Chapter 2

Robin spat the last of the foul taste out into the sink and swilled it around with water. He watched the last of it dribble down the plughole as he turned off the taps and slowly his gaze rose to the mirror on the wall. His hands grasped the sink so hard that he felt his knuckles start to ache from the pressure. They were whitening more with every moment that passed. He stared into his own eyes and felt a shiver travel down his spine. Every now and then a lone, involuntary sob burst out. He couldn't seem to get that under full control.

He could feel himself shaking all over as he stared at his reflection. He had never seen himself looking so afraid. His skin had turned pure white. He reached up to his cheek, tracing the streak of black that ran down from his eye and made himself flinch as he recalled someone else tracing their finger around the remnants of his eyeliner a year and a half earlier.

Keats.

He jumped at the sight of Simon arriving in the doorway of the bathroom. He hadn't even heard him coming down the hallway. He swallowed, and terrified eyes bore into Simon's.

"I knew," he whispered, wiping his mouth against the back of his sleeve. He knew he'd left traces of lip gloss and vomit against the white of his shirt but he didn't care. "We all did, of course. Wasn't like you hadn't told me. I knew how you felt about him."

"Rob -" Simon took a step toward him but Robin backed away a little and Simon stopped moving.

"And I knew you went home with him that day," Robin continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, "the one when I was in hospital?" he swallowed, flinching as he recalled how that day had been such a monumental one for himself and Kim, and how the news about Simon that he'd heard the next day had stalled their joy. "Alex told us, poor Alex... why did she get stuck with that job, anyway?" He watched Simon nervously licking his lips as though he was considering answering the question, but alas he remained silent. "And th-that was fine," he flinched again, swallowing hard, "well, not fine but it was... we could cope... we didn't have to see him or think abut him or run into him. We didn't have to look at him and have that... that constant reminder of what he'd done..."

"It wasn't him," Simon began but his words were lost on Robin as he continued, so softly.

"It was fine when he was out of sight and out of mind," he knew that sounded a little callous but compared to what Keats had done to them all it was nothing, "but seeing him there, today," he could hardly force himself to carry on. The words were so painful that forcing them out felt like swallowing marbles, "seeing his face, those eyes... he was standing right there," Robin's voice rose with his anger, "like he belonged here -

"He does," Simon whispered.

"That's what it's going to be like, isn't it?" Robin could feel his heart rate rising as he trembled, "every damn day. I'll see him here, in the corridors. When I least expect it."

"You'll be down in uniform," Simon missed the point completely, "you won't be near him.."

"And what about when I come to see Kim?" Robin cried, "or when we all eat lunch together and a fourth face joins us? Or you're out on a case and you need the dogs to track someone? He's always going to be there, Simon, even when he's not in front of me. He's there, just like he's been 'there' every damn day for the last four years, give or take..." he coughed and choked back the nausea that was threatening to spill over again. "He shares my DNA, Si. He's my half brother. Don't you think looking in the mirror is a reminder enough?"

"That's not Jim Keats any more," Simon slowly moved closer, "that's James. James is warm; human... he wants to have a life, like you, like me."

"He almost took my life away," Robin cried out, pushing Simon's hand away as it threatened to touch his shoulder, "he cuffed me to my own bed and tried to rape me. Simon... he slashed my chest to pieces, you've seen the scars."

"Yeah," Simon blanched. His eyes moved involuntarily to Robin's chest, even though the scars were covered by both his shirt and the artwork of Kim. Simon had seen those scars and they'd made him feel sick inside, knowing who'd committed such a vile act against someone he loved, and that the perpetrator now had stolen his heart.

"Then he blew up this station," Robin's movements became erratic and his eyes filled with anguish, "he knocked me out and tied me; bound me, beat me to a pulp... the bruises took weeks to heal. The ones in my head..." he shook his head, "they never really did."

"James isn't Keats," Simon whispered, "James didn't do this to you. The man out there today, the one who got the call from Fletcher, the one starting work with me today, that is not Jim Keats. That's not the man who hurt you."

