I don't really blame you for being dead

Him

During the days that followed, Grey threw himself into planning the destruction of the criminal's small drug trade of Taco Bell cards. Robins phone would come heavily into play as it housed a surprising amount of information concerning his work. The detective had to decipher the coded notes, research his contacts, and, of course, recreate the files he had already assembled concerning Robin, which were sitting useless back in Greys office sadly. When Grey checked the criminal's date book was empty after the morning of May 4th.

Grey didn't wonder why.

With still no official word that Robin was dead meaning it would appear to all the criminal's clients he was still alive even though he was dead, but they didn't need to know that. As Grey had the criminal's phone, the detective's new plan involved him pretending to be Robin.

It was not easy pretending to be Robin or, at least, not as easy as he would. Planning the crimes was like reading things in a mirror. He knows the form, but doing it forwards is unnatural. Often complex and, following Robins form, isolating work.

"You're the only person I can get to see me, you know?" Robin commented, as if continuing the conversation after a few days of Greys decidedly ignoring the apparition. The detective wondered why his mind was still trying to lure him into a fantasy world of ghosts. It unnerved him that Robins death had destabilized him to the point that he had lost control of this part of his mind.

"What are you planning on doing now?"

Grey did not answer. His subconscious knew what he was bloody well doing now, he didn't need to tell it.

But the eyes of the apparition
Robin were boring into the detective. Unless, Grey thought, he meant without the criminal, which would be a very fitting question indeed.

He slept little, preferring to throw himself into the work. Most nights he passed out from exhaustion and couldn't remember what he dreamed about.

It was those nights when the work has stilled and sleep eluded him that he remembered the warmth of  Robins breath. How hesitant he was and yet the desire.

Grey would remember the way Robin had nodded. As if in that moment he had made up his mind to really do it; decided that this was the highest point his life could reach and that he should end it at the top. The detective and the criminal could have been in some far away place right now, enjoying each other's presence, if only they had taken the chance they had never allowed themselves before.

Robin died with Greys hand gripped tightly, their eyes locked. Grey was the last person Robin spoke to; the last voice he'd heard. What greater compliment could there be?

It wasn't like they didn't know this was going to end. Grey just had hoped it wouldn't.

He wanted their game to be enough. He wanted to be enough.

"You must be my lucky star; 'cause you shine on me wherever you are. I just think of you and I start to glow. And I need your light and, baby, you know!

"Starlight, Starbright!"

Grey was on the road out of Beirut. A little more than a month of rooting out Robin contacts. The true scope of the criminal was becoming clearer in his mind and it certainly was not the supposed thousand strands. It was more like a couple of hundred, if that. There were so many people that he'd questioned that the name Robin meant nothing to, but just the same there were those he had asked not expecting a reaction who clammed up immediately.

"You must be my lucky star; Cause you make the darkness seem so far and when I'm lost you'll be my guide, I just turn around and you're by my side-"