Here come I to my own again [Lewis fic], L/H/H, 13K+ (Part II)
Title: Here come I to my own again
Author: cactusonastair
Characters: Lewis, Hathaway, Hobson, Lyn Lewis and family, Innocent, Julie, Gurdip, Gray
Pairings: Lewis/Hobson, Lewis/Hobson/Hathaway
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 13K+
Warnings: Internalised homophobia and references to a canon suicide. Spoilers for S7.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to barcardivodka for supplying local knowledge. first half of this fic was beta-ed by the wonderful wendymr. The second half is unbeta-ed but would not have come into existence without her encouragement. All remaining infelicities are, of course, my own.
Summary: The week after Lewis and Hathaway leave the Oxfordshire Police, Hathaway goes missing.
Link to fic on AO3
Part I on LJ
iii
the female of the species
James sat on the edge of the bed in his austere dormitory that he would be calling home for the next few years. Beyond the shut door, there was a hubbub of activity as the other prospective seminarians on the retreat packed up to go. He wondered how many of them he would see when the academic year began. He knew everyone expected to see him.
Everyone seemed to agree that his decade spent in the police was excellent preparation for a mid-career switch to the priesthood. There were still hoops to jump through - he had to be sponsored by his bishop, and so forth - but everyone seemed to agree that it would be a mere formality.
The widespread approval had come as a surprise, given his earlier, troubled stint at the seminary. But even Father Chisholm, still a stern, ever-watchful presence in the lives of the seminarians here despite having retired from his position as director of vocations to focus on teaching his beloved Aquinas, seemed to have forgotten, or at the very least forgiven, his youthful culinary transgressions.
James had even been granted special permission to stay on for the remainder of the summer, in consideration of his circumstances.
It was starting to feel overwhelming. Why was it that everyone seemed to be surer of his vocation than he was himself?
He should be feeling relieved that his future was sorted, he told himself. Going into the police had been a mere wobble on his career trajectory. This was what he'd been intended for since boyhood.
But it still felt like cheating. The church should be his first choice in life, his only choice, not a last resort. He should be committing himself to God with all his heart, not this broken, wretched thing still pining for the impossible.
Because Robbie Lewis was well beyond his reach. He was happy with Laura, and James would never do anything to put them asunder. It had felt like a knife turning in his chest every time he saw them together, reminding him of what he could never have, but he'd learned long ago how to plaster a smile over the raw, emotional hurt. He wouldn't - couldn't - do anything to spoil Robbie's happiness. That was more important to him than anything in the world.
Not that Robbie would be happy over his decision to return to the seminary. James had one week to come up with a way to break the news to him. Robbie'd be back from his holiday in Manchester then. He'd pop up to Oxford for a quick visit, pensioner's special, last pint, exit his governor's life. He'd miss the opportunity for the occasional get-togethers Robbie had proposed, but there was no way James could stay in Oxford, with Robbie so near and yet so unattainable. He'd have to be in London for five years anyway, and perhaps that would be time enough for the principle of out of sight, out of mind to work its magic.
Not that it had particularly worked so far this week.
He shook his head to clear it. He shouldn't be wallowing here in his room. In this tiny community, his absence from the farewells would be noted, even if he wasn't leaving himself, and he should go lend a hand with someone's bags anyway.
He was just getting to his feet when he became conscious of raised voices amid the hubbub. He cocked his head to a side, listening, copper's instincts telling him that this wasn't a random spike in noise. It coalesced into the footfall of a dozen or more people, growing louder as they approached. Rewind time by four hundred years, and he would have sworn the seminary was under attack.
The footsteps stopped at his door, and a sharp tattoo rapped against it. He reached for the doorknob, musing that he half-recognised the insistent note in it, but surely it couldn't be...
"Doctor Hobson?" He took a step back under the pathologist's angry glare. "How did you..." The question died on his lips when he saw the sheepish looks of the priests and seminarians surrounding her, answering the most proximate version of his question. He couldn't blame them for failing to stop her. You didn't cross Laura Hobson when she was on the warpath.
"Why haven't you replied to Robbie's message?" Laura demanded.
"Robbie left a message? Here?"
He must have looked sufficiently stunned, because she whirled on her entourage and demanded, "All right, which one of you lot conveniently forgot to pass it on?"
James couldn't help scanning their faces as they edged away nervously from Laura, landing on the flushed cheeks and bitten lower lip of Sheridan Fraser. No surprises there - Sheridan was a bit of an officious bastard and a stickler to the rules - though he probably shouldn't be thinking that about a fourth-year seminarian and the brother of a friend. More so since it had been through Sheridan's offices that James had been allowed to attend this retreat on such short notice.
A finger jabbed him sharply in the chest, yanking him out of his ponderings, as Laura returned to the main object of her wrath. "And as for you, James - Robbie's been sick with worry for more than a week, because you didn't have the basic human decency to let him know where you were going!"
James stared at her, wide-eyed. Robbie had been worried about him? What was he doing fretting over his ex-sergeant when he ought to be spending time with his daughter and grandson? He hadn't even contemplated the possibility that Robbie would think to contact him while he was up in Manchester.
"I, er -"
"Let's go talk somewhere more private," she interrupted, giving the thin walls a suspicious glance. She grabbed his forearm and led him away, the men parting around her like the Red Sea. James could only follow, grateful that she hadn't employed his ear for the same purpose.
In short order, they were ensconced in the office of the rather bemused rector. Father Francis had beaten a tactical retreat, probably glad that Dr Hobson hadn't taken it into her head to commandeer one of the confessional stalls instead. She sat him down in one of the chairs and stood before him with her arms crossed, an avenging angel.
"I'll give you two minutes to make your plea for clemency," Laura informed him, her tone making it clear that he was lucky he was getting even that.
James gulped. But there was something he needed to know first. "Was he really that worried?" His heart thudded like a drum as he waited for Laura's reply.
"Let's put it this way. I have slept unexpectedly well for the past few nights. Would you care to guess why?"
James bit his lip. The obvious answer, that Robbie was still up north, was clearly incorrect, which left only one possibility.
"Because he's not been sleeping properly?" he offered guiltily.
"Right in one. And whose fault is that?"
"But I didn't think he'd try to -"
"You two were practically inseparable for the past eight years, James. Did you think he could really just give you up like that? He came tearing back from Manchester when his repeated text messages to you didn't get a response. And guess how he felt when he found that you had given up your flat without leaving him any means of contacting you? As far as he was concerned, you could be lying dead in a ditch, and he would never know."
James flushed. "I was going to tell him."
"Of course you were, once you'd gone and decided everything for yourself," Laura said testily. "Well? What have you decided?"
James took a deep breath. "I'm going to return to the seminary. It's almost settled. But first, I'll go to Lewis and apologise, and tell him the news myself."
Laura shook her head. "That's a pity."
James' indignation rose, despite his own qualms. It really wasn't any of her business. "The priesthood is an honourable -"
"Not because of that, you idiot. Because Robbie happens to love you, but I'm pretty sure Catholic priests aren't allowed to have romantic relationships with anyone, let alone other men."
James' jaw worked soundlessly for a moment as he stared at her in disbelief. "Robbie loves me?" he managed to stutter out at last.
Laura threw up her hands in despair. "If the pair of you were Oxfordshire's best detectives, then God help Oxfordshire, that's all I can say. Yes, Robbie's in love with you. And I happen to be fairly certain that you rather love Robbie, too."
James bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He'd never meant for anyone to notice. He'd never meant to come between Robbie and Laura. Though the news that Robbie actually reciprocated his feelings should turn him incandescent with joy, that was all he could think of.
"But what about you and..."
"Oh, I'm not giving Robbie up, of course," Laura said briskly. "What do you take me for?"
She must have seen the look on his face, because she continued more gently, "James, if I were the jealous type, I would be doing my best at this moment to make him forget that you ever existed. But, for some reason unfathomable even to myself, I'm actually fond of you, too."
She even sounded affectionate, which surprised James - he'd thought she was going to make sure he never darkened Lewis' door again by ensuring that he ceased to exist henceforth. He appreciated the kindness, he really did, but...
"I still don't see -"
Laura sighed, and pulled up a chair beside him. "Must I spell everything out to you boys? You love Robbie. I love Robbie. Robbie quite likes both of us. If you and I can get along, then I don't see why we can't be one big happy family."
