Chapter Text
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the thick branches of the solitary oak tree, causing mottled light to dance across the bonnet of the Land Rover that sat beneath its swaying boughs. The archaic vehicle belonging to private investigator Robin Ellacott looking even more conspicuous than usual today as it sat parked outside a magnificent detached property. The glossy red exterior of the occupants' e-type Jag adding to the scene's incongruity by contrasting starkly with the patchy paintwork and rust patches adorning Robin's faithful four-by-four.
A crisp but bright autumnal sky had accompanied the two detectives on their journey to Wiltshire early that morning. However, the dark clouds rolling over the distant hills held the threat of the predicted storm forecasters had promised later that day. The gusts of blustery wind adding to the sense of foreboding portrayed by the gloomy overcast skies as the remaining leaves which clung to the branches of the surrounding trees rustled overhead.
As Robin emerged for the house she strode purposefully across the driveway, causing the loose gravel to crunch underfoot. Eager to be gone, she hastily tried to extract her car keys whilst still on the move. Yet typically, even though she had placed them carefully at the top of her bag earlier they had still somehow managed to burrow themselves to the bottom, thwarting her attempt to facilitate a quick getaway.
"Bugger," Robin huffed irritably on reaching the Land Rover.
Leaning against the vehicle's solid metal frame she continued to rummage through the contents of her bag. The sharp breeze hindering her progress as it whipped strands of her red-gold hair across her face, temporarily blinding her and adding to the irritation she already felt. The disastrous meeting she'd just endured along with her partner Cormoran Strike upsetting her far more than she cared to admit.
Their client, Mr Latimer, or Skinflint, was a paunchy, middle aged man who’d clearly done well in life. He was also a man used to barking orders and getting his own way based on his insisted demand he saw both senior partners at his Wiltshire residence that morning. The update of the investigation into his former business partner leading Skinflint to become recalcitrant due to what he viewed as the agency’s slow progress on the case.
Indeed, their client had become so disagreeable he’d pushed Strike to the edge of tolerance with his obnoxiously rude demanding behaviour which had bordered on incivility. Cormoran’s dogged professionalism the only thing which had kept his notoriously short temper in place until Skinflint had ill-advisedly blamed Robin for the lack of progress, questioning her skills and ability as an investigator due to her gender! A blatant display of misogynistic sexism which had drawn the meeting to a premature close as Strike’s chivalrous indignation was ignited on her behalf leading him to terminate the contract with immediate effect.
Even now, Robin could still hear the exchange of angry voices coming from inside the hallway of the house where Skinflint had detained Strike’s departure, clearly determined to have the last word in the argument which had ensued. Though thankfully just as Robin was contemplating rejoining the fray Cormoran emerged out onto the driveway, slamming the door forcibly behind him. The burly detective's large frame now bristling with indignation and his scowling face as stormy as the overcast, cloud-ridden Wiltshire skies lurking in the distance.
Spotting her standing waiting for him by the Land Rover, Cormoran forced a grim smile onto his face. Despite the hours Robin had spent sternly telling herself she wasn't, (or indeed couldn't), still be in love with her partner, her treacherous heart gave an involuntary stutter as he began to stalk towards her. The breeze ruffling Strike’s thick dark hair in a most distracting manner as the tails of his coat billowed behind him.
Despite months of careful self-control Robin's eyes automatically swept over Cormoran’s profile, unconsciously cataloguing every detail. The undeniable magnetic pull she felt towards Strike only heightened by his obvious anger, which made him look even more broodingly attractive and the epitome of tall, dark and ruggedly handsome.
“Arsehole," growled Cormoran as he drew near to her. The harshness of his rough voice pulling the embarrassed Robin sharply back into the reality of their situation before her thoughts tumbled even further into forbidden territory.
Drawing to a halt in front of her, Strike began to tug savagely at the tie he'd chosen to wear for the meeting that morning. The restrictive feel of the fabric around his neck obviously irritating him now as he attempted to remove it as if to rid himself of the memory of what had just occurred. Though the impatience of his clumsy movements unsurprisingly failed to liberate him from the tie's restraint as the knot only tightened even further around the thick corded muscles in his neck prompting a litany of curses to spill forth from his mouth.
