Chapter 10
"No, those go in the other filing cabinet."
"You say that like there's only two!"
"The one with all the boxes of papers stacked on top!"
"That only narrows it down by half!"
Simon laughed as he watched James shuffling files and rearranging his admittedly poor filing system. It wasn't exactly James's job to do the paperwork but so many comments had been made to that effect that it seemed to have become his first task. Simon knew he was bad with his filing. The fact that he'd been holding up the Hi-Tech crime department by himself wasn't the strongest of excuses since he knew he'd had plenty of opportunities to get his paperwork in order. Still, this was a new start, for several people.
"Marci should be back soon," he said, looking at the clock, even though he hadn't seen its hands move in years, "she's brilliant. You'll really like her."
"Marci?" James repeated, dusting himself off and grabbing another pile of papers.
"She was the one person I could talk to," simon hesitated a little shyly as he remembered the cups of tea Marci had plied him with and the friendly ear she'd lent him, "about you. Before, you know."
They were never sure how to describe that night; the one in which James overpowered the darkness and Keats was banished to the past. They rarely spoke of that day but when they did it would usually be described as, 'you know'.
James stopped filing and looked at Simon, feeling a little strange.
"What did you tell her?" he asked.
"Stuff," Simon felt a little coy about the idea of James knowing how deep his feelings had been even before they were able to be together. "You. That there was someone I liked and people didn't approve."
James gave a nervous laugh.
"Understatement Central," he commented and Simon smiled.
"She's good to talk to. Good for a laugh. Always the first to get you a cuppa when you need one and the first to get in a round at the bar."
"Sounds like the kind of person I need to meet," James joked, relaxing a little.
Simon leaned back in his chair, swivelling slightly from side to side, noting that Kim's chair had much more swivelability than his own. He also noted that he'd just invented the word 'swivelability'.
"She never judges," he said, "does love to gossip but never has a bad thing to say about anyone," he crossed his legs, "unless the canteen woman's on a colander rampage again."
James blanched and shuffled back nervously.
"Um," he coughed, "Maybe I should have brought sandwiches."
"Hey."
Simon and James looked around to find Kim peering around the door. She seemed anxious and uncomfortable which wasn't like Kim. Simon was used to her barging in and either attempting to wrestle away his jumper for disposal in the furnace or dragging him off for lunch.
"You OK?" He asked curiously.
"Yeah, I'm," Kim's eyes scanned across the room until she found James - a pile of papers still in his hand - about to brave the filing cabinet again. She found herself feeling more nervous and cleared her throat. "James. Hello again."
James, for his part, seemed just as anxious.
"Hello again, Guv," he said, straightening his posture a little.
Kim stepped a little further into the room, looking a little shorter than usual which, Simon discovered, was down her lack of boots, shaving a good inch or two from her height. She scraped one, bare foot against her other leg as she tried to act as naturally as possible. The sight of James had thrown her momentarily. She hated herself for it but that first glimpse had been of Keats in her mind. She couldn't help it. It wasn't a conscious thing. Her eyes settled upon the features of someone who'd hurt her repeatedly over a number of years. The fact that the man behind the face was as different as could be from the monster who'd peered through this eyes at her came to her as a secondary thought and she took a few seconds to get her emotions in check. She closed her eyes for a split second and took in a very deep breath. She knew this wasn't Jim Keats but it would take time for her mind to rewire those alarm signals that had been set up over time.
"How are you getting on?" she asked him as though everything was as normal as could be, "are you doing OK?"
"Oh, yeah," James put down the papers in his hands and wiped the dust from his fingers, "well, apart from the filing..."
Kim gave a nervous smile and found James aiming one back in her direction.
"That's good. That's great," she said quietly, "Um," she cleared her throat, unsure how to continue. She glanced at Simon and then back at James. "James. I was wondering... I was hoping you might be up to... the idea of talking to someone."
James bit his lip and pushed back his hair.
"Who, Guv?"
Kim swallowed and stepped back, reaching for the hand of a figure bathed in shadows. As she gently led him in, his features were revealed by the light and James felt a little trickle of panic infiltrating his chest, just for a moment.
"Oh," he said quietly.
"Rob would like to talk," Kim said gently, "if... that's OK?" She paused as James seemed to consider how he felt, "it's... it's OK if you're not ready." She glanced at Simon who seemed surprised and a little unsure. "Simon? Is this OK with you?"
"I'm not James's keeper," Simon gave a small shrug, "I'm not sure what's going on?"
