Give Me Love

by Michelle

Note: This story is set immediately after the final chapter of  The Running Grave. 

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Chapter 1

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.

※※

Robin was quickly heading back to the office, dragging her small 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.

※※

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 of needing 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.

 

Chapter 2

AFTERGLOW

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The air on Oxford Street was fresh and crisp after the rain that had fallen earlier that day. It was already after dark as a tall man in his early forties in a dark coat leisurely strolled down the street hand in hand with a golden-haired thirty-something woman, both beaming with contentment and silent happiness, subconsciously walking very close to each other. They didn’t focus so much on all the fancy and glamorous shop windows they were passing, but rather absorbing the lively rhythm, warming lights and above all, each other.

“What?” Robin asked with a smile after a while, glancing for the hundredth time that day at Strike and seeing him grinning.
“Everything,” he replied, chuckling and stealing a glance at her as well before continuing. “I’ve walked this street hundreds of times, always finding a strange comfort in getting lost in the crowd and its anonymity.” His grin changed into a warm smile. “But today is the first time I can really feel its heartbeat and hear it talking to me.”
Robin observed him with curiosity but above all, with love that she finally didn’t need to hide.
“And what does it tell you?” she asked, smiling.
Strike looked at her and squeezed her hand. “It says ‘was about time, you dickhead’.”

Robin burst into laughter, making him chuckle. He felt as giddy as a schoolboy, but his mind was perfectly clear. At his age and after all that he’d been through in his complicated life, he wasn’t a lovesick fool anymore – well, maybe lovesick but not a fool anymore – but for the first time in his life, he felt as light and free as he had never been before. There were no restrictions on what he could say or how he should behave, no caution as to what was appropriate and what wasn’t. The woman beside him brought peace to his weary soul that he had so sorely lacked all his life before he met her. All the wounds he had suffered in the past didn’t haunt him anymore. They just found a place in a quiet corner of his mind without the danger of causing damage whenever it was convenient. He finally knew what he wanted from life and wasn’t afraid to go for it.

Robin leaned slightly into him, rubbing her cheek on his arm. The woodsy scent mingled with the aftershave lingering in Strike’s coat sent her into a state of sweet delirium. She couldn’t help but look up again to see his profile, illuminated by the street lights. By all classical standards, Cormoran Strike was anything but the ideal of a handsome man, especially at first glance and especially on a very bad day. However, to her, he was the most striking and charismatic man she had ever laid her eyes on. Beside all his rough features, thick eyebrows, stubble and dense, unruly dark curls, there were the all-telling, intense grey-blue eyes and that smile that softened his face in a way that always made her heart skip a beat and feel a jolt of electricity, raising her senses to levels she couldn’t have even dreamed of. Oh, and yes, he was finally hers.

“What?” Strike asked, with a chuckle, when he noticed her gazing at him with a dreamy smile.
“Everything,” she mirrored his answer from a few moments ago, beaming.
“Does the street talk to you as well?” he teased, grinning.
“Sure,” she replied with the strong Yorkshire accent he loved so much. “It says ‘Pat will go apeshit.’”
It was Strike’s turn to snort now as he imagined their office manager processing Robin’s sudden change of boyfriends. Christ, boyfriend? How about old-fart-friend?, he couldn’t help the amusing thought.

“Do you really think so?” he inquired then with mild anxiety.
Robin smiled at his visible worry. “Honestly?” she asked, winding him up for a moment. He nodded, suddenly afraid to look her in the eyes, waiting for an ordeal as if waiting for a result of the most important school exam of his life.
“I think she’ll be beside herself with joy.”

The detective’s head shot to her, and his incredulous look made Robin laugh again.
“Come on, Strike! You’re the detective! You can’t be so blind not to have noticed she has a soft spot for you. Even more since you’ve saved her life.”
Hearing that, Strike visibly relaxed and chuckled before speaking. “She saved mine,” he countered, thinking back on Pat’s quick reactions on that fateful day in their office the previous year.
“Either way,” Robin continued softly, squeezing his hand again. “She is very perceptive, and despite all your efforts to antagonise her…” Strike raised his eyebrows, his lips quirking mildly. Robin smirked but then continued. “It didn’t take her long to see what I see in you.”

Now, he was intrigued. He always enjoyed their banter about anything, but this was the kind of communication that had always been an unwritten taboo between them in the past. With the changed status of their relationship, they were finally able to communicate about what they were really interested in – the way they saw each other as a man and a woman.

Strike slightly tilted his head, looking at her, his eyes holding curiosity and a real hunger for knowledge of her opinion of him. She had been throwing breadcrumbs at him every now and then throughout the time they had known each other (the biggest one admitting that he was her best friend, too) but never elaborating further. He couldn’t disguise his keen interest in something he had wondered about for years. So much that he was oblivious to the fact that they had already strayed from Oxford Street, having long passed the busy Tottenham Court Road underground station and nearing their office on Denmark Street.

Robin couldn’t suppress an amused smile at his expression before turning more serious. She stopped them to be able to focus on his inquisitive eyes.
“An incredibly intelligent, intuitive and perceptive man… A little rough around the edges…” She chuckled, seeing his eyebrows shoot up again. “OK, quite rough around the edges, unbearably secretive and a stubborn ass, annoying the hell out of me sometimes, but…” She inhaled shakily, suddenly overwhelmed by her emotions. “At the same time, the most caring, sensitive, respectful and empathic man I have ever known... You’re incredibly strong and vulnerable at the same time, something that makes you so… precious…”

She felt her words were inadequate to what she wanted to express, but seeing the effect they had on him, she smiled, and her look softened even more - Strike’s eyes were glistening. “You have been scarred by your past, not only physically but especially mentally. But you never give up, never ask for sympathy, never dwell on self-pity. Whatever life throws at you, you get up and keep going. You make mistakes, as we all do, and you suffer in secret; that’s what makes you human. But when you mess up, you try to make amends, whatever the way. You care about people, maybe not always showing it, but your actions speak so much for you…”
Robin’s hand crept up to his stubbly cheek, and she let her soft fingers erase all his remaining doubts and fears.
“You are a beautiful, broken soul that doesn’t need saving, but waking up to… live again… and realise that he is not alone to do so anymore…”

“There is so much… I…”
Her own words from only a few hours ago came back to her, and although she finally mustered the strength to reveal a lot to him already, there was still so much more she wished to express. But although she felt absolutely comfortable with him, some words were still hard to pronounce aloud, words that meant more than just simple passing on information, words that expressed the deepest feelings in her heart, too complex to put in a few sentences. They would come though, when the time was right. These would suffice for now.

