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Alex held his gaze intently. “I escaped once,” he said. “It was so bad at Tyler’s that I escaped. I ran away, and called a number I was given, and spoke to a nice lady called Elsie. I lied to her about my name because I was so afraid. I said I was called Ben.”

“Ben?” Josiah stood, frozen to the spot, in shock. “You’re… Ben?”

“Yes. That’s why I wanted you to understand how bad things were for me at Tyler’s. That’s why I ran away, and that’s why I was there that night – with you, and Peter, and Lars, in that car, waiting for Matthew, who never showed up.”

The room whirled around Josiah, because at its centre, standing in front of him, was Ben… Alex… Ben.

“The holopic…” Josiah said. “The holopic I thought I saw in Elliot’s house…

the one of you standing under the street lamp, in the rain…

it wasn’t a holopic at all.” He had a sudden flashback to that night, to staring up at Ben and telling him to call an ambulance.

Ben had stood there in the pouring rain, framed by the streetlight, his face crumpled in anguish.

“No – it was a memory,” Alex said softly. “You knew, somehow, that it was me – or at least your subconscious did when you met me again. You just didn’t know what it meant, and you confused it with Elliot’s holopics of me.”

“That’s why I’ve been having the nightmares,” Josiah said slowly, finally making sense of the past few days. “That’s why it’s been so vivid again, after all these years. I didn’t know why. I thought I was going mad, but it was all because of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said.

The room was swirling. When the ground lurched beneath him, Josiah staggered.

Alex darted forward and grabbed his arm, guiding him into the nearest chair.

So many different emotions assaulted him at the same time that he didn’t know what he was feeling, just that it hurt.

A scab had been wrenched off an old wound just as it was starting to heal.

“All this time… you had this secret. All this time – living in my house, sleeping in my bed, telling me to relive my memories of that night… all this time, you knew what happened, because you were there,” he growled accusingly.

“At first, I thought you might remember.” Alex was talking fast now.

“When you jumped out in front of me at Elliot’s, and I fell down – I couldn’t believe it was you.

I was sure you must know who I was. I thought maybe that was why you were there, that you’d been looking for me.

But then you said Elliot had been murdered, and I realised it wasn’t about me at all.

I kept expecting you to remember – when we walked by Peter’s car in the garage the first time, I thought that might jog your memory. ”

Alex crouched down in front of him and put his hands on his knees.

“Then I realised you’d blocked out the details of that night.

Even if you hadn’t, why would you focus on Ben Smith, the bit-part player in the greatest tragedy of your life, rather than on your dying husband?

It was seven years ago, after all… I was younger, I had a scruffy beard, and the only time you got a good look at me was in that split second after the fight, when my scarf had come loose, my hood had fallen back, and I was standing under the street lamp in the rain…

and I’m certain you had other things on your mind at that moment than looking very closely at me. ”

“I didn’t know you, but you knew me,” Josiah said, his hands clenching into fists.

“All this time, from the very beginning – from the moment I arrested you – you knew me. Why didn’t you say something?

” he demanded hoarsely. “All the days you’ve lived here…

knowing what you know… and you never said a word. ”

“When was I supposed to bring it up?” Alex queried quietly.

“After you first arrested me? ‘Oh, hello, Joe – remember that night you were helping escaped indies and your husband was killed? Well, I was there, too.’ I was hardly going to mention it in front of your work colleagues and get you into trouble. Then, the more I got to know the real you, and how troubled you are, the more I realised what an effect it would have on you – and the harder it became.”

That song – that god-awful song – was still playing, jangling discordantly on Josiah’s nerves, but the noise in his head was even worse.

So many different memories were swirling around in his skull as he tried to make sense of it all.

He was back in the car with this man – this man – by his side, fighting to get the knife away from Lars.

He was sitting on the pavement with Peter’s body in his arms, and Ben – not Ben – Alex – was standing under a street light in the rain, looking down on him with a combination of terror and sadness in his eyes.

“So you said nothing? You just watched me falling apart in front of you. You knew why, but you didn’t say a word.” Josiah’s confused emotions coalesced into rage. Knocking Alex’s hands away, he jumped up from his chair and sank his fingers deep into the other man’s shoulders.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you,” Alex yelped, his face twisting in pain. “How could I know? I didn’t know if losing Peter had turned you into the robotic, indie-hating machine the press said you were.”