Robin stepped forward. He glanced over at Simon and gave him a wobbly smile that attempted to hide a whole barrel of fear.
"I just want to talk," he said quietly. He turned to James. "Do you... know me?"
James nodded silently. Of course he did. He remembered Robin – barely, but he did. He recalled Robin like a character from a book or a play; almost like someone who wasn't real. Most of James's memories felt like that; separated from him by an invisible screen, like the glass of a television set or the rows of space between the cinema screen and the back row. The only thing that felt real was Simon. He'd been more than a little scared of setting that right. Now, he realised, it was time to try.
"Hi," he said quietly, "Chief Inspector Thomas." He hesitated and bit his lip, "Robin."
"If either of you aren't ready for this, then that's alright," Kim's voice was calm and steady. Simon stared at her, remembering the hot-headed DC he'd first met in 1995, scarcely believing that she'd matured into someone who could handle such intensely delicate situations with ease. Her hostage negotiation training had certainly filtered into other areas of her life, he thought to himself. She still had every bit as much bite as she once had but now could hone it and control it; using it where and when she needed to. At other times she could use her voice as a soothing instrument to spread water across the fires she encountered.
"No, I'd..." James began, stoping himself before he got very far into his sentence. He was scared of sounding too enthusiastic about talking with Robin because it really wasn't something he'd been looking forward to, but he knew it was better to get it out of the way sooner rather than later. "I'm OK." He looked a Robin nervously, "I'd like to talk."
"Rob?" Kim asked quietly.
Robin felt her hand grasping his arm which made him feel safe. The thought of talking to Keats was one that had filled him with dread and distress but the more he looked at James's face the less of the devil he could see. He might as well be talking to a stranger for the first time. Shit. That was a terrifying prospect in itself. He had never been very good with new people. He started to feel anxious all over again but for a very different reason. Eventually he realised he needed to pull himself together.
"I'm ready to talk," he said firmly.
Simon felt somewhat swept along by the event. He knew things were moving quickly but this was a matter between James and Robin, and it was a conversation that needed to be had sooner or later. Perhaps on this occasion sooner was better.
"Do you want me to stay here?" he asked but James shook his head slowly with a little smile.
"I'll be OK," he said, "we'll be fine. I think." He glanced at Robin who was pretending not to look at him but couldn't carry on hiding after James caught his eye.
"No, he's right, we're fine."
"OK," Simon said quietly with a tingling sense of anxiety in his fingertips that made him clasp and wring his hands tightly. He loved James, and Robin was still very important to him. He couldn't help feeling scared that a conversation between them would result in a shower of hurt on both sides. "Well..." he began to stand up," I can leave if you'd like to use the office for a few minutes."
"Oh, no, Si, I don't want to turn you out of your own office," Robin said, feeling a little guilty. He looked at James, becoming nervous again. "We could, um, go to the canteen or something. Do you want to get lunch?"
James opened his mouth to agree but had a flashback to Simon's comment about the colander woman and shuddered.
"Um, not really feeling hungry," he said.
"Really, it's OK, I'll leave," Simon told them, "take as long as you need. Or do you want me to wait outside? Just in case?"
"Just in... Si, we're not going to have a fist fight," Robin protested.
"Alright, alright, it's just an offer," Simon protested.
"I can wait here if you need me to," Kim offered quietly but Robin shook his head.
"Really, Kimmy," he said gently, "I don't need a chaperone."
"You'll need surgery if you call me Kimmy again," Kim threatened which made Robin laugh softly. She glanced to James and asked, "And you...?"
"I'm fine too," he said, even though his mouth was feeling dryer by the second, nerves taking over his body.
"Alright." Kim gave them both a smile that seemed just as nervous as theirs, then watched Simon as he stepped out from behind his desk and walked towards her.
"I'll come with you," he said and Kim nodded.
"OK then." She gave Robin and last reassuring smile before she and Simon left, closing the door behind them.
Two dark haired individuals stood and stared at one another. It was a conversation that had been waiting in the wings for the last few years but neither knew how to start it. Robin found himself licking his lips as they felt dry rather suddenly. He stared at Keats, taking in every feature of his face. Beyond the dark hair and eyes there were so many similarities between them; echoes he admittedly saw when he looked in the mirror. He shuddered as he remembered another day, a long time ago, when he'd been staring at that face. A very different situation, a different place, and – to his surprise – different eyes.
That was Jim Keats. This, he realised slowly, was not.
