Six
"You've got five minutes. He needs to rest."
Gene raised an eyebrow as he looked through the door of the hospital room. There he was: Jim Keats, the most frenzied version of which Gene had ever witnessed. In his harsh metal bed his wrists and ankles were bound with leather restraints that groaned and creaked as he struggled and thrashed beneath them.
"He doesn't seem very restful to me," Gene commented.
The doctor swallowed with nervous anxiety. She knew that. She wished she didn't but she did
"We've tried administering sedatives," she said quietly, "but they seem to be taking a… an extraordinarily long time to take effect." She nodded toward the door, giving Gene the cue to enter, then stepped back and began to walk away.
Gene's eyes focused on the madman. He stepped slowly towards him, keeping his expression as neutral as he could. When Keats saw him the violent thrashing and gnashing of teeth died down long enough for him to hiss,
"Oh look who it is, the King of Fenchurch East."
"If this is some kind of plan to plead temporary insanity…" he paused as Keats appeared to start chewing on his sheets for a moment – "or permanent insanity in your case… then it's not going to wash, Jimbo."
"Not insanity," Keats spat, "power. Too much power. Too much energy, all at once…. Exploding n my head." He opened his eyes wide, "boom."
Gene swallowed but kept his neutral expression.
"If you're that worried about yer power and yer energy then get on the phone to British Gas," he said.
"It was the final straw," Keats hissed, "He was the one to blame… too much of it, all in one go… couldn't fight it. Couldn't control it. It got right into me."
Gene folded his arms.
"Sounds painful," he said.
"And then she came back!" a wild flurry of laughter came from Keats's lips, "and the glass overflowed!"
"I'll get you a bloody cloth then," said Gene. He'd seen enough. He turned slowly and began to leave.
"What? Where are you going?" Keats demanded, "need to listen!"
"I've seen and heard all I need to," Gene called back over his shoulder, "You've got a dose of the crazies. It's a good way to end the day."
Keats felt his fury rising as Gene continued to walk away.
"I had a nice friendly word with your friend Layton," he spat.
"Was that word 'heroin'?" Gene asked, finally stopping to look back at him. Suddenly there was a crazed smile on Keats's face. He rattled the restraints so hard Gene thought the bed was going to fall apart.
"Funny, I feel quite an affinity with him," Keats's eyes bolted as his head and neck rose as far as his binds would allow, "if you spend a bit of time in another man's skin that can change you. Change you both. Maybe I left little bit of me behind."
"Up his backside, I presume?"
Keats didn't even hear the remark.
"He's dead, Gene. Robin's fucking dead. You can tell him that from me."
"How about I tell your doctor to up yer dosage instead?" Gene suggested. This time as he turned and began to walk again, shaking his head, he blocked out all trace of Keats's mindless wittering. Whatever had twisted his mind so much, he was making even less sense than usual and Gene had heard more than enough rubbish for one day.
~xXx~
'…Look at you, laying there…'
Robin pinched his forehead between his fingers as a sharp pain travelled through his skull. The headache had started as a dull throbbing over one eye and become slowly worse as the day wore on. Now evening was approaching it as starting to become hard to cope with. Why didn't he have any damn painkillers, he cursed himself as he turned over another sheet of paperwork to sign from the manhunt that day.
'…all vulnerable…'
He blinked and rubbed his head. He thought he heard something; a voice. But there was no one around. Shit, it was the sleep deprivation, it had to be. He needed to find something better than Simon's couch.
He groaned slightly as he heard a knock on the door.
"Come in?" he sighed, not really wanting to see anyone. His annoyance increased when he found Shaz at the door.
"Some of us are going for a drink to celebrate our first success, sir," she said, "do you want to come with us?"
Robin knew it was stupid but he found himself bristling.
"No thanks," he said as politely as he could bring himself to, "I've still got paperwork to do. But have a great time."
"Thanks, sir," Shaz's smile was innocent and bright and Robin felt a little guilty for holding unnecessary jealousy against her. He sighed and turned back to the reports on his desk. He felt strange, being in what was basically the same office that he had in 2012 while knowing that here, in 1997, it had just been converted from an old toilet block and unlike his office in the real world it still had a vaguely toiletty theme to it. The room was plagued by flushing noises through the pipes that still currently ran through it, not yet removed by plumbers, while a sign bearing the slogan 'Now Wash Your Hands' stood conspicuously over the door.
