Deadly Choice

by Jack Parker

  "I know that," said Kim, "and he'll think no differently of you either." She saw Robin drop his head and his eyes seemed to fill with tears at a very fast pace. "Oh, Rob, I'm sorry… I didn't want to upset you, I thought it might help…"

  Robin sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

  "You didn't," he whispered.

  Kim looked at him.

  "Maybe we can do something," she whispered, "it depends how they heal, but maybe, some of them… you know, bit of ink… cover them up, or take away the attention from them."

  Robin breathed deeply. It took him a few breaths to wrestle control of his emotions, then he whispered,

  "Kim, I don't really want to talk about this in public."

  Kim bit her lip.

  "Can we go back to yours?" she asked quietly.

  "Couldn't we talk about this another time?" Robin asked quietly.

  "I can't leave it," Kim said quietly, "not while you're feeling this way. I want to help."

  Robin was surprised to feel a hand over his. He looked down to find Kim's holding it tightly. When his eyes rose to her face he saw her looking sad and emotional. He opened his mouth, a whisper away from telling her no, that he couldn't face talking about it any more but something on her eyes stirred him deeply and he couldn't say no. Slowly he closed his mouth and nodded. Kim gave him a sad smile and got to her feet.

  "Come on," she whispered, holding her hand out to him.

  Robin hesitated for a moment. Then he accepted her hand and slowly got to his feet.

  "Alright," he whispered.

  Kim's smile was sad but tinged with a little hope. She led him from the café to collect his car from the car park at the station and drove her own to his new flat. Robin was glad that she had taken her own car. He didn't relish the idea of the uncomfortable journey. This really wasn't a conversation he was ready to have, and on top of that he was feeling so mixed up about Kim he wasn't sure he felt he could cope with being alone with her.

  The journey seemed to pass par too quickly. As he arrived in the car park he saw Kim pulling up just behind him and waited for her to follow him. Her smile was strained and awkward and he wondered if she was dreading the conversation as much as he was.

  Walking to the flat, turning the key, going inside… every few seconds Robin felt Kim's eyes upon him. He wasn't sure why. They walked through to the kitchen.

  "Can I make you a coffee?" he asked, "you didn't get to drink much of yours."

  "Rob," Kim began.

  "Or a cold drink?" Robin tried to stall as long as possible, "or if you want something stronger there's plenty of brandy left."

  "Robin, stop," she laid her hands on his shoulders and guided him into a chair, "just stop." She pulled a chair across, sat right in front of him and looked him in the eye. "first of all, they're scars, Rob. They're just bits of skin that look a little bit different. Gene told Simon, scars show that you survived. You shouldn't be ashamed of them."

  Robin looked down.

  "But it's more than that," he whispered, "it's not just that it's changed my body, but every time I see them it reminds me of him. What he tried to do."

  Kim nodded slowly. She understood that.

  "Rob, we'll do whatever we can. Even if the scars are too deep and we can't tattoo over them we'll make a design that we can fit around them. OK?" she watched him nod slowly but he wouldn't meet her eye. "Let's look at what we're working with here. Let me see."

  Robin looked at her in horror as she gestured for him to take off his shirt.

  "Kim, I'm not ready for that," he said uncomfortably.

  "I told you," she said gently as she leaned forward and took hold of the bottom of his shirt, "I am not repelled, I am not disgusted, I don't think badly of you in any way. Your scars only make me proud of you for what you did. Saving Alex." She started to tug his shirt out of the top of his trousers.

  "Kim, don't," he said but she'd already released the material and started to pull the shirt upwards. There before her was his chest, covered with the marks of an evil man. The sadness and anger she felt at what Keats had done increased by billions as she saw the scars close-up. There was a lump in her throat and her voice waivered.

  "Oh, Rob."

  Robin swallowed as she reached out and gently pressed a finger against his skin. He felt frozen, he couldn't move. He wanted to push her away and to tell her not to do that but he couldn't. He tried to speak but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. He felt her hand move gently across his skin, touching the scars so softly that he barely felt a twinge from them, but her light touch had an effect far deeper inside of him.