Strike was lost for words, too, although for different reasons. Robin’s view of him touched him somewhere deep inside where no one else apart from her could ever reach.
… broken soul that doesn’t need saving, but waking up to live again…
In those few words, she described the greatest difference between her and Charlotte, between her and the rest of the world, in fact.

Robin never acted as if she wanted to change him, never lectured him about how he needed to change his lifestyle, look after himself more, work more on his personal life. She never expected gratitude for helping him in time of need, never pressed him to do things ‘the right way’ as other people do. She took him for what and who he was, without pushing him. And yet, she did change him, silently and subtly. Maybe change wasn’t the right word… maybe shifted him in the right direction would be a better expression – in the direction of self-acceptance, letting go of his past hurts and sins and allowing himself to be himself, without the need to hide it and maintaining the reputation of ‘the troubled one’. Once he had learned to accept himself, he started looking after himself more and knew he could one day lead a full and happy life (hopefully with her). He understood that after Charlotte died, cruelly reminding him of his own mortality and the fact that life must be lived while we are alive, no matter how hard it could be, that we must step over our own shadow to reach for the light.

Strike studied her eyes with admiration and love way beyond the norm. After all, this was them; nothing about them was about norms or boundaries on how much one can feel for the other. As different as they may have seemed at first sight, they were like two neighbouring puzzle pieces, falling into place in perfect symmetry – they were both broken souls that needed no saving but an impulse to start living again. After all the traumatic experiences in her past, Robin bared her heart to him and deep inside, he sensed she had never done so before to anyone. By describing him, she revealed the truth about herself as well.

“You make me want to live again,” Strike said softly, his eyes reflecting the absolute clarity and truth of the meaning of those words. He pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a tender, lingering kiss on the back of it, not leaving her eyes, though.

The spark that was ignited by his gesture brought Robin five years back when he offered her partnership in his business. Back then, as she eagerly accepted it, he sealed it with a kiss of her hand. She was thrilled by the prospect of finally being able to follow a career in something she dreamed about since her very young years. But there was another factor that made that moment even sweeter – the prospect of working side by side with Strike, not only learning from him but also (maybe even more importantly) his nearness. She didn’t know that the way her heart fluttered when his warm lips touched her hand was caused by her ever-growing feelings for him. Now, five years older and wiser, she recognised the feeling for what it was – a love like she had never experienced in her whole life.

There was only one way she could respond at that moment, and she made sure it was worth it. As her hand pulled his face closer to hers and her lips found his, the world around them fell into oblivion.
Strike, who was a very private person and wasn’t usually inclined to great displays of affection in public, erased everything around them from his senses and fell into a place somewhere between reality and hallucination, the best possible he could have imagined. All he was able to focus on was the woman clinging to him as if to a lifeline, entirely wrapped in his bear-like large frame, and barely controlling his desperate need to have her even closer…

It took an immense amount of self-control from him to stop their fiery, needy kiss and pull back a little from her, his forehead on hers. He was trying to catch his breath, which was proving a surprisingly difficult task when Robin did to him what she had done just now.
“Christ, Robin…,” he gasped, holding her tight, his eyes still closed. “You’ll be the death of me!”
She laughed, drunk from his reaction and the palpable electricity between them.
“I don’t know where that came from,” she said, amazed at her skills and breathless herself.
“Hell, I know where it was going,” Strike replied and chuckled.

They laughed and their eyes met again. Swallowing hard, Strike saw the fire burning in Robin’s gaze. It told him what he felt himself, but he wanted to do things differently this time, for both of their sakes. He was not the man he used to be before her, and she was not just another woman in the line of distractions.

“Would you mind?” she asked quietly, with an air of insecurity.
He couldn’t love her more at that moment. Taking her face in both of his large hands, he replied with raw honesty.
“Mind? You have no fucking idea how much I wouldn’t…”
He sighed, and a small smile settled on his face, his thumbs tracing her cheeks, and his eyes involuntarily and full of longing dropped to her mouth for a moment. When he looked at her again, the desire she saw almost knocked her off her feet.
“But for once in my life, I want to do things the right way,” he said then. “The way that you deserve.”

Robin was speechless. The way Strike opened up to her without hesitation in the past few hours was both, highly unusual for him (with a handful of exceptions, mainly associated with whisky and dim office light) but also incredibly moving. She thought about all the years when they shared the same yearning yet didn’t open up enough to make each other see it.
How much time have we lost in vain? No more…

Strike lowered his eyes to recover from the haze of repressed need. When he looked up again, he was smiling.
“Robin… will you go out with me?” he asked with a hopeful voice.
The beaming smile he received as a response made him grin like a schoolboy.

※※※※※

 

Chapter 3

CHANGING TIDES

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Robin adjusted the hem of her black cocktail dress under her beige knee-long coat while her eyes roamed the area around her. She couldn’t remember being so nervous for years, probably never if she was honest with herself. It was the good kind of nervous, though. She checked the watch on her wrist and exhaled loudly – she was eleven minutes early.
Get a grip, Ellacott; there’s no danger lurking here.

She tried to compose herself, but it was of no use; the excitement and anticipation were too strong to keep them contained inside. Even when her ex-husband proposed to her over six years ago, she hadn’t felt so elated and full of life. But then again, her ex-husband wasn’t Cormoran Strike…

Her eyes wandered from the pair of swans on The Long Water on her left to the footpath on the right, trailing further into the Kensington Gardens. It was the golden hour, the time when the sun is still in force but already preparing to say goodbye to the day. Robin loved this time of the day, when the world seemed to have been covered by a golden veil, making every colour softer and warmer. Just when she was about to look at the famous statue of children, fairies and a boy with a pan flute just off the path, she spotted the familiar tall figure in a long dark coat walking toward her. Her heartbeat quickened and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

Strike reached her only a moment later and she couldn’t miss his admiring gaze. Just as well, for Robin couldn’t take her eyes off him either, and it wasn’t mainly due to his favourite, perfectly fitting Italian suit with a white shirt under his coat, and his freshly trimmed stubble. A feeling of déjà vue hit them both, thinking of more than a year back, a memory involving a balloon pony and Narciso perfume, which she was still using.

