I don't really blame you for being dead

Blood

TW: Suicide and Drugs

Standing next to Robins body, Grey felt his heart sink the only thing Grey could think of at the moment was the fact that Robin Faery was dead. He killed himself. Leaving Grey alone in the world. Of all the bad things that could have happened, Grey hadn't expected that. He looked at Robins dead body the first time thinking he'd come back and that he was just playing a joke, surprise Stuff ya know,  and they would resume doing what they did. Robin always joked about suicide But he hadn't expected real death for either of them. He hadn't seen Robins suicide coming at all.

Grey tried talking to Robins dead body, crying and hoping this was all just a fucked up dream of his. But Robin was still lying in a pool of his own blood. The detective couldn't bear the thought of leaving the criminal's body in the apartment for somebody else to find or for the birds to defile. There was no anticipation this time. No adrenaline or excitement rushing through his veins. He felt like he was in a daze. How didn't he see it? How had he not understood?

The detective stepped over to the criminal and crouched next to his body, before sitting down hard. Greys eyes were starting to tear up and catalogued Grey as he would any other corpse presented to him. Robin was dead. Remembering their time together, there were so many clues as to why.

Grey watched as a slight breeze from the open window barely ruffled the criminal's hair. Most of it was sodden but the underside was glommy with blood, which had spread considerably in the half hour.

The detective knew he would have to leave the scene as soon as possible for this new plan to work. And no one could know Robin was dead yet but him.

The detective had to finish what he started. But he couldn't leave Robins body here.

The criminal clearly didn't have people of his own; or rather, people who he would care got to say goodbye at his graveside.

Grey manoeuvred Robins body to a position that would be more conducive to manhandling down a couple flights of stairs. Somehow, within the course of adjusting the corpse, Robins phone slipped out of his pocket and bounced twice before landing face up a few feet away.

Grey looked at the criminal's phone with some distaste. The sight of it drew connections out of his brain entirely unbidden; from the first time.

It was just a phone. One with a taunting ringtone. It looked like any other, except it was most certainly an in to Robins network, as it likely held all his contacts, a datebook, his email, and who knew what else. Grey couldn't pass up the opportunity, just because it would remind him of all those things whenever he looked at it. The detective shoved it in his coat pocket and lifted Robins cold body trying to find a place to hide it.

Once he hid the body, Grey had jumped on the first ship leaving The city regardless of it's destination. It hadn't really mattered where it was headed anyway. After being on the freighter for two days, Grey had made some headway on Robins phone, which mercilessly wasn't password protected, and was trying to make sense of the notes the criminal had left in his datebook and under the contacts.

The detective's got himself off the ship and was about to seek out the underground elements of Oran, when he saw him.

Forty paces behind him on the street, he caught sight of a familiar figure. No, it was not possible. Robin was dead. He took an unexpected turn left, then a odd right. Every time he turned down a different street, Grey could see him out of the corner of his eye. Grey jacket, green beanie, blank expression: following him. It's several other random streets taken later that Grey finally just turned around abruptly and caught Robin furtively standing at the other end of the block.

He looked oddly amused. Their gazes locked but it wasn't like any of the other times they'd held eye contact. Robins eyes were empty. They frequently seemed to have that effect but Grey could always glean something from them... but not now. They were unreadable.

They were still staring, blue on brown, when Grey was jostled as a couple brushed past him and the moment between them was broken.

The criminal's face twisted oddly and he half laughed, then started to turn and walk away. Grey was going to run after him, but then he saw the drugs Robin used fall out of his pockets Even at this distance Grey could see Robins sleepless eyes and blood. Then Robin was gone, around a corner and out of sight.

Grey had just seen a ghost.

The aftermath of the sighting was not as bad as Grey expected. He tried to convince himself that it was just his brain playing tricks on him. Only this time he's full of regret Robin was dead, after all, and Grey was taking that fact hard. Harder than anyone would have guessed, but that was because the only person who could ever really understand what it was like to be alone in their moment that he had killed himself while holding Greys hand and looking into Greys eyes, the image of Robin with syringes on his arms and bottles of pills around him while he coughed up blood.

The detective decided that as he was so stressed and paranoid and grieving, it shouldn't be a surprise that he saw the criminal. Of course, Grey was taking it hard. Of course, he was seeing Robin. He desperately wanted the man to not be dead. But it didn't matter what The Detective wanted because Robin took himself out of the equation with drug overdose and there was no way out of that.

The detective hoped he would go back to his office and pretend that everything will be as it once was. Before that dreadful day.

The next time it happened, it had been a week since Robins suicide. Grey woke up in a small hotel in a small town and there Robin was sitting on the barely stable wooden dresser, legs swinging beneath him; feet clacking loudly on the drawers. The detective glared groggily at the apparition half in annoyance, half in horror.

"You can see me, can't you?" Robin asked, pleased triumph tinging the edges of his voice.

Grey gaped.

"You can!" Robin exclaimed in genuine delight.

Grey shook his head. He didn't need to be seeing things. Not now. Not when he had to keep his wits about him. He couldn't mourn his losses now. But this phantom was persistent, just like his real life, now dead and gone, counter-part. The apparition didn't leave for the rest of the day, so the detective positioned himself facing the over way so Robin was just out of sight in a futile attempt to get something done; except Greys attention kept flicking back to the apparition of Robin who did not speak and just sat watching him.

(A/N): Yo