The meeting of the bagmen [Lewis fic], Hathaway + Gray, 1.4k words
Title: The meeting of the bagmen
Characters: Alex Gray, James Hathaway
Rating: G
Wordcount: ~1400
Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS for s7e4 The Ramblin' Boy (part 2)
Summary: DC Gray investigates.
A/N: Concrit welcome.
Alex Gray would never have expected his first stakeout as a detective constable to be on his boss' office.
He's been keeping a discreet eye on it for the past half-hour, ever since a tall, lanky blond man carrying a backpack came striding through the nick and straight to the office, banged the door shut and drawn the blinds. Of course, he recognises him. The storied Detective Sergeant James Hathaway, whose outsize shoes he's attempted to fill in the past few days, somewhat clumsily.
He's curious to meet the man who's been lucky enough to be DI Lewis' bagman for the past seven years.
The door finally opens and Hathaway walks out, minus the backpack. Gray slips out of his seat and follows.
Outside, he finds Hathaway where he expects, by the back entrance where the nicotine addicts of the nick indulge their habit. He's slouched against the concrete wall, eyes shut, taking deep, contemplative puffs on his cigarette that echo like sighs.
There's something odd about the picture. The sergeant doesn't look like a man just back from a holiday - though, truth be told, it wasn't much of one, what with the little cross-country errand Lewis sent him on. But even so...he doesn't know Sergeant Hathaway at all, of course, but he can't shake the feeling that he's looking upon a lost soul.
Which is odd, because...well, you can't be lost if your governor is Robert Lewis, can you? The man who took a grieving sixteen-year-old boy by the hand and led him from a vale of darkness to a brighter place.
He supposes it must be his imagination.
"Mind if I join you?" Gray asks diffidently.
Hathaway opens one eye and gives him the deceptively casual once-over of an experienced detective. He gestures to the expanse of wall to his left. "Be my guest."
Gray takes up the offered space and takes out his electronic cigarette. He inhales, the blue LED at the end glowing bright.
Hathaway glances at it, discarding the ash off his own conventional one with a practised flick of the wrist. "DC Gray, I presume," he says. His voice is bland, almost dangerously so, and Gray is suddenly reminded of a remark made to him after the news spread that he was to be Hathaway's temporary replacement.
"Good luck to you when Hathaway gets back. He's awfully protective of Lewis, you know. He might be...well...jealous." It was accompanied by a knowing wink. At the time he'd thought it to be a joke to scare the newest member of Oxford CID, but now he suspects it may simply have been what it appeared to be on the surface: a well-meaning warning.
Well, it's too late now. Gray forces his smile not to flicker and returns the greeting with the friendliest nod he can muster. "Sergeant Hathaway. I just wanted to thank you for your assistance in the case, sir. It was invaluable."
A wisp of smoke trails from Hathaway's cigarette as he waves away Gray's thanks. "It was nothing."
Nothing? The man interrupted his holiday to drive ten hours to a derelict farmhouse in another country to locate a suspect in an investigation he had close to zero knowledge of, all on the strength of a single two-minute phone call from his governor.
Yes, he supposes it's hard for a bagman to reject a request from his inspector, but still, Hathaway would have been well within his rights to tell Lewis to just sod off.
"The Chief Super mentioned that you were the only one to put your hand up to work with Lewis," Hathaway comments.
Gray shrugs. "Half the junior officers were afraid that Inspector Lewis would be extremely grumpy in your absence." He knows; he'd taken a poll.
"Was he?" Hathaway asks tersely.
"Only in the beginning." Gray grins, but it fades as he sees Hathaway's lips tighten. He tenses a little, waiting for the inevitable question: what about the other half? He doesn't particularly want to repeat that to the sergeant's face!
Hathaway must notice his unease, because he gives a snort and says, "I'm hardly going to bite your head off, Constable. And I'm certainly not jealous of you."
"I'm glad to hear it," Gray jokes in relief. Of course. Why should Hathaway begrudge anyone a few days as Lewis' bagman while he's away? Hathaway is the lucky one, anyway: he has Lewis back now.
"So how'd you do?" Hathaway asks abruptly.
"Didn't Inspector Lewis mention anything to you, sir?" Gray asks.
There's a brief pause, then Hathaway answers, "No."
"Then I couldn't say, sir," Gray says. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or sorry that he didn't merit a mention. Although it could be that Lewis and Hathaway's reunion was interrupted by other matters. Word about the nick is that Lewis has found romance with the pathologist. They've been spotted walking hand-in-hand through the streets of Oxford. The news gladdened his heart. He had been told of Lewis' own cause for grief, is pleased to know that the senior detective appears to have found happiness. He's only puzzled why Hathaway appears to have found the opposite. Does he even know yet?
"Constable." Hathaway's tone is sharp, as if this isn't the first time he's said it. Gray realises he's been standing there with a stupid, soppy smile on his face. His friends have always said he was an incurable romantic.