“Peter Pan?” Robin raised her eyebrows, smiling.
Strike chuckled. “Ted and Joan brought us here once on a trip to London because it was Lucy’s favourite book. She loved the statue.”
“And you?”
He grinned. “I was trying to figure out why does Wendy stare at Peter’s arse.”

Robin’s laugh scared off a couple of pigeons. She had laughed a lot in the past twenty-four hours and loved Strike being the reason.
“I’ve always loved your wicked sense of humour, ‘though it’s really dark sometimes,” she said then.
“Comes in handy, especially when your limb decides to take flight,” he replied, adoring her flushed cheeks and the happy sparks in her eyes.

Robin, seeing the innocent expression in his eyes, lost it – and burst into laughter again. It felt almost cathartic. Without thinking, she hugged Strike, as if they parted a year ago and not only the previous evening. The subtle lavender scent of his Pour Un Homme did the trick again – she became pleasantly lightheaded. Unable to resist, she turned her head toward his face, her breath warming his neck when she placed a soft kiss on it. Hearing his soft moan and feeling his neck muscles flex, she smiled.

“So… where are we going?” she asked and pulled back to see his face.
Strike swallowed to regroup from the moment of sweet torture.
“First for a walk, then for dinner,” he replied then and went silent, an enigmatic smile on his lips. “Guess I’m an old-fashioned bugger.”

Robin liked the veil of secrecy about the exact location of their evening meal, on their first night out as a couple…The word had a strange ring to it, for Robin felt they were so much more than just best friends and a couple - they were true soul mates.

“I like old-fashioned,” she purred with a low voice, making him swallow hard again. “Shall I expect another pony by the end of the day?” she smirked then as her arm sneaked under his as they started walking.
Strike grinned, enjoying the little play between them.
“No, but something tells me you won’t be disappointed,” he replied with a twinkle in his eyes.
Robin couldn’t stop grinning as she leaned even closer against his bulk.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

※※※

Two coffees on-the-go and a long walk later - passing by Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, sitting down and watching the swans, ducks and geese on The Serpentine Lake in Hyde Park – they hailed a cab near Wellington Arch and drove down the Picadilly. Strike instructed the driver to stop at the Green Park underground station, leaving Robin puzzled, but intrigued.

They got out of the cab, Strike taking her hand and leading her back to the Picadilly. It was once they turned left that Robin got a feeling she knew where they were going. Her instinct wasn’t wrong when she spotted the famous white, over-a-century-old neo-classicistic building with familiar blue marquees. A knowing, wide smile appeared on her face when they stopped at the short staircase inviting them inside.

“I should have known,” Robin said, still smiling, then turning her head to look at Strike, who observed her reaction with pleasure. “What exactly are we doing here?” she inquired, although deep inside, she knew the answer to her question.
His expression turned slightly more serious. “Making amends,” he said quietly before a gentle smile returned to his face.
Robin squeezed his hand, mesmerised by the sincerity and care reflected in his eyes.
“Well then… Shall we?” she asked with a smile that told Strike more than any words could.

Hand in hand, feeling elated (and hungry), they walked into The Ritz.

※※※

“By the way, how on earth did you manage to get a free table here within a day?” Robin asked in awe while they were waiting for their dessert.
Strike grinned. “Let’s just say Rockefeller owed me a favour,” he said enigmatically, referring to one of their earlier cases – a wealthy financier who was being blackmailed over a few saucy photographs.
”I guess this job does come with a few perks, after all.” Robin nodded, chuckling.

The waiter brought their desserts and Strike didn’t even attempt to hide his enthusiasm in dumping the diet for one night, making Robin chuckle. He may have been looking after himself much more in the past year, but he was still Cormoran Strike – the man who loved his sweets even if they should kill him.

After Strike put the spoon to his mouth to devour the last delicious bite of his chocolate soufflé, he noticed Robin’s mirth faded a bit; she looked absent-minded. He didn’t need to be a detective to figure out why.

“How did he take it?” he asked the inevitable question that had been hanging in the air ever since his partner showed him that his feelings were indeed reciprocated. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Robin sighed, then spoke with a sad smile. “It’s fine. Better than expected, actually. It wasn’t easy but… To be honest, I was having doubts for a while already, before you…” She looked at him, then shyly lowered her eyes, smiling. Strike’s small smile encouraged her to keep going.
“Well, when we left the office, we only made it to the car park, a few minutes walk away,” she started and returned to the decisive moment a day earlier…

※

DCI Murphy opened the car door on the passenger’s side, to let his girlfriend get in. However, Robin was just staring ahead but not really looking at anything. All the way from the office, Murphy was talking about what they were going to do at their weekend break, excited at the prospect of being alone with her for three whole days.

He didn’t even notice that Robin barely listened to him, walking in a state of trance, putting one foot ahead of the other as if on autopilot. The shock she had received only a few minutes before in the inner office sitting opposite her business partner and best friend numbed her and disabled her normal reactions. Her cheeks were flushed and her heart was thumping in her chest, unable to settle to its normal rhythm.

This is really it, she thought, suddenly painfully aware of what she was about to do.
“Robin, are you coming?” Murphy’s voice made her blink and focus on the present.
Purely out of habit that she had adopted way back, still during her marriage to Matthew, she opened her mouth to apologise for drifting away in her mind. But the moment she wanted to do so, she stopped herself and spoke calmly.
“No.”

The silence that fell on the space around them was filled with tension and on Murphy’s part, with dread as well.
“What do you mean? Did you forget anything?” he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice. His hand was still gripping the handle on the opened car door, his knuckles suddenly white from the pressure he put on them.
Robin took a deep breath before exhaling, knowing there was no more point in pretending.
“I did,” she replied quietly. “I forgot to listen to my heart.”

Murphy released the handle, but not before pushing the door closed – with considerable force. He straightened himself up, lifting his head higher as if bracing himself for something he had sensed was coming but stubbornly kept refusing to accept for months.
“How come it took you so long to figure that out?” His voice was surprisingly calm but detached as well.
“Because I was afraid,” Robin replied, realisation suddenly hitting her. “I was so obsessed with making everything right, making others happy, especially my mother and you, that I totally forgot about how to make myself happy.”