James snapped. "Robbie's not some sort of timeshare property in Majorca! He deserves to be loved, wholly and unconditionally, and to be able to return that love in the same spirit!"
Laura actually looked sorry for him. "Oh, James, you really don't see, do you? You've known Robbie for eight years. Don't you think he has a heart big enough for both of us?"
"I know he does," James muttered, before his pride got the better of him. "But if this is something you're doing out of pity..."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, James," she said briskly. "The facts are simple. While you're unhappy, Robbie's unhappy. And while Robbie's unhappy, I'm unhappy. We want you home, James. We want you in our home." She put her hand on his. It was warm to the touch, radiating kindness. "We want you."
He closed his hand around hers. After years of being shunted from institution to institution - public school, university, seminary, police academy - where approval had to be earned, scrounged for, was conditional on good behaviour - her declaration, simple, unequivocal, moved him beyond words. He'd felt that acceptance with Lewis, which was why he'd lost his heart. Now he lost it again, as he lifted his head to look into her eyes, and found in them only welcome.
The spell was broken by a knock at the door. James quickly withdrew his hand, and leapt to his feet, blushing guiltily.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, James," the rector said. If he'd seen what was going on, he gave no indication. "But I'll need this room for a meeting in five minutes."
James stepped hastily between the rector and Laura, to shield him from her piercing glare. "We'll be done by then, Father."
The rector withdrew, closing the door quietly behind him. James went over to the window, wrapping his arms around himself. The priest's entrance had slammed him back to reality, bringing the weight of this place, of thirty-seven years of being taught how to live one's life to please the Lord, of mindlessly repeating that doctrine to others, back to the forefront of his brain.
Laura sensed the change in his mood. "James?"
"We can't do this," he said miserably, feeling the prospect of happiness, for a moment so real, slip away into the ether. "I can't do this. This is -"
"If you're about to tell me that this is morally wrong, James, then it's my duty to warn you first that saying that aloud may result in me doing you a rather serious injury."
James had to smile, despite everything, at the return of this much more familiar Laura. "That's not what I'm saying." It would be no good explaining it to her. This was something he'd have to deal with himself. It wasn't Laura he had to beg for forgiveness - or for permission.
Fortunately, Laura didn't pursue the matter. "Good, because if you haven't noticed, we are living in the twenty-first century." She glanced around the spartan office, which probably hadn't changed in its fundamentals since the seminary was founded. "Well, some of us are, anyway."
This time, James thought, the look she was directing him was one of pity.
"Look, James. No one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do. But think about it, eh? Everyone deserves to be happy, even you. Robbie would probably say especially you."
James couldn't agree, but he nodded anyway.
Laura went to the door, then turned. "Oh, by the way, James, how well do you handle snoring?"
James furrowed his brow in incomprehension. "I've been getting used to it. The walls here are paper-thin," he answered cautiously. "But why...?"
"Good. Maybe I'll be able to use you as a buffer." She grinned at him, then swept away like a mini-tornado, taking all the air out of the room with her.
* * *
James escaped from the office before the rector returned. Sheridan was in the corridor, possibly lying in wait for him, but he managed a successful evasion by slipping into the crowd in the main hall, and out again into the quiet sanctuary of the chapel, where he could be alone with his thoughts.
He took a seat in one of the pews, staring pensively at the altar, draped with a cloth of pure white. Eventually, inevitably, the memory of another such altar cloth, stained with the spatter of blood, wormed its way into his mind, forcing him to look away.
This was where he'd learned to condemn homosexuality. Armed with sanctimonious certainty, he'd gone and condemned Will. Will had come to him as a friend, asking for advice, and what he'd done instead was to infect Will with his narrow-minded worldview, teaching him to hate himself. And in turn, he'd condemned Feardorcha, condemned Feardorcha's victims, to horrifying, savage deaths.
And look at him now, contemplating a relationship that made Will and Feardorcha look positively saintly. Forget Adam and Steve, he felt like the bloody serpent in the Garden of Eden.
He let his head fall with a thud against the pew in front of him.
He'd denied that part of himself for so long, hoping against hope that he'd meet a nice girl who could tolerate his failings and settle down, resolving never to act upon the stirrings of his heart towards other men.
But there had been no defence against Robbie, against the kindness of his eyes or the goodness of his heart, against the feeling, as they sat side-by-side watching crap telly and sipping at beers after a long day at work, that someone actually liked him, over-intellectual, prickly personality and all. Someone who knew the worst of him and had chosen to overlook it.
He'd given in to temptation and allowed himself to indulge in fantasies, in the safety and misery of knowing that they'd never come true. And now, when it looked like they might, he was terrified.
It wasn't that he still thought homosexuality was wrong. Will had taught him otherwise. But how could he possibly deserve this - joy - after what he'd done to Will? What kind of hypocrite was he, to give himself the same chance of happiness that he'd denied his friend?
But then it wasn't just his own chance of happiness he'd be denying, was it? Laura had said that they wouldn't be happy without him. He still couldn't quite believe that, but the evidence was there. Robbie had cut short his holiday and rushed back to Oxford, had been searching for him for a week. And Laura had come all the way here to tell him that, to say that she was willing to share Robbie with him. James wasn't sure that he could ever have been that selfless. But Laura always spoke her mind, and if she hadn't genuinely wanted him to return to Oxford, to them, she would have made it painfully clear.
If he let his own guilt over Will's death prevent him from going to them, wouldn't that be still more selfish behaviour?
What would Will have wanted? He tried to remember Will as he had been in life. Sweetest guy in the world, everyone's best friend. A man who'd given up everything to bring his message to the world.
Love is never wrong.
Will had meant that message as much for him as for anybody, James was sure. He could still feel the intensity of Will's gaze as he uttered those four words, piercing through the television screen into his very soul.
He'd always been certain that Will had meant it as a j'accuse, an indictment of his complicity in Will's suicide. Telling him that he'd been so, so wrong. But now a different interpretation occurred to him. Maybe Will had been trying to send him a different message altogether: that it was all right, that James was free to love whomever he wished. Because Will had always known about James, ever since they were fourteen. He'd seen James more clearly than he'd seen himself.
It was a self-serving thought, but...perhaps the best way to atone to Will would be to live by his words.
A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. "Father Francis," he mumbled in acknowledgment, automatically making room in the pew.
The rector slid in beside him and studied his face for a moment, before saying, "James, would I be correct in thinking that your, ah, worldly attachments remain a touch too strong for you to give them up altogether?"
James flushed guiltily. "I think you may be right, Father." The rector had been very kind to him over the past week, and he knew he was proving a disappointment.
Father Francis smiled at him warmly. "My son, sometimes the best way to serve God is simply to love. Go in peace."
iv
fed, forgiven, and known again
The next two hours passed in a nicotine-deprived blur. James dashed to his room, threw together his things, and bade a hasty goodbye to Sheridan and the rest of the bewildered seminarians. He navigated the Tube to Victoria Station, arriving at the bus stop just in time to board the coach to Oxford. A nail-biting eighty-four minutes later, he alighted at Headington and tried to keep himself from sprinting all the way to Laura Hobson's house.
He paused at the gate to summon his courage, his heart thumping. Laura and Robbie were there, visible through the sliding glass door. They were sitting down to Sunday dinner. She was dishing out something out of the pan that looked like fish fillets. Robbie was holding his plate out to her with one hand, his head propped against his left palm.
He looked wearied to the bone.
So this was the restful retirement James had inflicted on him. This was what James had put Robbie through over the past week.
The realisation crushed the joy out of him, reminding him of how little he deserved this man and this prospect of happiness. Why would Robbie ever love an inconsiderate, ungrateful bastard like James Hathaway?
There was nothing for it. There was only one path to atonement and redemption, whether it led to anything more beyond. He undid the latch on the gate and began walking up to the house, trying and failing to rein in his feelings of trepidation.
He knew now how the prodigal son had felt, returning to his father's house.
Laura glanced up and saw him. A smile of approval spread across her face. She nudged Robbie, nodded towards him. Lewis swivelled around and stared at him as if seeing a ghost. Then he bolted to his feet and flung the door open.
For a moment, James thought that they were going to run into each other's arms, like a scene out of some daytime soap. He even put down this things in the expectation of it. But Robbie stopped two yards short of James, staring uncertainly at him. James felt the distance acutely, but he knew he deserved it, after leaving Robbie without a word. By rights, he should be grovelling an apology at his feet.