  "You're heart's racing," Kim said quietly as he swallowed and tried not to catch her eye, but right then the very worst thing that could possibly happen happened. Robin felt something stirring just before it happened, early enough to know that everything was about to go to crud but too late to do anything to stop it.

  And it was so obvious… it couldn't have happened in a worse place or a worse time; in a silent room, with Kim directly in front of him, just inches away. Her eyes, staring at his scarred body, were drawn to movement from down below. There was no hiding it, no pretending at all as Robin found himself jumping to attention against his expressed wishes. He swallowed hard and turned his head briefly to the sky as though saying a silent prayer to make it go away, but it wasn't listening.

  Kim stared. She didn't know what to do. It wasn't as though it was the kind of thing she encountered in her everyday life. She found herself gulping in shock, unable to take her eyes away from the lump that had grown right in front of her, there was no hiding it. It stood there, trying to fight its way from the confines of Robin's trousers, big and proud and wasn't going anywhere. For several moments she just stared at it, unable to think of anything to say or to figure out what she was supposed to do. Eventually her shaken eyes rose ad met Robin's horrified pair. She waited for him to say something, anything at all, but he had lost the ability to speak.

  "Robin," she started her sentence but had no idea what she was going to say after that. With shaking hands she let his shirt go. It fell back over his scars as she backed away slightly. Her motion seemed to set Robin free from his frozen spell and his eyes widened.

  "Shit… Kim, I –" he scrambled to his feet as she began to walk to the door, "Kim, I'm sorry, I just –"

  Just what? What was the end of that sentence? He sure as hell didn't know.

  "I've got to get home," Kim's tone was confused and urgent, her expression shocked as she felt thoroughly freaked out, "Linda will be wondering what's kept me."

  "Wait, please," Robin ran after her as she walked quickly through the flat, "Kim, I'm sorry, it's… it's been a long time and I'm not used to anyone touching me. I mean, not 'touching me' like that, just touching me anywhere…"

  Kim came to a half by the front door.

  "Rob, it's fine," she said quickly.

  "But –"

  "Really." Kim's expression showed her words to be a lie, "but I have to go." She opened the door, "see you soon, Robin."

  "Kim –" Robin tried one last time, "Kim, please!"

  As she disappeared down the corridor he gave the doorframe a thump with his forehead. "Shi-i-it!" he groaned in a staggered, almost tearful voice. The awful truth began to descended upon him. Once again Kim's touch had brought out a reaction that he'd never thought possible and this time she'd been right there to witness it. No wonder she left in such a hurry. He'd freaked her out. Of course she was freaked out – why wouldn't she be? He was a bloody gay man, and he should never in a million years have produced something of… those proportions just because her hands were on his chest.

  That was it, wasn't it? Friendship over. Now all she was going to see when she looked at him was a giant erection chasing her down the street. She'd never speak to him again – and even if she did, this changed everything. She'd never look at him without worrying about it happening again.

  Which, he had to admit, it might.
/>   For the first time he realised that this wasn't a sign of loneliness, of not being touched in so long. It wasn't anything to do with the pressured situations that he had been through with Kim, or the look in her eyes when she was intense and emotional. It was Kim. It was just Kim. It was something about her that had managed to seep into his bones, to get under his skin, to crawl into his heart and to draw him into a situation that he just couldn't cope with.

  I want Kim.

  Those were the words that brought a terrible nausea raging through Robin's guts as he finally admitted them to himself. What he was feeling was unnatural and unusual to him, to every fibre of his being, but he couldn't fight it and he couldn't ignore it. He felt things for Kim that were killing him inside. But the look on her face as she left – that just about finished the job.

  Chapter Eight

  Kim's heart hadn't stopped racing all the way home. It was still going at a rate of knots as she opened the front door and stepped inside. It didn't matter what she did, she couldn't seem to calm it down. There was a knot in her stomach that wouldn't go away. Robin's reaction to her touch had taken her completely by surprise and her fight or flight instinct had chosen the latter.