She sighed, briefly averting her eyes from him to think about her next words.
“I know this will sound hollow and like a bloody cliché, but it’s true – you are a lovely person, Ryan, kind, generous, respectful, as Pat would probably say, an A+ boyfriend material.” She couldn’t suppress a sad chuckle.” You gave me such a different life from the one I had in my marriage with Matthew, and you’ll never understand how much I’ll always be grateful for that.”
“But A+ is obviously not enough,” Murphy remarked coldly. His eyes were lifeless all at once.
“No! That’s the thing,” Robin interjected. “You’re too good. Too good to be a….”

Suddenly she hesitated using the word she had on her mind, not wanting to make him feel humiliated.
“To be a what?” he demanded with a low voice.
Robin sighed. “To be a substitute.”
Another moment of silence thickened the atmosphere between them even more. It was Murphy who spoke first then.
“Substitute for Strike, you wanted to say.”

Robin was unable to reply. All she could do was look at him with compassion.
There was no point in denying it; Murphy was a detective too, and a very good one. In those months they had been together, he had seen Robin’s interactions with Strike, and certain little things didn’t go unnoticed by him - a gesture here, a look there, Robin being adamant about picking up her phone every time Strike texted or called, whatever she was doing…. And yet all the time, he believed that he could make Robin happy enough for her to want to be with him and not her best friend and business partner. He wanted to ask her if Strike felt the same about her but then thought the better of it. He would find out sooner or later anyway, so no point in adding salt to the gaping wound.

“I suppose that’s it then,” he remarked, his voice still low and cold, but Robin heard the sadness in it as well.
She didn’t want to prolong it but thought it would be cold-hearted to just walk away without  closure. She approached him and hugged him. With relief, she felt his arms returning the embrace, albeit in a cautious, reserved manner. When she pulled back, she noticed a tear escape Murphy’s eye, although he kept a neutral expression on his face.

“You deserve better, Ryan,” Robin said quietly, “I could never make you happy... but I hope you’ll find someone who can. I really do…”
He didn’t react, or maybe thought there was no use in trying to persuade her to stay. He knew her well enough to know that once she made up her mind, nothing and no one could change it.
“I hope you’ll be happy,” Murphy said and let go of her. “You deserve it too.”
She smiled, touched by the sincerity in his voice.
“Thank you,” were the last words she said, and deep inside he knew she wasn’t grateful only for not making a drama of the situation.

He watched her walk away, dragging the little suitcase behind her, heading toward a life she had chosen – a life without him.

※

“I never thought I would say it but I have to give that bloke credit; he’s got some dignity,” Strike said after a moment of silence, in which he digested Robin’s summary of her break-up with DCI Murphy.
Robin chuckled sadly. “He does, a lot of it, in fact… I didn’t lie to him; everything I said was true, I’m just sorry I let it get so far. I should have broken it off a long time ago. It just seemed so… convenient.” Suddenly she felt ashamed of using Murphy as a distraction from her true feelings.
”I was convinced he was about to propose to you on that weekend away,” Strike admitted his greatest fear, lowering his eyes.

Robin regarded him with interest.
”Is that why you told me… you know, now?” she inquired.
Strike leaned back on his chair, with a heavy sigh.
”Partially,” he replied. “I realised that I was running out of time. The thing I told Charlotte years ago about happiness requiring effort sometimes finally caught up with me. It was either that or losing you forever… I realised that my years of fear that it would damage our working relationship and our friendship was bullshit. If you really want something, you have to go for it. And I knew at that moment that it was all or nothing. And I told myself that I was done with pretence relationships or one-night stands with women. If you didn’t feel the same as I do, I would have dedicated the rest of my life to work and that would have had to be enough.”

His eyes were fixed on hers, letting her sink in his confession. It was strange how easy it suddenly felt for him to reveal to her thoughts he had always kept hidden from the outside world. It was like sitting in a therapy session when all things that had confused and screwed you up for so long suddenly become as clear as rain. Although this felt much better and more comfortable.

“I realised later that the way I worded it could have sounded unclear,” Strike continued, seeing Robin hanging on his every word, her eyes glistening, sparkling in the fancy restaurant lights. “I know you’re damn bright but how did you know that I didn’t mean… the past?”
Robin’s smile reflected a calm certainty as her hand reached for his. “Because I realised that Cormoran Strike would never give a woman a pony balloon and take her to Ritz for a birthday dinner if he thought they were just best friends…”
He lowered his eyes, smiling.
“But above all,” Robin continued, meeting his gaze again. “I’ve only seen you really sad because of a woman once - after you broke up with Charlotte. None of the others seemed to have had any effect on you when it was over; they came and… went. But the pain I saw in your eyes when you told me… “ She paused, remembering the decisive moment only the day before. “And when you didn’t say anything to deny it… I just knew.”

Strike couldn’t be happier, and yet a trace of melancholy cast a faint shadow over his grey-blue eyes.
“That night at the Ritz…” he started.
“I know,” Robin interrupted him gently. “We should have talked about it… “
“There were times throughout the years when I already struggled with it, but this was the hardest one to resist, until then at least - I wanted to kiss you so badly…” He shook his head.
“Why didn’t you? I’ve been wondering ever since then…” Robin asked, her old doubts resurfacing for a second.
He sighed even louder, his eyes wandering about for a moment, then settling on her again.
“Just when I was about to, I saw the fear in your eyes… I thought you felt… offended, thinking I’d make a pass on you when you were drunk and you’d hate me afterwards. I thought you realised that you are worth more than ending up with a fat and ugly old ape.”

Robin put her hand over her mouth, shocked. Then unexpectedly, she laughed at the absurdity of it all, and Strike looked puzzled.
“Sorry, it’s just…” she apologised, smiling with relief. “I was afraid, but not because of what you said. I was afraid that if we kissed and… Well, I thought that you would regret it the next morning, regret what we did because we were drunk. And I couldn’t stand it if you did…” She paused for a moment, her facial expression changing from soft to something bordering on anger. “And I never thought you were a fat and ugly old ape. Different, yes, but never that.” She sounded almost offended.