But before he could do a thing, Robbie spoke. "Listen, James. There's something I have to tell you, I - well, it's like this."
He paused and took a deep breath, and James had a sudden vision of the young Robbie Lewis nervously asking Val out on their first date. He wondered if Robbie had been this tongue-tied with Laura. He cast a sideways glance at her. She had a hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes dancing with mirth. Evidently not, then.
Robbie pressed on valiantly. "These last few years, you've been more than a sergeant, you've been a good mate..."
James raised an eyebrow in Laura's direction, asking does he know?. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, still looking infinitely amused.
"And then when you left all of a sudden, I realised - " He raised his head, their gazes met, and the lines around Robbie's eyes softened. "Ah, sod the bloody speech. Come here, lad. I've missed you." Robbie put a strong hand on his and tugged him into an embrace, his arms tightening around James' ribs, a gesture whose eloquence James could read more easily than any words.
"I love you too, Robbie," he murmured back, punctuating it with a daring brush of his lips against Robbie's. Robbie's eyes widened momentarily in surprised pleasure and, James suspected, relief, before pressing back ardently for what was possibly the happiest moment of James' life.
Even Laura's muttered about bloody time, and Robbie's mock-indignation, when he worked out that the two of them had already talked about it and declared them a pair of conniving sods, could do nothing to diminish it.
* * *
James was the first to arrive at the restaurant. As host, he felt it was incumbent on him to be early - and besides, he was the only unemployed layabout of the lot, now, unless you counted Robbie, which wouldn't be fair. Besides, the restaurant - he'd chosen a nice one on the High Street - was only a brisk walk away from Robbie's flat, where he was staying.
They'd sat down and had a long, sober talk about what the future held, once the initial giddiness was over. Confessions were made and accepted - Laura about her visit to the seminary, while James admitted that he'd simply drunkenly mislaid his mobile the night of their farewell party, and had opted to suspend his account rather than scramble to acquire a new phone before the retreat. In the end they agreed not to take the plunge into living together quite yet, to give everyone - which really meant James - time to get used to the new arrangement. He'd gone to see Mike Trent, his old landlord, but of course what with Oxford's housing market being the way it was, his old flat had been let the same day the ad had gone out. So they'd decided to play musical flats instead. Robbie was practically living at Laura's already, anyway, and James was, if anything, even more comfortable at Robbie's than he had ever been in his own flat.
He was deeply grateful to them, for accommodating him in so many ways. Robbie had said not to worry about rent for the time being, but James was determined to rejoin the ranks of the employed as soon as possible and repay him.
He'd just made his resolution when a cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sarge! It's so good to see you!"
He smiled up at the newcomers. "Julie. Gurdip. And it's 'James', not 'Sarge'." As they slid into the seats next to him, he added, "I understand it's you we have to call Sarge these days, Julie."
"Not for another three weeks, but I don't think I'll feel like a DS until I get a proper governor. And maybe not even then," Julie sighed, looking less than chipper for once. James reckoned he could take a pretty good stab at why, having been through the wringer himself in the past.
"Let me guess. One of the other DCs said something to you."
"Yeah, bloody Hoo -" Gurdip started to mutter under his breath, before Julie shut him up with a warning glare.
No surprise there. James could easy imagine the kind of "collegial banter" the man might direct at a younger woman who'd just been promoted over him. He looked at her glum face, so unlike her usual demeanour, and decided to offer some unsolicited advice.
"Julie, the first thing you have to know is that this happens to everyone. There'll always be someone who thinks he deserves it more."
"It happened to you too?"
James nodded. "And it's only going to be worse for you. You're young; you're a woman; you belong to an ethnic minority. No matter how good a job you do, someone will always think that you're benefiting from positive discrimination."
"But I'll have to supervise him - them - in the future. How can I do that if they don't respect me?"
"Do your job, and do it well. But don't think you have to be perfect. Talk to your DI. Hope you get a supportive one," James said, thinking of the stark contrast between his first DI and Lewis. DI Knox hadn't been much better than DC Hooper, while Lewis had defended him countless times against remarks of that sort, even when he hadn't known James was listening. "That goes a long way."
Julie looked thoughtful as she digested his advice.
"And remember this: I'm personally certain that Innocent didn't make a mistake about you."
"I second that," a voice said behind him. He whirled around to see Robbie smiling beneficently down at them.
"I third it," Laura added.
Julie blossomed into a smile. "Thank you." She looked at James. "I feel bad about you buying me dinner now, when you've helped me so much."
"Nonsense, lass," Robbie said. "After all, the purpose of this dinner is to thank everyone who helped to bring Hathaway back."
A throat cleared loudly behind them, and they turned to see Innocent arriving on DC Gray's arm. Gray had tried to give them fair warning, but from Innocent's face, it looked like it had come too late.
"Enlighten me, Robbie. What part did Julie and Gurdip have to play in bringing Hathaway back?" she asked, sweeping the table with an interrogating gaze.
Julie and Gurdip began to look very nervous.
James interposed. "And the second purpose of this dinner is to celebrate Julie's promotion to DS."
"I see," Innocent said, though her expression said, I won't ask. Julie and Gurdip shot him grateful glances. "Well! Since we're all here, what about a toast?" Wine was brought, they filled their glasses, and she raised hers towards him. "To James. Welcome home."
"Welcome home," the others echoed, raising their glasses in unison.
James felt a lump in his throat.
How could he ever have thought that human beings weren't basically good? Yes, there were people out there who would kill for the most trivial of reasons, but here - here were all these people who'd gone to great lengths for him, who cared for him despite all his insecurities, who'd loved him when he couldn't even love himself.
James controlled the wobble in his voice and lifted up his glass to theirs with a clink. "Cheers, everyone."
*After a terrific dinner, James excused himself to go pay the bill. To his surprise, he was followed to the counter by Julie. "Would you mind if we could talk, um, in private for a bit?" she asked.
"Of course," James said, wondering what the matter was. She'd been unusually quiet the whole meal, which he'd chalked up to Innocent's presence. But it seemed that something else was on her mind.
He finished paying and they moved off towards the cloakroom. He looked back at the table. The others were just getting up, so they had a couple of minutes. "Coast's clear. What's up, Julie?"
"Sarge - I mean James - it's just too weird calling you that! Anyway, I have a favour to ask you."
"Sure, Julie. Anything," he replied instantly, glad that there was something he could do to repay at least one of them for all their kindness to him.
"You haven't even heard what it is yet!" she protested, her brown eyes searching for signs of inebriation in his. "Maybe I should ask you tomorrow, when you're sober."
He shook his head. His mind felt clearer than it had for a long time. "Not drunk. And the answer's still yes."
"Alright, then." She took a deep breath, and blurted it out. "Sarge, will you be my governor?"
v
some months later
"Wow, sir. You were on fire today," DS Julie Lockhart marvelled, as Uniform drove away with their main suspect.
"Everyone did their bit," DI James Hathaway murmured. He was already composing the report in his head, making sure to highlight the contributions of his team. Gurdip and Gray had put in meticulous work to seal the case against Keith Hurt.
"How did you even think to suspect the son-in-law's cousin? He had a rock-solid alibi." Julie looked a little crestfallen. She shouldn't have - she had handled her first murder case as a DS remarkably well. The victim had had a sprawling, feuding family, and they'd had to keep track of thousands of little clues and follow each and every one of them up. He'd have to mention that to Innocent too.
"I learned from the best," he replied. He was too drained at the moment to recount the story of Oswald Cooper and of how Lewis had refused to back down even against the word of three of the Oxford elite. He'd tell her tomorrow. For now, that would be enough, he reckoned.
Sure enough, Julie bounced back quickly, brightening at his words. "Then it's lucky for me I'll get to learn from you, eh, sir?"
James chuckled and shook his head. Even if he'd been her first choice, he was the lucky one. Julie was bright, diligent, and a quick learner. More than that, she was empathetic, able to put a witness at ease more easily than he ever had. And most important of all, she was willing to speak her mind to him, voicing her own ideas, letting him know when he was pushing the troops too hard. All she needed was experience, and he'd do everything he could to pass the lessons Lewis had taught him on to her.