  What the hell was that wholly physical reaction supposed to mean? The thoughts of her own that had been torturing her inside and turning her own sense of self upside down just developed a whole new layer to them. Little moments, glances, comments… they all played through her mind and could have had a thousand meanings. But this wasn't just her imagination running riot.

  "Alex!"

  She turned around to see Linda looking relieved, "I was worried, I thought you'd be home by now."

  Kim gave a strained smile.

  "Colleagues took me for a coffee after work," she said It was only half a lie. That was alright, wasn't it?

  Linda walked towards her. There was a strange smile on her face. It looked a little guilty.

  "I've been waiting for you," she said, "I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

  Kim frowned.

  "Sorry?" she repeated, "what for?"

  "For not being very supportive," Linda looked genuinely sorry, "I had been putting my own feelings above yours. I'm just scared of losing you. What if you don't come home from work one day?"

  Kim stared at her. This was a bit of a change around. She gave a weak smile.

  "I'm alright," she said quietly.

  "But I'm scared," Linda admitted, "I'm worried about losing you."

  Kim was about to say that she wouldn't, but stopped herself. She wasn't sure that was a promise she could keep.

  "Thanks, Linds," she said quietly, "I do appreciate it, I really do."

  "Come with me," Linda told herm dragging her by the sleeve through to the kitchen where a cake sat on the table, a policeman's helmet in the middle, with a bunch of flowers on the table beside it and her boys around the table, big grins on their faces. A mix of emotions hit her all at once, the joy of the surprise and the guilt of where she'd been – and where her mind had been. She tried to smile, there was a touch of guilt within it but she thought it was convincing enough.

  "Thank you," she whispered, "this is… it's such a surprise."

  "I'm sorry the cake is uniform," said Linda, "they didn't do one for CID."

  Kim gave a gentle laugh as she put her arm around Linda's shoulders.

  "Thank you," she said quietly as she looked at the cake again, "it's a wonderful cake and I... I love it. I do."

  She watched as Linda busied herself cutting slices, feeling increasingly guilty with each moment that passed. They'd had their problems but she knew Linda loved her. Just look at what she'd done for a start. She didn't deserve the cold way that Kim had been treating her, not in the slightest. The knot in her stomach pulled a little tighter as she thought about Robin and the lump that had sprung from nowhere. It was all she'd thought about the whole way home, a mix of emotions flying through her head. What the hell was wrong with her? Was she losing the plot?

  She had to put it out of her mind. Put it all out of her mind. Focus on her relationship, forget Robin, forget Shaz, just be grateful for what she had, no matter how much that killed her inside.

  She heard her phone bleep and pulled it out of her pocket.

  "1 New Message: Robin".

  Shit.

  "Please call me, Kim. We need to talk x"

  Kim closed her eyes for a moment. She took a deep breath and typed,

  "Sorry Robin, really busy this week. Talk soon."

  As she pressed send a big slice of cake appeared in front of her and she gave Linda a forced smile.

  "Thanks," she said quietly as 'message sent' appeared.

  She switched off her phone and tucked it away. Out of sight, out of mind.

  It was a shame she couldn't tuck the image of Robin out of her memory too.

  * * *

  "Well that's it then." Robin sat on his bed and wiped his eyes, "I've lost the best friend I've ever had." He glanced up at Simon's photograph. "Apart from you," he whispered. His eyes closed and his expression fell. "Fuck… Simon, I'm so sorry." He knew that talking to a photograph was most likely considered a sign of madness but he was beyond caring now. He knew that Simon was still out there and the fact that he couldn't just talk to him was like dying himself. "I would do anything to have you back here with me, just for a moment," he whispered.

  He stood up and walked slowly to the photograph. He stared at the face he had been so used to seeing beside him when he woke up in the morning or coming through the doorway after work, or crossing the car park at work. It had been seven months and he was no more used to Simon being gone than he was the day he awoke from his coma.

