It was Monday. The first rays of light stretched in golden bars across Robin's freshly made bed as she frowned at the neat selection of clothes in her closet, willing inspiration to strike. Today was the first day back at work after the holiday. So much had changed since she had last been at the office. All the simple routines that had kept her well groomed, well informed and on time seemed to take on added significance today. She now felt as though someone was paying attention to her, that someone was of course Strike. As much as she loathed the idea of dressing to suit a man, that very idea crossed her mind as she fingered the familiar green satin of the first gift Strike had ever bought her. She was being ridiculous. She was going to work at a job where 'blending in' was the best attribute an outfit could possess.

As had happened so often since she had parted from Strike, her mind traveled back last night, the humming music vibrating in her chest as she and Strike swayed in the dim blue lights.

'I think you might also be my soulmate'

Her stomach tightened at the memory. Who was this man? Until their trip to Masham, she had seen no evidence that Strike could feel anything so deeply. She knew that he loved her. Their steadfast friendship had been unshakable, and in retrospect love seemed now like the natural extension of that. But, to hear Strike talk of soulmates left her in a state similar to waking up to find the floor had suddenly become the ceiling. What was odder still, was that as she recalled his steady eyes, he was completely unembarrassed to admit it.

Robin had been unable to say much to Strike after his bold words. They danced in silence for a few songs, both lost to the ramifications of his words. Eventually, Strike managed to bring the conversation back to easy topics, and the night passed companionably for both of them. Despite this however, Robin could not reliably recall any of it beyond the scorching words that had changed everything. Even now, She felt humbled that a man so seemingly ill at ease in relationships, had branded her with the word 'soulmate'.

To Robin, it seemed that 'love' was a word that could be used to express a spectrum of warm feelings, but it also carried a vagueness that left room for interpretation. 'Soulmate', however, was a word that landed with all the subtlety and intensity of a lead brick. The sentiment that it expressed was as bold as daylight and as solid as the floor under her feet. He did truly love her- that much she could not deny. The question remained, and it was one she had never considered before, being a very pragmatic person by nature, was there such a thing a s soulmate? If so, had she found hers? She didn't truly know, but a small part of her said, 'if soulmates exist, it could only be him.' Despite her doubts about soulmates, the fact remained that she loved him to the exclusion of anyone else.

Finally, after careful deliberation that she would never admit to, she chose a cream boat neck sweater and a pair of her favorite jeans. She hesitated slightly and then pulled the little black yorkshire rose from her bedside drawer and clasped it around her neck, standing back to admire the effect. It stood out nicely against the soft milky sweater. She plucked at her hair again, and examined her makeup critically. She was not totally satisfied, hardly an unusual occurance, but still, even she could appreciate that her figure was flattered in the snug jeans and fitted sweater. She toyed idly with the necklace, running it back and forth on the chain, then sighed. It was time.

Strike was in the office early combing through case files before the meeting with the subcontractors. Strike's eyes flicked up as the sound of the switch on the electric kettle drew his attention. He carefully marked his place in the file he had been perusing, and then stood up and walked over to the little kitchenette. He pulled down a mug and reached up for a second mug without thinking. Catching himself, he hesitated, glancing at the clock. It was 7:00. Robin was always early. He decided that if he made her a cup of tea now, it would still be hot by the time she arrived.

A minute later the sounds of footfalls on the stairs made him smile as he tapped the spoon on the side of her mug. Strike did not look up as the sounds of the door opening and Robin taking off her coat met his ears,

"Morning." he said as he turned smoothly to wrap an arm around her from behind and press a quick kiss on her cheek.

The moment his hand met waist he knew that this was not Robin, but too late, his lips were already pressed firmly against Pat's crepey cheek. With a yelp Pat jumped and spun around, looking at Strike as though he held a knife. Strike was horrified at his own mistake.

"Oh Christ!" he exclaimed, in shock, "Pat! Jesus! I'm so sorry."

Pat stared at him, frozen in an attitude comically reminiscent of a refined lady clutching her pearls.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" shrieked the secretary indignantly.

"Fuck. Pat, I'm so sorry." Strike continued to apologize, Cheeks reddening with embarrassment, " I thought you were… fuck, I'm so sorry about that"

At that very moment the door swung open and the Real Robin entered. Instantly Robin clocked the tense scene she had just entered. Trying to gauge what exactly was amiss as she glanced between the sputtering Strike and Pat's horrified expression, and an inkling occurred to her of what must've happened to make two very unshakable people so obviously discomposed. She tried not to be amused. Pat quickly confirmed her suspicions by saying,

"He just tried to snog me!" Pat said, pointing a crooked finger at Strike, who visibly cringed.

"You're early, Pat. Jesus, I'm so sorry." Strike said, raising his palms in a gesture of surrender, "I thought you were someone else."