"Kim had nightmares for months," Robin breathed, shuddering as he recalled those painful, tortured nights, "I held her every night when she woke up; sometimes screaming, sometimes crying, sometimes too scared to do either. He used her in every imaginable way, Simon. Physically, mentally, emotionally... he got inside her head and stole her will."

"I know," Simon whispered, choking back tears as he thought about everything his closest friends had been through. Finally he laid his hands against Robin's shoulders and Robin didn't shrug him away, "I know, Rob. I went through those things too. Keats... stalked me. Tried to kill me. He..." he swallowed as he recalled a night that felt like a lifetime ago. He had never been completely sure which side of consent the act had been on. He could still hear Keats breathing evil words into his ear as he'd pushed Simon over the bed. "I'm not in love with Jim Keats. I'm in love with James."

Robin stared at Simon. His breathing was ragged and his heart thumping away as he whispered.

"So it's love, is it?"

Simon stared at him, not able to read the expression on his face.

"I-I look at what you and Kim have," he whispered, "and I envy you. God, I envy you. I don't mean in the way I used to," he shook his head, "I mean... the closeness you have. The passion and the bond; the love. The laughter." He saw Robin nodding softly, almost imperceptibly, "I wanted that so much, Robin. Everyone told me Michael was so good for me. Everyone told me they loved him and were so pleased for me, but I..." he closed his eyes as he felt a horrible stab in his guts. Shit. He had never finished things with Michael. He felt like a complete bastard. There was no time to worry about that right then though. "I'm glad everyone else enjoyed my brief time seeing Michael. But I... didn't," he swallowed. "From the first night, we just... James and me..."

He noticed Robin's expression change a little as he trailed off.

"Go on," he whispered.

"We laughed," Simon felt an ache in his cheeks as he tried to fight an irresistible smile, "God, Rob, we just laughed and laughed. We talked... he didn't remember anything... he was like a blank slate but he had a sense of humour that made me laugh so much. We talked... we just talked and talked. I felt warm and needed, a-and in love." He saw Robin shudder a little, "Robin, you saw him once. The human. James. It broke through that one day... you told me about it. In the hospital."

That wasn't a memory Robin wanted to revisit.

"Yeah," he breathed.

"I see that all the time, every day," Simon whispered, "because that's all that's left. He fought that monster. He parted ways with the devil, Rob, I saw it myself. I watched him thrashing and fighting to be rid of it. He did it, Robin. He did it for me, and for himself. He wanted a life and a future and he fought against the darkness to get them. He's free now. I know you can't believe me, you'll need to see it for yourself. But," his mouth felt dry, "to do that you'll have to actually see it for yourself. Every day. Every day you pass him in a corridor while you're on your way to see Kim and he smiles and says hello. Every time he joins us for lunch and cracks a joke. Every time you're out with the dogs and James shares the case details with you. Every time you see me, happy."

Robin swallowed. He stared Simon deep in the eye. Simon's words had affected him more than he wanted to admit. He had truly never seen Simon with such a glow about him. He'd never seen Simon so bright or so strong. James was making that difference to him. God knows, he'd wanted Simon to be happy. He always had.

"H-how can I separate the man walking these corridors with the one who beat me to within an inch of my life and hoped I would choke on my own vomit?" he whispered, shaking visibly again.

Simon felt himself deflating. He didn't have any simple answers for Robin.

"You give it time," he whispered, "you'll see. You look at James and see Keats right now, just because he has the same face. As soon as he starts talking to you... you'll see. That's not the voice of Jim Keats. Those aren't his jokes or puns. There's not an evil intention in his head. You know what there is?" he hesitated, waiting for Robin's expression, "fear. He's terrified, Rob. He knows there are things... things Keats did. Things he can't remember because it wasn't him that did them. But they were done by his body, from someone hiding behind his face, and he's going to always be taking the blame for them. That scares me so much." He closed his eyes momentarily. "I don't know if he's strong enough to cope with knowing what happened before he beat the monster. That's why he needs me. He needs me to help him through. To survive."