That night – that terrible night – everything always came back to that night.

“I thought I’d watch you,” Alex said softly. “I thought I’d see for myself if I could trust you enough to tell you, or if you’d turned against indies because of Peter.”

“You sent me to Tyler’s house…”

“To see if he could fool you, and buy you, the way he buys everyone. You passed that test, Joe – you passed it with flying colours. Then, I overheard you talking to Elsie last night, and I realised you were still you inside, despite all that’s happened.

You still rescue people, Joe; you’re still the good man I always hoped you were.

You’ve helped desperate people like me to escape from a living hell.

The press doesn’t know the price you paid for your kindness, but I do. ”

“Why not tell me last night?” Josiah demanded. “Why continue this charade all day today, too?”

“You needed last night. You needed it for you – I wasn’t going to make it about me. You were so sad… you’ve been locked up in this terrible grief for so long. I wanted to help you, Joe, not make things worse.”

“This morning, then…?”

“When? During the little press conference you gave, or at work, with all your colleagues there? None of them knows about your sideline in helping indies escape, do they? Esther doesn’t – that was clear from your conversation with her today.”

As Ashton’s song reached its mournful crescendo, Josiah released Alex, dropping him onto the floor abruptly, as if he was too hot to hold. He walked away and paced the room restlessly, like an injured bear.

Alex got to his feet, rubbing his shoulders gingerly.

“I’m sorry, Joe. I’m sorry for what happened that night.

I’m sorry I couldn’t stop Lars. All these years, I’ve wanted to tell you that.

I didn’t see he had a knife at first. I managed to prevent him stabbing Peter a second time, and then you were there, and we stopped him together, only to find it was too late.

I’m so, so sorry. I’ve wanted to tell you that for such a long time. ”

“Shut up,” Josiah said, still pacing. He didn’t know how to make sense of this, or what to feel about it. It was too shocking, too much, on top of everything else. He felt as if he was going to explode.

“Joe, please…” Alex stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

Josiah grabbed him, intending to shove him aside, but twisted his hand in the front of his shirt instead, holding him there. He raised his fist, wanting to bury it in solid flesh, to find the release he always sought when his emotions overwhelmed him.

“You promised me you’d never hit me, and I know you never will,” Alex said softly. “I trust you, Joe.”

He stared at him, his fist still poised, ready to strike.

Alex stared back, his gaze never faltering.

Josiah dropped his fist, pulled Alex towards him, and kissed him hard. Alex kissed him back, just as hard. Now, Josiah embraced him blindly, lost to everything but the feel of Alex’s lips under his, his tongue in his mouth, and Alex’s hard body pressed up against his own.

He wasn’t thinking anymore; he was running on pure emotion. He tore open Alex’s shirt and ripped it off his body. Then he reached for Alex’s trousers, only to find his fingers were shaking too much.

“Shh,” Alex murmured soothingly. “I’ll take care of this. Let me…” He undid his trousers and pushed them onto the floor, along with his boxer shorts. Then he stood there: naked, beautiful, and utterly irresistible.

His skin was smooth and porcelain white, his cock hard and inviting. It had been so many years since Josiah had held a nude man in his arms, and he ached with longing. “I can’t. It’s wrong…” he said, his entire body shaking.

“No. It’s what I want, and it’s what you need – so very much,” Alex told him resolutely.

“Shh… it’s okay.” He stroked Josiah’s trembling body to calm him.

“Look at me. It’s okay. Yes?” He took Josiah’s face in his hands, and Josiah was dimly aware of a pair of grey eyes gazing at him intently. “Yes?” Alex repeated.

“Yes,” Josiah replied numbly. “Oh, God, yes.” He pulled Alex close, caressing his waist, his back, and his beautiful buttocks.

Alex’s skin was warm, his body firm, and his mouth yielding under his frantic kisses.

He took Alex’s buttocks in his hands and revelled in the sensation of holding all that delicious flesh.

“Dear God… I want you so much,” he breathed hoarsely into Alex’s hair.

“Have me. Here. Now.” Alex unzipped Josiah’s trousers and wrapped his hand around his semi-hard cock.