In time, she'd probably make a better sergeant than he ever was.
He cupped his hand around his cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply and gratefully.
Julie leaned over and plucked it out of his mouth, dropping it to the ground and crushing it under her sole.
He stared at her, mouth hanging open. "Julie!"
"It's Tuesday, sir," she chided him. "Or had you forgotten?"
Of course he hadn't. He'd been looking forward to it all day. And she was right, Robbie hated kissing him when his mouth smelled like an ashtray . Laura must have put her up to it when they'd stopped by the mortuary earlier.
Still, it didn't mean he could let behaviour like that go uncorrected. He was a senior officer now, and this sort of impertinence had to be nipped in the bud.
"You know, Sergeant, I'm pretty sure DSes aren't supposed to cheek their governors like that," James began.
Julie grinned disarmingly at him. "I also learned from the best, sir."
* * *Robbie and Laura were waiting up for him when he got back, curled around each other on the settee. They disentangled themselves into an upright sitting position as he let himself in.
"You're late, James. We had to eat dinner before we starved to death," Laura said disapprovingly.
"That's fine," James said, spotting the plate waiting on the kitchen counter. I'll just -"
Robbie got up. "No, no, you sit down, lad. I'll just pop your plate into the microwave."
"You really don't have to..." James stopped when Robbie gave him that look. "Yes, sir." He obediently went to sit down by Laura, automatically taking up his spot in the middle.
Laura leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. "So, James, did you solve the Hurt case?" she asked.
James opened his mouth to answer, but Robbie beat him to it. "'Course he did. Can't you recognise that self-satisfied smirk on his face?" He put the plate into the microwave and got it going. "So, who was it? The brother-in-law's cousin?"
James felt his jaw drop. How on earth...? "Robert Lewis, four centuries ago they would have burned you at the stake," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Robbie grinned at him from his spot next to the microwave. "Lucky for me I don't live in the seventeenth century, eh?"
"Contrary to popular opinion," Laura put in.
"Oi," Robbie protested good-naturedly. He looked across at James. "Don't look so downhearted, lad. You got there about the same time I did."
"With ten times the information," James said, feeling as crestfallen as Julie had looked. He'd talked briefly to Laura about the clues they'd been following up during the post-mortem, and he guessed that she'd imparted the gossip to Robbie, but still.
"Hard part's not figuring out who it is, it's proving it," Robbie reminded him.
"It's a lot easier to prove it when you know who it is," James shot back. He considered for a moment. "You know what? Maybe we ought to have you on retainer as a consultant. I'll raise it with Innocent tomorrow."
"What happened to the peaceful retirement?" Laura chuckled.
"Well, maybe I'll accept. But only if I get paid in kind," Robbie replied, tilting his head in the direction of the bedroom.
James flushed beet-red. He shot a glance at Laura to see how she was taking it.
"I'd say 'get a room, you two', but it's more fun to watch you boys attempt to flirt."
The microwave beeped loudly, and Robbie brought the steaming plate over to James. "Here you go, lad. Pensioner's special."
"Thank you," James said, sniffing it appreciatively. "Mm, mushroom risotto. Smells delicious. Are you sure you made this yourself?"
"Cheeky sod," Robbie said comfortably as he sat down next to James, effectively sandwiching him in the middle.
Laura frowned at the tight squeeze. "Are you two still convinced we shouldn't buy a three-seater settee?"
"Quite sure," James said firmly. "I'm used to sitting on the crease."
"So how do you think our newly-minted Detective Inspector's faring, Laura?"
"Bit green about the gills," Laura replied, her eyes twinkling at James, "but I'll say this for him - at least he's doesn't go all awkward talking over a dead body."
"I didn't do that until we started, you know, going together," Robbie defended himself.
"If it hasn't escaped your attention, Robbie, the three of us are 'going together'," Laura said archly, looping a hand around James'.
Robbie shook his head and smiled, giving up. "How on earth d'you do it, lad?"
"I'm good at compartmentalising," James said primly. He regretted it instantly, realising the trap he'd walked himself into. He held his breath, waiting for a taunt about how he'd very nearly compartmentalised them out of his life.
Instead they said nothing, only smiled and nudged him to get on with dinner. The thought had probably never even occurred to them.
Somewhere in James' head, a wall came tumbling down. He put down his fork. Robbie and Laura looked at him expectantly.
"About your offer, to move in here - I'd like to take it. If you'll still have me," he blurted out.
They looked surprised for a moment, but then their expressions turned to ones of genuine pleasure.
"Of course it's open, James. We'd love to have you," Laura said, taking his right hand in hers.
Robbie's beaming face said everything James could possibly have hoped for. "We'll move you in next weekend," he promised. "Once we're all back from Lyn's."
"You're assuming I can go. I'm on call this weekend," James reminded him.
"I predict that this weekend, Oxfordshire will be blessedly crime-free," Robbie said confidently.
"God willing," James murmured.
"What, d'you think God will do it if you only pray for it?" Robbie teased.
Once upon a time, when he'd first met Robbie Lewis, James might have bristled at the jest. But now he just took Robbie's hand in his left and Laura's hand in his right, and answered contentedly.
"Why not? He's already given me everything else I've ever wanted."
* * *Outside, the rain was pelting down, beating a frantic rhythm against the window panes. Inside Lyn and Tim's cosy little home, Robbie felt like a sheepdog surveying its charges, glad that they were all together, safe from the storm.
"Sorry the weather's so bad, Dad. I was hoping you three would be able to see something of Manchester while you were here," Lyn said as she passed Robbie a dripping dish. They'd been appointed the official dishwashers for that meal.
Robbie accepted the plate and wiped it dry. "That's all right, lass. Like Laura said, it wouldn't be a visit to Manchester if it weren't raining."
Laura was ensconced on the settee, chatting away with Tim about books and films. They seemed to be getting along well. James had been given the task of entertaining Matthew, by fiat. Robbie smiled when he remembered how nervous James had been about meeting Robbie's grandson. He needn't have - Matthew had taken to James and his fount of dinosaur trivia like a duck takes to water. He'd been the one to drag James down to the carpet to listen to Matthew's exposition on dinosaur poo.
Lyn caught the fond look on his face as he watched James gravely take in the lecture. "They're practically inseparable, aren't they? I'm not looking forward to the tantrum Matthew's going to throw tomorrow night when you leave."
"Should I not have brought him up, then?" Robbie kidded.
"No, I'm glad you did, Dad. I've wanted so much to meet him, and thank him for everything he's done for you -"
She was interrupted by a loud, menacing roar. Lyn gave a little cry and dropped the bowl she was washing. "Goodness! What was that, thunder?"
If it was thunder, it had come from inside the house. Specifically, from James, who had apparently taken leave of his senses.
Matthew giggled. "Do it 'gain, Unka Jamie! Roar like din'saur!"
"James! I nearly broke a bowl!" Lyn complained, but Matthew's laughter was contagious, and she had to laugh with all the rest, once the shock wore off.
"Sorry." James looked sheepish. "I should have warned everyone first."
Matthew shook his head firmly, putting his hands on his hips. "No, Unka Jamie! Din'saur not warn!"
"He's got you there, mate," Tim said, laughing at his son's stern attitude. "Wherever did you learn to roar like that?"
"I've...been practising," James admitted.
Laura raised her eyebrows. "Who on?"
"DC Hooper, mostly."
Amid the laughter, Lyn turned back to Robbie, rolling her eyes. "He's your boyfriend, Dad."
Robbie blinked. His boyfriend. He hadn't ever given James that label in his head before. It sounded funny, but also...it sounded right, especially when Lyn said it so matter-of-factly. Which reminded him of something he had to thank her for.
"Thanks for taking it so well, lass. Not everyone would be all right with their dad taking up with a man their age." Lyn gave him a pointed look. "...At the same time as another woman," he admitted.
Lyn gave his hand a squeeze. "I told you before, Dad. I just want you to be happy. And besides, it wasn't that big a surprise. When you talked about James...it was the same way you talked about Laura. The same way you talked about Mum." She looked at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I suppose it's only natural that it takes two people to replace her."
"Your mam's not being replaced, pet," he said gently. "No one ever could."
Lyn blinked back her tears, laughing. "But you always have room in your heart for one or two more, don't you, Dad?"
"I don't know, lass," Robbie said, looking out over his flock in satisfaction. "Right now, my heart's pretty full."