'…would have thought someone would…'
There was that pain in his head again, and the voice. He cupped his head in his hands, trying to make the pain go away. He groaned as he heard the door opening and glanced up, worried that Shaz was back with another invite but was relieved to see only Simon enter the room.
"Robin?" he frowned, "Why is the room so dark?"
Robin sat up a little straighter and sighed.
"I've got a headache," he said quietly, "I thought toning down the light would help."
"Are you OK?" Simon frowned as he walked to the desk.
"I'll be fine," said Robin, "as soon as I get round to picking up some bloody painkillers." He glared at the pipes as a flush sounded and water rattled along the wall. "That doesn't help either."
'…realise. Thought there would be…'
He flinched and held his head again as another few words sounded in his mind.
"I just had a call from Gene," Simon began, "he went to see what state Keats was in. Getting worse by the moment, by the sound of things."
Robin was still shuddering from their earlier confrontation and didn't want to think about Keats right then.
"I'm just surprised he's still in one place without pulling a disappearing act," he said quietly.
"He also asked me to check on you," Simon said, "after Keats freaked you out earlier."
"Can you blame me for freaking out?" cried Robin.
"No," said Simon, "but nevertheless, Gene told me to…" he checked his hand where he'd written down the exact instruction, "make sure that dog-wrangling, hologram-headed ex of mine hadn't taken to cowering under his desk, waiting for Ace Rimmer to rescue him from the nasty man."
"Great," mumbled Robin, "Hologram-Head. Is that the new one? I think I preferred Batman."
"He's on his way back from the hospital now," Simon told him "we're meeting in CID."
Robin sighed and slowly got to his feet. He felt the room spin a little and held onto the edge of his desk, closing his eyes for a moment.
"Shit," he cursed.
"Rob? Are you alright?" Simon frowned.
Robin nodded slowly as the room stopped spinning and he slowly straightened up.
"Sorry," he said, "I missed lunch. Must be low blood sugar."
Simon hesitated. He watched Robin, unsure whether to believe him or not. Something didn't seem right. Eventually he simply nodded.
"Come on," he said quietly, "let's go and wait for Gene."
Robin nodded and followed him slowly, accompanied by pain in his forehead and words he couldn't unravel travelling through his mind.
'…someone protecting you…'
He shook his head as he tried to block it out. The sooner the meeting was over with and he could get some sleep, the better.
~xXx~
Alex had managed to get away with it. She'd spent the whole day in Fenchurch East without Gene telling her to go home. She'd made herself more than useful and Gene had realised that it wasn't just in a personal capacity he needed her. He desperately needed her at work for the smooth running of the station too. Plus it helped to keep her mind away from matters that she needed a break from stewing over. It was getting harder to keep the tears at bay when she thought about the baby she'd carried for all that time, alone in 2012. Being back at work gave her another focus, at least for a short while.
She frowned as she saw Simon and Robin arrive.
"Robin? Are you OK?" she asked, "You look pale."
"Had a headache all afternoon," he said quietly, the intensity of the words he couldn't understand worsening the pain.
'…but it looks like I…'
"Are you sure that's all?" Alex asked in concern, "you look worse than when you had morning sickness…"
Robin was aware of Simon staring at him with a look of absolute bewilderment on his face.
"Don't ask, don't even think about asking," he said, holding up his hand.
He was relieved when Gene arrived. It distracted Simon from his confused glances.
"Well, that was a sight and an 'alf," he remarked as he headed towards them, "a strapped-down Jimbo, foaming at the mouth and snarling like something from Batman's Hopeless Hounds division." He shook his head. "Looked far too much at home with those leather straps. Long suspected he was a bit of a bondage man."
"I've already got a headache, I don't need an upset stomach too," Robin blanched at the suggestion.
Gene stood beside the whiteboard and took a couple of pens from the tray. He handed them to Alex who looked at him curiously as she took one.
"What are these for?" she asked.
"You wormed yer way back in, now make yerself useful," Gene told her, "You're the only one who can work one of these things. Start brainstorming."
Alex found a smile flickering onto her face. Now she was back. Really, truly back. She took the other pen eagerly and removed the lid, taking her place in front of the board.
"So much better than the flip chart," she said, breathing in deeply to take in the aroma of the pens.
"Careful, Bols, we're already on the trail of Layton. We don't need you getting high an' all."
