He Is, She Is

by Michelle

Note: Set after the last chapter of the novel 'The Ink Black Heart'.

"If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return,
they were always yours. If they don't, they never were."
- Khalil Gibran

※※※※※

Robin glanced into the mirror in her bedroom, more out of a conventional habit than interest. Going on a date had not been something she was accustomed to for years, not since her pre-marital life with Matthew Cunliff, whom she successfully divorced a year before. DCI Ryan Murphy, who invited her for a drink that evening, as attractive and decent as he may have been, didn’t make her adrenaline rise, nor did the upcoming date with him make her nervous out of joyous anticipation or fear of the unknown (or long forgotten).

The simple outfit, comprising of pair of skinny jeans and a flowery blouse, was far off the elegant dresses she wore for business meetings with her work partner. Then again, she and Murphy were meeting in the Goose pub near Walthamstow tube station and not in the Ritz… The pub was Robin’s idea since, for a reason, because in her heart, she was not ready for anything more official in a finer place. Only then she remembered Murphy mentioning he was an alcoholic, though being sober for two years. When she apologised to him and tried to suggest something else, he laughed and said he was long past the stage when even the sight of a pub awakened his craving for spirits. “Besides, the best leads are always to be found in the pubs,” he told her.

She turned off the light in the bedroom and walked over to the front door of her new flat; she grabbed the keys and her handbag and paused for a moment, her hand on the door handle. Twenty-four hours prior, she thought this was a good idea, convenient, logical and natural. However, after visiting Strike at the hospital earlier that day, her imaginary façade of conviction was suddenly full of cracks.

With a shake of her head and a sigh, Robin turned off the light and closed the door behind her, setting off for the Goose.

※※※※※

“So we ended up on the promenade on Playa de la Concha, watching the sunset and digesting the baked seabream from the nearby restaurant. I must say, it was pretty good not having to deal with murder maniacs on the loose for a few days,” DCI Murphy said with a smile, taking another sip of his glass of iced Coke. He was telling Robin about his holiday in San Sebastian in Spain, celebrating his sister’s 40^th birthday. The pub was fairly full but not too noisy to disturb their conversation.

“You would have loved it there,” he added, his hazel eyes focused solely on his date.
“Hmm,” Robin said absently, then realising she should say more. “I don’t know… I like the sea, but I like being in London, which is funny because when I first moved here with my ex-husband, it didn’t strike me as a place I could imagine myself spending the rest of my working life in.” She chuckled. “But then…” Her smile faded, and her eyes wandered into the distance behind the window they were sitting at. Then I almost got killed on a shabby staircase...

Murphy watched the almost dream-like expression on her face, trying to decipher the enigmatic smile that reappeared there. He was intelligent enough to recognise that kind of expression. It clearly wasn’t something but someone who changed Robin’s mind about life in the big city. It was a wild guess but…

“But then you found your calling in the detective work,” he tested the ground.
Waking from her brief reverie, Robin looked at him and flashed a smile. “Yes,” she replied simply. “Sticking with it was the best decision I’ve made in my whole life.”
“I can only agree,” Murphy remarked with genuine respect. “I rarely come across such intelligent police help.”

His compliment flattered Robin, and she rewarded him with a small smile, but she was fully aware that neither the warm hazel eyes, the light brown hair waves, nor the sweet smile made her blush as she surely would if another man was sitting in Murphy’s place. A man who had refused to retreat from the forefront of her mind ever since she left the hospital that day.

“We’ve split... Couple of weeks ago. Wasn’t working.”

Robin couldn’t get those words out of her head; they hung stubbornly over her, threatening to crush her. Why didn’t you tell me before? A sudden burning sensation in her eyes made her blink as she stared at her still-barely-touched glass of red wine.

“For someone who has never been trained properly in investigative work, you are brilliant,” added Murphy, watching her with an admiring look. He got no response, though; Robin seemed miles away from him.

“I was thinking… When you get some time off, maybe we could… see what’s on in the cinema someday?” he asked, his voice coloured with hope.

More silence followed; Robin’s look was still absent.

“I’ve poisoned my sister with that seabream.”

Robin jerked her head in his direction, her eyes suddenly alert again. “What??” she asked incredulously.

Murphy chuckled. “I knew that would bring you back to Earth.”