Robin nodded very slowly. That made some sense to him. He hated it with a passion but Simon's words were getting to him. The man he'd seen for a moment in the doorway of Gene's office had looked like Keats superficially same eyes, same hair, same bone structure. But his expression and the look behind those dark eyes couldn't have been more different. His voice, his stature, even his aura – it was a world apart from the ball of evil and hatred that had been known as Jim Keats.

"Maybe," he whispered so quietly Simon could barely hear. He stared down at his shoes; a million thoughts flashing through his mind, but before he could think about Simon's words too much a new wave of fear grasped him so tightly that he could barely stay on his feet. "But here?!" he gasped, "here; every day, walking amongst us... Simon, he knows things."

Simon felt lost suddenly. The conversation seemed to have veered away without warning.

"What do you mean, Rob? Knows what?"

The panic rising inside him left Robin almost unable to speak. He gasped for breath and tried to force out the words that were sticking in his throat.

"He looked inside my head," he gibbered, "he was insane, Si. He had so much power... too much power. He looked right inside my head and saw everything. All my secrets. Everything." His eyes were wide and terrified. "He knows things about me, Simon."

Simon felt shaken by Robin's words.

"What things, Rob?" he whispered, sliding his arms around him to try to offer comfort but in his panic Robin barely noticed.

"Things that he can use against me," his words were jagged as he struggled to force them out, "things I've never told anyone."

Simon hated himself for it but there was a sinking feeling of sadness as he looked Robin in the eye and asked,

"Something you've never told me?" Robin nodded and Simon cleared his throat. "But you've told Kim, haven't you? It's something Kim knows?" Robin stayed till and silent, his eyes down on the ground. A solitary tear slipped from his eye and hit the toe of his shiny black shoe. "Kim knows, doesn't she?" Simon knew how close Kim and Robin were. They had no secrets. "It's got to be something Kim knows."

"It's something even I didn't know," Robin whispered, his lip trembling. A second tear fell from the end of his nose and joined the first on his shoe.

"Robin, what's going on?" Simon whispered. He held him by his shoulders and squeezed them gently. "You're scaring me. What's going on? What don't we know?" he swallowed, "what... what can't you even tell me?"

Robin looked up very slowly. He stared at Simon for several moments before he whispered,

"I-I can't even tell it to myself," he closed his eyes and breathed in sharply, "how can I tell anyone else?"

Simon felt shaken. He didn't know what more he could do or say. If Robin had a secret he wasn't ready to tell then Simon wasn't going to make things even harder for him by trying to prise it from him, but that didn't stop him worrying about it.

"Rob," he whispered, "I don't know what you think Keats knew about you, or what secrets you can't even tell yourself. But what I do know is that James doesn't even know who he is, let alone what he saw inside your head when there was a devil at the controls." He watched as Robin slowly raised his tear-streaked face and finally looked him in the eye, "whatever you think Keats knew about you, James has no clue. Whatever your secrets are, they're safe until the day you want to talk about them," he gave a concerned sigh, "if you ever do."

Robin felt his breathing calming down a little. Despite himself, he believed Simon's words. He didn't want to but he could see truth and honesty in what Simon told him. James wasn't Keats. And while the devil incarnate had peered into his mind and found out things he hadn't even whispered inside his own thoughts those secrets had died with the creature who'd stolen them. He tried to calm himself a little. He felt like a mess; a crazy, tearful mess. Glancing up in the mirror, he looked it too. He had so much to think about and knew that he would never stop feeling that terrifying jolt of fear when catching a glimpse of James down the corridor or across the office, but Simon was right. This wasn't Keats. The shell was similar but the contents were new and that was going to take some getting used to.

"OK."

Simon stared at him, unsure what to say.

"OK?" he repeated.

Robin swallowed.

"I'll give him a chance," he whispered, still shivering as he thought about the exact implications of what he found himself agreeing to, "one chance. I don't want to be friends, I don't want to eat lunch with him, I don't want to plan your surprise birthday party with him next year. But if I see him in the corridor," he hesitated, "If I see him in the corridor I won't run and I won't hide. I won;t do anything to him if he doesn't do anything to me."

"He won't, Rob. He's not -"

"Not Keats, I know," Robin nodded slowly, "but he has one chance and one chance only. If there is one hint of that monster; one flame, one lick of fire..."

