Fic: Love Knows Not Its Own Depth 8/8
Story: Love Knows Not Its Own Depth
Author: wendymr
Characters: DI Robbie Lewis, DS James Hathaway, DCS Jean Innocent, Dr Laura Hobson, other canon and OC police officers etc
Rated: PG
Spoilers: Up to end of S5 (The Gift of Promise). No S6 spoilers
Summary: Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation (Kahlil Gibran)
With very many thanks to lindenharp for beta-reading and bearing with me through all of this. And it's finished!
Chapter 1: Missing Person ^ Chapter 2: Next of Kin ^ Chapter 3: Frustrations ^ Chapter 4: Progress ^ Chapter 5: Separated ^ Chapter 6: Avoidance ^ Chapter 7: Forcing the Issue
Chapter 8: Partners
He’s fifteen minutes from the station, but it sounds like Innocent doesn’t want to be kept waiting. Nor does he, for that matter. He switches on the siren and does a U-turn.
What’s brought this on now, all of a sudden? Last weekend, James strongly implied that he wasn’t thinking of resigning for a couple of years yet. It can’t be the fact that he got hurt - the injuries he sustained this week are nothing compared to the attack on him a couple of months ago, the attempt on his life that still gives Robbie nightmares. Could it be the way Peterson cocked things up so badly?
At the station, Robbie runs up the stairs and along the corridor to Innocent’s office. A quick tap on the outer office, and he enters without waiting. Innocent’s assistant is missing, but James is there, sitting rigidly upright and staring in front of him.
“What’ve you done now?” Robbie deliberately keeps his tone light, that mock-exasperated voice he knows James is familiar with.
“Sir!” James’s head jerks around. The bruises on his face have faded to yellow now, but they’re still visible. “What are you doing here? Ah. Of course.” His expression changes to wary acceptance. “That’s why she asked me to wait.”
“Yeah, Innocent called me in. You might’ve talked to me about it first, you know.” He tries to keep the hurt from his voice, but he’s not entirely successful.
James meets his gaze, resolve in his expression. “You’d only have tried-”
He breaks off as the inner door opens. “Come in, both of you,” Innocent says, voice crisp.
Robbie watches James carefully as he stands, then walks into the office. He’s still limping slightly. Damn it.
They’re not asked to sit, and Innocent gets straight to the point. “James, this is a bit extreme, isn’t it? Why?”
“Not extreme at all, Ma’am.” Completely sure of himself, James is holding Innocent’s gaze steadily. “I’ve suspected for some time that my long-term future is somewhere other than the police. I hadn’t intended to resign this soon, but current circumstances have made it unavoidable.”
“Current circumstances?” Innocent gives him a wearily exasperated look. “I know you didn’t want to be transferred from working with Inspector Lewis, but I thought you and Peterson were getting on well.”
“Well?” Robbie can’t help interrupting. “You do know what happened this week? Peterson sent James into a dangerous situation without proper precautions-”
“I’m well aware of what happened, Robbie. Thank you.” Innocent turns back to James. “You know I spoke with DI Peterson about that, and he will be more careful in future. But if you’ve lost confidence in him as a senior officer, wouldn’t it make more sense to ask for a transfer?”
James shakes his head sharply. “It’s not about that, Ma’am. Although I would have asked for a transfer if I’d had any reason to believe that you’d accept my request.”
“What makes you think-”
“The only transfer I would have considered accepting, as an alternative to resigning immediately, is back to my previous position, Ma’am. But you made it clear that wasn’t possible.”
Innocent sighs. “Is that all this is? An over-dramatic attempt to force my hand? I would have expected better from you, Sergeant.”
James’s chin tilts upwards. “So you should, Ma’am. Though I infer that you don’t, since you asked Inspector Lewis to be present.”
They’re starting to put each other’s backs up, and that’s not good. Robbie touches James’s arm, giving him a trust me look, then turns back to Innocent. “Instead of speculating, why don’t we ask James why he wants out of the force?” He glances back at James. “And why now?”
Innocent actually gives him a grateful smile. “Exactly. So, James, won’t you enlighten us?”
“Ma’am.” He glances briefly to his right. “Sir. It’s not Inspector Peterson, or anything that’s happened recently. I came to the conclusion a long time ago that the police force was not really the right environment for me. I don’t think I’ve got the right...” He hesitates, then adds, “...personality for it.”
And if that’s not code for something, Robbie’ll eat his warrant card. But for what?
But it’s not too difficult, is it? Who else would understand me? James has always struggled to fit in, hasn’t he? Even when he’s pretended that he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him.
Innocent nods at him to go on. “I almost resigned several years ago, Ma’am. But then my working arrangements changed abruptly-” James looks at Robbie again. “-and it seemed I’d found my niche.”
“With Inspector Lewis, you mean.”
James inclines his head. “I had intended to leave when Inspector Lewis retires. I did consider it when you transferred me, but I didn’t want to let Inspector Lewis down. Unfortunately, I’m now certain that my future lies elsewhere.” He gestures to the papers on Innocent’s desk. “You have my resignation, Ma’am.”
Innocent closes her eyes briefly, then stares up at the ceiling for a long moment. “You talk some sense into him, Robbie!”
James’s eyes are on him, he knows. A quick sidelong glance shows him the resigned expression on the bloke’s face: he’s expecting that his ex-governor will try to do just that.