Robin's head was thumping and pulsing in a deadly rhythm of pain and anxiety. He felt his eye twitch as the worst of the ache located to one side. He tried to distract himself as he asked,
"What did the hospital say? Had Keats been –" he paused as a crescendo of words played through his mind – '…was wrong about that, lucky me…' - he flinched and rubbed his temples, "had he been raiding Layton's stash?"
"Blood tests haven't shown anything so far," said Gene, "not even a bit too much caffeine."
"Hasn't been on the latte run then?" asked Simon.
"Wouldn't send Jimbo on the latte run, I'd end up with a half-latte, half drool surprise."
"So what did they say?" asked Alex.
"Not much to be honest," said Gene, "sedatives aren't working. He's still as crazy as an Evan groupie." He leaned against the side of a desk as he watched Alex scribbling on the board –
Keats – no narcotics. Sedatives – failed. Restraints.
"Did you speak to him?" asked Simon.
"In a fashion," said Gene, "speaking maybe isn't the word. Did more growling than talking." He frowned as he saw Robin's eyes closing and his body slumping a little in the chair. "Oi, Batman? Are we keeping you awake?" but rather than startling with a look of shame as Gene expected he watched Robin slump further until he had almost toppled off the chair.
"Woah," Simon caught him before the ground could deliver a batch of bruises. He stared at him worriedly as his head flopped completely for a second before slowly righting. "Robin, what happened? Are you ok?" He saw Robin's head loll again for a moment before he sat up straight. "Rob?"
"Robin, what happened?" Alex abandoned her brainstorming for a moment to see if he was alright.
Robin's vision swam as he tried to focus on them. For a moment he felt as though he was seeing something strange; some random place, a face looming over him but the image was as blurred as a naked body through frosted glass and after he blinked a few times the office came back into clear focus. He groaned in embarrassment
"Oh god, I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Shit, you scared the hell out of me," Simon told him.
Robin held his head, forcing himself to ignore the words that were running through it.
'…Because here I am…'
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I told you, I missed lunch. I'm just a bit dizzy."
Simon looked at him cautiously, unsure whether to believe that was all that was wrong. Eventually he nodded and stood up.
"Alright," he said, "hold on. I'll be right back."
Gene stared at Simon as he walked towards the door.
"Oi!" he called, "Shoe-Boy! Walking out in the middle of a brainstorm requires surgery to see if you have a brain. In other words, not a good idea."
"I'll be two minutes," Simon told him, demonstrating by holding up the correct number of fingers and being careful to show them to Gene the offensive way around. Alex couldn't help but be amused, both by the gesture and by the scowl on Gene's face.
"How long has to pass before I'm allowed to make comments about being a chip off the old block?" she asked.
Gene turned his glare to Alex.
"When that day comes," he began, "cats will be diving in the ocean and cows will be tap-dancing in the fields."
Alex turned back to Robin for a moment.
"Are you sure you're OK?" she asked.
"Everything except my pride will be fine," Robin mumbled. There was a sharp pinching feeling above his eyes and with a groan he placed his palm across his forehead.
'…right by your bedside…'
"Robin?" Robin knew Alex was saying his name but he couldn't open his eyes long enough to look at her.
"Now what's bashing yer brain, Batman?" Gene's tone was somewhat less concerned.
"Headache's getting worse," Robin grimaced.
"Have you taken anything for it?" Alex asked. Robin shook his head. "Gene, get him some painkillers."
"What am I, a bloody nurse?"
"No, you're a man whose office smells of scotch," said Alex, "your desk must be lined with hangover cures."
Gene groaned and grumbled but finally relented.
"Check me bottom right hand drawer," he said.
While Alex was in search of aspirin, Simon returned with a can of Coke.
"The chocolate machine's broken and the canteen's closed for the night so this was the best I could do," he told Robin.
Robin looked at him gratefully. Come to think of it he hadn't had anything to drink either. He was probably dehydrated too. No wonder his head hurt.
"Thanks," he said, somewhat surprised by the gesture, especially since it wasn't followed by a string of unpleasant comments about Kim which almost every conversation managed to degenerate into.
Alex returned, pills in hand.
"Here," she said as she placed them in Robin's palm.
"Thanks," Robin said quietly. He opened the can and swilled down the pills with the cold, sweet fizz. The sound of the bubbling liquid almost drowned out the voice.