The misjudgement of the situation on both of their parts made Strike groan. At the same time, he was touched by her comment about his looks. He couldn’t believe they lost so much time just because of a misunderstanding. He couldn’t help it and laughed.

“Well, fuck me,” he stated, shaking his head again.
“Later,” Robin blurted, and her eyes grew wider immediately after, realising she had said aloud what she thought. Strike’s eyebrows went up.
“Shit, sorry, I…” Robin wished she was on the other side of the world at that moment.
How romantic was that? she thought, embarrassed, and buried her head in her hands.
She was still looking for the right words, blushing heavily, when Strike suddenly snorted and couldn’t stop laughing. All at once, he felt as light as a feather floating in the air on a warm, sunny day.

“Now we’re definitely going to be banned from coming here again,” Robin remarked quietly, still mildly embarrassed, when she glanced at the barman at the counter nearby, whose lips twitched from amusement.
Strike took her hand again and kissed it.
“I don’t care. I’m so fucking relieved,” he said, chuckling, his face glowing from happiness. “And for the record,” he added, raising his eyebrows, and his eyes twinkled, “I’m not entirely opposed to the proposed offer.”

They both laughed and Robin finally relaxed again. She couldn’t believe that only within not even forty hours, they went from being best friends and colleagues, occasionally having a curry in the office together, to suddenly sitting on a date and talking about the most intimate things as if they had been doing that forever. It felt damned good.

As opposed to their infamous “date” in the Ritz before, they drank only two cocktails each after dinner, both deciding they would rather stay sober to enjoy (and remember) the experience the best they could. It was approaching 11 p.m. when Robin yawned.
“Am I boring you already?” Strike quipped, with a smile.
“No chance,” Robin chuckled. “I think I just need some fresh air.”

They picked up their coats and walked out of the bar into the crisp night air on the street. Strike’s arm rested comfortably around Robin’s waist when he suddenly stopped them on the pathway under the stairs leading out from the hotel.
Robin, who was slightly leaning with her back against Strike’s chest, turned her head and looked up at him, intending to ask why they had stopped walking. However, the moment she met his gaze, she was brought back to that night… The difference was that this time, she was not afraid of anything. Seeing the longing in Strike’s darkened eyes, she was not going to make the same mistake again.

Her upturned face invited him to do what he wanted to do back then. They hadn’t kissed since the previous night when they parted at their office on Denmark Street. Strike called Robin a cab to drive her home to her apartment, deciding to stick to his resolution and do things the right way. Robin loved him even more for it, and the anticipation building up in both of them all day was bliss and torture at the same time.
The expression in her eyes that greeted Strike now was screaming at him to do what his heart desired. He smiled, slowly dipped his head closer to her, feeling her warm, sweet breath on his face, and found her lips. The moment their mouths made contact, the hunger took over and Robin turned her body to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him even closer.

Strike got mildly dizzy, inhaling the Narciso perfume lingering on her skin; some unidentified force made him completely erase the world around them again, and he felt himself drifting into a state of frenzy. It felt like being pulled into the eye of the storm, and he was unwilling to stop it. Not that Robin would let him…

When they finally broke the kiss to get some air, Robin was shaking.
“Are you all right?” Strike asked immediately, mildly alarmed.
“Never better,” she chuckled, her beaming smile chasing away his fear. “It was all that I ever dreamed of; it was… perfect.”
Strike’s face relaxed and he allowed himself to savour the feel of their “correction” kiss.

Suddenly, he found himself at a loss for words. He pulled her close, wrapping her in his coat, his cheek resting against the top of her head. Over six years ago, after his break-up with Charlotte, he didn’t think he would be capable of loving someone again. He felt damaged beyond reason, unable and unwilling to let himself be led on the same path again. Love as he knew it hurt too much and cut too deep to plunge into its abyss again.

And then Robin stepped into his office… Only then did he understand that his image of love had been a wrong, distorted one. Although they had not been a couple until now, she taught him the meaning of real love - unconditional, selfless and giving, rather than taking. Not the wild, reckless and unsettling emotion, but rather the soothing, healing and reassuring one. As he placed a kiss into Robin’s crown and savoured yet again the scent of her hair, he felt grateful and humbled, thanking whoever or whatever ruled the universe that they allowed him to hold her and call her his Robin.

Joan, she is finally my Robin… I wish you could have met her, too…

The tears prickling in his eyes surprised him; he thought he was done with crying for some time again. However, the thought of his late aunt caused a lump in his throat. His recent re-evaluation of his personal life made him more prone to physically expressing his emotions. He might have been a soldier once, but as opposed to the familiar saying, he knew now that boys do cry, without having to be ashamed of it.

“Are you all right?” Robin’s quiet voice returned him to the moment. Only a few seconds later he registered the fact, that she must have felt his inner turmoil without even looking at him because she was still wrapped safely in his arms. So that’s what soul mates are…
”Yeah, never better,” Strike replied, smiling again, stroking her hair.  “It’s getting chilly. We should get out of here.” He raised his hand to hail a cab.

There was no question where they would go - to the one place which held special memories for both of them, not only work-related. The place which was theirs.

A black cab stopped at the curb. Strike opened the door for Robin and followed her inside. She reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his as if making sure she wasn’t just imagining it all.
It was an evening full of flashbacks; this time Strike was brought back to the night after he rescued her from the farm, remembering lying in bed next to her, desperately wanting to hold her close but keeping his distance, only for her to reach for his hand and hold it for a long while. Back then, he had little hope that she would ever do it again, and especially not on a date they would go on together…

The stocky, middle-aged cab driver with a cheerful face looked into the mirror and asked the expected question: ”Where to, turtledoves?”
Strike barely opened his mouth when Robin answered for him with a beaming smile.
”Denmark Street, please.”

※※※※※

 

Chapter 4

THE BEST PART OF ME

※※※

The detectives had just got out of the cab and stood at the nondescript door of their office building on Denmark Street, bathing in the light of the street lamps. Suddenly, the prospect of what they both had been thinking about throughout the evening being within touch rendered them motionless. For a moment, they just kept gazing at each other, unspoken words floating in the air between them like a radio signal. And then, as if by a push of an invisible button, they both spoke at the same time.

“Coffee?”
“Drink?”