Why should James think that? It doesn’t make any sense. He didn’t try to change the lad’s mind about promotion, and last weekend when he made clear that he didn’t intend to stay in the force long-term Robbie didn’t try to talk him out of that either. Does James honestly think Robbie won’t support him?
Oh, of course he doesn’t actually want James to resign. Not now, not with - so far as Robbie knows - no other job to go to, or any other immediate options. It’s the middle of Michaelmas term, so James would have to wait until January to start a research degree, if that’s his intention.
Regardless, he’ll support James against Innocent. But there may be another way to handle this, a way that helps all of them get what they want.
He turns to meet the Chief Super’s expectant look. “Nah. In fact, if he’s going, reckon I’ll go too.”
It’s worked before as a threat. He knows Innocent doesn’t want to lose both of them. If you go, I go. He glances at James, hoping his friend will recognise the reciprocal gesture, even if he didn’t use exactly the same words. James’s eyes have widened in shock, but as he meets Robbie’s gaze his lips twitch very faintly. It’s such a familiar feeling, the two of them united in opposition, and it’s bloody good.
Innocent isn’t amused. “What? You’re not serious, Robbie. What on earth would you do?”
Robbie shrugs. “Yeah, I’m serious. Almost applied for early retirement last year - James’ll tell you that. As for what I’d do, insurance companies are always looking for retired detectives for fraud investigation. I’ve had a few offers over the years.”
“Oh, for-” She’s only just managing to hold back her temper. “I should just let you both go. No doubt it will make my job a lot easier.”
Robbie shrugs. “Why not? James has already resigned. Just give me a retirement application an’ I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.”
Innocent takes several deep breaths before speaking. “You know I don’t want that, Robbie. I would prefer not to lose either of you any sooner than I have to. Look, will you give me a week? Both of you.” She picks up James’s resignation papers. “Take these back for now, Sergeant. If you’re not happy with what I have to say to you in a week’s time, I’ll accept them without protest.”
Robbie says nothing; he doesn’t even look at James. It has to be the lad’s own choice - knowing that the only reason James stayed on after they were split up was so as not to let him down, when it sounds like he’s hated it, is already making him feel sick.
After a moment’s pause, James leans forward and takes the papers. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Innocent stands. “James, you’re off-duty for the rest of the day, and the weekend. Next week, you can help DCI Carpenter - her bagman’s on holiday. Robbie, I believe you said you were about to interview a suspect? Any progress?”
“Not yet, Ma’am.” James is turning to leave the room, and Robbie stalls him with a hand on his arm. “Pub, later on, all right?”
James nods, and Robbie carries on with his update.
***
“That was an impressive bluff.” James puts their pints down on the table, then sits opposite Robbie, immediately reaching for his cigarettes.
Robbie raises an eyebrow. “Wasn’t a bluff. That’s why it was impressive.”
Halfway to lighting his cigarette, James’s hand stalls. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“You don’t want to retire. You didn’t take the early retirement scheme when it was offered.”
“Was still working with you then.” And it’s true: a lot of the challenge, the fun, has gone out of the job in the past couple of months. Chris is good, most of the time, but she’s not James, and even if she was brilliant at her job she still wouldn’t give him what he’s been missing since he lost James as his partner.
James lights his cigarette this time, still giving Robbie what’s almost an accusing look. “You never said... I thought-”
“You idiot. Did you think I was fine working without you?” He shakes his head at James in reproof. “We were a good team. Bloody good. That’s why... well, when you never showed any interest in talking about OSPRE, I was happy to leave it be. Bit selfish, that, but...” He pulls a face. “As long as you were happy where you were, I didn’t want to lose you.”
Was this what it was like for Morse, all those years when it felt like his boss was holding him back? Oh, he knows now that Morse tried hard for him behind the scenes, though only once he realised how much it meant to Robbie and that there was a strong possibility of losing him to another division entirely if he couldn’t get promotion within their branch of CID.
“Course I didn’t say anything,” he adds before James can speak. “How could I? Innocent wasn’t gonna change her mind, and I couldn’t put you in a difficult position when you had to get used to a new governor. But why didn’t you tell me you weren’t happy working with Peterson?”
James raises both eyebrows, in an expression that clearly says How can you not know? “How could I? He’s my governor, and you’re another senior officer. It would have been disloyal and unprofessional. You made it very clear that you didn’t want to know about our working relationship, and I completely understand that.”
“But that’s-” Frustrated, Robbie shakes his head. Yes, James is right: he did want to stay out of the working relationship. But this is different. “Yeah, I had to stay clear, not just because it would’ve been unprofessional, but because it wouldn’t have done you any favours with your new governor if he thought you were telling me everything that went on. But I didn’t mean you couldn’t talk to me if it got so bad you were thinking o’ leaving!”
James’s mouth turns down at the corners. “I thought you’d try to talk me out of it. And, yes, I now know I was wrong.”
“Good.” Robbie sips his pint. “Should be obvious by now that none o’ that matters to me. I’d rather see you workin’ on a building site and happy than stuck in a job you hate.”
That gets him a genuine smile. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” James hesitates for a moment, then adds, “What will you do? If Innocent doesn’t offer us anything, I mean.”
“She will.” He’s completely confident about that. “She doesn’t want to lose either of us before she has to, let alone both.”