~ end ~
Author: cactusonastair
Characters: Lewis, Hathaway, Hobson, Lyn Lewis and family, Innocent, Julie, Gurdip, Gray
Pairings: Lewis/Hobson, Lewis/Hobson/Hathaway
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 13K+
Warnings: Internalised homophobia and references to a canon suicide. Spoilers for S7.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to barcardivodka for supplying local knowledge. first half of this fic was beta-ed by the wonderful wendymr. The second half is unbeta-ed but would not have come into existence without her encouragement. All remaining infelicities are, of course, my own.
Summary: The week after Lewis and Hathaway leave the Oxfordshire Police, Hathaway goes missing.
Link to fic on AO3
Part I on LJ
iii
the female of the species
James sat on the edge of the bed in his austere dormitory that he would be calling home for the next few years. Beyond the shut door, there was a hubbub of activity as the other prospective seminarians on the retreat packed up to go. He wondered how many of them he would see when the academic year began. He knew everyone expected to see him.
Everyone seemed to agree that his decade spent in the police was excellent preparation for a mid-career switch to the priesthood. There were still hoops to jump through - he had to be sponsored by his bishop, and so forth - but everyone seemed to agree that it would be a mere formality.
The widespread approval had come as a surprise, given his earlier, troubled stint at the seminary. But even Father Chisholm, still a stern, ever-watchful presence in the lives of the seminarians here despite having retired from his position as director of vocations to focus on teaching his beloved Aquinas, seemed to have forgotten, or at the very least forgiven, his youthful culinary transgressions.
James had even been granted special permission to stay on for the remainder of the summer, in consideration of his circumstances.
It was starting to feel overwhelming. Why was it that everyone seemed to be surer of his vocation than he was himself?
He should be feeling relieved that his future was sorted, he told himself. Going into the police had been a mere wobble on his career trajectory. This was what he'd been intended for since boyhood.
But it still felt like cheating. The church should be his first choice in life, his only choice, not a last resort. He should be committing himself to God with all his heart, not this broken, wretched thing still pining for the impossible.
Because Robbie Lewis was well beyond his reach. He was happy with Laura, and James would never do anything to put them asunder. It had felt like a knife turning in his chest every time he saw them together, reminding him of what he could never have, but he'd learned long ago how to plaster a smile over the raw, emotional hurt. He wouldn't - couldn't - do anything to spoil Robbie's happiness. That was more important to him than anything in the world.
Not that Robbie would be happy over his decision to return to the seminary. James had one week to come up with a way to break the news to him. Robbie'd be back from his holiday in Manchester then. He'd pop up to Oxford for a quick visit, pensioner's special, last pint, exit his governor's life. He'd miss the opportunity for the occasional get-togethers Robbie had proposed, but there was no way James could stay in Oxford, with Robbie so near and yet so unattainable. He'd have to be in London for five years anyway, and perhaps that would be time enough for the principle of out of sight, out of mind to work its magic.
Not that it had particularly worked so far this week.
He shook his head to clear it. He shouldn't be wallowing here in his room. In this tiny community, his absence from the farewells would be noted, even if he wasn't leaving himself, and he should go lend a hand with someone's bags anyway.
He was just getting to his feet when he became conscious of raised voices amid the hubbub. He cocked his head to a side, listening, copper's instincts telling him that this wasn't a random spike in noise. It coalesced into the footfall of a dozen or more people, growing louder as they approached. Rewind time by four hundred years, and he would have sworn the seminary was under attack.
The footsteps stopped at his door, and a sharp tattoo rapped against it. He reached for the doorknob, musing that he half-recognised the insistent note in it, but surely it couldn't be...
"Doctor Hobson?" He took a step back under the pathologist's angry glare. "How did you..." The question died on his lips when he saw the sheepish looks of the priests and seminarians surrounding her, answering the most proximate version of his question. He couldn't blame them for failing to stop her. You didn't cross Laura Hobson when she was on the warpath.
"Why haven't you replied to Robbie's message?" Laura demanded.
"Robbie left a message? Here?"
He must have looked sufficiently stunned, because she whirled on her entourage and demanded, "All right, which one of you lot conveniently forgot to pass it on?"
James couldn't help scanning their faces as they edged away nervously from Laura, landing on the flushed cheeks and bitten lower lip of Sheridan Fraser. No surprises there - Sheridan was a bit of an officious bastard and a stickler to the rules - though he probably shouldn't be thinking that about a fourth-year seminarian and the brother of a friend. More so since it had been through Sheridan's offices that James had been allowed to attend this retreat on such short notice.
A finger jabbed him sharply in the chest, yanking him out of his ponderings, as Laura returned to the main object of her wrath. "And as for you, James - Robbie's been sick with worry for more than a week, because you didn't have the basic human decency to let him know where you were going!"
James stared at her, wide-eyed. Robbie had been worried about him? What was he doing fretting over his ex-sergeant when he ought to be spending time with his daughter and grandson? He hadn't even contemplated the possibility that Robbie would think to contact him while he was up in Manchester.
"I, er -"
"Let's go talk somewhere more private," she interrupted, giving the thin walls a suspicious glance. She grabbed his forearm and led him away, the men parting around her like the Red Sea. James could only follow, grateful that she hadn't employed his ear for the same purpose.
In short order, they were ensconced in the office of the rather bemused rector. Father Francis had beaten a tactical retreat, probably glad that Dr Hobson hadn't taken it into her head to commandeer one of the confessional stalls instead. She sat him down in one of the chairs and stood before him with her arms crossed, an avenging angel.
"I'll give you two minutes to make your plea for clemency," Laura informed him, her tone making it clear that he was lucky he was getting even that.
James gulped. But there was something he needed to know first. "Was he really that worried?" His heart thudded like a drum as he waited for Laura's reply.
"Let's put it this way. I have slept unexpectedly well for the past few nights. Would you care to guess why?"
James bit his lip. The obvious answer, that Robbie was still up north, was clearly incorrect, which left only one possibility.
"Because he's not been sleeping properly?" he offered guiltily.
"Right in one. And whose fault is that?"
"But I didn't think he'd try to -"
"You two were practically inseparable for the past eight years, James. Did you think he could really just give you up like that? He came tearing back from Manchester when his repeated text messages to you didn't get a response. And guess how he felt when he found that you had given up your flat without leaving him any means of contacting you? As far as he was concerned, you could be lying dead in a ditch, and he would never know."
James flushed. "I was going to tell him."
"Of course you were, once you'd gone and decided everything for yourself," Laura said testily. "Well? What have you decided?"
James took a deep breath. "I'm going to return to the seminary. It's almost settled. But first, I'll go to Lewis and apologise, and tell him the news myself."
Laura shook her head. "That's a pity."
James' indignation rose, despite his own qualms. It really wasn't any of her business. "The priesthood is an honourable -"
"Not because of that, you idiot. Because Robbie happens to love you, but I'm pretty sure Catholic priests aren't allowed to have romantic relationships with anyone, let alone other men."
James' jaw worked soundlessly for a moment as he stared at her in disbelief. "Robbie loves me?" he managed to stutter out at last.
Laura threw up her hands in despair. "If the pair of you were Oxfordshire's best detectives, then God help Oxfordshire, that's all I can say. Yes, Robbie's in love with you. And I happen to be fairly certain that you rather love Robbie, too."
James bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He'd never meant for anyone to notice. He'd never meant to come between Robbie and Laura. Though the news that Robbie actually reciprocated his feelings should turn him incandescent with joy, that was all he could think of.
"But what about you and..."
"Oh, I'm not giving Robbie up, of course," Laura said briskly. "What do you take me for?"
She must have seen the look on his face, because she continued more gently, "James, if I were the jealous type, I would be doing my best at this moment to make him forget that you ever existed. But, for some reason unfathomable even to myself, I'm actually fond of you, too."
She even sounded affectionate, which surprised James - he'd thought she was going to make sure he never darkened Lewis' door again by ensuring that he ceased to exist henceforth. He appreciated the kindness, he really did, but...
"I still don't see -"
Laura sighed, and pulled up a chair beside him. "Must I spell everything out to you boys? You love Robbie. I love Robbie. Robbie quite likes both of us. If you and I can get along, then I don't see why we can't be one big happy family."