"For Fucks sake!" Growled Strike, his large hands becoming even more erratic in his frustration as he continued to yank at the offending scrap of fabric.
For some reason, the sight of Cormoran's anger cheered Robin immensely, and she was unable to stop her lips from curving into a soft smile of amusement over his predicament. The fondness she felt for him increasing due to his evident indignation on her behalf, which ironically was dissipating her own annoyance as she felt the tension in her body slowly beginning to drain away.
"Stop it, you're making it worse," Robin reprimanded Strike softly, stepping forward and batting his hands away from the tie to allow her nimble fingers room to unpick the noose-like knot which had now formed around his neck.
Robin could feel the weight of Cormoran's gaze resting on her face as she worked to loosen the tie. His intense green eyes flickering over her features as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat several times, almost as though her close proximity made him as unsettled as she felt. A notion which made Robin swallow hard as she breathed in the warm musky scent of Strike's skin. The smell of sandalwood and lavender emanating from his large warm body sharper, fresher and more alluring now it was no longer masked by the smoky aroma of the cigarettes he'd taken great pains to quit.
"There," murmured Robin triumphantly after a few seconds, tilting her chin to gaze up at Comroran as she passed him the tie whilst forcing herself to take a step back. Steadfastly ignoring the tingling warmth in the tips of her fingers where they'd accidentally grazed the smooth skin of his palm
"Thanks," murmured Strike, a softness in his eyes now replacing his earlier anger as he gazed down at her in appreciation. A rueful smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he jerked his head in the direction of the house before grumbling, "Sorry I lost it back there."
"It's ok. I appreciated you were sticking up for me, but you didn't need to terminate the investigation on my account. Skinflint's not the first, and he most certainly won't be the last sexist prick we end up working for," stated Robin in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Yeah, I know," sighed Strike heavily, wearily rubbing his hand over his bearded face until his green eyes suddenly sparkled mischievously and he added, "I could always go back and apologise if you like?”
"Somehow, I don't think Latimer would accept your apology Strike. Not after you just called him a sexist fuckwit! There’s coming back from that,” Robin replied dryly, hiding a smirk.
"Yeah, that’s true. Come on, let's ensure this journey wasn't a complete bloody waste of time! l saw a nice little village pub near a river when we were driving here earlier. How about utilising our excellent investigative skills to find it again so we can grab some lunch together before we head back to London? I'm bloody starving." Cormoran stated emphatically, the crinkles framing his eyes deepening as he grinned down at her disarmingly.
"When are you not hungry? Robin murmured, tearing her eyes reluctantly from Strike’s face to cast a cautious glance at the sky. The heavy black clouds in the distance appearing to have snuck even nearer to their present location whilst they'd been stood talking on the driveway.
"Shit, I didn't think about the weather. Sorry, Robin. Forget I even suggested it. A quick stop off to grab a sandwich and a packet of crisps from a Motorway Service station will be enough to stop me passing out from starvation," Cormoran reassured her kindly.
Later, Robin wasn't sure what made her feel reckless enough to dismiss her unease about the impending storm. Perhaps it was the temporary freedom and peace she felt in being away from the hustle and bustle of London. The reprieve from city life for Yorkshire-born Robin a welcome change of pace after weeks of relentless surveillance… Or maybe it was her reluctance to go back and face Ryan Murphy and the obvious cracks that had begun to form in their relationship.
Whatever the reason Robin thought 'bugger it', as smiling up at Strike with genuine pleasure she staunchly replied, 'No, sod sandwiches! Let's have a proper lunch together, I'm starving too. I’m sure we’ll be long gone before the rain starts.”
"Great, no chips for me though. Got to watch my pencil-like figure," Cormoran joked, patting his stomach self deprecatingly. The obvious pleasure he felt in her agreement to his suggestion relaxing his habitually surly features as the dappled light falling across the contours of his face made him look even more attractive.