“But if she doesn’t?” James persists.
He shrugs, as if the answer’s obvious. “What I said, probably. And you? Back to Cambridge, I suppose?”
James frowns. “Here, Cambridge - I haven’t decided. But I thought you’d be moving to Manchester once you retire?” He stubs out his cigarette, and it feels as if he’s avoiding Robbie’s gaze.
He shakes his head. “It’s what Lyn wants, but I’m not keen. Yeah, it’d be nice to be closer to her, but Oxford’s home. Lived here for over thirty years, an’ everyone I know’s here. Course, I hadn’t thought you might be leaving when I made up me mind,” he adds, scowling faintly. “Was a bit of a surprise last weekend when you mentioned what you were planning.”
James reaches for another cigarette and lights it. “I didn’t think you’d be here, so...”
Ah. So James’s plans might be negotiable, depending on him. Not for the first time, and this time he’s not going to ignore the bloke saying it. He waits until James meets his eyes, then says, “Well, I will. So... I hear Oxford has a not bad theology department.” He pauses, trying and failing to hold back a smile at James’s stunned expression, then changes the subject. “Been meaning to ask you for weeks. Emergency contact?”
James stills, then carefully blows out a puff of smoke, watching it instead of Robbie. “You’ve known me for six years. Who else do I have to list?”
Your father, Robbie thinks, but he won’t say it. He doesn’t need James to tell him why not, and he won’t invade the lad’s privacy by bringing it up. If James ever wants to tell him, he’ll listen, but Robbie’ll never tell him what he knows.
Instead, he reaches across and lays his fingers briefly against James’s wrist. “I’m glad you chose me. Meant I got to see you an’ make sure you were all right without havin’ to make a fuss about it. Though you could’ve told me, instead of lettin’ me discover it when I was trying to find out who to contact for you.”
That makes James frown, and he stares at Robbie, puzzled. “Why does it feel like we’ve already had this conversation? Or at least that I‘ve heard you say that before,” he adds, more slowly.
Robbie frowns as well, because he knows this is the first time he’s mentioned it. Though, wait...
“Think I said something when you were still unconscious.” He pulls a face, a bit embarrassed now at the memory. “Doctor said I should talk to you. Probably said a whole lot of nonsense, but I think I mentioned that.” And if James remembers that, what else does he remember?
Though does it really matter? He didn’t say anything he didn’t mean - and if he’s learned anything about the last few weeks it’s that for some reason he can’t fathom at all James seems to be insecure about their friendship. It’s completely ridiculous: he’s told the lad he thinks of him as his best mate. He even asked him to share a flat. Doesn’t that tell James where he stands?
Maybe not, though. Maybe he really does need to spell it out a bit more, if James is being so unusually thick. After all, it’s obviously the combination of James being thick and him not saying things that got them into the mess they’ve been in - and he’s had quite enough of that, thank you very much.
“Strikes me,” he says slowly, “that we’ve had a few misunderstandings lately. An’, yeah, we could blame Innocent, ‘cause it all started after she split us up. Or we could... well, accept responsibility ourselves for not always sayin’ what we mean.”
He’s got James’s full attention. “Go on.”
“All right.” No point trying to think of the words; he just needs to say it, however it comes. “Told you the last time we went for a drink that I missed you. You’re me best mate. We’ve always spent a lot of off-duty time together, an’ it was never just because you were me sergeant. And - just in case it wasn’t clear - nothing I’ve suggested, or any invitation I’ve given you, has been out of... I dunno, pity or obligation or anything like that.”
James leans his forearms on the table, and his head dips. “I know that. I should have known that - I don’t know why, but I think I forgot it a few times recently. It’s been my fault, not yours. You kept trying, and I kept pushing you away.”
“Yeah. Been a bit of a twat, haven’t you?” Before James can respond, he adds, “Sorted now, that’s all that matters, eh?”
James nods, then raises his head and smiles. “Yes. And, since I have the weekend off, why don’t you come over to mine tomorrow, as soon as you finish work? I’ll cook.” He pulls a face, then adds, “I’d say stay the night so you don’t have to worry about having a few drinks, but I know my sofa’s no good for you, and you never let me give you my bed.”
Robbie sips his pint again, then waves the glass in James’s direction. “See, this is exactly why we should just bloody get a flat together. Oh, not the only reason, course not, but it’d be much more convenient.” He holds up a hand as James is about to speak. “Don’t give me any of that crap about not being good at sharing living spaces. We’ve never had a problem hanging around each other’s places half the weekend. And as for the other bit of nonsense you came out with - in the unlikely event that you did end up unemployed for a bit, d’you really think that’d matter to me? Don’t insult me.”
For a long moment, James simply stares at him, apparently lost for words. Finally, he begins, “I...” With a quick shake of his head, he tries again. “You’ve been... incredibly generous. And honest. And it’s only fair that I - I can’t tell you how much I want to say yes.”
Robbie cuts in. “Then just-”
“It’s not as simple as that.” James takes a jerky drag of his cigarette, sitting now with shoulders hunched, and something about his posture just twists at Robbie’s heart, though he doesn’t know why. “If I accepted, it’d be under false pretences. I haven’t been completely honest with you, and please don’t ask me what about, because I can’t tell you-”
“Can’t or won’t?” What the bloody hell’s got into him now? And he’s avoiding Robbie’s eyes again; that’s always a bad sign.
