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Chapter 2

As she prepped the desert, she listened to the noises from the table behind her. There had been silence during the starter, everyone looking at their soup. She had tried to make some sort of conversation, but they all fell flat, Strike smirking at her with each attempt. Main course went smoother, her father asked about Strike's work, about the case that had left his face black and blue. Strike had replied, politely, giving enough information to be interesting, but remaining confidential. He made a joke. It was funny. Even her mother laughed. Now conversation was flowing. She re-joined the table, her mother starting another train of thought.

"So, you were at Oxford?"

"Yeah, yeah," he looked at Robin as she tried to sit, pulling out her chair from where he sat. He didn't really want to talk about Oxford, but Robin needed him to play nice. "Dropped out in my second year..."

"Something we have in common." Robin smiled at him as she dished out the cake. She knew he was uncomfortable.

"Yes. I suppose so." She could tell the mother thought that nothing this large man had gone through would compare to what her daughter had been through.

"This cake is amazing Robin, did you bake it?" She could tell her dad was trying to keep it light. She was grateful, smiling at him.

"No, Max my roommate did."

oOo

He was feeling warm, dizzy and exhausted. Three hours had passed since walking in the door. He wondered when he could leave. Her parents – while lovely – didn't like him. Not that he would tell Robin that. It was the way they looked at him, the way her mother's eyes stayed on him, with no reason. He needed to pee, but the bathroom was downstairs. Robin said he could use her ensuite. He felt his face go red at the look her mother gave him. But still, he wouldn't manage the stairs. He struggled to cross the room, following Robin so he knew where to go.

The bedroom was clean, tidy and had hints of Robin wherever he looked. The bathroom was the same. He smiled. The smile stayed on his face until he left, reaching the ajar bedroom door. He stopped, listening to the whispered argument on the other side.

"What the hell is wrong with you? He's here. He's making good conversation. Being polite. What more do you want?"

"Robin! Be realistic. Look at him. He's black and blue. He can hardly walk. How the hell is he supposed to protect you?" Strike stepped back from the door.

"Protect me? Protect... it is not his job to protect me. I can protect myself. Thank you very much. Cormoron was helping the police..."

"It's not just that..."

"What then?"

"Linda..."

"No, she asked. He is a 6-foot 3 man. He's huge. You are alone with him all the time. He can overpower you, whenever he wanted. Do anything to you..."

"Keep your voice down!" Although Robin's voice was the loudest of all. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Well, Robin... with your history... you need to be careful." Strike didn't move. He knew what she was implying. What she was saying, what she was thinking about him. He was angry. But more than that, he felt sick.

"How dare you! How dare you say that to me. How dare you reduce me to that. How dare you say that about him! Cormoron would never, ever hurt me...to compare him to him. You are..." He'd heard enough, wanting to stop her before she said something she regretted. He turned back, re-flushing the toilet, making at much noise shutting the door before leaving the bedroom. Robin looked furious, her cheeks red. Her mother the same, her Michael looking at the floor.

"Just got a call from Wardle, he needs me to go back over my statement from earlier. Sorry," he looked only at Robin as he spoke, walking over to his coat. His knee burned with each step.

"What? Are you sure?" She looked upset, but slightly relieved. He knew she wouldn't want him here for whatever came next. "Ok, I'll call you a taxi."

"No, no there's a rank in the next street."

"Will you make it that far?" Linda looked at him with a look not of pity or concern, but through narrow eyes. Robin looked like she had been slapped as she stared at him, not looking away.

"I'll manage," his coat was on, as he opened the door to the stairs. He tried not to show the pain each time his right leg was made to support him, but by step four, he was grunting.

"Cormoron, you can't..."

"I'm fine," she was right behind him, hand on his arm to help him balance. He didn't throw it off.

"You're not. Please..."

"Robin," he had made it to the bottom, feeling her move passed him to the door, "it's ok. Thank you for dinner. It was really good." He could tell from the look on her face she knew he had heard them. He couldn't keep the anger out his voice.

"I'm sorry."

"No, not your fault."

"I'm so sorry," her eyes filled with tears, "I can't believe they compared you to him."

"They didn't. They're just worried about you. It's their job. It's ok," he bent down, kissing her cheek. He wasn't really sure why. But she smiled. He couldn't help smiling back, "see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow Cormoron."