Wordlessly flashing him the briefest of smiles Robin moved around the Land Rover to the driver's side door. Not daring to risk another glance in Strike's direction in case he caught her in the act. The obvious appreciation Robin felt certain was lingering in her eyes making it embarrassingly obvious just how much she admired his 'figure'! The more defined physique Cormoran had worked so hard to achieve after the dramatic close of the Ledwell case making it even harder for her to hide the attraction she felt for him.
For God's sake! Just good friends, remember! That's all he wants. All he'll ever realistically be capable of offering you. You'll ruin everything if you carry on like this Ellacott! Robin silently admonished herself whilst guiltily forcing the image of Ryan Murphy to the forefront of her mind. Acknowledging the fact that technically speaking he was still her boyfriend ...Though for how much longer she wasn't sure.
Angry and disappointed with herself, Robin hopped into the cab of the Land Rover forcefully shoving her car keys into the ignition. Deliberately concentrating her attention on her seatbelt when she felt the vehicle’s rusty suspension dip under Cormoran's weight as he hauled himself into the passenger seat beside her.
On hearing the door slam shut Robin put the Land Rover into gear, glad to finally have something to focus on besides her inappropriate feelings regarding her best friend. Gently coaxing the accelerator she reversed with effortless ease away from the e-type Jag. The old vehicle rumbling and vibrating in protest as its large wheels crunched across the gravel until Robin reached the end of the drive where she indicated and re-joined the road.
A brief silence ensued, which Robin used to collect her thoughts, knowing that she really needed to try harder to keep herself in check. Cormoran appeared to be offering her an olive branch which was a welcome change from the amicable politeness but definite emotional and physical distance he'd put between them lately since she'd started dating Ryan Murphy. Strike’s withdrawal and return to the aloof, taciturn version of himself she’d encountered all those years ago when they’d first met irritating and wounding Robin in equal measure.
If friendship was indeed back on the table, Robin would take it! Even though she couldn't deny she was angry and hurt by Strike’s behaviour, she missed her best friend and wanted him back. With this in mind clearing her throat, she began to speak, keen to coax something resembling a normal conversation out of her partner. Common sense telling her to fall back on to the topic of work to draw him out, as it had always been the glue which had held them together, helping them to navigate their way through any difficulties in their relationship they’d experienced in the past.
"I suppose we shouldn't be shocked over Skinflint’s behaviour, he was an unpleasant character from the start," Robin cautiously began to provoke a response, keeping her eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"We shouldn't have taken the bastard on in the first place," Strike growled in reply, his earlier dark mood returning rapidly as his dark brow fell low over his eyes.
"On what grounds?" Robin asked, suppressing a smile as she relaxed back into the threadbare driver's seat. Absorbing the familiar spark of anticipation she felt over the verbal 'to-ing and fro-ing she was sure was about to ensue between herself and Strike.
"On the grounds, he was and still is a complete and utter arsehole," deadpanned Cormoran, his face remaining stoically expressionless until Robin erupted into peals of laughter. The grin which then broke out across his face suggesting he was clearly pleased he'd amused her so easily as those delicious crinkles formed around his eyes once again.
“There should be a clause warning clients we have a zero-tolerance policy in place for arseholes… or better still, just don't accept them as clients in the first place," continued Strike in full swing now, making Robin laugh even harder.
”That wouldn't work. You can't always tell straight away whose an ‘arsehole’ and who isn’t," she replied teasingly, her heart lifting with joy over the playfulness of the conversation and glimmer of the friendship she'd missed so much and treasured above anything else.
"Yeah, you can," rumbled Cormoran darkly, "You certainly could in Skinflint’s case. Wanker! Can you believe he kept me back just now to suggest I plant evidence to frame the poor bastard he used to be in business with!"
"He didn't?" Responded Robin, suitably appalled.