“All right, won’t. And can’t. The point is that if you knew you’d never want me living with you. So-” James does finally look at him again. “Thank you. Thank you, more than I can say, for asking - but I can’t.” He smiles then, that faint curve of his lips that for some reason never fails to make Robbie want to smile in return. “I’m happy to help you look for a bigger place, though. And if it happens to have a second bedroom I can use every now and then, I won’t complain. Might even be persuaded to help you move.”
So that’s it, then. No point asking again, clearly.
It was just a thought; no big deal, not really. So why’s Robbie feeling as if James’s refusal is a crushing disappointment?
***
I haven’t been completely honest with you... If you knew, you’d never want me living with you.
At home later, Robbie’s still thinking about what James said, and every bit as baffled as he was earlier. What could he possibly mean?
He’s known James for years now. Okay, the lad can be secretive - and sometimes with good reason - but what could be so bad that if Robbie knew he’d have a problem with it? Secret criminal? Smackhead? No chance. James would never - and there’s no way Robbie wouldn’t have noticed it if he were.
So what else? What could he possibly think Robbie would object to?
He scratches his head, pacing his living-room, as he tries to think, to look for clues, to figure it out.
James uncomfortable meeting his gaze sometimes. His obvious unhappiness at the idea that Robbie might leave Oxford - and his clear relief when Robbie stated his intention to stay. Thinking back a few weeks, that soppy - almost adoring - look on the bloke’s face after he regained consciousness, and the way he reached out his hand to be held. His unhappiness - hurt? - when he found out that Robbie had a new sergeant. And all those quick, almost stolen glances - back over how long? More than just a few weeks, or even a few months - where he’d turn away if Robbie saw him looking.
He’s been a stupid, thick, blind sod, hasn’t he?
Is it that James is a man, or that there’s an age-gap of a generation between them, that he didn’t see it? Never even imagined the possibility?
And now that he has, what should he do about it?
He sinks into one of the dining chairs, scrubbing his face, striving for logic. Yet all he can see is what he missed back in the pub: James’s eyes, the twist of his lips, when he said he hadn’t been honest. He was hurting - and not for the first time lately, either.
Yeah, he’s a stupid fucking idiot to think it was ever all about being partners.
In some ways, it’s a ridiculous idea, though, isn’t it? Yes, he’s long suspected that James is gay, or at least bi, but he’s - what? Thirty-four? Thirty-four to Robbie’s fifty-seven. Not that much older than Lyn, and Robbie finds his brain skittering away from the implications of that, not that it’s not crossed his mind in the past. But then James might be young in years, but he’s not in most other ways. In so many ways, he might be from Robbie’s generation.
The only time he’s really reminded of James’s age these days is when the bloke’s feeling insecure about something - like recently, and how did that all start? Not difficult to see, looking back: after the attack, when James regained consciousness, Robbie was there - holding his hand, even - and over the next couple of days they were closer than ever before. Until work intruded again, and built distance between them.
And now there’s this new thing - no, not new, but newly exposed - creating a different distance between them. Though now that he thinks about it, it’s probably this, as much as work, that caused the distance originally. Now he’s worked it out, all those looks, and looks away, are so bloody obvious. James must’ve concluded that his feelings were one-sided, and then been terrified of him figuring it out.
Now he knows, it’s out in the open, and the only one who can make things right for James is himself. If he wants to.
It’s unconscious - at least, he thinks it is - but he finds himself staring at the photo of him and Val, over on the telephone table. And that’s when it strikes him: if James were a woman, not only would Robbie have noticed this a long time ago, but he’d have done something about it.
Because, if he’s honest, James isn’t the only one who feels something, is he? It’s not that long since he thought he was driving to a crime scene to find James’s corpse, his heart breaking every mile of the journey.
He thought he didn’t want another relationship, wasn’t ready for one. That’s what he told James. But that’s just rubbish, because hasn’t he been in one all this time?
“You won’t mind, will you, bonny lass?” he murmurs, still looking at the photo. Somehow, his imagination’s telling him that Val’s smile’s grown wider.
***
James is dressed in one of his long-sleeved T-shirts, and he’s got what looks like a glass of whisky in his hand, when he opens the door of his flat. “Robbie? I didn’t expect...”
“Just wanted a little chat.” He starts to move forward. “Mind if I come in?”
James steps back, though his expression’s wary. “Of course.” He indicates his glass. “Drink?”
“Nah, had enough earlier.” And besides, he doesn’t want to get distracted. “Been thinking since the pub,” he says. “Trying to work out what you meant. Not one of my finest bits of detective work, I’ll admit, but I think I might’ve got there at last.”
James goes still so abruptly it’s almost as if someone’s thrown liquid nitrogen over him. “Oh, you do, do you?” he says after a pause, and there’s a definite edge to his voice.
Robbie opens his mouth, but no words come out. Bloody typical, isn’t it? He works up his courage to get this far, and then screws it up.
Okay. Try again. “Are you...” His mouth dries up. “Do you fancy me?”
James blinks. Then he smirks. “Do people actually say that any more?”
Robbie shakes his head, barely smothering an exasperated smile. “You know exactly what I mean.”
James’s smile is bland. “I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?” But the lad can’t hide what’s in his eyes.