"Sorry, sir," he apologises sheepishly. "What was that again?"
"I asked whether Lewis took you out for a pint afterwards."
"Oh. Yes, sir. Although, I had to have orange juice. I was the designated driver."
Hathaway gives him another appraising glance. "Then you did alright."
The words are dry, but the intent is to reassure, and it reminds Gray of the quiet, understated kindness of another Detective Sergeant, long ago. He beams in response. "Thank you, sir."
His thanks are rejected with another brusque wave. Hathaway discards his cigarette and starts on another. He smokes in silence for a minute, then asks, "What was it like for you, working with Lewis?"
Gray considers his words carefully. How can he describe it? He's been searching for ways to repay Lewis' kindness for over a decade now. Not that he truly has, yet: all he did on the case was the donkey-work. And he learned so much. Really, it was Lewis helping him all over again.
Finally he settles on the words in his heart.
"It was an honour, sir."
It's like passing through the eye of a hurricane. For a brief, brilliant moment, Sergeant Hathaway's face lights up with a genuine grin. All too soon, though, the clouds gather once more. But in that moment of clarity, the clues line up for Gray and he sees the key to the mystery.
It both surprises and doesn't surprise him. And he certainly can't blame the man. If he had to pick a single man in the world to fall in love with...well, you could do a lot worse than Robert Lewis. Unfortunately, it seems that the pathologist - Doctor Hobson - has found this out as well.
He reviews the evidence carefully, in case he's jumping to an unsupported conclusion. But no, it explains everything. The remarks about jealousy. The sergeant's willingness to drop everything and cross several borders at Lewis' request. The raw misery so painfully evident on Hathaway's face, even as he valiantly tries to hide it under a mask of indifference. He must have heard the gossip, or seen the facts for himself.
"It sounds like you already knew it would be an honour," Hathaway says, seemingly unable to stray from the topic.
"I know Robert Lewis," Gray admits simply.
Hathaway raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't ask the obvious question, and Gray doesn't volunteer the answer. If he does describe the kindness that Lewis once showed him...well, it will only be another reason for Sergeant Hathaway to mourn the futility of his love, won't it?
The sergeant smokes his way to the end of his third cigarette and discards the butt. He gives Gray a brief nod of farewell, and heads back inside. Gray continues to puff, thinking hard.
He's not sure how to lend Sergeant Hathaway a helping hand yet, or if it's presumptuous of him to even consider doing so. But he decides, then and there, that he will find a way.
Detective Constable Alex Gray is on the case.
Characters: Alex Gray, James Hathaway
Rating: G
Wordcount: ~1400
Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS for s7e4 The Ramblin' Boy (part 2)
Summary: DC Gray investigates.
A/N: Concrit welcome.
Alex Gray would never have expected his first stakeout as a detective constable to be on his boss' office.
He's been keeping a discreet eye on it for the past half-hour, ever since a tall, lanky blond man carrying a backpack came striding through the nick and straight to the office, banged the door shut and drawn the blinds. Of course, he recognises him. The storied Detective Sergeant James Hathaway, whose outsize shoes he's attempted to fill in the past few days, somewhat clumsily.
He's curious to meet the man who's been lucky enough to be DI Lewis' bagman for the past seven years.
The door finally opens and Hathaway walks out, minus the backpack. Gray slips out of his seat and follows.
Outside, he finds Hathaway where he expects, by the back entrance where the nicotine addicts of the nick indulge their habit. He's slouched against the concrete wall, eyes shut, taking deep, contemplative puffs on his cigarette that echo like sighs.
There's something odd about the picture. The sergeant doesn't look like a man just back from a holiday - though, truth be told, it wasn't much of one, what with the little cross-country errand Lewis sent him on. But even so...he doesn't know Sergeant Hathaway at all, of course, but he can't shake the feeling that he's looking upon a lost soul.
Which is odd, because...well, you can't be lost if your governor is Robert Lewis, can you? The man who took a grieving sixteen-year-old boy by the hand and led him from a vale of darkness to a brighter place.
He supposes it must be his imagination.
"Mind if I join you?" Gray asks diffidently.
Hathaway opens one eye and gives him the deceptively casual once-over of an experienced detective. He gestures to the expanse of wall to his left. "Be my guest."
Gray takes up the offered space and takes out his electronic cigarette. He inhales, the blue LED at the end glowing bright.
Hathaway glances at it, discarding the ash off his own conventional one with a practised flick of the wrist. "DC Gray, I presume," he says. His voice is bland, almost dangerously so, and Gray is suddenly reminded of a remark made to him after the news spread that he was to be Hathaway's temporary replacement.
"Good luck to you when Hathaway gets back. He's awfully protective of Lewis, you know. He might be...well...jealous." It was accompanied by a knowing wink. At the time he'd thought it to be a joke to scare the newest member of Oxford CID, but now he suspects it may simply have been what it appeared to be on the surface: a well-meaning warning.
