Chapter Text
It was with some wariness that James made the trip to Sainsbury's. It wasn't the driving that bothered him; he could've spent all day in the car. He never had an episode in a car. No, the difficulty was being in the supermarket itself. If he came too close to the wrong person…but it was the same everywhere, wasn't it? The only way to prevent any more uncomfortable situations was to avoid people entirely, and much as James liked to solve problems, he couldn't solve that one.
He managed to navigate the car park without any trouble, though he could feel himself tense when he entered the building. For some reason, episodes were more likely when he was indoors. He'd never been able to work out why.
Something fell behind him, and James jumped, whirling round to see that a child had upended a box of Weetabix. James forced himself to take several deep breaths; he'd never have the nerve to buy anything anywhere if he remained this tightly wound, and he had to eat. He attempted to stand up straight (never one of his strongest skills) and carried on walking.
He was waiting in the checkout queue when he felt the familiar tingling sensation between his shoulder blades. No. Not now. Please.
And then he could feel her beside him, a kindly, almost motherly woman. That's my husband. If you could just talk to him…
James wished for the queue to move more quickly, so the man in front of him (who seemed like a perfectly nice man, if a bit remote) would leave and his wife's ghost would fade. James wasn't proud of his own selfish desires, but at the start, he'd tried to help every ghost that had come to him, and look where that had got him.
Now the ghost was desperate, and James could feel her emotions combining with his own. He hated this stage, because it meant he often couldn't resist the ghosts' wishes, not when they felt like his wishes. Grief flowed through him, terrible grief at having her life cut short, having to leave the man she loved. He bent forward beneath the weight of it, still trying with ever-diminishing strength to fight. Don't…please…
"Are you all right, man?" That was the ghost's husband, just ahead of him, and as the man's concerned blue eyes met his, James felt a deep familiarity and an even deeper longing. He was lost. The fight was lost.
"Robbie?" James whispered. He wasn't sure whether he was speaking or whether the ghost woman was…there was so much overlap now.
The man…Robbie…gave James a pleasant but puzzled frown. "Sorry…have we…?"
No. He didn't understand. James rested a hand on his arm. "I've missed you."
He could see the friendliness ebb from Robbie's eyes, replaced with wariness. "What are you playing at?"
James shivered violently. Once the cold set in, he only had a matter of minutes, and then, for good or ill, it would be over. He just had to see this through to its end. "Need to…need to say…" His teeth were nearly chattering.
Now Robbie looked alarmed, and he guided James away from the queue and into an empty aisle, helping him sit on the floor. "What is it you need to say, lad? You can tell me." His voice was so gentle it nearly brought tears to James's eyes.
James leaned against Robbie, his energy almost spent. "You…you know I love you…don't you?"
"Of course I do," Robbie said, still gentle. "I know that."
James meant to say something else, but his voice didn't seem to work, and the usual black lines were already swimming before his eyes. He slumped against Robbie, feeling the ghost woman leave him just before he lost consciousness.
***
Waking up somewhere unfamiliar was a sadly frequent occurrence in James's life, and usually the place was a hospital. Today wasn't any different.
What was different was the man sitting in his hospital room, the ghost woman's husband. James searched his memory for the man's name, but as always, everything that had happened under the ghost's influence seemed fuzzy and unreal.
"Hello," James said cautiously.
The man looked relieved. "You're awake." He crossed to James's hospital bed. "Glad to see you doing better. I thought for a moment you might…you know."
James wondered exactly how many euphemisms there were for dying. "No. Still here." He sat up with a grunt and threw his legs over the edge of the bed.
"What are you doing?" The man sounded alarmed.
"Leaving," James said.
"But you can't! They've got tests to run, and…"
"And the tests won't find anything," James said wearily. "It's not my heart or brain or liver or any other organ. It's not an allergic reaction and it's not low blood pressure or low blood sugar. They'd very much like it to be epilepsy, and sometimes, even though the brain scan won't provide any evidence for it, they'll diagnose me with epilepsy anyway, just so they have their answer and can say they've done something. It's also not a vitamin deficiency. Have I covered everything?"
The man was staring at him. "I wouldn't know. I'm a policeman."
James sighed, his anger fading. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"This happened to you before, then?"
James nodded.