"So," he began. He cleared his throat and shuffled awkwardly, hiding behind the segment of hair hanging down over his face, providing that little sense of shelter that made him feel safer sometimes like a barrier between him and the world. He looked nervously at James and took a deep breath. "I should say hello properly. I suppose."
James nodded, just as awkward and anxious as Robin.
"Hi," he whispered, "Nice to meet you." It sounded so trite, it felt so awkward and contrived but how else were they to begin? Robin tried to smile but it didn't seem to work very well.
"Hello," he managed to say. He knew he was shaking physically. He only hoped it wasn't visible. "What..." he tried to keep his voice steady, "what do you know about me?"
James swallowed.
"I know that we share a father," he said awkwardly with a little shrug.
Robin felt a cold sense of dread pass through his veins. Just thinking about that cruel and evil man sent him cold all over. He shuddered and clenched his fists until his fingernails began to dig into the skin of his palms. It was only the sharp sensation that stopped him and brought him back to the real world.
"That's a lovely subject to open with isn't it" he asked with a flurry of nervous laughter.
James nodded slowly.
"I always used to want a brother," he said quietly, "I was a lonely bozo as a child. Needed someone to play cops and robbers with. Only so many times you can arrest the same teddy." He paused and gave a slight smile, "he gets wise and starts escaping out the window after the first five or six times."
Robin found himself laughing, caught completely by surprise.
"Apparently you're funny too," he commented without sarcasm. He looked down for a moment, smiling as a little of the worry faded from on his shoulders. He wasn't the only one. James visibly relaxed just a little and flicked his gaze to Robin with a smile.
"Thanks," he said quietly. He wasn't used to hearing things like that about himself.
Robin scuffed his toe against the carpet and took in a deep breath.
"You remember that much, then?" he asked, raising a nod from James. "And you remember being a kid?"
"Mostly," James said nervously, "sometimes I remember more than others. It disappears again."
Robin's heart was beating harder than usual; he knew that much.
"What else do you remember?" he asked with a whisper.
James shrugged and stared downward like a child being interrogated by the head teacher.
"I know you're not going to believe me when I say this but it's like a blank book," he said, "my brain's like... like a computer set back to factory settings."
That line was the kind of thing Robin might have said himself a couple of years ago, he realised. It made him smile, if just for a moment. Without the darkness James's true personality was coming out with every word. He could understand why Simon had been drawn to him although there was a distinct strangeness about seeing the man he'd once shared his life with in love with somebody else, let alone someone who shared half his genes. That thought started a wave of pain and dread throughout every inch of his being as a memory came back to him, drenching him with
"Do you remember finding out we were related?" he asked eventually and James's face seemed to pale visibly in an instant. There were thoughts in his head which were busily unpacking themselves and he wasn't sure he was ready for that to happen yet.
"Some parts are there," he said in slow, measured tones, as though trying to hold a conversation whilst mentally engaged in a TV programme, "I remember there was a photograph," the memory unpacked a little more of its fearful content as he spoke, "It was mine. No!" He quite suddenly threw a hand to his head as the memory stabbed him all over like the prongs of a fork, "it was yours. Your photo, my father." his eyes returned to Robin and he looked straight at him, head throbbing; "I saw him in your photograph. You didn't know." his head drooped and his eyes closed. "Neither of us did, until that day." He tried to remember what day it was but his memory blocked him from accessing that information. "What... day... was it?"
Robin stumbled back a step and pressed his hand against the wall to steady himself. That day was one he'd spent years trying to forget. He'd reached the point where it was locked away in his long-term memory and only accessed if he needed to go rummaging in the archives of his mind. He'd worked hard at forgetting and he didn't even have the excuse of being possessed by the devil. His memory block was of his own making. He forced himself to press on, even though he knew his voice was shaking.
"That doesn't matter," he said quietly, "just trust me on that one. You don't want to go back there."
James shuddered. He already knew that. He didn't know how, but he did. It was there, buried in his mind, and he knew there would be be a solid reason why his mind had tunnelled down for miles before leaving those memories in a place they should never be found again. But the curiosity became so hard to ignore sometimes.
"I remember a river," he said quietly, "and a boat."
"James, don't go there," Robin said quickly. Christ, he felt like he was going to self-destruct at the prospect of confronting that day. He couldn't even begin to imagine what would happen to Keats. His head would probably explode and the universe would end. There'd be nothing but a pair of Keats-legs sitting there with a few lumps of flotsam and jetsam rotating around it.