Robbie advances further into the room, cutting off James’s exit to the kitchen. “It’s not just attraction, is it?” Ah. Now there’s fear and longing in his friend’s expression - hidden quickly, but he saw it all the same. And he’s seen it before, too, hasn’t he? God, he’s been so bloody slow.
He’s pushed James as far as he can without giving anything back, that’s clear. So it’s his turn. Long overdue, too, it is.
Time to say it - say everything he intended to before, so there’s no misunderstanding. “When I thought you were dead, it was the worst thing that’d happened to me since Val. Was gonna find your murderer, put him away, then pack it in. Didn’t want to do the job without you. Then you were alive after all, and I swore I’d make sure you know how... important you are to me. Failed miserably at that. Could say it when you were unconscious, but not to your face.”
Now James is staring at him again, eyes almost impossibly wide, and he’s wearing an expression that says he’s just about daring to hope, and Robbie wants to hug him. And to kick himself, for ever making the bloke think he wasn’t loved.
But he has to finish making himself clear first, since James is being a bit slow on the uptake.
“Told meself last week, when you asked about Laura, that I didn’t want another relationship. I’d had the best I could ever have and couldn’t offer second-best to someone else. Thing is, what I didn’t realise is that I was already in another relationship, wasn’t I? And I’ve been offering you second-best. But only because I didn’t know.”
James steps back until he’s pressed against the wall. He looks as if he’s just run a four-minute mile. “I... Robbie, I don’t want to misunderstand - why are you telling me this?”
Ah. James isn’t being slow. He’s just afraid to trust what he’s hearing, afraid that he’s wrong. “Think I worked out why you said no to me. What it is you said I wouldn’t like. An’ I wanted you to know that it’s not a problem. Nothing like.”
James says nothing, but his expression’s silently pleading with Robbie to carry on. Robbie takes a deep breath and keeps his gaze fixed on James. “So. You’re in love with me?”
On a long exhale, James says simply, “Yes.”
Robbie nods, as if the final clue’s just slotted into place in a tricky case. “Sorry it took me so long to figure it out - not just what was bothering you, but me own side of things. Should’ve realised it when I thought you’d been killed, but - well, I’m not just fifty-seven and from Newcastle, but I’ve never been - that way-” James gives him a sardonic look, obviously challenging his word choice. “All right. Interested.” He shakes his head. “Sod it. In love with a bloke before.”
Robbie can hear James’s inhale from across the room. “I never expected that,” James says, and his voice is shaky.
Robbie gives him a wry smile. “Would never’ve got there if things hadn’t happened the way they did. I mean, I suppose I came close to figuring it out when I thought you were dead, but then you weren’t, and without Innocent splitting us up we’d probably just have gone back to the way we were before, and I’d never have realised. I’d just have kept on ignoring the stuff we never talked about - like why we spent so much time together, or why I preferred bein’ with you than with Laura. And I know I’d never have figured you out if you hadn’t given me that bloody great hint earlier. I mean-” He shakes his head; it’s still hard to believe, even now. “You lovin’ me? Why?”
James actually looks pissed off. “I wish you wouldn’t run yourself down, Robbie. Why wouldn’t I love you? I’ve told you so much of what you’ve been to me. And there’s this.” His expression softens. “You’ve spent the last six years teaching me about love. What it really is, not what the Church or friends or anyone else tried to make me believe. You accepted me as I am, even when I made it extremely difficult for you - when anyone else would have given up on me and walked away. How could I not love you?”
“Christ.” Robbie shakes his head, unable to find words to respond to that. But maybe words aren’t what’s needed. He takes a deep breath and walks across the room towards James. “Not sure I’m gonna be any good at this,” he says as he gets close enough to touch. “Not had any experience with another bloke.”
“You’ll be better than me,” James says, his hands reaching out to grip Robbie’s waist, and that’s when Robbie realises his friend - partner? - is trembling.
“C’mere,” he says softly, and curls his hand around the back of James’s neck. Instead of moving straight for the kiss, he tugs James’s head down to his shoulder, stroking the short-cropped fair hair until the man calms.
Then he loosens his grip, hands moving to the side of James’s head, sliding to hold James’s face between his palms. And that’s when it dawns on him that this isn’t difficult at all. It’s not about whether James is a man or Val was a woman. It’s about whether you love and want the person you’re going to kiss.
And he does, so that’s that. The rest is simple.
***
There’s no denying it. He, Robbie Lewis, has been a stupid, blind fool. If he hadn’t been, he’d have worked out how James felt about him long before now, and they could have been doing this all along.
Better late than never.
The kissing’s bloody fantastic. And the way certain other parts of his body are cheering him on, it looks as if other activities might also be very welcome. Not what he expected - not at his age, not as a bloke who was happily married to a woman for more than twenty years - but he’s not complaining. At all.
James breaks the kiss, hugs him and then loosens his hold, pulling back to look at Robbie. “You absolutely sure about this?”
Robbie almost wants to shake him. Even now, there’s still concern in James’s eyes - concern for him, Robbie knows, not for James’s own needs. He gives James one of his practised exasperated looks, with the automatic fondness that’s always there these days. “Where was me tongue thirty seconds ago? That feel like I’m not sure?”
