Hi! Here's my first chapter in my first Strike Fic. This will more closely follow the books - but couldn't find Strike in books, might have to keep looking. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

The office was silent, the distant sound of midnight traffic the only noise. But he didn't hear it. He sat at his desk, small brown box open in front of him. He was just staring at it, unmoving, nostrils flared. It was a rare thing for him not to know what to do. But he didn't. The pain was engulfing him. The pain of thought, of his imagination running wild. Where was she? What were they doing to her?

A tear fell down his cheek as he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

oOo

Three days earlier

"Well, we've done it... we've pissed off everyone." Robin had just walked in. She had been talking to the client of their latest closed case.

"He didn't like what you had to say," Pat looked up as Robin sat on the couch.

"Surprisingly, he didn't want to hear his wife had been faithful."

"What?"

"Yup, he wanted her to be cheating... because he is cheating... and it would look better in the divorce."

"People are strange," Pat had already gone back to typing. Robin sat listening to the keys being pushed. She was exhausted. Three weeks of watching, only to be told being faithful wasn't what he had wanted. It wasn't her fault the wife was loyal.

The door to her left opened, Strike walking out reading a thick file, not even looking up as he went to the kitchen.

"Yes, hello to you too."

"Shit sorry," he finally looked up as he reached the kettle, "want a tea?" She just shook her head.

"Robin was saying the client was unhappy."

"Really, why?"

"He wanted her to cheat, better when divorcing her."

He snorted, "Guess we'll call him Slimy."

"Remember I'm off tomorrow... and you're coming for dinner." She said it carefully, wondering what his reaction will be. He looked at her.

"Yeah I remember. But..."

"What?"

"Well, wouldn't it be better if I stayed clear... they hate me and we don't want a rerun of the last dinner..."

"They don't hate you. And it won't be a rerun... you'll be sober this time."

"Who hates you?"

"Her parents."

"My parents don't hate him Pat."

"They do. I can sense these things."

"They don't hate you Cormoron, they just..." the pause lasted longer than she wanted, "don't really know you yet."

This was an understatement. The only real contact he had had with her father was when he crashed her wedding. Truthfully, they kind of hated him, but they had come to accept Robin's job – and partner – weren't going anywhere. They wanted to meet him. Properly.

"That's normally when people like me the best. It's only downhill from here." Pat laughed as Strike walked back to the office, "See you tomorrow... six, right?"

"Yes. Be on time. And sober... and don't talk about..."

"I know I know."

oOo

"The food smells delicious Robin. Can't wait to start."

As she removed the chicken from the oven, Robin clenched her teeth. Her mother was making out they had been waiting ages. He was only ten minutes late. Just as she turned to say this – no doubt starting another argument – the doorbell rang. She released the breath she had been holding.

"Where have you been?" She hadn't even looked at him. But once she did, she gasped. His face was bruised on one side, his right eye blood shot and the skin around it almost black. And he was using his walking stick, leaning heavily to the side. "What the hell happened to you? Come in," she reached forward for his arm as he looked like he was going to fall. As she shut the door behind him, she saw the state of his face in better lighting. His nose was slightly bloody, and his lip was split. She put her hand on his blue cheek bone, feeling it warm. He smirked and pulled away slightly.

"I'm fine. It's just... nothing. I'm fine. Sorry I'm late."

"Forget that, what the hell happened to you? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, might need your help up the stairs though. Are they here?"

"Yes, we waited for you."

"Shit sorry. It took ages to get the leg on, my knee's swollen..."

"You shouldn't've bothered..."

"No. Your mum and dad are here..."

"They wouldn't've minded."

"Still... didn't want them thinking..." he stopped talking, looking up the stairs to the dining room. The door had opened, the Ellacotts looking down at them.

"Is everything ok? You didn't come back up we thought..."

"Everything's fine, we're on our way." Robin saw Strike look down, trying to hide his face. He started up the stairs slowly, Robin behind him, as her parents watched, not helping. It annoyed her.

"Do me a favour..." he turned towards her the best she could, "come in front." He heard a soft grunt from her mum, who looked like she wanted to say something about him making her daughter walk with her bum in his face.

"But if you fall..."

"If I fall, I squash you."

"Fair point," she manoeuvred around him, giving her parents a dirty look. She knew what they had thought. It's what they always thought about men with their daughter since the rape. She was happy their faces showed they had been proven wrong.

She reached her parents while he was still halfway up, but she knew better than to help. Instead, she shivvied them back, giving him room. Her mother staring at him until Robin nudged her away.

"Leave him alone."

"He can barely get up the stairs. He really runs a..."

"Mum, stop."

They were sitting back at the table by the time he managed the stairs. There weren't many, but his knee was on fire, and he'd had to stop mid-way, as soon as they had left him alone. He was breathing hard, hand slick with sweat on the walking stick. But he smiled as he entered the room.

"Sorry about that, you didn't have to wait." He saw the Ellacotts exchange a look at the sight of him. But aside from showing up in make-up, he didn't know what he could do about the state of his face. "Yeah, sorry about this," he ghosted a hand over the right side of his face, glancing at Robin, "I was helping the police with a case... got a bit out of hand." He sat down before realising he still had his coat on, tried to get back up and failed. His leg screamed in protest. He closed his eyes against the pain. But before he could try again, he felt the coat be pulled off his shoulder. Robin was helping. He felt the embarrassment fill him. He avoided her parent's eyes. This is why he hated family dinners.