"He bloody well did," Strike confirmed, rummaging in the plastic bag at his feet until he extracted a cereal bar which he promptly tore the wrapper off and unceremoniously crammed into his mouth despite the pub lunch they'd both just decided they'd be eating together shortly!
"I suppose you could argue that it's par for the course. You don't necessarily get that rich by being a nice person," sighed Robin, thinking how mean, miserly, and penny-pinching Matthew had become in his quest to elevate himself both financially and socially. Hadn't she after all been 'traded in' for a woman with an income that was easily three times her annual salary!
"I'd rather be poor and have my morals in place and some integrity left," mumbled Strike, brushing crumbs out of his beard with the back of his hand. The combination of his gesture and words causing Robin to glance at him fondly. God, he really could be incredibly endearing sometimes without even knowing it, she thought. Her heart contracting and constricting with the ache she refused to submit to and all the hopeless feelings and emotions that came with it.
"Next time a tosser like that darkens our door, I'm telling them to sling their hook!" Cormoran continued to state emphatically, unaware of Robin’s inner turmoil.
"Strike, we can't afford to turn away clients just because you decide you don't like them… We'd be bankrupt in a month!" Robin teased, forcing her feelings back down.
"Ha bloody ha! Very funny, Ellacott! Fine, we'll revert to 'Plan A' and get Pat to write an 'arsehole's not tolerated' clause into our business terms." Then holding his hands up, Strike used air quotation marks whilst saying, " 'Clients are warned that any sign of twatish behaviour on their part or disrespect to employees of Strike and Ellacott Private Investigators will result in an immediate termination of the signed contract’, ... Oh and their bill must be paid in full with an additional penalty if they really piss me off."
Robin laughed, "What about if they piss me off? I was the one being insulted back there by Skinflint remember?”
"How could I forget! But we both know that would be a waste of ink. You're too nice a person and far more tolerant than I am for it to even be a consideration," Strike grinned.
"Mmmmm, that's true. I've had plenty of practice dealing with difficult people, ... I've put up with you for long enough," Robin replied slyly, causing Cormoran to throw his head back and roar with laughter. The deep rich sound reverberating inside the cab of the Land Rover and resonating deep inside Robin's soul.
"Well, that's nice, I was complimenting you, Ellacott, and you thank me by using it as an opportunity to insult me," grinned Strike.
”Sorry,” replied Robin, chuckling softly.
“No your bloody not!... Christ, is this pub much further? I'm bloody starving." Strike complained.
"I think it’s about a ten-minute drive from here from what I can remember," Robin replied, wisely deciding not to point out the fact that he'd only just eaten a cereal bar.
"Great!" Enthused Strike looking pleased.
The two friends sank into a natural and comfortable silence both feeling happier than they had in weeks despite the unpleasantness they'd experienced that morning. Though neither wished to analyse too deeply the direct correlation between their improved mood and the contentment they felt by simply being in one another's company.
The sky still looked grey and threatening overhead but Robin pushed any qualms she had about their planned course of action to one side. Silently reassuring herself they'd be halfway to London before the worst of the weather set in. The hearty pub lunch she anticipated enjoying with Strike equipping her to handle the drive home after the early start they'd had to make it to Wiltshire on time that morning.
Robin turned to speak to Strike to ask him about one of the other cases the agency was investigating but quickly managed to stifle her voice realising during the brief interlude of silence he had closed his eyes and fallen asleep. With his head lolling back against the seat, his windswept hair in disarray, Cormoran looked relaxed but vulnerable in slumber. Soft and almost boyish.
Momentarily Robin's gaze rested on his uneven lips before she refocused her attention back on the winding narrow country lanes ahead. Negotiating the Land Rover around a particularly tight bend the vehicle lurched causing Strike to slump against the window. The sight of his large bulky body filling the passenger seat for some reason causing Robin to recall the sparkling facade of the Ritz and how it had felt to be tucked safely and snuggly into Cormoran's side.
What would it have felt like to have been kissed by Cormoran Strike?
How different would things be now if only they'd talked about what had happened between them that night?