'…with your life…'
"Now that Batman's the right way up, can we get back to discussing the current mental condition of Mister Keats?" Gene asked, folding his arms. He waited until everyone was looking in his direction again before he continued. "Right. Back to the mad one. No drugs have shown up in his tests. The bed straps seem to be holding him in place for now but as soon as the lights go out for the night I wouldn't be surprised to see him vanish into thin air again. The only thing that makes me think differently…" he paused, "is, the way he's acting, he might just be a little too crazy to do it. Let's hope his brain is too warped to turn on the invisibility shield."
"You said you talked to him…?" Alex prompted.
"I said I got growled at," said Gene, "there were one or two words between it. Energy and power, he kept on about. Told him to speak to British Gas about that one."
"Energy and power?" Simon repeated quietly.
"I don't need a parrot in the office," Gene told him.
"What kind of energy and power, exactly?" Simon asked. His skin paled quite suddenly and his eyes began to look heavy with concern.
"The man was foaming at the mouth," Gene told him, "the only kind of energy he needs is electric shock treatment."
"Gene…"
Gene sighed.
"He didn't make a lot of sense, Shoebury. Something about, too much power and his head blowing up. Energy making it explode. Said it was too much and he was out of control. I could see that for meself."
"Shit… energy," Simon said quietly.
"That parrot's back," Gene said crossly, "someone go and get a bag of peanuts."
Simon shook his head, staring downwards.
"You don't get it?" he asked.
Gene looked a little confused.
"You going to expand on this revelation then?" he demanded.
"You remember what we found out about him, Gene?" he said quietly, "in his files in the basement. How he became the way he is."
"What's this?" Robin asked, his curiosity piquing despite his throbbing head.
Alex's expression looked haunted.
"Simon discovered something a while ago," she said quietly, "in Keats's old files from back in the eighties. It told us how he became the monster we know today. He was just a man once."
"It's my fault," Gene folded his arms defensively, "apparently I'm doing it wrong. I'm supposed to be a robot but for some stupid reason I give a damn about my team. Keats has me listed as a buggering do-gooder."
"There's more to it than that," Simon said witheringly, "it's because Gene doesn't just do his job. He cares."
"I bloody don't."
"He has a heart.
"That's an unfounded allegation."
"And because he didn't approach his job the same way as other DCIs there was all this kind of… opposite energy created to balance it out," Simon continued, "like, because of all the good Gene did –"
"Allegedly."
"- there was a darkness… a kind of malevolent energy… just floating around. Waiting for someone to absorb it."
Robin looked at him anxiously.
"And Keats was the person who took it up," he said quietly, not even terming it as a question. Simon nodded.
"Then things snowballed. First Alex got promoted and then I started working here and suddenly there were three of us 'doing it wrong'. He got more powerful." he looked at Gene. "How quiet has that man been for months? Ever since Alex disappeared."
Gene found himself swallowing nervously. That was something he hadn't thought about.
"Like someone pulled his plug out and his battery was running down," he said quietly.
Simon really wished it was that easy. If Keats was a laptop life would be so much easier.
"One less person. One less set off energy to draw on," said Simon. He saw Gene nod. Simon took a deep breath. "And now, all of a sudden, he's going crazy," he said, "insane. I've never seen him like this before."
"He's had his moments n the past," said Alex, "like when we confronted him with his own tape."
"No, that was different," said Simon, "that was a different type of crazy. He couldn't cope with being human. He couldn't cope with having emotions. This time… he's just manic. Violent., It's hideous."
"Oh fuck," Robin's eyes widened as he remembered Keats's words in the cell that morning, "when he was blaming me… it was because I joined and the energy went up, wasn't it?" his eyes darted around the room, hoping someone would tell him he was wrong. "The energy increased and he couldn't handle it… he was right… I did turn him crazy…"
"Why didn't he do the mental loop de loop when you joined the station?" Gene challenged Simon.
Simon hesitated guiltily. He glanced at Robin, hardly daring to say what was on his mind.
"Maybe because I'm not part of his family tree?" he said quietly. He immediately regretted it. The look on Robin's face of utter mortification almost killed Simon stone dead. "Rob, I'm sorry… I'm sorry, but it's true… he might just pick up more from you because… because you…"
"Please, don't enlarge on that," Robin said quietly as he got unsteadily to his feet. Where the headache had almost started to fade for a moment it now came back with a crushing pressure around his temples which he held and rubbed. The voice spoke again. The words were becoming clearer now.
'…in my hands…'
Gene stared at Robin. He wished he could tell him he thought Simon was talking bollocks but he had a feeling that every word he'd said was true. It seemed they'd found the cause behind Keats's insanity.