She relaxed and shook her head with a faint smile. “I’m sorry, I just…” I know this is our date, but I can’t stop thinking about another man. “I think the bombing, all those killings, and Cormoran being…” she halted suddenly, realising she revealed more than she would have wanted. “I guess it’s just been too much to process,” she concluded, smiling at him to conceal the full truth.

The detective observed her wordlessly for a moment before he spoke again. “That’s the first time you mentioned his name.”

“What do you mean? You know what his name is…” Robin was confused.

“I mean the first time today,” Murphy explained calmly.

Robin still didn’t understand, though her instinct told her the DCI knew exactly where his remark was leading.

“I thought since this was a date, talking about work was not something you’d like to do, especially after we’ve just basically wrapped up a case together,” Robin said, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m not talking about work; I’m talking about Strike.”

His voice was calm, but she couldn’t ignore the flicker of sadness in his eyes.

“We’re partners; when I talk about work, of course, I talk about him as well,” Robin tried to come up with something plausible, but obviously failed, as she found out when Murphy spoke again.

“He is not just your work partner, though, is he?” he asked. A fresh memory from a few weeks ago flashed in his mind when he made an innocent mistake describing Strike as Robin’s boss. The look on both private detectives’ faces after they simultaneously corrected him that Robin was Cormoran’s partner told the DCI that there was definitely something more behind this partnership. Only work partners don’t look at each other the way they did.

Robin swallowed hard, lowering her grey-blue eyes to her glass of wine. Her heart rate was dangerously speeding up as she was desperately searching for the best words to use.

“Cormoran is…” She didn’t make it further; the words got stuck in her throat, and the look in her eyes softened as she looked absently past Murphy’s shoulder.

The man who changed my life for the better without intending to.

The only person who takes me for who I am and never tried to change me.

The one who allowed me to pursue my dream.

The only man I’ve ever felt perfectly safe and comfortable with.

The only man I have ever truly loved…

She blinked at the last thought, overwhelmed by the truth, and took a deep breath before exhaling loudly. “He’s my best friend,” she said barely audibly and dared a shy look and a small smile at Murphy.

He smiled sadly and drained the last bit of his Coke. Then he stood up and put on his jacket.

“You want to leave?” Robin asked, confused.

“I don’t, but I can see that you would obviously rather be somewhere else now,” he answered with an air of certainty. There was no hint of resentment in his voice, though, only understanding and acceptance of the reality when he regarded Robin with fondness he couldn’t hide.

She opened her mouth to contradict him and to apologise for being such a lousy date, but no words came out. She couldn’t lie to him; he didn’t deserve it.

“I’m really sorry, Ryan…” she said eventually, defeated, her words almost drowned in the music and conversation buzz in the pub.

“So am I,” he said with a genuine smile, “but I rather face the truth at the get-go than pursue something that can never be mine.”

He reached for Robin’s coat, helping her to put it on when she stood up from the table. When they walked out of the now fairly noisy pub, he turned to her with one last offer.

“Can I give you a lift as a parting gift?”

※※※※※

THREE HOURS EARLIER

She pushed the hospital entrance door open and walked over to the reception. A young, blonde-haired and tiredly-looking receptionist lifted her head, and seeing the tall, good-looking woman in her early forties smiling at her, she asked the inevitable question.

“Afternoon. Can I help you?”

“Hello, I’m here to see Cormoran Strike. He’s recovering from lung surgery,” came a calm and composed answer from the visitor.

The receptionist typed the name into the computer in front of her, and two clicks of the mouse later, she said monotonously: “Second floor, the corridor on the right from the lift, room 74.”

“Thank you,” the visitor smiled and walked towards the lift.

※※

Strike was looking out of his hospital room window, watching a pair of pigeons keeping watch on the nearby tree. Being restricted to the sterile space of his room for weeks after the surgery that saved his life made him more aware of things he didn’t pay much attention to before. Suddenly he found himself missing the sea, washing the shores of his Cornish home county.

He missed the salty smell of the air, the colourful sunsets over the ocean, the once lulling and other times thundering sound of the waves, the walks along the shore that always helped him to clear his head. He closed his eyes and imagined himself in his favourite spot in St Mawes, from where he occasionally watched seals at play. He did it many times in the past, but this time, something was different. This time, Strike imagined himself sharing that spot with someone else…

A sudden careful knock on the door preceded someone opening it and peeking inside the room.