They both laughed, breaking the tension a little.
“Drink sounds good,” Robin said then, smiling. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes told him much more than those three words of approval.
“OK,” Strike replied quietly, with his own small smile and unlocked the entrance door. Ever the gentleman, he let her go first and followed her inside.

They walked up the stairs in silence but well aware of each other’s presence. Robin felt Strike’s eyes on her back, and the very thought made a shiver run down her spine. When they passed their office, walking higher up and reaching the landing of Strike’s attic flat, they stopped. He put the key into the lock, but before opening the door, he looked at Robin, standing by his side.

The question in his eyes was clear: Are you absolutely sure?
She smiled, put her hand over his and pushed the handle, opening the door.
Strike returned her smile, and together, they walked into his private space.

It wasn’t the first time that Robin stood in the small, two-and-a-half-room space. It couldn’t compare with the size of her own flat, but it was tidy and clean. She always thought it felt cosy in some strange way, especially since the addition of an open, medium-sized bookcase, making the bedroom (a bold expression for a part of the largest room dominated by a double bed) look more homely. The soft orange and amber light of the small lamps warmed the space and set a calm and pleasant mood.

Strike closed the door behind him and stood still, his gaze on the woman in front of him, who had just turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and suddenly they were struck by the monumental importance of the moment they found themselves in. The drink was suddenly forgotten, consciously put into the back of both of their minds in a drawer labelled ‘pretext’. Neither of them had moved yet, but they were unable to break eye contact.

Why should this be a problem? We’re in love; there’s nothing wrong about wanting to be together in every way...
They both had the same thought. Finally, Strike made the first, slow step toward her, his eyes firmly set on hers. When he stopped only a few inches away from Robin, she saw the softness in his look, mixed with something else – desire. Her mouth slightly opened and she released a shaky breath. Excitement and nerves mingled in her head, the eager anticipation of a moment she had, not once, fantasised about for years.

Strike saw the tension on her face, but it wasn’t fear, just the realisation that they were about to cross the final boundary and charter the unknown yet so longed-for territory, making them one in every sense of the word. His hand slowly reached for hers, his thumb softly caressing the back of it. Robin smiled, enjoying his touch and slowly settling her nerves. She felt her cheeks burning, her heart beating a hundred miles per hour, every cell of her body calling for more of his touch.

He released her hand and cupped her cheek, making her shiver again and close her eyes for a moment.
Just breathe…
How was it even possible that he had such a powerful effect on her? They’d known each other for over six years; she should be calmer, more composed… But Robin knew that it wasn’t just his impressive presence, so much in contrast with his relatively quiet nature; everything was different with Strike – larger than life, more intense, more thrilling…
Her chest was suddenly rising and falling visibly as she was unable to control her need for him.

“’s all right,” he whispered, misjudging her physical response. “We don’t have to…”
Her hand landed on his lips, stopping him from finishing the sentence. She smiled.
“I know,” she said quietly. “But I… we want to.”

His face relaxed, and a smile reached his eyes, making the familiar crinkles appear around them. His lips kissed her palm, which still covered them.
Here we are then... Just breathe…

He took her hand in his and kissed it, then cupped her cheek and not even an earthquake could have prevented him from tasting her anymore. As his lips landed on hers, Robin responded immediately, and her hands clasped at the back of his neck, pulling him even closer. He cradled the back of her skull, savouring the feel of the silky softness of her hair between his fingers. The image of a trapeze artist preparing for a jump into the unknown popped up in his mind again, but this time, he was sure the outcome would be nothing short of amazing…

As much as hunger was driving him mad, risking turning their kiss into a feverish frenzy, Strike was adamant on his promise to himself – he would not be the dominant one in their coming together, even though Robin showed him that she was more than eager to have her own part in their passionate interaction. She had been an equal partner to him at work and in life, and this would be no different.
Slow down, don’t overpower her…

Robin felt almost shocked when he suddenly pulled back a little, her breath catching in her throat. Seeing the question and worried expression in her eyes, Strike smiled, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled while putting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes for a moment.
No need to rush; let’s enjoy every moment…

As if she had read his mind, Robin smiled and suddenly fully understood the meaning of the expression ‘time stood still’.
 This is what it feels like… being in the moment, just breathing each other in, just loving each other…
“This feels nice… I don’t want it to end,” she breathed, running her fingers gently through his dark curls. “But at the same time, I can’t wait to…” The rest of the sentence remained hanging in the air; there was no need to finish it.
Strike chuckled and opened his now almost black eyes to her.
“OK… Objection sustained,” he replied, still smiling, the electricity between then crackling in the air.

Her smile widened, and without asking, she started pushing his coat off his shoulders while kissing him again. She listened to his body language and didn’t rush; despite the almost painful longing, there was something irresistible about slowing down, prolonging the sweet torture of waiting for the things to come. As he helped her take her coat off, his hands explored the whole length of her back in languid, gentle, but persistent moves. His lips moved from her mouth, down her cheek to the crook of her neck, drawing a quiet gasp from her.
Falling slowly… Blood rushing in the veins… Drifting into another universe…

Led by their instinct, they moved closer to the bed, still without breaking their gentle foreplay. Only when Strike hit the edge of the bed with his good leg did they break apart, laughing when he almost lost balance.
Do it again, Robin… Laugh for me…
Her laugh was his new favourite sound in the world.

Another deep breath and a skilled, smooth move of his hands a moment later, she stood in front of him, her dress pooling at her feet. Strike’s eyes briefly took in the wonder in front of him. Swallowing hard, he fought his desperate urge to look her whole body up and down thoroughly and linger on each intriguing spot for a long time. 
There will be time for that… Stay connected…

Their eyes remained locked for a long moment, while Robin’s skilful hands divested him of his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt. When she revealed his broad chest covered with dense, dark hair, and her hands roamed gently along its planes, feeling a few scars here and there, a wondrous gentle smile appeared on her face. The air became almost unbearably thick between them. Strike’s restriction was tested to the limit as he held his breath, dying to move further and at the same time, for her not to stop her tender exploration.

Suddenly overcome by the physical craving, fogging his brain like never before, his long arms wrapped around her, and his mouth pressed to hers with greater force than he had planned at first. Robin didn’t seem to object at all because after only a few heated seconds, she managed to press herself so hard to him that Strike lost his balance, and this time, he did fall on the bed, pulling her with him.