"And then Bols came back," he said stiffly, "just to add the cherry to the top of the cake. The final straw. Tipped him over the edge."
Simon nodded slowly.
"Exactly."
"He knows he's too far out of control," Robin whispered, "he said so. He wants to get rid of me. He blames me for his state."
"Did he say anything else?" asked Alex, "anything at all?"
"Talked about Layton," said Gene.
"Is there any sign of him yet?" asked Alex.
"Nothing solid," said Simon, "a few possible sightings that we're chasing up."
"Knowing Layton it could go one of two extremes," said Alex, "he could either seek familiarity and return to an old known haunt or he could flee the area and start again a long way away like he did after he shot me."
"I haven't had time to go through all the sightings and reports yet," said Simon, "but I'll keep both in mind."
'…with a gun…'
Robin's pain reached fever pitch. He clutched his head and sank back into his seat. He knew the others were staring at him but he couldn't do much about it. The pain was worsening, the voices getting stronger and the fear growing internally.
"We'd better wrap this up before someone faints and I end up with a Robin-skin rug in me office," said Gene.
"You need some sleep," Alex told Robin.
"You're telling me," Robin said quietly, barely able to hold up his head.
"Tomorrow we'll get Batman's mutt brigade searching one more time for Layton," said Gene, "and extend the search. It's looking more likely that he's travelling far and wide. He's a slippery one."
"I know," Alex said quietly, trying not to stare as Robin held his head again, "I still don't know how he managed to escape from the hospital in two thousand and twelve. He calls himself unlucky but…" she shook her head, "he's had one chance too many." She sighed distantly. "The one thing I do wonder," she said quietly, "is what happened to him after I came home. After he shot at us and fled. Whether he was caught, whether he went back to prison… where he is now."
'…against your head.'
The final words were the ones that brought everything together in Robin's mind. Finally he recognised the voice. Finally he knew who was speaking and what they were saying. The bursts of speech that he'd hardly been able to hear over the past hour or so suddenly came together and made sense to him; a perfect, terrible sense.
"I think I might know," his voice shook with horror as he turned to Alex, eyes wide open and hands trembling. He swallowed, meeting her eye. "Here's there. He's in my room. By my bed." He saw looks of disbelief and confusion on the faces of those around him, "he's got a gun to my head. Fuck, he's got a gun to my head, and –" he closed his eyes. He could feel it; the cold barrel pressed against his temple. He began to tremble all over, the fear grasping every limb. "He's killing me," he looked pleadingly at every face in turn, "He's going to kill me. Please, someone, help –"
"Robin, are you sure?" Alex's voice was urgent and full of fear.
"I can hear him, " Robin swallowed, "I heard his voice… I've been hearing it for the last hour but I couldn't understand it… couldn't hear who it was…" he gasped as a slightly crazed laugh played through his head. "Please, help me!" he begged. He looked from Alex, to Gene to Simon. "Someone, help me – what do I do?" Why was everyone staying silent? Why wasn't anyone helping him? He begged and pleaded with his eyes as he cried, "I have to wake up. I have to stop him." He waited again but all that met him were tearful stares. "Oh come on!" he cried, jumping to his feet, "there's got to be a way." He saw Alex's lip tremble as she slowly shook her head, Simon frozen as though caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck and Gene staring at him with a fixed expression that simply said he didn't want to spell out the truth. "How can I get back? I have to wake up… I have to stop him…" He felt himself losing control. "I have to get back. For Kim. For fuck's sake, she's having our baby – I need to get back, she fucking needs me!" his arms were flailing as he tried to express his desperation but answers remained absent.
"Robin," Alex began softly, "I'm sorry…"
"No," Robin started to shake his head, "Don't tell me you're sorry. That means you're giving up." He started to back away, "and I'm not giving up. I need to find a way to force myself awake… or to stop Layton now so he'll never get that far…"
"That's not the way it works, Robin," Gene said grimly.
"Fuck the way it works, tell me how to break the rules," Robin cried desperately.
"Some rules can't be broken," said Gene.