He gets a cheeky smirk in response to that, though James’s reply is serious enough. “Just had to be certain. This... to say it’s unexpected would be an understatement.”
“Now, you know I always like to keep you on your toes,” Robbie points out, deadpan. James grins, then kisses him again.
Later, they’re drinking tea, sitting next to each other on James’s sofa, and what surprises Robbie most is how little has changed, even though so much is different. James is holding his hand, their fingers laced together on James’s lap, but otherwise this could be any one of dozens - hundreds - of evenings spent together at one or other’s home.
James turns to him, one eyebrow raised in a question. “Is that offer still open? Us sharing a flat?”
Robbie considers for a moment. Should they give it some time, with this new development? But the answer’s easy - as he’s already recognised, they’ve been a couple in every way that matters for a very long time. The only thing that’s new is the kissing - and anything else that might happen in the relatively near future.
He smiles, fingers tightening around James’s. “Course it is. Come an’ live with me. Just not as me best mate. Yeah?”
James leans in to kiss him again. “I’d like that very, very much.”
***
A week later, as instructed, they’re ready to present themselves in Innocent’s office. It’s been a busy seven days: work, for one thing, as well as spending as much free time together as possible - mainly flat-hunting, at Robbie’s insistence; even if they will only need one bedroom, he’d still like a bigger place for the two of them, as well as somewhere they’ve chosen together. If they’re going to be on equal terms outside work, which he’s determined on, James isn’t going to move into a flat he can’t help but associate with his boss.
James wanted to wait to find a flat until he was sure he’d still have a job, but Robbie overruled him. “Told you, it’s you I want, not your ability to share the bills. I don’t care about that.”
They might have found somewhere: the ground floor of a very nice Victorian detached house just off the Woodstock Road in Summertown. Two bedrooms - so room for Lyn and her family to visit - plenty of parking, and full use of the back garden, so there’s somewhere for James to smoke. There’s even a couple of pubs in walking distance. He can afford it on his own if need be, but with both their salaries it’ll be very manageable. He’s just put in an offer to the letting agents and they’re waiting to hear.
Just what they’ll tell Innocent about their change of address they’ve yet to discuss, but they’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.
Innocent waves them to seats as soon as they come in, and gets straight to the point. “I believe I may have found a solution that should meet everyone’s needs, but it will require some concessions from the two of you.”
Robbie glances at James, but he’s nodding, listening. “Go on, Ma’am.”
“Robbie, as I know you’re aware, there has been a considerable amount of pressure from the Home Office for local forces to take some serious action in cutting down the number of unsolved cases on our books. It doesn’t look good for the police.”
Robbie nods. Cold cases: a never-ending thorn in their side. He hates them; the lack of closure for victims and families eats away at him.
“Recently, the Home Office set aside specific funding for pilot projects. I put forward a proposal, and I just heard this week that we’ve been successful. The funding’s for five years, with an option to extend for a further five if we can show we’re getting results. I propose to establish a dedicated team, headed up by two senior officers, focusing on evaluating unsolved cases, recommending which should be reopened, assigning them to other teams and working on some themselves. I will confess that I’d thought of involving one or both of you in some way anyway, since you’ve both shown an interest and some success in clearing up old cases.”
Right: the work James did on the Chloe Brooks case, which was actually outstanding. And, Robbie realises, solving the mystery of Val’s killer. And, yes, he’s complained a time or two over the years about sloppy detective work in cold cases he’s been given to re-examine.
James still isn’t saying anything, but another quick glance his way shows that he’s interested; he’s nodding faintly, and he’s getting that focused look in his eyes.
“I’d like to be involved, Ma’am - very much, as it happens. Thing is, though, I’m due to retire in less than three years.”
“Which brings me to the concessions I mentioned.” Innocent leans forward. “As I’m sure you know, Robbie, there is scope in the policy for an officer to stay beyond their official retirement date for up to ten years by mutual consent.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Robbie sees James’s head turn, and his face is alight. Doesn’t take any guessing at all to know that he wants Robbie to say yes here and now.
But then James turns back to Innocent. “You said two senior officers, Ma’am. I am a mere sergeant. Who else would be involved?”
“Ah.” Innocent gives James a direct look. “The concession on your part will be to take those inspector’s exams you’ve been avoiding for so long. The unit will be run by a DCI and a DI, with a team of two sergeants and five constables. Subject obviously to resource needs elsewhere, you can pick your own team.”
Robbie blinks. “Detective Chief Inspector?”
Innocent’s clearly trying to hold back a smile. “Naturally. This role needs to be at that level in order to be effective. Your promotion will be effective immediately on finalising the arrangements - James’s will have to wait until he passes his exams and goes on the required course.”
His brain’s on overdrive. Detective Chief Inspector? He never thought he’d get to Morse’s rank - for years, he was afraid he’d end up retiring as a sergeant. And James as a Detective Inspector, and in a role where they’ll be working almost as equals, rather than governor and bagman? Even signing on to work for an extra five or so years past retirement’s not a problem - not doing something he’ll enjoy, and still working with James. As for the team, well, he’d like to hang on to Bennett, and if he’s not mistaken James is going to want Julie and Gurdip...
“Sir?” By James’s tone, he’s been trying to get Robbie’s attention for a while. He turns his head, signalling apology. “Do we need to think about it, or...?”
