HAPPINESS IS A CHOICE THAT REQUIRES EFFORT AT TIMES

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"I'll be in the Flying Horse if you want me," Strike said to Pat, grabbed his coat and left the office.
The office manager remained staring at the door for a moment, frowning, trying to figure out what her boss meant with his remark about her statement that Robin and Murphy made a good couple. What on earth did he mean with 'we'll see'? Her sharp wits suddenly gave her an idea, and the only word that came out of her mouth into the office space was, "Oh…"

Strike slowly walked down Denmark Street, heading to his favourite pub. He couldn't stay in the office; whatever he would try to do, his mind would turn to his partner and best friend. Focus would be the last thing he would be able to do. The pub was the only reasonable way of escaping the air of uncertainty that filled the inner office since he revealed to his friend the deepest secret he managed to keep inside for six long years.

The ball is in the game. Let's see if I can score…

As he sat down at a circular table in the back of the pub, he raised his glass and took a large gulp of his Doom Bar. His confession took every ounce of strength from him, and he needed something stronger than alcohol-free beer to pick him up again. Screw the diet…

The pub was almost deserted; it was still early in the day. The unobtrusive soft rock music in the background didn't have the usual calming effect on him. He wasn't unnerved, just emotionally drained. Leaning with his elbows on the table and cradling his glass, his eyes fell on the empty chair opposite and he sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his memory recalled the image of Robin sitting in that place, discussing a case with him, as they often did there…

The relief he felt from opening up to her about his feelings for her, the years-long burden that had fallen off his chest as he did so, was suddenly back in its place, threatening to crush him. What if he was delusional and his instinct deceived him? After the reveal, Robin looked shocked yet not appalled. But what if she really doesn't feel the same and stays with Murphy, or even worse, leaves the business, feeling her partner disturbed the precious balance in their friendship, affecting their professional relationship as well? Strike knew she wouldn't want to give up the business they built together, which became the best private detective agency in London; she loved it way too much. But what if this was the only thing that would break her resilience and make her leave anyway? Was he ready to let her go without ending up an even worse emotional wreck than when he broke up with Charlotte?

It only took him a few seconds to answer himself truthfully but painfully: Yes, he would let her go if that was her wish. Strike would fight with the whole world for her but not against her; he respected Robin too much to break his principles of loyalty and risk losing her trust. Was he ready to lose his best friend, though?

Fuck...

The despair that filled the hole Robin had left inside of him as she hastily and without a word to him departed from the office was more devastating than he could take at that moment. He buried his head in his hands and felt his eyes burning with tears of fear.

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Robin was quickly heading back to the office, dragging her little travel suitcase behind her. Her head was spinning from hearing the same words over and over in her memory.

"… she knew that I was in love with you."

Could it be really true that the strong affection she had felt from her partner was more than just friendship? So many times throughout the years, she felt they were on the same page, but then he suddenly did something that shattered her hopes. But he hadn't denied the statement…
The memory of Strike's calm but pained gaze that bore into her eyes and the silence that fell on the space between them was telling her that she wasn't mistaken, that she couldn't have been mistaken…

Her heart rate quickened as she reached the entrance door of the office building, but suddenly, she stopped and froze for a moment. Then her face broke into a smile, she turned on her heel and walked in another direction.

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Strike didn't know how long he remained sitting in the same position, his beer forgotten. His head was still hidden in his hands as if the will to carry himself straight and put on a brave face in any situation as he always did was out of bounds for him that day. The wounded boy inside of him from decades ago overpowered the soldier, who carried him through most of his adult life.

It wasn't until he felt a hand landing in his hair and gently exploring his dark curls that he was brought back to his senses and alert again.

Oh God, don't let this be a dream…

He didn't need to look up to know whose hand's touch caused a reaction resembling electric shock all over his body.
"I always wanted to do this…" a dreamy voice above him said tenderly.

A gasp escaped Strike's throat as he let his hands drop and slowly dared to look up, seeing Robin standing next to him. Her eyes burned into his, projecting so much of the always-silent, unspoken between them. He raised himself unhurriedly, his expressive eyes never leaving her gaze. Her hand left his hair, slowly sliding down to his shoulder, glided along his arm, and fleetingly, as lightly as a touch of a feather, scraped his hand before breaking the physical contact with him. Immediately, he felt painfully bereft.

"Robin…" he heard himself whisper with a tenderness bordering on prayer. His heart was hammering in his chest like never before, and he couldn't remember such an aching feeling to hold someone in his life. The invisible wall between them that he erected six years ago was now a barrier he desired to crush to dust and scatter as far as possible, to hell with the consequences.

Timing is everything; even the song playing in the background now couldn't have chosen a better one.

Give a little time to me or burn this out.
We'll play hide and seek to turn this around.
All I want is the taste that your lips allow.
My, my, my, my, give me love…(1)

Robin's breath caught in her throat at the combination of the song lyrics and the sight of Strike's tormented eyes, those eyes which held so much emotion every time he looked at her when they were not discussing their cases. Since knowing her partner, she finally understood what chemistry between two people really meant; the tingling sensation all over her body and the feeling of her core melting at his gaze was unbearable. She couldn't stop herself anymore; her physical craving, so long and so well kept in check, was far too great.

Her first impulse was to kiss him, but for some inexplicable, almost wicked reason, she wished to prolong this beautiful moment of anticipation. With a deep sigh, she buried her head in his chest, inhaling deeply his familiar, manly scent, and her arms crawled under his coat, embracing his waist tightly, pulling him close to her, almost to a point of desperation. She almost laughed at the thought that she missed those few extra stones he had lost in the past months. But even so, he still felt larger than life, the safest harbour she could ever imagine. With every deep breath, she absorbed more of his essence that crawled right under her skin.