"There won't be, there won't," Simon felt a smile starting to form, even though he tried to keep it hidden.

"And if you see one flicker of his old behaviour, you tell me," Robin demanded, "for your own safety. One hint of Keats coming through that face and you come and you tell me. Is that agreed?"

"Totally," Simon nodded. He knew Robin was worried about his own safety but he also knew James had beaten the darkness. He nodded again and looked Robin in the eye. "Totally."

Robin nodded. He felt shaken and weak on his feet; the morning was proving to be a challenging one in so many ways. He nodded to Simon and then to the door.

"Well go on, then," he said softly.

"Go and what?" Simon frowned.

Robin gave a weak smile.

"Go and work your magic on everyone else. Got a silver tongue, you have."

Simon have a wobbly smile.

"i don't think that's going to be easy, Rob," Simon said, rubbing his sore cheek and chin, "I've already gained two punches in as many minutes. I'm just waiting for Kim and Alex and then I'll be about done."

"Tell them the same thing you told me," Robin whispered. He looked down for a moment, then back at Simon, "and find James." he watched as simon hesitated curiously. "If you love him as much as you say you do then you should be with him right now. Make sure he's alright." He thought about the others, all baying for blood, "And still alive."

Simon nodded, but he couldn't stop worrying about Robin.

"Rob," he whispered, "are you sure you'll be OkK if I go?"

Robin nodded.

"I'll be fine."

Simon bit his lip.

"If you ever decide you need to talk to someone," he began but Robin stopped him, shaking his head.

"I know you mean well, Simon," he whispered, "but I don't think I ever will. I don;t think I ever could."

Simon felt his heart ache with worry. There was a dark cloud; a heaviness on Robin's shoulders that Simon hadn't seen before. He swallowed.

"Rob..."

"I'm alright, I'm really, really alright," Robin quickly wiped his eyes and gently pushed Simon towards the door, "Go and find him. I'm fine, I'm just being stupid." He watched Simon step towards the door, then hesitate. "Go, before Gene sends him on an eternal latte run."

He watched a brief smile cross Simon's expression and watched him leave the bathroom with a little reluctance but as soon as Simon had left Robin's eyes turned back to the mirror and he stared at his reflection again. The dark lines from his eyes had worsened and he looked paler than he'd ever seen himself look. He swallowed, confronting the person in the mirror. Everything he'd said had been true; Keats had looked inside his head and stolen from him secrets that even he hadn't been privy to and even if he had he'd certainly not been ready to admit to himself.

He swallowed as he confronted his reflection again. He reached out slowly and touched the glass. The person in the mirror stared back at him.

One thing he'd told Simon had been a lie. It was true that back then he hadn't been ready to admit that burning secret to himself. His mind had placed its hands firmly over its ears and refused to listen to the gnawing pain that had always been there in the back of his consciousness, trying to make itself heard but never quite getting through.

But things had changed.

The secret had raised its voice and the whisper became a shout that couldn't be ignored any longer. Its crescendo hurt. It boomed inside his head and twisted him up inside until the first ounce of admission seeped through a crack in his will to fight it back. When Keats had reached into his mind and pulled out a hidden whisper Robin hadn't been ready to listen. It wasn't the right time. It never had been, not once in all though years. He wasn't in the right place, not literally or emotionally. But a person evolves day by day. One never quite knew when that day would arrive.

The Robin in the mirror looked back at him with a new understanding of something deep within himself, a voice becoming louder and louder all the time until it screamed out from within him.

He blurted words into the empty bathroom that only the mirror image of himself could hear and collapsed at the magnitude of what he'd done. It didn't matter that no one else had been around to hear it. He'd heard it. He'd heard his own words and saying them made them real. Now the crack in his denial had been blown wide open there was no sealing it up and no hauling that secret back inside.

Whether he could share those words with another person remained to be seen. But in a way that was irrelevant. Just saying the words confirmed what he knew but had tried so hard to bury.

Robin knew his own secret beyond any reasonable doubt. Now the lion had been set free it was impossible to keep it from roaring. Sooner or later, someone would hear. Until then, it stayed between Robin and his reflection.