Sadly, however, Robin felt sure she would never find the answer to these questions as a year on nothing had really changed. If anything it was worse! Cormoran may have begrudgingly adopted a healthier lifestyle, but he was still fundamentally the same man who was unwilling to make himself vulnerable enough to allow anyone close enough to touch his heart. The emotionally aloof Strike seemingly valuing and choosing solitude over any kind of emotional permanence in his life. The sort of permanence and commitment that, ironically, Robin's boyfriend, DCI Ryan Murphy, was beginning to push for in their relationship.
Sighing heavily, Robin felt a fresh pang of guilt as she thought about Ryan. When she'd initially agreed to go on a date with the handsome DCI, she'd been acting on Ilsa's advice to 'get back out there' after her acrimonious divorce.
Robin had never meant it to become anything serious. Initially treating the whole experience as an opportunity to regain her confidence by gently easing herself back into dating after only ever being with Matthew. Yet, once her initial nerves had subsided, she had found herself enjoying Ryan's company. He had proven to be a polite, engaging and respectful date asking questions about her job whilst sharing his own experiences of the MET. Before she'd even realised it the date had been over and to her surprise, Robin had found herself agreeing to see the handsome, charming Murphy again.
With Strike in hospital followed by his forced convalescence, the last month or two had passed in a blur as Robin continued to see Ryan whenever their mutually demanding jobs had allowed it. The casualness of the arrangement suiting them both, and if Robin was being entirely honest soothing the sting she'd felt as a result of strike's subtle withdrawal from both her and their friendship.
However, in the last few weeks, now Strike had recovered enough from his injuries to return to working full-time at the agency, Ryan had begun to hint that he wanted more from their relationship. When he'd seen Robin last week he’d even gone so far as to suggest that he would like to introduce her to his sister who was planning a short visit from Spain to the UK. An introduction that would undoubtedly shift the boundaries of their relationship considerably, making Robin feel suddenly irrationally claustrophobic. The feelings of anxiety she felt whenever she thought about Ryan forcing her to reassess what she really wanted from the affable but ambitious DCI.
Whilst Robin continued to skilfully steer the Land Rover through the Wiltshire countryside, she forced herself to think hard about Ryan. There was no denying he was a nice guy. He was both kind and considerate and appeared to be offering her the stability and commitment she knew she valued and sought in a relationship…
But was that enough?
What about love, passion and desire?
It was far too early in their relationship to even consider whether she loved Murphy or not. But so far disappointingly Ryan had failed to ignite any of these other feelings and emotions in Robin. The essential spark she sought missing from any intimacy they'd shared together so far. A reality that was made even more annoying by Strike who only had to bestow her with one of his rare but devastatingly disarming lopsided grins to wreak havoc with her equilibrium.
Even in sleep, poor Robin had been unable to escape her inappropriate and inconvenient feelings for her partner as her dreams became infiltrated with thoughts of him. Only last week, one particularly vivid dream had alarmingly involved a sexier, more confident version of herself pinning Strike against their shared desk as she'd conducted a very personal and thorough investigation of what lay beneath the fabric of his shirt! A fact that surely painfully highlighted that after months of battling with her feelings for him and naively trying to move on Robin was no further forwards....
She was still very much in love with Cormoran Strike. An uncomfortable truth which was as devastatingly crushing as it was frustrating.
Steering through the quiet little hamlet of Enford, Robin drew the Land Rover to a halt as she parked outside The Swan. Unfastening her seatbelt and taking a deep steadying breath she observed two of the pubs graceful namesakes drifting side by side across the river opposite.
Pulling her eyes from the restful scene Robin glanced across at the still slumbering Strike who appeared to not have a care in the world. His peacefulness making her feel unfairly angry which prompted her to lean across the cab to poke him deliberately sharply in the ribs to rouse him.
“We’re here,” Robin stated in a clipped tone. Her preoccupation with the now grumbling Cormoran and her wrecked emotions leading her to fail to notice just how much nearer those stormy dark clouds had inched towards them during the short drive to the pub.