"Often?"
"More often than I'd like," James said, struggling to keep the edge from his voice.
The man nodded. "And they've no idea what it is?"
James shrugged.
"Sorry," the man said. "It's none of my business." He paused. "Who did you think I was?"
James frowned. "What?"
"In Sainsbury's. Do you remember talking to me?"
"I remember that I did," James said. "I don't know what I said."
"I thought you knew me at first," the man said. "You called me by name. But you couldn't have…you said you missed me, and you wanted me to know you loved me."
James winced. That was…unfortunate.
"Who did you think I was?" the man asked again.
I thought you were my husband, because you were hers. But he couldn't say that. He always felt crushed between the truth and what he had to say to keep up appearances. This man seemed nice. He didn't want to lie to him, but if he told him the truth, he'd be in the hospital for quite a while longer than he intended to be. This, James could tell, was not a man who would believe him.
So he told half the truth. "I thought you were my husband."
The man blinked in surprise. "Are you married?"
"No." James sighed. "When I have my…episodes…sometimes I get a bit confused."
The man didn't seem entirely satisfied with that answer. James didn't blame him. "But you know my name."
"What is it?"
"What?"
"Your name."
The man gave James a puzzled frown. "Robbie."
"Right," James said. "Robbie."
Robbie headed for the hospital room door, then paused and turned around.
"I won't ask," he said, "because I said I wouldn't. But I want you to know I know there's more going on here you're not saying."
Not only was he a policeman, he was an observant policeman. Bollocks.
James tried not to sound as though he was panicking even though that was exactly what he was doing. "What do you want?"
Robbie frowned. "Want?"
"That's how this works, isn't it?" James asked, sounding short of breath even to his own ears. "You tell me you know I have a secret so I'll do what you want."
Robbie stood still a moment. Then he shook his head. "No, lad, that's not how this works. And I'm sorry your experience gave you such a shabby view of human nature." He left.
James was relieved they hadn't given him an IV. All he had to do was remove the monitor from his finger and disconnect the things they'd stuck to his chest to measure his heart rate. His heart was fine--always had been.
It took a bit more doing to convince the doctors that he should be discharged, but he managed that once he'd confirmed that, roughly a year ago, he'd visited a hospital very much like this one, and they'd run all the tests the doctors wanted to run here, with entirely uninteresting results. When they'd called the other hospital and had confirmed the truth of what James was telling them, they let him go.
When he left the hospital, James wasn't sure how he'd get to Sainsbury's to pick up his car (taxis were dangerous, and buses triply so). But he needn't have worried; Robbie was in the car park, leaning against his car.
"First I thought I'd take you back to your car," Robbie said as James approached. "But then I didn't know if you'd be all right to drive, so…"
"It never happens when I'm driving," James said abruptly.
Robbie nodded. "I don't suppose apologising would do any good?"
"For which one of us?" James asked.
Robbie managed a rueful grimace. "I wasn't very nice to you in there."
James shrugged. "I didn't tell you the truth. You had no reason to be nice about that."
Robbie gave James a thoughtful look, and James wondered how much of him Robbie could see. Probably more than James would've liked, but as James didn't particularly want anyone to know anything about him, that was a low bar to reach.
"Will you tell me the truth on the way?" Robbie asked.
"You won't believe me," James said.
"Let me decide that."
James sighed. "I'll tell you when we get there. That way, if you decide I'm crazy, I can walk away and you'll never have to see me again. You'll never even have to go back to that Sainsbury's."
"I like that Sainsbury's," Robbie grumbled, but his eyes were kind as he said it.
They drove in silence for a while, until Robbie said, "So, what do you do?"
"I work in the stockroom of a book shop," James said. "Orders and inventory, mostly done online or by phone."
Robbie nodded. "Solitary work."
"Safe work." He hadn't meant to say that aloud.
But Robbie didn't take the obvious conversational route. "Not like policing."
James glanced at him. "That doesn't worry you?"
Robbie's expression turned rather bleak. "Doesn't matter now if it's dangerous or not."
"i doubt your wife would say that," James said, and then immediately regretted it. He'd meant to introduce the idea that he'd met Robbie's wife slowly and casually…not like this.
He could feel Robbie tense beside him. "What do you know about my wife?"