James snapped. "Robbie's not some sort of timeshare property in Majorca! He deserves to be loved, wholly and unconditionally, and to be able to return that love in the same spirit!"
Laura actually looked sorry for him. "Oh, James, you really don't see, do you? You've known Robbie for eight years. Don't you think he has a heart big enough for both of us?"
"I know he does," James muttered, before his pride got the better of him. "But if this is something you're doing out of pity..."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, James," she said briskly. "The facts are simple. While you're unhappy, Robbie's unhappy. And while Robbie's unhappy, I'm unhappy. We want you home, James. We want you in our home." She put her hand on his. It was warm to the touch, radiating kindness. "We want you."
He closed his hand around hers. After years of being shunted from institution to institution - public school, university, seminary, police academy - where approval had to be earned, scrounged for, was conditional on good behaviour - her declaration, simple, unequivocal, moved him beyond words. He'd felt that acceptance with Lewis, which was why he'd lost his heart. Now he lost it again, as he lifted his head to look into her eyes, and found in them only welcome.
The spell was broken by a knock at the door. James quickly withdrew his hand, and leapt to his feet, blushing guiltily.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, James," the rector said. If he'd seen what was going on, he gave no indication. "But I'll need this room for a meeting in five minutes."
James stepped hastily between the rector and Laura, to shield him from her piercing glare. "We'll be done by then, Father."
The rector withdrew, closing the door quietly behind him. James went over to the window, wrapping his arms around himself. The priest's entrance had slammed him back to reality, bringing the weight of this place, of thirty-seven years of being taught how to live one's life to please the Lord, of mindlessly repeating that doctrine to others, back to the forefront of his brain.
Laura sensed the change in his mood. "James?"
"We can't do this," he said miserably, feeling the prospect of happiness, for a moment so real, slip away into the ether. "I can't do this. This is -"
"If you're about to tell me that this is morally wrong, James, then it's my duty to warn you first that saying that aloud may result in me doing you a rather serious injury."
James had to smile, despite everything, at the return of this much more familiar Laura. "That's not what I'm saying." It would be no good explaining it to her. This was something he'd have to deal with himself. It wasn't Laura he had to beg for forgiveness - or for permission.
Fortunately, Laura didn't pursue the matter. "Good, because if you haven't noticed, we are living in the twenty-first century." She glanced around the spartan office, which probably hadn't changed in its fundamentals since the seminary was founded. "Well, some of us are, anyway."
This time, James thought, the look she was directing him was one of pity.
"Look, James. No one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do. But think about it, eh? Everyone deserves to be happy, even you. Robbie would probably say especially you."
James couldn't agree, but he nodded anyway.
Laura went to the door, then turned. "Oh, by the way, James, how well do you handle snoring?"
James furrowed his brow in incomprehension. "I've been getting used to it. The walls here are paper-thin," he answered cautiously. "But why...?"
"Good. Maybe I'll be able to use you as a buffer." She grinned at him, then swept away like a mini-tornado, taking all the air out of the room with her.
* * *
James escaped from the office before the rector returned. Sheridan was in the corridor, possibly lying in wait for him, but he managed a successful evasion by slipping into the crowd in the main hall, and out again into the quiet sanctuary of the chapel, where he could be alone with his thoughts.
He took a seat in one of the pews, staring pensively at the altar, draped with a cloth of pure white. Eventually, inevitably, the memory of another such altar cloth, stained with the spatter of blood, wormed its way into his mind, forcing him to look away.
This was where he'd learned to condemn homosexuality. Armed with sanctimonious certainty, he'd gone and condemned Will. Will had come to him as a friend, asking for advice, and what he'd done instead was to infect Will with his narrow-minded worldview, teaching him to hate himself. And in turn, he'd condemned Feardorcha, condemned Feardorcha's victims, to horrifying, savage deaths.
And look at him now, contemplating a relationship that made Will and Feardorcha look positively saintly. Forget Adam and Steve, he felt like the bloody serpent in the Garden of Eden.
He let his head fall with a thud against the pew in front of him.
He'd denied that part of himself for so long, hoping against hope that he'd meet a nice girl who could tolerate his failings and settle down, resolving never to act upon the stirrings of his heart towards other men.
But there had been no defence against Robbie, against the kindness of his eyes or the goodness of his heart, against the feeling, as they sat side-by-side watching crap telly and sipping at beers after a long day at work, that someone actually liked him, over-intellectual, prickly personality and all. Someone who knew the worst of him and had chosen to overlook it.
He'd given in to temptation and allowed himself to indulge in fantasies, in the safety and misery of knowing that they'd never come true. And now, when it looked like they might, he was terrified.
It wasn't that he still thought homosexuality was wrong. Will had taught him otherwise. But how could he possibly deserve this - joy - after what he'd done to Will? What kind of hypocrite was he, to give himself the same chance of happiness that he'd denied his friend?
But then it wasn't just his own chance of happiness he'd be denying, was it? Laura had said that they wouldn't be happy without him. He still couldn't quite believe that, but the evidence was there. Robbie had cut short his holiday and rushed back to Oxford, had been searching for him for a week. And Laura had come all the way here to tell him that, to say that she was willing to share Robbie with him. James wasn't sure that he could ever have been that selfless. But Laura always spoke her mind, and if she hadn't genuinely wanted him to return to Oxford, to them, she would have made it painfully clear.
If he let his own guilt over Will's death prevent him from going to them, wouldn't that be still more selfish behaviour?
What would Will have wanted? He tried to remember Will as he had been in life. Sweetest guy in the world, everyone's best friend. A man who'd given up everything to bring his message to the world.
Love is never wrong.
Will had meant that message as much for him as for anybody, James was sure. He could still feel the intensity of Will's gaze as he uttered those four words, piercing through the television screen into his very soul.
He'd always been certain that Will had meant it as a j'accuse, an indictment of his complicity in Will's suicide. Telling him that he'd been so, so wrong. But now a different interpretation occurred to him. Maybe Will had been trying to send him a different message altogether: that it was all right, that James was free to love whomever he wished. Because Will had always known about James, ever since they were fourteen. He'd seen James more clearly than he'd seen himself.
It was a self-serving thought, but...perhaps the best way to atone to Will would be to live by his words.
A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. "Father Francis," he mumbled in acknowledgment, automatically making room in the pew.
The rector slid in beside him and studied his face for a moment, before saying, "James, would I be correct in thinking that your, ah, worldly attachments remain a touch too strong for you to give them up altogether?"
James flushed guiltily. "I think you may be right, Father." The rector had been very kind to him over the past week, and he knew he was proving a disappointment.
Father Francis smiled at him warmly. "My son, sometimes the best way to serve God is simply to love. Go in peace."
iv
fed, forgiven, and known again
The next two hours passed in a nicotine-deprived blur. James dashed to his room, threw together his things, and bade a hasty goodbye to Sheridan and the rest of the bewildered seminarians. He navigated the Tube to Victoria Station, arriving at the bus stop just in time to board the coach to Oxford. A nail-biting eighty-four minutes later, he alighted at Headington and tried to keep himself from sprinting all the way to Laura Hobson's house.
He paused at the gate to summon his courage, his heart thumping. Laura and Robbie were there, visible through the sliding glass door. They were sitting down to Sunday dinner. She was dishing out something out of the pan that looked like fish fillets. Robbie was holding his plate out to her with one hand, his head propped against his left palm.
He looked wearied to the bone.
So this was the restful retirement James had inflicted on him. This was what James had put Robbie through over the past week.
The realisation crushed the joy out of him, reminding him of how little he deserved this man and this prospect of happiness. Why would Robbie ever love an inconsiderate, ungrateful bastard like James Hathaway?
There was nothing for it. There was only one path to atonement and redemption, whether it led to anything more beyond. He undid the latch on the gate and began walking up to the house, trying and failing to rein in his feelings of trepidation.
He knew now how the prodigal son had felt, returning to his father's house.
Laura glanced up and saw him. A smile of approval spread across her face. She nudged Robbie, nodded towards him. Lewis swivelled around and stared at him as if seeing a ghost. Then he bolted to his feet and flung the door open.
For a moment, James thought that they were going to run into each other's arms, like a scene out of some daytime soap. He even put down this things in the expectation of it. But Robbie stopped two yards short of James, staring uncertainly at him. James felt the distance acutely, but he knew he deserved it, after leaving Robbie without a word. By rights, he should be grovelling an apology at his feet.