They laughed again, feeling liberated, exhilarated and completely drunk with love.
“It seems there’s always something in our way,” Robin teased, chuckling.
Strike’s wide smile faded a little as the ambiguity of her words hit him. He couldn’t resist running his fingers through her hair, his eyes filled with longing he had been hiding for what seemed like an eternity.
“Never again,” he replied quietly, but with resolve.

Robin gently stroked his stubbly cheek, her warm hand lingering there for a moment. Her mind was suddenly assaulted by a series of flashbacks of their many special but also difficult moments in the years they had been business partners and best friends. She felt her eyes welling up but then gave Strike the soft smile reserved only for him, and he knew she shared his conviction.

And then the world around them fell into oblivion, blending into an electrifying veil of passion, need and discoveries, and the hours that followed were to become something they wouldn’t forget for the rest of their lives…

※※※

Strike released a heavy but happy sigh. He had finally managed to catch his breath, his arms wrapped around Robin’s still thinner-than-usual body, refusing to lose the precious physical contact with her. Her months-long stay at Chapman’s Farm left its mark on her appearance, but Strike knew there was much more she hadn’t talked about – yet. She was clinging to him with desperation, revealing how fragile she could be in highly emotional moments.

“Are you all right?” Strike asked quietly, stroking her hair. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. “I hope I didn’t---“
“I’m great,” Robin replied, tightening her arm around his waist even more. “I have never felt better,” she admitted, and he could feel her smile on his chest before she added, “and safer.”
“You will never have to feel unsafe with me,” he promised, putting a gentle kiss into her hair.
“I’ve never doubted it. I’ve always known you would catch me if I fell, just like you did on the very first day.”

The staircase, her first day in the office…
The memory of their not-so-gentle first encounter momentarily filled him with something bordering on nostalgia. Her assurance touched him, just when he had thought nothing could move his heart more than what they’d experienced together just a few moments ago. The intense waves of pleasure were overcome by even bigger and more impactful ones, those making him love life again.
They remained still, their bare bodies entwined into one, unwilling to let go of each other. Strike felt Robin shiver mildly, and he pulled the duvet over her up to her shoulders.
“Sorry,” she apologised with a soft chuckle. “I’ve never had a reaction like this before…”

Strike didn’t know what to say; his stunned brain was trying to process her words combined with those of I have never felt better, which she had said before. He knew that women generally liked his skills in bed, but he had never been with anyone the way he was with Robin, not just because he was aware of her past, terrible encounters with men.  Having sex was one thing, but making love to someone was another. Making love to Charlotte was wild and chaotic. Making love to Robin was… like a ship approaching the harbour at a colourful sunset after a long and stormy voyage - unhurried, emotional, fulfilling… achingly beautiful…

“Are you all right?” Robin interrupted Strike’s train of thought.
He sighed. “I was just trying to figure out what the fuck have I done right to deserve you,” he replied, fighting off a stubborn tear in his eye and a lump in his throat.
Her laugh made him smile. He had never heard her laugh as much as in the past two days, and it was like Tom Waits to his ears.

“You care about me, “ Robin said then. “You care about people. That’s probably the best part of you.”
“You’re wrong,” he countered calmly, making her lift her head to look into his eyes. “The best part of me is you.”
That earned him a sweet, long kiss as she was suddenly tongue-tied – for words.

Robin settled comfortably on his chest again, releasing a deep sigh. Her heart wasn’t cooperating at all with her, so much that she feared Strike would feel its racing beat, threatening to make it burst out of her ribcage. She thought she had felt love before, many years ago, but this was miles, universes away from how it felt for her when she was seventeen. The teenage thrill when Matthew asked her out for the first time and her biggest problem was what dress to wear and how much make-up to apply to her pretty face to make him like her even more, or years later, when he asked her to marry him and she was on cloud number nine, thinking it was the greatest and most significant way of a man showing his love for a woman…

All of that suddenly paled in comparison to the emotions filling her heart when lying in Strike’s arms. Her mind was flooded by the river of memories of all his, even the smallest gestures towards her in those years they had known each other. Being loved by Cormoran Strike meant being appreciated, respected for who she was, encouraged to follow her dreams, protected, needed and never taken for granted. She didn’t need to wear more make-up or fancy clothes to fulfil some expectations. She never had to pretend an interest in things she didn’t like. Being loved by Strike meant being bound to him with a strong thread leading from his heart to hers, but at the same time, it meant being free.

“I thought you would be angry,” Strike said after a blissful while of silence, looking into the night through the skyline window. He couldn’t see any stars because the bright, sunny day from earlier had changed into a night overcast with thick clouds threatening to burst into tears any minute.
“Why? When?” Robin asked, her fingers playing with the hair on Strike’s chest.
“When I told you… I thought you’d be angry that I sprang it on you just when you were about to go away with Murphy for the weekend. You would have every right to be.”

Robin smiled. “Believe it or not, anger was the last thing I felt at that moment,” she said truthfully. “I guess I’m old enough to know now what really matters in life. We can’t change anything we’ve done in the past. We can only decide and live for what we do now and what could be in the future.”
“Will be,” Strike corrected her with a sudden unwavering conviction, making her smile even wider.
“Yes, will be,” she agreed, wanting to make him sure she believed in them, whatever complications life might have thrown in their way.

Heavy raindrops started beating on the window.
“What did you feel?” Strike suddenly wanted to know.
Robin lifted her head to look at his face, the shape of which was partially hidden in the semi-darkness of the room. She could see his eyes, though, dark but striking and impossible to miss amidst his unpolished facial features.
“Relief,” she said quietly, “that I wasn’t just imagining things… Confusion, because I knew I wanted to be with you but didn’t know how to end it with Ryan… And joy, because I was finally free to tell you off for what a mess you’ve made out of my heart in all those years.” She chuckled, her eyes fixed on his.