  "It's nothing to do with not missing you," he whispered, "please never think that. Because I miss you every moment of every day. And it's nothing to do with not loving you because, God, Simon," he shook his head slowly, "if only you knew how much. How much more than ever…" he trailed off as he breathed deeply. Taking a step backwards he perched on the edge of the bed and stared up at Simon's smile. "You told me," he whispered, "in your letter that you wanted me to be happy. You wanted me to meet someone else." His voice crackled as he closed his eyes. "Shit, Simon, I don't think this is what you had in mind."

  The irony that Kim was the one who delivered Simon's message wasn't lost on Robin. He shook his head again and again as he thought about that. He even remembered arguing with Kim once about it, the fact that he would never want to be with anyone else. Now he found himself wanting things that not only didn't he think he would feel again for somebody after Simon but feeling them for a person that, genetically, he should by rights have never felt a pull towards in the first place.

  "You're gone but you're still out there," he whispered, "and I don't know if I'll get to see you again tomorrow, or next week, or if I'll have to wait for decades. Sometimes it feels as though you're so close that I could almost reach out and touch you, but sometimes…" he looked up at the photo again. "sometimes I realise just how far away you are and I feel so alone. And since Kim… since we became friends… I've felt less like there's no one on my side. She… understands. She knows." He hung his head. "But I also know she's been that friend for you too. God, Simon, what the hell am I supposed to do? I might as well drown myself ion guilt. How can I have any kind of… feelings," he said the word awkwardly, "for someone else when I'm still so, so deeply in love with you?"

  He knew he was sounding soppy and stupid but there was no one around to hear so he didn't care. There were tears threatening to fill his eyes now.

  "And Simon, I don't know how to handle this because I've never…" he choked a little, "she's a woman, Si! What the hell am I supposed to do? I look at her and I can't see anything… I mean, she's not… her body isn't right. It's not what I like. And I think, for god's sake, you're just going crazy. And then I feel her hand…" he trailed off. He realised he probably shouldn't be saying these things to his dead fiancé's photograph. He felt as though he'd run out of wor
ds. "I just," he spoke slowly and quietly now, "I just wish…" he closed his eyes. His wish was simple but impossible. He just wished that Simon was still alive.

  Slowly he got to his feet again and walked to the kitchen where he found the brandy bottle. Not for the first time he turned to an unfamiliar comfort. His levels of humiliation and confusion were sky high now and he didn't care if he drank until he was sick. All he wanted to do was to blot out the memory of Kim's face as she retreated from the flat. He had a feeling that was an image that he'd never be able to move from his mind, even if he pickled it.

  * * *

  Days and nights passed by in a flurry of mutual alcohol and junk food comfort for both Robin and Kim. Since Robin's last text to Kim neither had made contact with the other. Instead both had tried to soothe their worries with a mix of alcoholic beverages, convenience food and rubbish TV.

  Kim tried to hide her emotional turmoil from Linda. She felt like she was wearing two faces. On the one hand she was happily trying to put up a good show for her wife and her boys, plastering a false smile across her face, turning into Superwoman to hold down two jobs and run half of the home, then doing her duties in the bedroom at night. The other half of the time she would sneak down to the lounge when Linda was snoring gently, open the scotch and shove more crisps down her throat while watching late night repeats of Bad Girls and trying not to think about the fact that her heart had almost broken when she saw a glimpse of Robin across the car park at work or the fact that she hadn't had an orgasm through Linda's touch in weeks unless she was thinking of someone else.

  Robin felt like a weak fool, pulling out the brandy every night. It wasn't as though he even drank that much, a glass was all that it took to knock him out for the night. But that's what he needed because without it he didn't sleep, he just stared at the ceiling, seeing Kim's horrified face over and over again or typing out messages on his phone that he was never going to send. He couldn't be bothered to cook any longer. Everything he liked to make reminded him of Kim. Every meal he'd cooked for her just conjured up her face. Now his hearty home cooking had been replaced by chocolate, crisps and ready meals that tasted of cardboard and arses.