"Who else would be walking in the door at this time of morning?" Pat began in a growl and then trailed off as she caught the glance exchanged by the partners. Her eyebrows raised slowly as she looked from Robin to Strike and then back to Robin again, comprehension dawning in her beady eyes. After a few uncomfortable moments in which Robin nervously slid the rose charm back and forth in its chain, Pat continued to clutch her handbag to her chest and Strike, rubbed the side of his face absently, Robin finally broke the silence.

"I think Cormoran thought you were me, Pat." She said with a heavy sigh," we've uh…. started… uh…. Seeing one another."

"I thought you were going to be Robin. I hope you know that I'd never, erm… try to snog you without consent" Said a still mortified Strike, who inwardly added 'or with consent.'

Pat relaxed, as she nodded once at Strike, her forgiveness secured but expression still inscrutable.

"Well," Said pat, returning to her normal brusk attitude "It's none of my business what happens after hours." She straightened with dignity as she moved to her desk, tucking her bag into the bottom drawer with a fluidity borne of habit.

Strike met Robin's eyes, sharing a brief look of amusement at the abrupt change in their secretary, but just then Pat gave a gravelly stage whisper,

"Ryan was a nicer bloke."

"Oye!" Cried Strike, "What's wrong with me, Pat?"

Robin couldn't help her bark of laughter.

"Would a Christmas bonus have killed you?" Pat croaked, eyes never leaving her computer screen as she fiercely typed her login using only the pads of her fingers due to her freshly manicured nails.

Strike glanced at Robin and made a faint noise and a sideways shrug, a gesture which Robin mirrored. Both had become so accustomed to spartan business practices that the idea of a Christmas bonus for their employees had not even crossed either of their minds. After a few moments of silent negotiation between the partners, Strike turned to Pat,

"How does 500 pounds sound?"

"Hm….is that a bribe?" Said Pat, Still typing.

"No, it's a gift." Strike said, with a flimsy attempt at a benevolent aire.

"Alright. Shall I put it on next week's pay?" Replied Pat, with little gratitude.

"Er.. ok." replied Strike, glancing at Robin, who was grinning broadly at the secretary's predecible lack of effusiveness.

"What about the contractors?" Asked pat, in a growl.

"The same for them, Pat." Replied Robin, trying not to laugh at Strike's look of surprise.

"Just do me one favor Pat," Strike said as he frowned at the tiny, leathery secretary, "Please don't talk to me about Ryan bloody Murphy anymore."

"Ryan never tried to put a move on me." Pat growled under her breath.

"Jesus Christ…" muttered Strike, shaking his head as he snatched up his and Robin's tea, and walked through to the partner's office without looking back.

Pat Met Robin's eyes and flashed her a wicked grin and a wink as she trailed behind her partner.

"It's been an eventful morning." Robin said, as she carefully closed the door behind her.

"I blinked, and I suddenly kissed an old lady and lost 2,000 pounds." replied, Strike whose irritation was undermined by the smile that crinkled his eyes, "I've had better mornings."

"I'm sure you've had worse." laughed Robin, "besides, she was right. We really should have given them a bonus."

"Yeah, I know," admitted Strike, "How did you sleep?"

"For some reason, I've had a lot on my mind." replied Robin, honestly, "but it's good to be tossing and turning on my own mattress."

"Hmm." Strike said, wishing not for the first time that they shared a mattress.

Robin, mistaking Strike's sudden pensive expression for concern, reached a hand across the table to slide her cool hand up his warm and downy forearm his eyes met hers, instantly focused.

"I was happy and not sleeping." She said, with a small, earnest smile.

Strike could not tear his eyes from hers. This was worth every bitter word hurled at him by other women- the path that brought him to hear these words from her. Strike recollected himself as Robin cleared her throat and slid her hand away. Picking up her tea, she moved her chair alongside Strike's to look at the case file he had been pursuing.

"We'd better get organized, the contractors will be here in twenty minutes."

"Right," said Strike, clearing his throat too and opening the file to the page he left off at.

They fell into an easy rhythm as they outlined their current cases and made up a new tentative rota for the next week. As they set about dividing the work between the investigators Robin was happy to see that she and strike shared the same three evenings off this week. She was also pleased that when the work began, they seemed quickly able to fall into routines that were honed by years of practice. Despite these good omens, Robin could not help but be aware of warmth radiating from strike's thigh, near but not touching under the table. She was also certain that the eye contact between them was more steady, and more apt to linger as they had both so often wanted it to in the past. After the preparation for the meeting was complete, Strike sighed and turned to look at her,

"One more thing I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yes?" she said, now curious.

"I think we should tell the contractors…...about us, I mean"

"Oh." was all Robin managed to say.