He doesn’t need to, and it’s clear that James doesn’t either. “I think we’d be happy to accept, Ma’am.”
“Yes, indeed,” James agrees, with a level of enthusiasm that’s rare from him. “Thank you.”
“Good.” Innocent nods crisply, signalling that the discussion’s over for now. The two of them stand, turning to leave. “Oh, and Robbie? James?” They pause and look back. “I trust I am invited to the housewarming?”
Robbie shoots a mildly panicked look at James, but his partner doesn’t bat an eyelid. “Naturally, Ma’am. As soon as we have a house to warm, at any rate.”
“Excellent.” She smiles sweetly, in full awareness that she’s just given Robbie kittens, and waves them out of her office.
end
This is the house where I imagine James and Robbie renting the ground floor flat - follow the link and you'll see a lovely garden out the back, and some nice internal photos as well:
Author: wendymr
Characters: DI Robbie Lewis, DS James Hathaway, DCS Jean Innocent, Dr Laura Hobson, other canon and OC police officers etc
Rated: PG
Spoilers: Up to end of S5 (The Gift of Promise). No S6 spoilers
Summary: Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation (Kahlil Gibran)
With very many thanks to lindenharp for beta-reading and bearing with me through all of this. And it's finished!
Chapter 1: Missing Person ^ Chapter 2: Next of Kin ^ Chapter 3: Frustrations ^ Chapter 4: Progress ^ Chapter 5: Separated ^ Chapter 6: Avoidance ^ Chapter 7: Forcing the Issue
Chapter 8: Partners
He’s fifteen minutes from the station, but it sounds like Innocent doesn’t want to be kept waiting. Nor does he, for that matter. He switches on the siren and does a U-turn.
What’s brought this on now, all of a sudden? Last weekend, James strongly implied that he wasn’t thinking of resigning for a couple of years yet. It can’t be the fact that he got hurt - the injuries he sustained this week are nothing compared to the attack on him a couple of months ago, the attempt on his life that still gives Robbie nightmares. Could it be the way Peterson cocked things up so badly?
At the station, Robbie runs up the stairs and along the corridor to Innocent’s office. A quick tap on the outer office, and he enters without waiting. Innocent’s assistant is missing, but James is there, sitting rigidly upright and staring in front of him.
“What’ve you done now?” Robbie deliberately keeps his tone light, that mock-exasperated voice he knows James is familiar with.
“Sir!” James’s head jerks around. The bruises on his face have faded to yellow now, but they’re still visible. “What are you doing here? Ah. Of course.” His expression changes to wary acceptance. “That’s why she asked me to wait.”
“Yeah, Innocent called me in. You might’ve talked to me about it first, you know.” He tries to keep the hurt from his voice, but he’s not entirely successful.
James meets his gaze, resolve in his expression. “You’d only have tried-”
He breaks off as the inner door opens. “Come in, both of you,” Innocent says, voice crisp.
Robbie watches James carefully as he stands, then walks into the office. He’s still limping slightly. Damn it.
They’re not asked to sit, and Innocent gets straight to the point. “James, this is a bit extreme, isn’t it? Why?”
“Not extreme at all, Ma’am.” Completely sure of himself, James is holding Innocent’s gaze steadily. “I’ve suspected for some time that my long-term future is somewhere other than the police. I hadn’t intended to resign this soon, but current circumstances have made it unavoidable.”
“Current circumstances?” Innocent gives him a wearily exasperated look. “I know you didn’t want to be transferred from working with Inspector Lewis, but I thought you and Peterson were getting on well.”
“Well?” Robbie can’t help interrupting. “You do know what happened this week? Peterson sent James into a dangerous situation without proper precautions-”
“I’m well aware of what happened, Robbie. Thank you.” Innocent turns back to James. “You know I spoke with DI Peterson about that, and he will be more careful in future. But if you’ve lost confidence in him as a senior officer, wouldn’t it make more sense to ask for a transfer?”
James shakes his head sharply. “It’s not about that, Ma’am. Although I would have asked for a transfer if I’d had any reason to believe that you’d accept my request.”
“What makes you think-”
“The only transfer I would have considered accepting, as an alternative to resigning immediately, is back to my previous position, Ma’am. But you made it clear that wasn’t possible.”
Innocent sighs. “Is that all this is? An over-dramatic attempt to force my hand? I would have expected better from you, Sergeant.”
James’s chin tilts upwards. “So you should, Ma’am. Though I infer that you don’t, since you asked Inspector Lewis to be present.”
They’re starting to put each other’s backs up, and that’s not good. Robbie touches James’s arm, giving him a trust me look, then turns back to Innocent. “Instead of speculating, why don’t we ask James why he wants out of the force?” He glances back at James. “And why now?”
Innocent actually gives him a grateful smile. “Exactly. So, James, won’t you enlighten us?”
“Ma’am.” He glances briefly to his right. “Sir. It’s not Inspector Peterson, or anything that’s happened recently. I came to the conclusion a long time ago that the police force was not really the right environment for me. I don’t think I’ve got the right...” He hesitates, then adds, “...personality for it.”
And if that’s not code for something, Robbie’ll eat his warrant card. But for what?
But it’s not too difficult, is it? Who else would understand me? James has always struggled to fit in, hasn’t he? Even when he’s pretended that he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him.