But before he could do a thing, Robbie spoke. "Listen, James. There's something I have to tell you, I - well, it's like this."
He paused and took a deep breath, and James had a sudden vision of the young Robbie Lewis nervously asking Val out on their first date. He wondered if Robbie had been this tongue-tied with Laura. He cast a sideways glance at her. She had a hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes dancing with mirth. Evidently not, then.
Robbie pressed on valiantly. "These last few years, you've been more than a sergeant, you've been a good mate..."
James raised an eyebrow in Laura's direction, asking does he know?. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, still looking infinitely amused.
"And then when you left all of a sudden, I realised - " He raised his head, their gazes met, and the lines around Robbie's eyes softened. "Ah, sod the bloody speech. Come here, lad. I've missed you." Robbie put a strong hand on his and tugged him into an embrace, his arms tightening around James' ribs, a gesture whose eloquence James could read more easily than any words.
"I love you too, Robbie," he murmured back, punctuating it with a daring brush of his lips against Robbie's. Robbie's eyes widened momentarily in surprised pleasure and, James suspected, relief, before pressing back ardently for what was possibly the happiest moment of James' life.
Even Laura's muttered about bloody time, and Robbie's mock-indignation, when he worked out that the two of them had already talked about it and declared them a pair of conniving sods, could do nothing to diminish it.
* * *
James was the first to arrive at the restaurant. As host, he felt it was incumbent on him to be early - and besides, he was the only unemployed layabout of the lot, now, unless you counted Robbie, which wouldn't be fair. Besides, the restaurant - he'd chosen a nice one on the High Street - was only a brisk walk away from Robbie's flat, where he was staying.
They'd sat down and had a long, sober talk about what the future held, once the initial giddiness was over. Confessions were made and accepted - Laura about her visit to the seminary, while James admitted that he'd simply drunkenly mislaid his mobile the night of their farewell party, and had opted to suspend his account rather than scramble to acquire a new phone before the retreat. In the end they agreed not to take the plunge into living together quite yet, to give everyone - which really meant James - time to get used to the new arrangement. He'd gone to see Mike Trent, his old landlord, but of course what with Oxford's housing market being the way it was, his old flat had been let the same day the ad had gone out. So they'd decided to play musical flats instead. Robbie was practically living at Laura's already, anyway, and James was, if anything, even more comfortable at Robbie's than he had ever been in his own flat.
He was deeply grateful to them, for accommodating him in so many ways. Robbie had said not to worry about rent for the time being, but James was determined to rejoin the ranks of the employed as soon as possible and repay him.
He'd just made his resolution when a cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sarge! It's so good to see you!"
He smiled up at the newcomers. "Julie. Gurdip. And it's 'James', not 'Sarge'." As they slid into the seats next to him, he added, "I understand it's you we have to call Sarge these days, Julie."
"Not for another three weeks, but I don't think I'll feel like a DS until I get a proper governor. And maybe not even then," Julie sighed, looking less than chipper for once. James reckoned he could take a pretty good stab at why, having been through the wringer himself in the past.
"Let me guess. One of the other DCs said something to you."
"Yeah, bloody Hoo -" Gurdip started to mutter under his breath, before Julie shut him up with a warning glare.
No surprise there. James could easy imagine the kind of "collegial banter" the man might direct at a younger woman who'd just been promoted over him. He looked at her glum face, so unlike her usual demeanour, and decided to offer some unsolicited advice.
"Julie, the first thing you have to know is that this happens to everyone. There'll always be someone who thinks he deserves it more."
"It happened to you too?"
James nodded. "And it's only going to be worse for you. You're young; you're a woman; you belong to an ethnic minority. No matter how good a job you do, someone will always think that you're benefiting from positive discrimination."
"But I'll have to supervise him - them - in the future. How can I do that if they don't respect me?"
"Do your job, and do it well. But don't think you have to be perfect. Talk to your DI. Hope you get a supportive one," James said, thinking of the stark contrast between his first DI and Lewis. DI Knox hadn't been much better than DC Hooper, while Lewis had defended him countless times against remarks of that sort, even when he hadn't known James was listening. "That goes a long way."
Julie looked thoughtful as she digested his advice.
"And remember this: I'm personally certain that Innocent didn't make a mistake about you."
"I second that," a voice said behind him. He whirled around to see Robbie smiling beneficently down at them.
"I third it," Laura added.
Julie blossomed into a smile. "Thank you." She looked at James. "I feel bad about you buying me dinner now, when you've helped me so much."
"Nonsense, lass," Robbie said. "After all, the purpose of this dinner is to thank everyone who helped to bring Hathaway back."
A throat cleared loudly behind them, and they turned to see Innocent arriving on DC Gray's arm. Gray had tried to give them fair warning, but from Innocent's face, it looked like it had come too late.
"Enlighten me, Robbie. What part did Julie and Gurdip have to play in bringing Hathaway back?" she asked, sweeping the table with an interrogating gaze.
Julie and Gurdip began to look very nervous.
James interposed. "And the second purpose of this dinner is to celebrate Julie's promotion to DS."
"I see," Innocent said, though her expression said, I won't ask. Julie and Gurdip shot him grateful glances. "Well! Since we're all here, what about a toast?" Wine was brought, they filled their glasses, and she raised hers towards him. "To James. Welcome home."
"Welcome home," the others echoed, raising their glasses in unison.
James felt a lump in his throat.
How could he ever have thought that human beings weren't basically good? Yes, there were people out there who would kill for the most trivial of reasons, but here - here were all these people who'd gone to great lengths for him, who cared for him despite all his insecurities, who'd loved him when he couldn't even love himself.
James controlled the wobble in his voice and lifted up his glass to theirs with a clink. "Cheers, everyone."
*After a terrific dinner, James excused himself to go pay the bill. To his surprise, he was followed to the counter by Julie. "Would you mind if we could talk, um, in private for a bit?" she asked.
"Of course," James said, wondering what the matter was. She'd been unusually quiet the whole meal, which he'd chalked up to Innocent's presence. But it seemed that something else was on her mind.
He finished paying and they moved off towards the cloakroom. He looked back at the table. The others were just getting up, so they had a couple of minutes. "Coast's clear. What's up, Julie?"
"Sarge - I mean James - it's just too weird calling you that! Anyway, I have a favour to ask you."
"Sure, Julie. Anything," he replied instantly, glad that there was something he could do to repay at least one of them for all their kindness to him.
"You haven't even heard what it is yet!" she protested, her brown eyes searching for signs of inebriation in his. "Maybe I should ask you tomorrow, when you're sober."
He shook his head. His mind felt clearer than it had for a long time. "Not drunk. And the answer's still yes."
"Alright, then." She took a deep breath, and blurted it out. "Sarge, will you be my governor?"
v
some months later
"Wow, sir. You were on fire today," DS Julie Lockhart marvelled, as Uniform drove away with their main suspect.
"Everyone did their bit," DI James Hathaway murmured. He was already composing the report in his head, making sure to highlight the contributions of his team. Gurdip and Gray had put in meticulous work to seal the case against Keith Hurt.
"How did you even think to suspect the son-in-law's cousin? He had a rock-solid alibi." Julie looked a little crestfallen. She shouldn't have - she had handled her first murder case as a DS remarkably well. The victim had had a sprawling, feuding family, and they'd had to keep track of thousands of little clues and follow each and every one of them up. He'd have to mention that to Innocent too.
"I learned from the best," he replied. He was too drained at the moment to recount the story of Oswald Cooper and of how Lewis had refused to back down even against the word of three of the Oxford elite. He'd tell her tomorrow. For now, that would be enough, he reckoned.
Sure enough, Julie bounced back quickly, brightening at his words. "Then it's lucky for me I'll get to learn from you, eh, sir?"
James chuckled and shook his head. Even if he'd been her first choice, he was the lucky one. Julie was bright, diligent, and a quick learner. More than that, she was empathetic, able to put a witness at ease more easily than he ever had. And most important of all, she was willing to speak her mind to him, voicing her own ideas, letting him know when he was pushing the troops too hard. All she needed was experience, and he'd do everything he could to pass the lessons Lewis had taught him on to her.
In time, she'd probably make a better sergeant than he ever was.
He cupped his hand around his cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply and gratefully.