Strike couldn't believe his senses. At that point, he knew he scored the biggest goal in his life. Finally, after six long years, he had the woman of his dreams in his arms as he longed for – not as a friend, but as a lover. Finally, he felt worthy of her. Finally, he wasn't afraid of crossing the boundary. Finally, he didn't have to pretend and hide how much and desperately he loved and needed her…

His long arms hungrily closed around her slender figure, and he buried his head in her hair, letting out a sound that combined relief and extreme longing in one. His head was spinning, the raw pleasure of her body pressing against his almost making him lose his mind. He slightly moved his head to place a lingering kiss on the top of her head.

Robin shivered at the touch of his soft lips. How many times had she imagined them like this? How many times had she grasped at the memory of their so few but so meaningful embraces in the past? How many nights was she restless and unable to sleep because she couldn't bear seeing her partner with another woman? How many times had she thought It should be me, not her?

"None of them…" Strike whispered and slightly shook his head. "None of them ever awakened even a fraction of this feeling in me. Only you do…"
It was as if he had read her mind, knowing what she must have been thinking – Why did you choose so many other women over me then? He pulled back, gently took her face in his large hands and made her look at him, unable to resist tracing her cheeks with his thumbs.
"I was just a coward who didn't want to fuck up the most precious friendship of his life," he added, hoping she would not judge but understand, as she always did.

Robin's knees almost gave in. Never in her life had a man had such a profound effect on her. His powerful presence, protectiveness over her, intelligence, empathy, kindness, vulnerability and gentleness that he revealed only in moments when he let his guard drop and only in front of her... That all was what had drawn her to him right from the beginning. Even his occasional grumpiness or at times infuriating stubbornness at things concerning her safety. Like a moth to a flame, she couldn't resist, against all reason and her family's expectations… And by the end of their first case together, she was hopelessly in love with him – she didn't recognise it then, but now she knew it and wasn't afraid of it. After all the chaos and confusion, the puzzle pieces finally fell perfectly in place, and everything made perfect sense.

A tear ran down Robin's cheek, and she let Strike wipe it gently away. They kept looking at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but what was in reality only a few seconds before his desire-filled gaze eloquently dropped down to her lips, then back. Robin knew he was asking for permission. Even now, when he was so close to reaching what he had been yearning for, he still maintained control for her sake, not willing to overpower her. However, she desperately needed something more before she would grant the permission.

"Say it," she begged him longingly with a shaky breath, burning into his now darkened eyes and still clutching to his waist. "Please…"

He didn't need to ask what she wanted to hear. It was as clear as the rain that had just started hammering on the nearby window. A smile appeared on his face for the first time since she arrived, and the familiar crinkles appeared around his eyes.
"I love you…," he said softly, shaking inwardly from just hearing those words finally spoken out loud between them.

Robin closed her eyes and a huge smile appeared on her face. She couldn't suppress a happy laugh, eliciting a chuckle from Strike, who couldn't stop smiling. Robin felt warm and dizzy, and everything seemed to have been blurred around her apart from the man in front of her. When she opened her eyes, her hands reached for his stubbly face and brought it down to hers. No permission was needed anymore and the inevitable and long-overdue happened as the Cornish giant landed on the Yorkshire plains with all the passion so painstakingly closed in a cage for six long years.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days… Time lost its meaning as the detectives got lost in themselves. Just as the rain, resounding faintly in their ears, kept washing away the dust and dirt of the London air, all their fears and doubts got washed away as well.

When they pulled apart for air at last, forehead to forehead, unwilling to break the physical contact and breathing heavily, Robin's face was wet with tears.
"Strike, I… There's so much… I…" Suddenly she was unable to put into words everything she wanted to tell him, all the things she never dared to and which were crushing her for years.
"Shhh," he interrupted her gently, and his hand went up again to cup her face. He understood perfectly she was too overwhelmed to speak about it now. "It's fine. I'm not going anywhere," he added with that irresistible lopsided smile she loved right from her first day in the office.
"Roger that," she replied through fresh tears, with a cheeky smile.

Strike snorted and pulled her into his embrace again, exhaling with relief, elation and excitement.
"I don't suppose Pat was thrilled to see you back without Murphy and ask about where I was," he mused while softly nuzzling her ear. Suddenly it occurred to him, he didn't even know how or if she broke up with the DCI.
"I didn't speak to her," Robin remarked without a hint of emotion at the mention of the name of the man she had been in a relationship with for most of the past year. Strike sensed in her voice that she was smiling. That made him pull back again to look at her.
"I was walking back to the office but then something in my head stopped me and I headed for the pub. I knew you were here."

He observed her for a moment with a quizzical look. Of course, she knew this was his favourite pub and that he usually ended up here when he was depressed or had a hard day at work. But the memory of the same words she used the night when he saved her from the Chapman's Farm told him this wasn't a simple knowing of his habits.
"I knew you were here…"

"Robin Venetia Ellacott, have you turned into a bloody psychic?" he asked incredulously.
She chuckled, her hands gently playing with the curls at the back of his head, as she extremely enjoyed the fact that she was finally allowed to do it.
"Didn't you wish me to come back?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Christ, with all my heart… I was dying for it," he sighed, not caring about how pathetic the latter part may have sounded, coming for him. It made Robin smile.
"Blame it on your heart, Strike. I have turned psychic for you…"

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(1) Give Me Love, written by Ed Sheeran, Jake Gossling and Chris Leonard
The title of the chapter is a quote by Aeschylus.