Well, it's too late now. Gray forces his smile not to flicker and returns the greeting with the friendliest nod he can muster. "Sergeant Hathaway. I just wanted to thank you for your assistance in the case, sir. It was invaluable."
A wisp of smoke trails from Hathaway's cigarette as he waves away Gray's thanks. "It was nothing."
Nothing? The man interrupted his holiday to drive ten hours to a derelict farmhouse in another country to locate a suspect in an investigation he had close to zero knowledge of, all on the strength of a single two-minute phone call from his governor.
Yes, he supposes it's hard for a bagman to reject a request from his inspector, but still, Hathaway would have been well within his rights to tell Lewis to just sod off.
"The Chief Super mentioned that you were the only one to put your hand up to work with Lewis," Hathaway comments.
Gray shrugs. "Half the junior officers were afraid that Inspector Lewis would be extremely grumpy in your absence." He knows; he'd taken a poll.
"Was he?" Hathaway asks tersely.
"Only in the beginning." Gray grins, but it fades as he sees Hathaway's lips tighten. He tenses a little, waiting for the inevitable question: what about the other half? He doesn't particularly want to repeat that to the sergeant's face!
Hathaway must notice his unease, because he gives a snort and says, "I'm hardly going to bite your head off, Constable. And I'm certainly not jealous of you."
"I'm glad to hear it," Gray jokes in relief. Of course. Why should Hathaway begrudge anyone a few days as Lewis' bagman while he's away? Hathaway is the lucky one, anyway: he has Lewis back now.
"So how'd you do?" Hathaway asks abruptly.
"Didn't Inspector Lewis mention anything to you, sir?" Gray asks.
There's a brief pause, then Hathaway answers, "No."
"Then I couldn't say, sir," Gray says. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or sorry that he didn't merit a mention. Although it could be that Lewis and Hathaway's reunion was interrupted by other matters. Word about the nick is that Lewis has found romance with the pathologist. They've been spotted walking hand-in-hand through the streets of Oxford. The news gladdened his heart. He had been told of Lewis' own cause for grief, is pleased to know that the senior detective appears to have found happiness. He's only puzzled why Hathaway appears to have found the opposite. Does he even know yet?
"Constable." Hathaway's tone is sharp, as if this isn't the first time he's said it. Gray realises he's been standing there with a stupid, soppy smile on his face. His friends have always said he was an incurable romantic.
"Sorry, sir," he apologises sheepishly. "What was that again?"
"I asked whether Lewis took you out for a pint afterwards."
"Oh. Yes, sir. Although, I had to have orange juice. I was the designated driver."
Hathaway gives him another appraising glance. "Then you did alright."
The words are dry, but the intent is to reassure, and it reminds Gray of the quiet, understated kindness of another Detective Sergeant, long ago. He beams in response. "Thank you, sir."
His thanks are rejected with another brusque wave. Hathaway discards his cigarette and starts on another. He smokes in silence for a minute, then asks, "What was it like for you, working with Lewis?"
Gray considers his words carefully. How can he describe it? He's been searching for ways to repay Lewis' kindness for over a decade now. Not that he truly has, yet: all he did on the case was the donkey-work. And he learned so much. Really, it was Lewis helping him all over again.
Finally he settles on the words in his heart.
"It was an honour, sir."
It's like passing through the eye of a hurricane. For a brief, brilliant moment, Sergeant Hathaway's face lights up with a genuine grin. All too soon, though, the clouds gather once more. But in that moment of clarity, the clues line up for Gray and he sees the key to the mystery.
It both surprises and doesn't surprise him. And he certainly can't blame the man. If he had to pick a single man in the world to fall in love with...well, you could do a lot worse than Robert Lewis. Unfortunately, it seems that the pathologist - Doctor Hobson - has found this out as well.
He reviews the evidence carefully, in case he's jumping to an unsupported conclusion. But no, it explains everything. The remarks about jealousy. The sergeant's willingness to drop everything and cross several borders at Lewis' request. The raw misery so painfully evident on Hathaway's face, even as he valiantly tries to hide it under a mask of indifference. He must have heard the gossip, or seen the facts for himself.
"It sounds like you already knew it would be an honour," Hathaway says, seemingly unable to stray from the topic.
"I know Robert Lewis," Gray admits simply.
Hathaway raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't ask the obvious question, and Gray doesn't volunteer the answer. If he does describe the kindness that Lewis once showed him...well, it will only be another reason for Sergeant Hathaway to mourn the futility of his love, won't it?
The sergeant smokes his way to the end of his third cigarette and discards the butt. He gives Gray a brief nod of farewell, and heads back inside. Gray continues to puff, thinking hard.
He's not sure how to lend Sergeant Hathaway a helping hand yet, or if it's presumptuous of him to even consider doing so. But he decides, then and there, that he will find a way.
Detective Constable Alex Gray is on the case.