James. For fuck's sake. Its James. Not Keats, Robin admonished himself. Shit, how was he ever going to get used to changing the way he addressed James in his mind?
He struggled to forget that name. Keats. It was engraved into every bad memory in his head. He knew that was unfair to James; a man who'd stepped back into a body held hostage so long ago to find that its' decades-long joyride had been one of devastation and death to all who had the misfortune to cross his path..
"I don't remember," James whispered, his head moving slowly from side to side, "I don't know why but I don't. I can't."
"It really doesn't matter," Robin told him, "I just... you don't..." he stumbled over his words. That day needed to stay buried, at least for now. He felt a giant lump in his throat that resembled an ostrich egg as he choked out a question to move forward with their stilted conversation. "Do you remember him?"
James hesitated.
"Our father?" Robin nodded. "Not really," James admitted, "I was too young. I don't remember much about him. I remember hearing about him. I remember my mother telling me he was a waste of space. Telling me she was scared I was going to -" he paused and flinched, "turn out like him." He felt his heart become heavier inside his chest, "I don't remember much about anything but I'm guessing that I-I did."
Robin hung his head. He couldn't exactly deny that, but also know it was the last thing James needed to hear. He cleared his throat and promptly changed the subject.
"I need to know something," he said, trying to make his voice sound strong and confident even though inside he was trembling with the force of an earthquake, "you have to answer me honestly, James. There's no point in lying."
James's eyes met Robin's and glistened with a trace of a tear that he wouldn't allow to fall. Remembering his childhood brought a pain inside of him that wasn't going to leave for a long time but he needed to focus on one thing at a time.
"What?" he asked.
"Do you hate me?"
Robin cursed himself. His words sounded so childish. He might as well be a kid on the playground who'd been pinched and bullied in his lunch hour. But he needed to know the answer and dressing it up into a fancy sentence wasn't going to change its meaning.
"What?" James asked nervously.
"We're going to have to work together sometimes," Robin pointed out, "we work at the same station, we're going to end up on the same cases now and then, we'll pass each other in corridors or in the canteen..."
"Not in the canteen we won't," James interjected nervously, still thinking abut the angry woman on the colander rampage.
"And Simon's my friend. A really close one." Robin swallowed. He felt incredibly awkward and embarrassed as he continued; "we were together once. I-I'm not sure if he told you or... or if you remember..." He panicked a little that he might have spoken too quickly. It wasn't his place to tell James if he didn't remember.
"I know," James told him, "I-I do remember... not much, just a little. Enough to know it's true."
Robin nodded slowly.
"We've been separated for a long time," he said, "but he still means the world to me."
"I'm not going to hurt him," James interrupted, "I promise." He looked both annoyed and anxious, "I've already had one of you threatening me not to do that today."
"No, no, I wasn't," Robin seemed a little surprised, "I wasn't going to... although, I'm guessing I probably should do something like that..." Robin wrinkled up his nose as he tried to think. He hadn't been in this position before. Simon hadn't been out with anyone since he and Robin had broken up. Well, there was Michael but that had never been serious. Robin had known how serious things were between Simon and James from the moment he and Kim had been told about their relationship. However, he was Simon's best friend and Simon was his, both with the exception of Kim. Perhaps he should be warning James not to break his best friend's heart. "Hold on, who else threatened you?"
"The Guv," James shuddered.
"Gene?" Robin's brow wrinkled. "I mean, DCI Hunt?"
James shook his head.
"Blonde one," he said, "DCI Stringer."
Robin's lips twisted into a smile despite himself and he felt himself grinning at the mention of Kim.
"Yeah, well," he laughed softly, "If Kim's threatened you already there's no need for me to do it a second time. She'll have warned you off for life."
"Too right," James said nervously and smiled.
Robin found himself smiling back. He felt torn inside; this was still James Keats. The Keats part wasn't going anywhere. But this was not the person who'd caused him and the people he loved so much pain. He breathed in and began again.
"What I mean is," he said, "Simon and me, we hang out a lot. There'll be nights we'll go to the pub or the night club. He might bring you along. He probably will... I feel bloody stupid for saying that, I mean, why would he leave you behind?" He sighed. "We'll see each other everywhere, all the time. If you have a problem with me I need to know. I'd rather get it out in the air sooner than later."
"I don't," James said quickly, "believe me, Sir, I don't."