"I know she loves you," James said. "And I know she died."
Robbie's voice had lost its kindness. "You a friend of hers, then?"
James wished he hadn't promised to tell Robbie the truth. Robbie wasn't going to like it. "No. I never met her until this morning."
Robbie bristled. "Is that meant to be funny?"
"No," James said. "All I wanted was to buy some food, but her ghost spoke to me in the queue and…"
"Oh, is that all," Robbie said. "Her ghost spoke to you."
James felt the prickling between his shoulder blades return. Bloody hell, not now! "Could you pull over a minute?"
"Like hell I will," Robbie snapped. "You can't just say something like that and then bugger off!"
Robbie's wife was back. He doesn't believe you.
James gritted his teeth. No, he doesn't.
Then I'll have to make him see.
James had seen any number of films about ghostly possession, but he found them all ludicrous. Ghosts didn't need to possess the living--him, for instance--when they could make you feel what they felt, remember what they remembered. They could share enough of themselves with him to blur their identities with his for a short time--no possession required.
James looked at Robbie again, and the deep love he felt at the sight of him almost took James's breath away.
Robbie had sensed a change, and looked warily at James. "What now?"
"Don't blame the boy, Robbie. I'm the one who got him into this mess," James said. "If you want to blame someone, blame me."
Robbie's face was a picture of consternation. "What?"
"You might want to pull over," James said calmly. "As he suggested to you before."
This time, Robbie did what James suggested. "Look, I don't know what you're playing at…"
James chuckled softly. He'd expected as much. "You always were stubborn, in your own way. I think that's why Morse liked you."
Robbie was staring openly at James now. "Who are you?"
James reached over and rested his hand on Robbie's. How many times had they touched each other's hands like this, in times of trouble or worry, or even in quiet times, times of togetherness? "I spoke to you before."
"Why are you doing this?" The words emerged as a soft cry of pain.
James met Robbie's eyes. "Because I couldn't leave you yet."
Robbie's mouth worked, and the grief in his eyes was heartbreaking. "You did leave. I said stay. I begged you."
"I know, love," James said, his heart aching at the thought of Robbie, alone and broken in that hospital room. "And I did try."
Robbie looked down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"
"No," James said, wishing there were something more he could do to help his Robbie through this. "I'm sorry too."
Robbie took James's hand, looking down at it. "Val…what do I do now? I don't know how to do this…"
"Oh, sweetheart." James reached out to touch Robbie's face, and Robbie leaned into the touch. "I wish I had the answers. I do."
Robbie's eyes searched James's. "But…you're all right now? You're in a good place?"
James laughed, stroking Robbie's cheek. "I'm with you. That's good, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Robbie said. "Yeah, that's brilliant." He paused. "Will you stay? Or do you have to move on to…wherever?"
"I stayed in the hope I'd be able to talk to you again," James said.
"Well…you still can," Robbie said, voice unsteady. "We can have coffee once a week. Rent this bloke for a few hours, and…"
James shook his head. "No. That wouldn't be fair to you or to James."
Robbie looked startled.
"What?" James asked.
"All that time talking with him, and I never asked his name," Robbie said quietly.
"I think you should take him for coffee once in a while," James said. "He could do with a friend."
Robbie nodded. "Where will you go?"
"I don't know," James said. "But I don't think I'll ever be very far from you." He set a hand on Robbie's shoulder. "Look after the kids for me."
"I will," Robbie whispered. "I promise." He rested his own hands on James's shoulders, and in that moment, the two of them knew each was loved by the other, and always would be.
James shivered. The cold was creeping in again.
But Robbie knew what the shivering meant this time. "You're going to faint, aren't you?"
James nodded.
Robbie's hands gripped James's shoulders more firmly. "I've got you."
James meant to say he knew that, or thank you, or something, but the darkness took him again.
***
When he woke, he was slumped across the car, leaning against Robbie, who was holding him. Gingerly, James lifted his hands and pushed himself upright.
Robbie's eyes searched James's face. "Val?"
James shook his head. "No. Just me. Sorry."
Robbie looked guilty. "I didn't mean to…"
James pulled away, retreating to his own side of the car for safety's sake, even though a part of him that had nothing to do with Val still wanted to be held. "I know what you meant."