“Hello.” A tall, red-haired woman with a pretty face walked in and closed the door behind her. Without hesitation, she walked over to Strike’s bed, who watched her with slightly knitted eyebrows. “Hello, Cormoran,” she said with a smile. “I know this is probably not the best timing, but I’m truly grateful you asked me to come.”

Strike’s face relaxed as he got confirmation of what he suspected the moment the woman opened the door, and he replied with a smile.

“Hello, Prudence. Nice to finally meet you.”

※※

Thirty-five minutes and a few good jokes later, the man and the woman who shared the same biological father developed a genuine fondness for each other. The detective found out that his half-sister was a kind, empathic, level-headed and positive person with a similar sense of gallows humour that he himself was known for. The fact that she was happily married with two children (a teenage girl and boy) confirmed that she made much better choices in her private life than Strike had so far.

“I know Al keeps badgering you into meeting our father,” Prudence said in a more sombre tone, changing the light-hearted mood from their conversation so far. “I just want you to know, as I told you in the text before, I do understand how you feel about him,” she said, and he believed her.

“I, too, was rejected by him as a child. I, too, have asked myself, Why didn’t Daddy want me? What have I done wrong? For years, I carried the anger and hurt with me, dragging it like a boulder I couldn’t get rid of.” Her chocolate-brown eyes reflected the sadness of the years gone by. “But then I met Phil. “ A wide smile lit up her face again. “He teaches History at the same school as I; that’s how we met. Anyway, he made me see that there’s more to life than resentment and anger. He made me realise that although you will never forget, at some point, you will have to forgive to move on. Otherwise, it will break you beyond the point of repair.”

Strike observed her in silence with a slight frown, so characteristic for moments when he was deep in thought. “I know that,” he said, “but it’s easier said than done.”

“That’s what I told Phil as well back then,” Prudence chuckled. “And I asked him what could help me to reach that point of forgiveness.”

“I don’t suppose a crate of beer and a good load of swear words would do,” Strike couldn’t help the sarcastic remark.
“Tried that, trust me, no,” she answered with a laugh, making him raise his eyebrows. “It’s much simpler than that. You need only one thing.”
“Memory loss?”
“Love.”

Strike frowned again, silenced by that simple yet so meaningful word. He sighed and closed his eyes, a lump forming suddenly in his throat. Once, he thought he knew what love was, when he was young and Leda Strike and Charlotte Campbell created his first impressions of this fragile feeling in his mind. But only in his later years, he understood that he had no idea of true love before. The honest, heartfelt and heart-warming, ever-present but never forceful, unconditional love. After all that he’d been through in the past few years, love gained a new meaning for him.

He thought of Joan and Ted and how he had learned that biology doesn’t necessarily make you a mother or father. He thought of Lucy and how her own, sometimes rocky marriage never affected her care and love for him. He thought of his nephew Jack, to whom he had become an inspiration and who was slowly but surely growing closer to his heart. He thought of Nick and Ilsa, who despite their own problems always had his back and looked after him.

And above all, he thought of Robin Ellacott, who… made him want to live again. At the memory of her smiling face and her caring, bright blue-grey eyes, he couldn’t suppress a gentle smile.

“Judging by your facial expression, I guess you know what that is,” said Prudence, lightly amused seeing this seemingly rough, big man’s face soften at the mention of such a precious human feeling.

Strike opened his eyes, and she could swear he blushed before averting them again, chuckling. “There was a time when I thought I did,” he mused. “Then came a long time when I was convinced I had no fucking clue… Shit, sorry,” he apologised hastily for swearing.

“No worries,” his half-sister laughed. “Go on.”

He smiled, relieved. “And then… I met someone who finally gave that word a true meaning and made me realise that I’m not just a lump of a one-legged brute who finds the only pleasure in a pint, a smoke and cracking a difficult case. But…”

“But what?” Prudence inquired with genuine interest.

A heavy sigh tore from Strike’s throat, and he blinked. “But I’m afraid the realisation hit me too late.”

A brief silence between them was interrupted only by the soft sound of raindrops that started beating against the window. Neither of the other two patients sharing the room with Strike was present.

“Does she know?” Prudence asked then knowingly.

Another sigh came from the man in the hospital bed, followed by a shake of his head. For a moment, he couldn’t actually believe he was talking about the matters of his heart with someone who he had seen for the first time in his life.