"You did." Robin knew he was overstepping the mark but the words just slipped out and he couldn't take them back. There was a part of him that wished James did remember. He wanted him to know how badly he'd hurt them all. He wanted him to remember tying an unconscious Robin to the filing cabinet in his office, spitting in his face, threatening him, saying the words that scarred him deeply inside. He wanted James to remember scraping the blade of a knife back and forth across his chest, leaving scars that would never heal. He wanted James to recall drugging and using all those unfortunate people who fell under his spell. He wanted him to feel all that pain because he yearned desperately to hear one word; just one tiny, simple little word.
Sorry.
He wanted a real, full-force apology. It wasn't going to take away the things that had happened but it was a step closer and it was certainly something that Robin needed to hear in order to truly find closure.
But as he looked at James's innocent eyes there was another part of him that knew it would do no good, even if he heard it, because this was not Jim Keats that he was talking to. This would be someone apologising on his behalf. It would mean nothing coming from a man who'd had no control over his own body or mind. Jim Keats was gone forever and Robin would never hear that 'Sorry'. He needed to accept that. He needed to force himself move on.
He saw James's face folding with the pressure of those evil deeds. Even though he didn't remember any of those things he still felt the guilt. Every time anyone mentioned something that took his mind anywhere close to where those memories were locked away he still felt the guilt strike with the force of a drunken elephant on an ice rink.
"Sorry," Robin mumbled, feeling a little guilty himself, "You didn't deserve that. I should know better." he looked at James, "I'm trying to be big about this and I'm failing, badly. I-I'm sorry. I'm not handling this well."
James gave a slight shrug.
"How are we supposed to handle it?" he asked, "Don't think there's much of a prescient for this one."
"No," Robin smiled anxiously, "I suppose not." He looked down and concentrated on the scuffing of his shoe as he continued, "But... you did. You had a problem with me. He had a problem with me," he corrected, "he hated me, more than anyone. Partly because of our father. Partly because of Simon. Mostly because for some reason he was jealous," Robin still couldn't understand that, "I don't know why anyone would be jealous of me, but he was. He saw me as having everything he missed out on. Including Simon."
James sucked on his bottom lip until it made a sharp, squelchy sound and popped out of his grasp.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I can maybe see why I felt like that. I hear people talking about you, and you seem like someone who's got everything together." He looked at Robin, "I'm not going to be the one to take that away from you. You don't need to worry. I've no problem with you, Sir."
"Good," Robin nodded slowly, "great. Thank you. Thank you, James." Every word felt awkward and stiff. He had no more idea how to talk to James than he did how to crochet a hat.
James coughed.
"And, um, do you have a problem with me?" he whispered.
Robin stared at him. James's features brought back memories of days spent in fear and pain but his eyes bore no scars from them. It would take time to get used to that but it would happen. If Jim Keats ever showed his face at the station again then Robin wouldn't hesitate in showing him the door in the most forceful way possible. But James wasn't Keats.
"Of course I don't," Robin shook his head.
"And," James felt more nervous as he continued, "are you OK with me and Simon being a thing?" He found his cheeks reddening as he spoke. Shit, what was wrong with him? He often felt like a giddy teenager in love where Simon was concerned.
"Of course I am," Robin said earnestly, "I'm not a jealous ex. Promise."
James found himself smiling. He still felt a little overwhelmed by the events of the day but he was certainly feeling better for talking to Robin. They had exchanged only a few words from both sides but it was enough to help both of them confront the big white elephant in the room. Or, in this case, the station.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly.
Robin nodded.
"Ask away."
"Our father." James's words set Robin on edge again.
"What about him?" he asked quietly.
"Can you tell me anything about him?" he asked, "all I know of him is what mum told me."
Robin stared at a spot on the wall just beyond James, reluctant to look him in the eye.
"It's not something you really want to know," he said quietly.
James closed his eyes, his head cast downward.
"I don't want to," he agreed, "but I think I need to."
Robin nodded very slowly. He understood that. But it didn't make it any easier to talk about.
"Maybe another time," he said softly, "I need time to work myself up for that."
James looked at Robin again.
"I suppose I do as well," he admitted.
"But," Robin continued, "I will. I'll tell you everything you want to know."
James's smile flickered.
"Thank you," he said quietly. He cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious suddenly. It felt like the conversation was winding up but he wasn't sure how to close the meeting of the Keats/Thomas bloodline. Was he supposed to say something or not? Give a closing speech? Sing? He edged back until he collided with the filing cabinet. "Are... are we alright then?" he asked quietly, "we're not at war?"