"I know it's not what you wanted, but I think it's better to hear about it from us, then from Pat telling everyone we're having a secret affair."

"I see." said Robin, processing this information.

"I can't figure out how the fuck we keep letting people in on the secret."

"Maybe it was never meant to be a secret?" Robin said at last.

"Mmmm." agreed Strike, giving her a warm smile.

"Want to get drinks with Nick and Ilsa tonight?" Ilsa's texted me about eighteen times since we've gotten back.

"Yeah," said Robin, "me too. Tell her we can meet after I'm finished with surveillance on that seedy solicitor. Around 6?"

Just then Barclay's voice drifted into the office,

"It's a date." said Strike, who surprised Robin by sliding a warm hand down her thigh, flashing her a slow smile and a wink.

At his touch,Robin felt a powerful wave of attraction explode over her and she bit her lip hard to keep herself from leaning over to kiss him in retaliation. She was startled by her reaction, she chastised herself inwardly. She had thought a few days of heated, stolen kisses would dampen her response to him. It had not. It had only served to heighten her awareness of him- to cause her brief sensory flashbacks of his taste, feel, and smell that left her rattled. Her response did not change the fact that right now was neither the time, nor the place. She needed to control herself.

Skilled detective as he was, Strike's missed nothing. His observant eyes saw her intake of breath as she caught her lower lip between her teeth to stifle her reaction to his brief touch. He absorbed this moment, his neurons burning the sound and image of it into his brain with startling accuracy. He wished that he could do it again- to touch her and to watch her as he did, but he let the moment fade, holding tight to this new powerful image. Soon, he hoped she would let the final barrier down between them- with any other woman he would push for it himself, but he knew that given Robin's history, he needed to let it be her who first crossed that line.

The sounds of chatter in the main office snapped his attention back to the work at hand. He stood and strode across the room to open the door to the subcontractors.

"Well, merry Fucking Christmas to you, mate!" Came Barclay's voice as soon as the door opened.

Strike frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Pat just told us the good news."

Robin appeared, leaning on the door frame and smiled warmly at the subcontractors,

"You mean about the bonuses?" Robin asked, "I feel like we really should have thought of it sooner. It's been a good year for the agency."

"So, we're gettin' bonuses then?" Said Barclay surprised, "that wasnne the news I was speaking of."

"Yeah… you're all getting a bonus… er. Sorry it's late." Robin said with confusion, "What's the good news?"

"Strike finally stopped pining after ye and made his fucking move." Sam, Midge, and Dev shared a gleeful smile.

Strike frowned. He didn't like that his misery had been so obvious. He glared at Pat who shrugged,

"You said there was no need to keep it quiet."

"Yeah, but did it have to be the first thing out of your mouth?"

"It wasn't. The first thing I told everyone was that you groped me while I was taking my coat off, thinking I was Robin." she said evenly.

"That's sexual harassment, mate." laughed Dev easily.

"You're a bunch of twats." growled Strike.

"You let this gorilla put his hands on you, Robin?" quipped Midge.

Robin's eyebrows raised as she gestured noncommittally.

"I'm beginning to reconsider paying you lot a pound more than I'm contractually obligated to." muttered Strike, "I don't appreciate that you all seem to think that I was after my business partner."

"Nah, you were after Robin- she just happened to be your business partner." Said Dev, with a look of real good humor.

"Yeah…" agreed Stike, faintly embarrassed.

Robin was oddly touched by this sentiment.

"I guess we weren't as secretive as we thought," she said as she smiled wanly at Strike, "good to know in case I ever consider a life of crime."

"You work with fucking detectives, mate- what did you expect?." Said Barclay, "If we dinne figure it out you might as well sack the lot of us."

Strike sighed deeply as he shot Robin a brief lopsided grin, "Keep your bonuses then. I'm glad I'm paying detectives who are at least fit for the job."

He looked around at their happy faces, and wished not for the first time that he had come to his senses about Robin far sooner.

"Well, I think that'll be enough talk about our love lives for the foreseeable future," he said, "Let's talk about our jobs, eh?"

The subcontractors continued their merry chatter as they followed Strike into the inner office. A buzz in Robin's pocket held her back. She pulled out her phone and glanced down at her screen to see a text from an unknown number. She frowned, swiping it open quickly.

The room began to swirl as her knees became instantly unstable. Her stomach dropped through the floor as she stared in shock at the image glowing on the screen.

A gorilla mask that she knew all too well lay on what appeared to be the sheets of an unmade bed. She felt hot breath on her neck that wasn't there. It was all she could do to stop herself vomiting as bile burned a hot path up her throat. 'Breathe.' She thought. Trying to bring herself back into the present, using her cognitive behavioral therapy to study the texture of the walls and the sound of the traffic outside. She looked again at the screen and notice that two words accompanied the image:

'Remember me?'