Work Text:
Strike was sat in his office in Denmark street, the window slightly open whilst he contemplated another cigarette, a bottle of whisky on the desk and files and folders strewn on the desk, a tattered ashtray balanced on the windowsill
It was after 1am and he had so many things running around in his head, mainly Robin related.
He thought idly to himself that most things in his life were Robin related these days, he couldn’t seem to stop himself, she had slowly but surely infiltrated herself into every part of his being.
He glanced down at some papers that had fallen to the floor by the leg of the sturdy old desk, the corner of a photo protruding from one of the sheets of paper. he could see a bit of red gold hair, he carefully lowered himself down to pick up the bits of paper and realised it was the contents of a manilla coloured folder that had slipped out of the box he had been sorting earlier in the evening.
Opening up the folder he stuttered and smiled, they were photos of Robin, taken last summer by Barclay whilst they were on surveillance, Barclay had needed a disguise and was posing as an urban street photographer whilst Robin engaged a young woman in conversation, momentarily Strike had forgotten the case but remembered putting this file away smiling at the memory that he would be able to gaze at these photos if he needed a Robin fix. She looked radiant, beautiful and confident, dressed in a mint green tea dress,a small pastel bag hung across her body, her hair loose about her shoulders, shades of gold glinting in the sunlight , Barclay had captured such natural shots, Robin seemed completely unaware of the camera even though she would have known Barclay was taking them.
Strike flicked through the photos feeling nostalgic and slightly out of sorts, Robin had been divorced over a year now and didn’t seem to be dating anyone, thank god he thought, he really didn’t know how he was going to cope when that bridge had to be crossed.
He knew Robin was a beautiful woman and reminded himself again that she would never look at him that way and it was probably only a matter of time before someone swept her off her feet, and this further thought did not make him happy.
Whisky fuelled though his brain was other parts of his body were not similarly affected and he could feel himself thinking what it would be like to have Robin in his bed, in his life, to be able to run his fingers through her hair.
Fuck he thought I need her, but he reasoned he couldn’t call her at this time of the night, his mind contemplating what possible reason he could have to fabricate a reason to call her just so he could her her voice.
Bloody hell he had it bad, he knew it deep down, had known it for months, no, known it for years, he wanted her, fancied her, admired her, wanted her for himself in every way, as his partner in work and ..... yes in love, He loved her, more than he had ever thought was possible . How on earth was he ever going to get over this, he was always convincing himself she would never want this, not with him, so why oh why did he keep torturing himself with the same fantasies over and over again?
It was just after 1:15am, Strike reaches for his phone and glanced down at the photos of Robin now on the desk in front of him, she was smiling and he wished it was him she was smiling up at instead of the young woman in the photo, what would it feel like to have her smile at him like that he pondered ?
Hesitating for only a fraction of a second he looked down at his phone in his hand and scrolled to recent calls, of course her number was right at the top of the list , she was the person he spoke to most everyday, what would he do without her in his life, she was entwined in it in every way and he couldn’t imagine his life without her.
Grabbing the tumbler which was empty he slugged a considerable amount of amber liquid into it and gulped it back in one and pressed his phone to call Robin.
A slightly sleepy sounding Robin answered after 3 rings.
“What’s wrong ?” she said, as if she had become more alert when she realised what the time was.
“Nothin” said Strike
“Why are you calling me” ? said Robin
“Looking at pictures” he said slightly softly
“What” said Robin sounding confused and worried
“Pictures of you” he mumbled
“Pictures of me” ? Robin replied
“Wanted to tell you…” Strike continued, sounding to Robin as if he were a bit tipsy if not completely drunk
“Why are you looking at pictures of me ?” Robin paused, “at 1:15 in the morning”, who was now sat up in bed and completely awake.
There was a short pause during which both could hear the other breathing but neither spoke.
And then mumbling in an almost whisper “I need you Robin”
“Need me for what Cormoran ?” Robin replied hoping she had heard the quietly spoken statement correctly.
“Everything Robin” Strike said figuring he now had nothing to lose
“Cormoran you are not making any sense, are you in trouble ?” and quickly “ Do you need me to come and get you ?” whilst idly wondering if he had been arrested or had an accident and was delirious.
“No Robin, well Yes….. I said I wouldn’t call you”
“But you are calling me”
“I know” he said
“I’m all alone and I need you” Strike sounded slightly maudlin
Robin who was now convinced he must be in some sort of drug included state, “Where are you, I’m getting dressed and coming for you”
“Office”, “looking at you, well looking at pictures of you and thinking I wish you would come through the door”
Robin, who was now sounding increasingly worried said sternly,”stay where you are. I’ll be there soon”
“Need you” stuttered Strike and put the phone back on his good knee as Robin hung up.
Slumped back in his chair Strike turned to look out of the window watching the street lights and thought shit...what have I done, Robin is coming, how the fuck am I going to explain this.... he poured another glass of whisky and sipped slowly, waiting, thinking, wondering how long it would take her to get here and hardly daring to hope he could muster enough courage to tell her........ how much she meant to him, how much he really needed her, it was a gamble and he really had never been much for games of chance .
Ears pricked he heard the sound of a door clicking and soft footsteps coming up the stairs and then the door opened.
He turned his chair around and sighed, she had come as she had promised.
“Cormoran” she said softly, “what’s happened ?”
She moved over towards him and catching sight of photos on the desk glanced down seeing a dozen or more pictures of her taken last summer by Barclay, turning she looked down at Strike who by now she was almost within touching distance of, she smiled at him slightly bemused, he smiled back, that lopsided grin that made him look much younger than his 40 years and for some reason she found quite endearing.
He reached out for the hand that was nearest him, and said clearly, “I need you Robin, I don’t know how to tell you, couldn’t think how to tell you” and paused, “gamble…… might have lost you but had to tell you” all of this coming out a bit slurred and faster than normal.
Robin looked down at him, swivelled her hips slightly and sat gently onto his good leg putting her arm around his neck and kissed him gently, “you haven't lost anything she whispered, I need you too.”