Robbie nodded, clearing his throat. "Right. Well." He started the car.
James hunched forward in his seat, wishing he could disappear.
"Thank you," Robbie said after a long silence.
James nodded but didn't say anything.
"How long have you been able to do that?" Robbie asked.
"i can't remember a time when I couldn't," James said, stealing a cautious glance at Robbie to see if he was poking fun…but he seemed serious enough.
"Does it always make you…you know, lose consciousness like that?"
"It didn't used to. But the harder I fight against it happening, the less time the ghost has to get a message through, and the worse the aftermath is."
Robbie nodded. "You were out for hours the first time, but this last time, it couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen minutes."
"Good to know," James said.
"Can I ask…why do you fight them? Don't people believe you?"
"Sometimes they do."
"Then why…?"
"Because you get a certain reputation when you talk to ghosts, and maybe I don't want that," James snapped. "There's not a place I've worked or lived my whole life where I haven't been 'that strange bloke,' and that's when I do fight the ghosts. I can't imagine how much worse it would be if I didn't fight them."
"I see," Robbie said.
"I doubt it." James winced at the harshness of his own words. "Look, I don't doubt you mean well, but you can't possibly know what this is like for me."
"No," Robbie said, "don't suppose I can."
And that was why James didn't spend much time talking to people--because even with a sympathetic listener who believed in what James could do, James could only manage to be cutting and cruel. Fear and solitude had robbed him of the ability to talk to anyone with anything remotely resembling normal social graces.
"Sorry," James mumbled, and meant it.
They arrived at the car park in a complete and uncomfortable silence--well, uncomfortable to James, anyway. James moved to open the car door.
"Wait," Robbie said. "I…can't really say I'm the world's most sociable bloke, but…would you like to go for coffee sometime?"
Even after everything that had happened, Robbie still wanted to see him again? James hesitated.
"I'd like to," James said carefully, "but…I don't always do well in crowded rooms."
Robbie frowned a bit, clearly thinking. "What about outdoors? We can go somewhere that has tables out in the open."
"If you're really willing to go to such ridiculous lengths just to have coffee with me," James said, "then yes. I'd like that."
"Got a mobile? I've got into texting because of the kids."
James nodded, and they exchanged mobile numbers. "And listen, if you change your mind…"
"None of that," Robbie said. "When I say I'll do something, I do it."
"Yes, but I don't want you to feel obligated…"
"I don't," Robbie said. "I'll send you a text when I get home and we'll work out a day, time, and location. All right?"
James nodded, giving Robbie a hesitant smile. "Thank you."
"Thank you for letting her talk to me," Robbie said. "I know it's…difficult for you."
It hadn't been that difficult once James had decided he wasn't going to fight her, and James only had foggy memories of what had actually been said and done after Val had arrived. He suspected that was a good thing, to spare his own blushes if nothing else.
"You're welcome," James said. "I'm glad you got to say goodbye."
Robbie nodded, mouth setting in a firm line to stop himself revealing any untoward emotion. James had done the same thing himself many times. "So am I." He looked at James. "You take care of yourself, James, all right?"
James nodded, a bit warmed that Robbie had bothered to find out his name. (He hadn't told Robbie, had he? He couldn't remember telling him.) "You too, Robbie. I'll see you soon."
Robbie smiled warmly at him. It was the first smile James could remember seeing on Robbie's face, and for a moment, James felt as though he'd caught a glimpse of the Robbie Val had known.
"Go on now," Robbie said. "You'll see me soon enough, and you've still got shopping to do."
James shook his head. "Not today. I'll manage on takeaway and Marmite till I have a chance to come back here."
Robbie nodded. "Wish I could help you, but I'm not much of a cook meself. Val always…" He made a vague 'holding a pan' gesture. "…you know."
"Flipped the pancakes?" James said innocently.
Robbie laughed. "Away with you, before I flip your pancakes."
James grinned, getting out of the car and heading for his own. When he turned back, he saw Robbie was waiting, probably to make sure James reached his car safely. James gave Robbie an awkward little wave before getting into his car, and Robbie returned the wave, pulling away once he knew James was all right.
As James left the Sainsbury's car park, he wondered if, in spite of everything, he'd made a friend in Robbie.
He thought maybe he had.