 “Why not?”

“Because… I’m scared,” Strike finally admitted, feeling utterly defeated.

“Of…?”

“Of screwing up and losing not just the fucking love of my life but also my best friend and work partner.”

Strike suddenly realised what he had just confessed, not only to himself but also to someone else. He squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment.

Prudence’s smile widened. “Robin deserves to know how you feel,” she said.

The detective opened his blue-grey eyes again to meet her uncompromising gaze.

“She deserves to know what she means to you,” Prudence added.

Strike’s eyes wandered to the blank, white wall opposite his bed.

“Robin is…”

He glanced at his bedside table, where all the bits Robin brought him earlier that day were neatly organised and waiting for his attention, including one of James Ellroy’s crime novels, that his friend added as a welcome surprise.

My best friend.

The light in my darkness.

The other part of my soul I never knew I was missing.

The only person who knows the real me.

The woman that, without realising it then, I have loved since she didn’t threaten to sue me for almost killing her on that bloody staircase…

“She is everything,” Strike breathed eventually, encompassing all his feelings into one perfect word.

Prudence took his large hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

“Then you must tell her… when the time is right,” she said.

Her warm and understanding smile made Strike think that not all of Rokeby’s children were annoying the crap out of him (Al being the only other exception). He returned her smile and suddenly felt very tired. His lung may have been healing, but the wound in his heart was still raw, pounding painfully with uncertainty about the reception he might get if… when he had revealed his true feelings to Robin. Especially now, when she was surely on her way to a date with DCI Murphy. Would he ever get a chance at all?

No way out now, you moron, and you know it.

He replied quietly. “When the time is right.”

※※※※※

It was already past 10 pm when Strike woke up in his hospital room after one of his PTSD dreams in which he returned to the moment when his leg got blown up. Within the years, he transitioned from waking up with a scream to opening his eyes slowly, as if he had only watched someone else being marked on his body and soul forever.

He squinted in the semi-darkness of the room, illuminated partially only by the city lights penetrating the window. His fellow patients were back in the room and soundly asleep. Suddenly he noticed the presence of someone sitting at his bed. He saw a white surgical coat with an attached nametag that he couldn’t read in the dark, a surgical mask and a veil of long hair. A small detail struck him as odd – the person in the coat held their head in their hands.

“Doctor? What’s…?” He froze mid-sentence because when the person raised their head to look at him, their eyes locked.

“Christ, Robin!” he exclaimed in awe, trying to sound quiet enough not to wake the other patients. “What… How did you get in here so late?

”Remember the cheating gynaecologist we had briefly under surveillance six months ago? Let’s say I knew my undercover disguise might come in handy again one day, so I kept it,” Robin replied quietly with a small smile after she pulled down her mask. “I sneaked in through the A&E when another doctor came in after having a smoke outside.”

Strike’s incredulous smile was yet again a mark of admiration he had for the skills of his partner and friend. Despite the shock, he felt more than pleased to see her again. However… What made her come at such an hour?

He was lucky that the light from the window gently illuminated her face, so he could tell she didn’t look distressed, so nothing serious happened, but something was definitely amiss.

“How was your date?” he asked knowingly after studying her face for a moment.

Robin chuckled, shaking her head. “Even now, even in the bloody dark, you can still read me,” she said, making him smile.

“Always and in any light,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Obviously not always... She sighed heavily, not exactly knowing where she found the courage to show up in the hospital so late and voluntarily expose herself to the man she cared so deeply about.

“It was okay,” she lied, her look pinned to her hands, playing absently with the face mask she had just taken off.

“And that’s why you’re sitting here with your buggered best friend and not in some fancy bar, drinking your third cocktail with your new boyfriend and having the time of your life?”

It wasn’t a question. She knew her partner hit the bull’s eye, as always.

“Precisely,” she said and pierced his eyes.

Strike shifted nervously on his bed. “Did he… do something you didn’t want him to?”

His protective nature over her mingled with the recollections of her past, horrible encounters with men.

Robin smiled, her heart warmed by his care. “No, he was perfect,” she answered, confusing him even more because he frowned. “He’s intelligent, empathic, funny, honest, handsome… He’s everything a great guy could be,” she added without a hint of emotion.