Julie leaned over and plucked it out of his mouth, dropping it to the ground and crushing it under her sole.
He stared at her, mouth hanging open. "Julie!"
"It's Tuesday, sir," she chided him. "Or had you forgotten?"
Of course he hadn't. He'd been looking forward to it all day. And she was right, Robbie hated kissing him when his mouth smelled like an ashtray . Laura must have put her up to it when they'd stopped by the mortuary earlier.
Still, it didn't mean he could let behaviour like that go uncorrected. He was a senior officer now, and this sort of impertinence had to be nipped in the bud.
"You know, Sergeant, I'm pretty sure DSes aren't supposed to cheek their governors like that," James began.
Julie grinned disarmingly at him. "I also learned from the best, sir."
* * *Robbie and Laura were waiting up for him when he got back, curled around each other on the settee. They disentangled themselves into an upright sitting position as he let himself in.
"You're late, James. We had to eat dinner before we starved to death," Laura said disapprovingly.
"That's fine," James said, spotting the plate waiting on the kitchen counter. I'll just -"
Robbie got up. "No, no, you sit down, lad. I'll just pop your plate into the microwave."
"You really don't have to..." James stopped when Robbie gave him that look. "Yes, sir." He obediently went to sit down by Laura, automatically taking up his spot in the middle.
Laura leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. "So, James, did you solve the Hurt case?" she asked.
James opened his mouth to answer, but Robbie beat him to it. "'Course he did. Can't you recognise that self-satisfied smirk on his face?" He put the plate into the microwave and got it going. "So, who was it? The brother-in-law's cousin?"
James felt his jaw drop. How on earth...? "Robert Lewis, four centuries ago they would have burned you at the stake," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Robbie grinned at him from his spot next to the microwave. "Lucky for me I don't live in the seventeenth century, eh?"
"Contrary to popular opinion," Laura put in.
"Oi," Robbie protested good-naturedly. He looked across at James. "Don't look so downhearted, lad. You got there about the same time I did."
"With ten times the information," James said, feeling as crestfallen as Julie had looked. He'd talked briefly to Laura about the clues they'd been following up during the post-mortem, and he guessed that she'd imparted the gossip to Robbie, but still.
"Hard part's not figuring out who it is, it's proving it," Robbie reminded him.
"It's a lot easier to prove it when you know who it is," James shot back. He considered for a moment. "You know what? Maybe we ought to have you on retainer as a consultant. I'll raise it with Innocent tomorrow."
"What happened to the peaceful retirement?" Laura chuckled.
"Well, maybe I'll accept. But only if I get paid in kind," Robbie replied, tilting his head in the direction of the bedroom.
James flushed beet-red. He shot a glance at Laura to see how she was taking it.
"I'd say 'get a room, you two', but it's more fun to watch you boys attempt to flirt."
The microwave beeped loudly, and Robbie brought the steaming plate over to James. "Here you go, lad. Pensioner's special."
"Thank you," James said, sniffing it appreciatively. "Mm, mushroom risotto. Smells delicious. Are you sure you made this yourself?"
"Cheeky sod," Robbie said comfortably as he sat down next to James, effectively sandwiching him in the middle.
Laura frowned at the tight squeeze. "Are you two still convinced we shouldn't buy a three-seater settee?"
"Quite sure," James said firmly. "I'm used to sitting on the crease."
"So how do you think our newly-minted Detective Inspector's faring, Laura?"
"Bit green about the gills," Laura replied, her eyes twinkling at James, "but I'll say this for him - at least he's doesn't go all awkward talking over a dead body."
"I didn't do that until we started, you know, going together," Robbie defended himself.
"If it hasn't escaped your attention, Robbie, the three of us are 'going together'," Laura said archly, looping a hand around James'.
Robbie shook his head and smiled, giving up. "How on earth d'you do it, lad?"
"I'm good at compartmentalising," James said primly. He regretted it instantly, realising the trap he'd walked himself into. He held his breath, waiting for a taunt about how he'd very nearly compartmentalised them out of his life.
Instead they said nothing, only smiled and nudged him to get on with dinner. The thought had probably never even occurred to them.
Somewhere in James' head, a wall came tumbling down. He put down his fork. Robbie and Laura looked at him expectantly.
"About your offer, to move in here - I'd like to take it. If you'll still have me," he blurted out.
They looked surprised for a moment, but then their expressions turned to ones of genuine pleasure.
"Of course it's open, James. We'd love to have you," Laura said, taking his right hand in hers.
Robbie's beaming face said everything James could possibly have hoped for. "We'll move you in next weekend," he promised. "Once we're all back from Lyn's."
"You're assuming I can go. I'm on call this weekend," James reminded him.
"I predict that this weekend, Oxfordshire will be blessedly crime-free," Robbie said confidently.
"God willing," James murmured.
"What, d'you think God will do it if you only pray for it?" Robbie teased.
Once upon a time, when he'd first met Robbie Lewis, James might have bristled at the jest. But now he just took Robbie's hand in his left and Laura's hand in his right, and answered contentedly.
"Why not? He's already given me everything else I've ever wanted."
* * *Outside, the rain was pelting down, beating a frantic rhythm against the window panes. Inside Lyn and Tim's cosy little home, Robbie felt like a sheepdog surveying its charges, glad that they were all together, safe from the storm.
"Sorry the weather's so bad, Dad. I was hoping you three would be able to see something of Manchester while you were here," Lyn said as she passed Robbie a dripping dish. They'd been appointed the official dishwashers for that meal.
Robbie accepted the plate and wiped it dry. "That's all right, lass. Like Laura said, it wouldn't be a visit to Manchester if it weren't raining."
Laura was ensconced on the settee, chatting away with Tim about books and films. They seemed to be getting along well. James had been given the task of entertaining Matthew, by fiat. Robbie smiled when he remembered how nervous James had been about meeting Robbie's grandson. He needn't have - Matthew had taken to James and his fount of dinosaur trivia like a duck takes to water. He'd been the one to drag James down to the carpet to listen to Matthew's exposition on dinosaur poo.
Lyn caught the fond look on his face as he watched James gravely take in the lecture. "They're practically inseparable, aren't they? I'm not looking forward to the tantrum Matthew's going to throw tomorrow night when you leave."
"Should I not have brought him up, then?" Robbie kidded.
"No, I'm glad you did, Dad. I've wanted so much to meet him, and thank him for everything he's done for you -"
She was interrupted by a loud, menacing roar. Lyn gave a little cry and dropped the bowl she was washing. "Goodness! What was that, thunder?"
If it was thunder, it had come from inside the house. Specifically, from James, who had apparently taken leave of his senses.
Matthew giggled. "Do it 'gain, Unka Jamie! Roar like din'saur!"
"James! I nearly broke a bowl!" Lyn complained, but Matthew's laughter was contagious, and she had to laugh with all the rest, once the shock wore off.
"Sorry." James looked sheepish. "I should have warned everyone first."
Matthew shook his head firmly, putting his hands on his hips. "No, Unka Jamie! Din'saur not warn!"
"He's got you there, mate," Tim said, laughing at his son's stern attitude. "Wherever did you learn to roar like that?"
"I've...been practising," James admitted.
Laura raised her eyebrows. "Who on?"
"DC Hooper, mostly."
Amid the laughter, Lyn turned back to Robbie, rolling her eyes. "He's your boyfriend, Dad."
Robbie blinked. His boyfriend. He hadn't ever given James that label in his head before. It sounded funny, but also...it sounded right, especially when Lyn said it so matter-of-factly. Which reminded him of something he had to thank her for.
"Thanks for taking it so well, lass. Not everyone would be all right with their dad taking up with a man their age." Lyn gave him a pointed look. "...At the same time as another woman," he admitted.
Lyn gave his hand a squeeze. "I told you before, Dad. I just want you to be happy. And besides, it wasn't that big a surprise. When you talked about James...it was the same way you talked about Laura. The same way you talked about Mum." She looked at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I suppose it's only natural that it takes two people to replace her."
"Your mam's not being replaced, pet," he said gently. "No one ever could."
Lyn blinked back her tears, laughing. "But you always have room in your heart for one or two more, don't you, Dad?"
"I don't know, lass," Robbie said, looking out over his flock in satisfaction. "Right now, my heart's pretty full."
~ end ~