"No, we're not at war," Robin promised with a nod, "we're... we're good." He had never imagined saying that. Even after talking to Kim about James he'd never expected that talking to him could do him so much good.
"Is there, um," James coughed, "anything else?" he felt incredibly rude but he didn't know how else to finish the conversation," it's just, I have so much filing to do. God, Simon's..." he paused, blushing, "he's my..." he coughed, "yes, I like him a lot... but he's not been the greatest in the world at getting his papers sorted."
Robin laughed. He remembered how meticulous Keats had always been with filing and paperwork. It seemed that part of James was still alive.
"I understand," he said, "I didn't want to keep you from your work." He stepped back toward the door as though their talk had ended but something stopped him before he stepped outside the room and hauled him back in. There it was; the thing. Something burning deep inside of him. A feeling of discomfort and agitation that twitched and jumped inside his chest. He felt the ostrich egg return to his throat as he stumbled, stopped and fiddled nervously with his fringe, "There's just..." he trailed off, something stopping him from continuing.
James looked at him curiously. He gave an encouraging nod.
"What?" he asked.
Robin stared at him. There were questions he still needed the answer to but he wasn't sure how to ask. Eventually he cleared his throat and began,
"How much do you remember about me?"
James stared at him. Was there something in particular Robin was afraid of him knowing? Or was there anything Robin wanted to tell him?
"I remember thinking you needed a haircut," he said jokingly which brought a nervous laugh from Robin. "I know we share a father," he said quietly, "and I know who you are. Is there something I should know?"
"No," Robin said quietly, "just.." He closed his eyes, "you used to say you were in my head," he whispered, "you saw things. Things in my thoughts."
James stared at Robin who looked very scared now: lost and anxious. There was something, there had to be, but whatever it was James didn't know it, or at least he didn't remember it. He shook his head and looked him right in the eye.
"I'm not in their now, Sir," he said quietly, "and 'I' never was. It's like he's a different user logged onto the same computer. I don't have access to his private files. Maybe they're encrypted."
Robin smiled weakly. James's humour was winning him round and he felt certain that whatever Keats had prised from his deepest thoughts James had no access to. But, he thought to himself, if those memories are still on the hard drive somewhere then there's nothing to stop James cracking the password one day. For now though, he had to resolve that his secrets were secure, or as much so as they'd ever be. James did not know the things that Keats had prised out of his mind. What he did know was how to win over someone with cheesy jokes.
"OK," he said quietly. He cleared his throat and shuffled a little. "That's... good. We're good. Its all good." He had never imagined he could feel so much at peace with the thought of someone who'd once been Jim Keats working on the premises. He wasn't sure what to do next or how to end their talk so awkwardly he began, "listen, it's getting late and I'm dying for a bowl of beans. Do you feel up to braving the canteen?" He saw James step back a little in fear of rabid colanders and that made him smile. "We'll all go. That's if Simon and Kim are ready and willing."
James hesitated. It felt like a very unreal situation. Hours earlier he'd been enemy number one. Now he was on the promise of lunch with three people who didn't want to see him hung, drawn and quartered. Perhaps he would be OK after all.
"Sure," he said quietly.
Robin smiled and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor. He waited a moment and sure enough James abandoned his filing to walk across the office and join him on the quest for food.
Impossible bridges were being formed across a gulf of pain and distress.
Just maybe anything was truly possible.
~xXx~
AN: Hey everyone! I just wanted to say thank you so much for the reviews and for continuing to read and support my fic series. I cannot believe how long I've been drawn into this world, nor what it had brought me. I am forever grateful for everything that's happened to me as a result of writing. Thank you so much for being there to witness the rest of this journey.
Speaking of which there should hopefully be more to come in the near future because whilst I still have a couple of chapters of this story left to edit and post I'm going to try writing my next fic for NaNoWriMo to try to get more writing done than I have been able to for a long time. Whilst this fic has been strangely light and positive after a dark beginning the next fic delves deep into the nature of Gene's world once again and is shrouded in darkness, along with a large dollop of silly humour, as always. I'm excited and I hope you will be, too!
Finally I want to take a moment to make a very special announcement. On halloween Lucy and I celebrated our three year anniversary of the day we first met IRL. One year from now I will be married to my beautiful fiancee; the Robin to my Kim. November 1st 2017 will be our wedding day! I haven't been on Facebook for a while but Charlotte, when you get to read this just be warned you'll be getting a message from me soon!
Hope you all have an amazing week! x