Strike’s face fell, and he could feel his heart sinking. Only one date, huh?

“And…?” he dared to ask.

And he’s not you. Robin lowered her eyes again, then looked back at him.

“And nothing. I just realised I wasn’t where I wanted to be with whom I wanted to be. And believe it or not, Ryan realised it too.”

He was unable to disguise his relief.

“Do I detect a hint of joy?” Robin asked with a grin.

“Yes… I mean, no… I mean…” Strike stuttered like a schoolboy, frowning. “So…”

“So DCI Murphy is off the radar,” she concluded with an enigmatic smile.

Strike felt his heart hammering. All is not lost yet.

“Good… I mean, I’m sorry…” He briefly squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed again. “Whatever you feel is for the best; that’s the only thing that matters.”

He dared to look at Robin again, and his breath got caught at the sight of the serene beauty of her softly illuminated face, crowned by the warm smile she seemed to have reserved only for him… Then he noticed the single tear that ran down her cheek.

“Hey…” he said softly, reaching out inadvertently to wipe it away with his thumb. “Murphy is not the only bloke in the world,” he said, reluctantly letting his hand drop back on the bed – not failing to notice, though, how his touch made Robin close her eyes for a fleeting moment. “You know what they say, plenty of fish in the sea.”

She shook her head, then raised her eyes to his face again, and that’s when he saw it – the fear of what might have happened that day at the Upcotts’ house. They never spoke about her own feelings about that day, never got the chance to do so.

“I really thought I was losing you,” she whispered hoarsely, finally revealing the terror that gripped her when she found Strike not far from saying goodbye to this world. She swallowed another tear and averted her eyes. “You know I’m no quitter in anything, but when I saw you… like that, I… I almost lost it,” she admitted with a broken voice.

“But you didn’t,” Strike said softly. “You saved my life, Robin.”

“The doctors did,” she replied with a small smile.

“You first.” Strike shook his head, resolved. “Your instincts won over emotions. That’s one thing that makes you so brilliant at your job. And in life,” he added with a smile that revealed more than he intended.

Robin met his eyes again and couldn’t stop the flood of silent tears anymore, though she gratefully returned his smile.

“You won’t get rid of me so easily, Ellacott,” Strike remarked with twinkling eyes.

Her smile widened as she quickly wiped her eyes and reached for his hand.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied happily. The memory of the feel of his gentle touch on her cheek was still too vivid and made her shiver.

The silence stretched between them as they held hands, smiling, and their gaze got more intense by the minute. A sudden commotion in the corridor outside broke the emotionally charged moment between them; new nurses arrived for their night shift. Robin quickly stood up, still holding her friend’s hand, though.

“I better go,” she said with a smile and wanted to leave, but Strike stopped her by not releasing her hand.

He desperately wanted to tell her, to let her know the whole truth, to finally make her see that despite his fear of screwing things up between them, he couldn’t deny his true feelings for her anymore. But his gut was telling him that this was neither the place nor time to do so.

“Do you think you could bring me some more of that dark chocolate?” he said eventually, with raised eyebrows and a grin, eliciting a laugh from Robin.

“Only if you have curry with me once you get out of here,” she replied, still smiling. “I know it doesn’t really fit in your diet plan, but… we have lots of catching up to do.”

Strike lingered on her glistening eyes, reading all kinds of emotions playing in them. His smile widened – all those emotions gave him hope he hadn’t felt for a long time.

“Fuck the diet,” he said then. “Curry is our thing.”

To anyone else, it would be a friendly remark to laugh about. For Robin Ellacott, his words meant everything. Our thing... Did he, too, think about that intimate talk they had that night waiting for their curry, with a bottle of whisky to share between them? She couldn’t be sure, but seeing how his eyes burned into hers, she felt the ground beneath her feet shake.

“Deal,” she whispered, and before the rational side of her brain could stop her, she leaned over Strike and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on his stubbly cheek. Then she quickly retreated to the door, carefully opening it to check the situation outside, in the corridor. After turning to her partner with a smile one last time, she left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Not realising the breath he was holding, Strike sighed with relief.

The door to the possibilities he’d been dreaming about for five years was open yet again, but this time, he could see much more behind it – a real chance that the dream might be a shared one.

“When the time is right,” he whispered into the darkness, and as he closed his eyes. he realised, he couldn’t stop smiling.