"That can't be true," Robin cried, "I can't believe that. You have to tell me how to get back there. How can I stop Layton? What can I do?" his heart was shattering right before their watching eyes. "I need her… I need to get back there… I need to be with Kim, I can't stay here…" tears began to fall despite every attempt to stop them. "Someone, help me," he pleaded one final time before he sank to his knees, his chest wracked with staged breath between his sobs as the truth began to sink in. "Help me –"
Simon swallowed. He stared at Robin in pieces on the ground, and felt his stomach churning. His heart was thumping away and he found himself shaking his head just a little. He tried to hold back tears as he watched the most important person in his life crumble before him. So much guilt started to grab hold of him. How much he'd longed for Robin's body to fade away and die in the real world, how much he'd longed for him to stay so he'd have a chance at winning him back. Did he want to see Robin in pain? Of course he didn't. Had he ever imagined Robin wanted to get home this badly? No, never in a million years because he didn't dare, lest his own heart would shatter with the truth. He swallowed again and felt angry tears pricking his eyes. Why was no one helping Robin? Why was no one fucking helpinghim?
"Oh come on," he cried angrily, his eyes focused on Gene, "help him!"
"You know it doesn't work that way, Simon," Gene frowned.
"Sam bloody Tyler," cried Simon, "You were the one who told me. You were the one who said he changed things in the real world by changing the past. Someone by his hospital bed, trying to do him in... Sam got him locked away for being crazy and suddenly things changed on the other side of the line."
"What?" Robin whispered, his tearful eyes turning to gene with a glare, "Is that true?"
"I told you things were different back then," Gene told Simon crossly, "Worlds –"
"Oh, don't give me that worlds were closer in Manchester bollocks," cried Simon, "how bloody close do you want them to be, Gene? Turkeys, babies and fishy biscuits can go back and forth at will, do you seriously think there's more than a hair's width between them right now?" He stared at Gene. He'd never seen Gene looking so uncertain before. Simon found himself breathing deeply. He was trembling all over. This was hard. This so, so bloody difficult. He felt torn in two as his eyes moved from Gene to Robin and back again. Then suddenly his conscience made a decision and he got to his feet. "If he won't help you, I will," he whispered before he could change his mind.
Robin stared at him in shock.
"What?" he whispered.
"We'll find a way," Simon told him, "I don't know how… we'll try the Sam Tyler route. Come with me, we'll go through all those reports, we'll find Layton, we'll make sure he never has the chance to pull the trigger."
Robin couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You want to help me?" he blinked and trembled, "you do… do know… I could end up going back…"
Simon stared back at him. His entire expression was a picture of sadness as he nodded. But as he stretched out his hand towards Robin, Robin could see that his gesture was sincere.
"I'm going to help you," Simon whispered.
Robin bit his lip and swallowed back tears. He reached out and linked hands for Simon to help him shakily to his feet. As the man he knew so well led Robin through to Gene's office where the pile of reported sightings awaited Robin had never felt more gratitude in the whole of his life.
"Thank you," he whispered.
But he knew either way – whether he made it home or not, whether they stopped Layton or not, 'thank you' would never be enough.
~xXx~
#...I'm a ghost to you now, I'm someone you don't really wish to see
I'm a ghost to you now, a shadow since you turned your back on me
Maybe you'll learn why it was I shook
Baby your turn to wear the haunted look
This ghost is here to stay
I survived the blast
Get Ready, get ready to pay
I'm taking you at last -
A prisoner of the past
This ghost is here to stay
He survived the blast
Get ready, get ready to say
"I've found my niche at last -
A prisoner of the past"
Anywhere that you go, I'm going to be the welcome there for you
Everywhere that you go - be certain that the table's set for two !
Maybe you'll learn - there's nowhere you can go
Baby you'll turn - as white, as white as snow
This ghost is here to stay
I survived the blast
Get Ready, get ready to pay
I'm taking you at last -
A prisoner of the past
This ghost is here to stay
He survived the blast
Get ready, get ready to say
"I've found my niche at last -
A prisoner of the past"
This ghost is here to stay
I survived the blast
Get Ready, get ready to pay
I'm taking you at last -
A prisoner of the past…#
~ Prisoner Of The Past – Prefab Sprout
~xXx~
(Very self-indulgent A/N: This song has a very special meaning to me personally and I have been in two minds about using it for this fic from the start, but by the time I finished this chapter I knew it was perfect.
On a not altogether unrelated note, two years ago today someone wrestled my writer's block violently to the ground, threw it into a dingy cell and set my muse free. Stewing over Alex's fate all day, I used the walk to the fish and chip shop to plan in my head the first chapter of Out of the Window, still unsure if I was going to be able to write after so long. I can't believe I'm still writing two years on – and thank you so much for still reading! x x