Strike stroked her cheek, with a smile, which faded then.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling ashamed for having been such a stubborn coward for so long.
“I’m not,” Robin replied, still smiling. “Well, I am for the lost time and a bloody miserable year of my married life, but we had lots of personal growing to do. I don’t think either of us was ready for this without learning more about each other and especially about ourselves.”
“True,” he responded, reflecting on the hard, at times cruel way they both had to do it.
“I know we were, and maybe still are, a little bit worried about how we can make this work with the business in mind, but why should it be a problem? We both love our job and know its demands, including the risks. Whatever complications might come in the future, we will face them together, and I know we are mature enough by now to find the right balance.” She paused, letting him digest her thoughts.  “Besides, we’re in the best years of our lives,” she added cheerfully and laid her head back on his chest.

Strike smiled. His newly found confidence in the possibility of making her happy caused a major shift in his view about the ten-year age difference between them and about the possible problems their changed relationship might cause in their work. In fact, not only about that. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Robin, under whatever terms she would prefer, and just as she was convinced about working it all out should the need arise, he was on the same boat now.

They were quietly listening to the raindrops falling on the window pane, the fingers of her hand interlaced with his and resting on his chest, close to his heart. Robin’s heartbeat finally returned to normal and she was getting pleasantly tired. Her sudden yawn made Strike smile.
“Sleep, get some rest,” he said, leaning his head to hers and kissing her temple.
“But don’t you dare going anywhere,” she replied quietly, her eyes already closing.
His heart fluttered before he whispered, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

※※※

Strike woke up two hours later, needing to use the toilet. He gently moved Robin to the side, carefully tugging her more in the duvet, as the room felt a bit chilly after the heavy rain outside earlier. He observed her for a while, still in awe that she was laying next to him, in his bed… She could have had anyone else, yet she chose him; she loved him… What a lucky bastard was he?
His eyes fell on the prosthesis, leaning against the wall nearby, remembering how Robin's gentle hands carefully detached it from his stump, which she then stroked with so much tenderness and care he could have cried...

With a happy sigh, Strike heaved himself up and hobbled over to the bathroom. Suddenly feeling the chill creeping into his bones, he quickly did his business, eager to join Robin again, to feel her warmth and softness. Just as he returned, unusual sounds caught his attention. It resembled quiet, interrupted sobs. Worried, he hurried back to bed as quickly as his one-and-a-half legs allowed him and noticed that Robin was breathing heavily, her face a grimace of fear.

“No… don’t… please, let him go…” she suddenly begged, her head jerking from side to side.
“Robin…” Strike said softly, carefully stroking her arm, which was now on top of the duvet. “Wake up, Robin…” His attempts were of no use, though. He noticed her whole body was extremely tense, her face a mask of dread now.
“No… Cormoran… NO!!” Robin bolted upright, breathing heavily, her eyes wide with terror.
“It’s all right, Robin,” Strike tried to calm her down, his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. “It was just a nightmare.”

At the sound of his gravelly, soothing voice, her eyes finally registered the reality.
“You died…” she whispered, watching him incredulously, tears running down her cheeks. “They drowned you…” She was crying for real now and threw her arms around his neck, holding on to him for dear life.

Strike’s arms enveloped her tightly as he frowned with the painful recognition that her nightmare had something to do with her stay at Chapman’s Farm. She never told him everything she had to endure there during her four-month stay, only a few things and very briefly. He wasn’t sure if she spoke about them with someone else, but knowing Robin, she was more inclined to keep things bottled up – just like him.
Anger flashed in his eyes, mixed with the stabbing feeling of guilt that he allowed her to go undercover to that wretched place in the first place.

“It’s OK, I’m here,” he whispered, somehow managing to sound composed, regardless of the rage burning inside him. He held her tight, gently stroking her head as she was shaking with sobs, unable to control the feeling of terror from her dream.
“I missed you so much… so much…” Robin spoke into his bare shoulder when she finally stopped crying but remained in his arms. “When things got really bad there… when I almost lost courage and wanted to run away… I always thought of you…”

Strike pulled back a little to see her face. His eyes were drowning in sorrow and awe at the same time.
Robin smiled through tears, her look pinned to her hands, now playing with the hair on his chest. Her emotional breakdown left her exposed and a little shy. Suddenly she laughed, shaking her head.
“I imagined you were speaking to me, telling me what to do, praising me when I did well... telling me off when I screwed up. Every time I sneaked out to leave a message, the first note I always looked for and read was the one from you… Not Ryan… you… You were my lifeline… It’s crazy… or maybe not, but I swear sometimes you were haunting me even in my dreams, which was considerably better than the crap I had to endure during daytime.” She chuckled, then took a deep breath and finally lifted her head to meet his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat – tears were rolling down Strike’s face.

“Oh, God, what am I doing to you?! Turning you into a soppy git... I must remember never to tell Ilsa about this or you’ll never hear the end of it,” she said, trying to lift the mood – succeeding, for Strike snorted, wiping his face before looking at her again.
“Robin, you are…” He was lost for words.
“Yours,” she whispered, smiling and tracing his cheeks with her fingers. “Always have been and always will be.”
“Don’t… just… Stop doing this to me or I will really believe I’m getting old and turning into a soft bastard,” Strike replied, his eyes welling up again.
“Be careful; you’re ruining the Cornish men reputation,” Robin teased, crinkling her nose, “Oh well, I could do worse, I suppose. Besides, I like teddies.” Her mouth was twitching as she was trying to suppress a grin. A puzzled but amused expression on Strike’s face was making it even harder for her.

“Teddies?” He asked, his eyebrows up.
“Yeah… fluffy, cuddly bears, you know?”
The innocent look in her eyes was more than he could take. He took her face into his hands and pulled her into a long kiss before playfully wrestling her down onto the bed again.
“Fucking hell, Ellacott! No one has ever called me a teddy,” he said with a low voice, suddenly larger than life, looming over her and faking a serious expression.
“They don’t know you like I do,” Robin replied with a smile and an eloquent look in her eyes.
“Damn right,” Strike agreed, his look softening as his heart swelled with a sea of emotions.

Another gaze and another kiss between the two detectives…
Much later, as they were resting in each other’s arms again and watching the sunrise on the now clear sky, Strike spoke into the comfortable silence.
“A miracle.”
“What?” Robin asked, uncomprehending.
“I was about to say you are a miracle…”

※※※※※

Oh what we find,
when we stop searching,

Oh what we feel,
when we stop forcing.

Oh what we receive,
when we stop fearing.

Oh what we become,
when we just love.

- Creig Crippen -