I finally got to the end! I'm submitting this only a few hours after chapter 7, so if you haven't read what happened to Rob while he was with the bad guys you might want to look for that first.
As always, thanks for the support I get through votes, comments, and mails, it makes it all worthwhile. I've finally written something for my biog tab, and I'll try and keep it updated with what and when there will be a new story, but I hope it won't be too long.
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8
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Alex
I was going through the motions for weeks, trying to see past my lost love and failing dismally. I went back to work, and everyone looked at me with pity. It didn't help that I would start crying at the tiniest thing, just a stray thought or something I saw or heard that reminded me of Rob. Some people were great, but no-one understood and I was signed off again, given tablets and therapy and told repeatedly that I could get through this.
I still wasn't entirely sure I wanted to, but those thoughts did become less and less frequent. It was just too hard to contemplate the rest of my life without him, so I tried not to think beyond each day. I hated the night times most, because that was when I missed his body against me and his gentle words in my ear before we made love. I lost interest in sex, even with myself, because it was nothing compared to what I had known.
The police were still around for the first couple of weeks, but I suggested they leave me alone. I knew the Chief wasn't that keen, but I could see no reason to keep them from real work. I didn't really believe I was in danger, and if there still was someone after me, well, I could go to Rob free from guilt. I didn't tell him that thought but I had the feeling he knew.
My life seemed to be so full of secrets, not just what I couldn't tell those around me about the police operation, but my own ways of coping as well. I talked to Rob all the time, far more than was probably healthy, but just in case he could hear me somehow I wanted him to know how much I missed him and still loved him.
His note to me was framed by my bed so I could look at it all the time without damaging the paper. The number of times I read it over the first few days, particularly after his body was found, it had already started to curl and tear, and it was the one thing I couldn't lose. Just to make sure I never did, and to remind me who my heart belonged to, I had his signature tattooed on my chest. I kept that one very quiet after my therapist looked at me disapprovingly. To me it meant I would never forget him, to them it was a sign I would never move on, I was marking myself as his forever. I couldn't see how that was wrong.
I tried to keep some of my promise to him, not that I could manage very much of it. He wanted me to go dance, but I couldn't do that when I was so unhappy. I made it to the club though, right inside, and I spent every Friday night sat on the stool where he'd sat that first night, looking like the walking wounded and drinking myself into a stupor even though it was never enough to forget.
Once or twice men took a second look at me, but there was practically a neon sign above my head telling them I was emotionally screwed and they should leave me alone. Only the bartender usually spoke to me, and after one attempt to cheer me up he gave up as well, just serving me drink after drink until I staggered home when I could no longer cope with the sight of the couples around me, whether they were long-term lovers or just getting together for the night.
When I got home I would tell Rob how sorry I was I couldn't dance for him, and how much I wanted him to be there with me like he'd offered that one time. We should have been able to dance together, just once would have been wonderful, but I would have wanted more. I was always going to wish for more than we had had, more time, more sex, more of his love.
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Three months after my world had fallen apart it was yet another Friday night. I chatted to Rob as I got ready to go out, saying how I wanted him to be there with me so we could go and dance together, knowing that I was going to get drunk and come home alone missing him terribly, just like I did every other day. I cried less about that now, but always aware that my life felt empty without him.
I sat on what I thought of as his stool at the bar, wishing that I had more reminders of him than I did. It was still just that letter, none of his stuff had come to me and I hadn't liked to ask. We only had a few weeks, it wasn't like I was family. Hell, I didn't even really know anything about his family. Glancing around the room I saw the usual mix of people, a lot of by now familiar faces, but no matter how hard I looked, and I always did, the one I wanted to see wasn't there.
I sighed and let my eyes drift back to my drink, swilling it around the glass and taking a sip. I deliberately drank neat spirits now, finding the burn as the first few sips went down was strangely comforting, and knowing it would get me drunk far quicker than beer. It was just a good thing that so far only my Fridays were spent this way and I hadn't developed a taste for drinking every day.
Taking another sip from my glass I sensed someone behind me and stiffened, hoping he was just passing by and wasn't going to try and talk to me. There was still the occasional person who ignored my attitude and attempted to chat me up. Please let it not be that, I prayed, but he didn't move away. I ignored it as best I could, unwilling to turn or look up in case it encouraged him to start chatting.
"You're not dancing," he said, leaning in towards me so there was no doubt who he was talking to.
I froze. That voice, it sounded just like...no it wasn't, just chance. I shook my head, not giving him any more acknowledgement than that, silently pleading with him to go away, still not turning around. If I didn't see the face that went with the familiar voice I wouldn't have the crushing disappointment that it wasn't him.
"Alex, I came to dance with you."
I shook my head harder, refusing to speak. I was cracking up, definitely. All those tablets and all that therapy, and now my dead boyfriend was talking back to me. What if I did turn round? Would I see him as well, or was it just a voice in my head?
"Please look at me baby, I need to see you."
What the hell. I might as well know how crazy I was. I still turned as slowly as I could though, spinning the stool beneath me and not daring to raise my eyes even when a body appeared in my vision. There was someone there. Terrified of what I would see I looked upwards even slower, not sure if I did want to see his face, but it was there.
He didn't look like he normally did in my dreams or my imagination, but it was Rob. He was thinner, still built but not as much as he had been, and his face was drawn with dark circles under his eyes. Even they seemed dimmed but perhaps it was the semi-light in the club. His hair too, it was gone, or at least most of it, and there were short blond curls framing his face rather than the curtains I was used to.
Hesitantly I reached out a hand, letting my fingertips drift towards the vision, not sure if I was expecting to meet flesh or for them to pass right through him. He looked solid, but it was only when I did meet his chest I believed that part. I just sat, staring at my hand and then his face, unable to form any words. He looked so sad as well, and I just couldn't process the idea that any of this was real.
Nothing made sense, and as I kept looking at him, expecting him to disappear any moment, he smiled at me. That was such a reminder of his usual expression I couldn't help smiling back. I still couldn't move or speak though, it really couldn't be happening.
I was shaken out of my thoughts by another man coming up beside Rob, smiling harder than either of us were managing right then.
"Everything okay Rob?" he asked.
"It'll be fine any moment," Rob replied. "Oh shit."
I heard the words, not reacting, and I felt strong arms catching me as I slid off the stool, and then there was nothing but black.
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When I came to I was outside, the cold night air filling my lungs and the dull thump of music from the club telling me I wasn't far away. I was being held too, one arm around my back under my shoulders and the other under my knees, all my weight supported and my body being cradled against warmth and strength. I raised my head just as slowly as before, and then my hand, touching Rob's face with my fingertips.