Innocent nods at him to go on. “I almost resigned several years ago, Ma’am. But then my working arrangements changed abruptly-” James looks at Robbie again. “-and it seemed I’d found my niche.”
“With Inspector Lewis, you mean.”
James inclines his head. “I had intended to leave when Inspector Lewis retires. I did consider it when you transferred me, but I didn’t want to let Inspector Lewis down. Unfortunately, I’m now certain that my future lies elsewhere.” He gestures to the papers on Innocent’s desk. “You have my resignation, Ma’am.”
Innocent closes her eyes briefly, then stares up at the ceiling for a long moment. “You talk some sense into him, Robbie!”
James’s eyes are on him, he knows. A quick sidelong glance shows him the resigned expression on the bloke’s face: he’s expecting that his ex-governor will try to do just that.
Why should James think that? It doesn’t make any sense. He didn’t try to change the lad’s mind about promotion, and last weekend when he made clear that he didn’t intend to stay in the force long-term Robbie didn’t try to talk him out of that either. Does James honestly think Robbie won’t support him?
Oh, of course he doesn’t actually want James to resign. Not now, not with - so far as Robbie knows - no other job to go to, or any other immediate options. It’s the middle of Michaelmas term, so James would have to wait until January to start a research degree, if that’s his intention.
Regardless, he’ll support James against Innocent. But there may be another way to handle this, a way that helps all of them get what they want.
He turns to meet the Chief Super’s expectant look. “Nah. In fact, if he’s going, reckon I’ll go too.”
It’s worked before as a threat. He knows Innocent doesn’t want to lose both of them. If you go, I go. He glances at James, hoping his friend will recognise the reciprocal gesture, even if he didn’t use exactly the same words. James’s eyes have widened in shock, but as he meets Robbie’s gaze his lips twitch very faintly. It’s such a familiar feeling, the two of them united in opposition, and it’s bloody good.
Innocent isn’t amused. “What? You’re not serious, Robbie. What on earth would you do?”
Robbie shrugs. “Yeah, I’m serious. Almost applied for early retirement last year - James’ll tell you that. As for what I’d do, insurance companies are always looking for retired detectives for fraud investigation. I’ve had a few offers over the years.”
“Oh, for-” She’s only just managing to hold back her temper. “I should just let you both go. No doubt it will make my job a lot easier.”
Robbie shrugs. “Why not? James has already resigned. Just give me a retirement application an’ I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.”
Innocent takes several deep breaths before speaking. “You know I don’t want that, Robbie. I would prefer not to lose either of you any sooner than I have to. Look, will you give me a week? Both of you.” She picks up James’s resignation papers. “Take these back for now, Sergeant. If you’re not happy with what I have to say to you in a week’s time, I’ll accept them without protest.”
Robbie says nothing; he doesn’t even look at James. It has to be the lad’s own choice - knowing that the only reason James stayed on after they were split up was so as not to let him down, when it sounds like he’s hated it, is already making him feel sick.
After a moment’s pause, James leans forward and takes the papers. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Innocent stands. “James, you’re off-duty for the rest of the day, and the weekend. Next week, you can help DCI Carpenter - her bagman’s on holiday. Robbie, I believe you said you were about to interview a suspect? Any progress?”
“Not yet, Ma’am.” James is turning to leave the room, and Robbie stalls him with a hand on his arm. “Pub, later on, all right?”
James nods, and Robbie carries on with his update.
***
“That was an impressive bluff.” James puts their pints down on the table, then sits opposite Robbie, immediately reaching for his cigarettes.
Robbie raises an eyebrow. “Wasn’t a bluff. That’s why it was impressive.”
Halfway to lighting his cigarette, James’s hand stalls. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“You don’t want to retire. You didn’t take the early retirement scheme when it was offered.”
“Was still working with you then.” And it’s true: a lot of the challenge, the fun, has gone out of the job in the past couple of months. Chris is good, most of the time, but she’s not James, and even if she was brilliant at her job she still wouldn’t give him what he’s been missing since he lost James as his partner.
James lights his cigarette this time, still giving Robbie what’s almost an accusing look. “You never said... I thought-”
“You idiot. Did you think I was fine working without you?” He shakes his head at James in reproof. “We were a good team. Bloody good. That’s why... well, when you never showed any interest in talking about OSPRE, I was happy to leave it be. Bit selfish, that, but...” He pulls a face. “As long as you were happy where you were, I didn’t want to lose you.”
Was this what it was like for Morse, all those years when it felt like his boss was holding him back? Oh, he knows now that Morse tried hard for him behind the scenes, though only once he realised how much it meant to Robbie and that there was a strong possibility of losing him to another division entirely if he couldn’t get promotion within their branch of CID.
“Course I didn’t say anything,” he adds before James can speak. “How could I? Innocent wasn’t gonna change her mind, and I couldn’t put you in a difficult position when you had to get used to a new governor. But why didn’t you tell me you weren’t happy working with Peterson?”
James raises both eyebrows, in an expression that clearly says How can you not know? “How could I? He’s my governor, and you’re another senior officer. It would have been disloyal and unprofessional. You made it very clear that you didn’t want to know about our working relationship, and I completely understand that.”
“But that’s-” Frustrated, Robbie shakes his head. Yes, James is right: he did want to stay out of the working relationship. But this is different. “Yeah, I had to stay clear, not just because it would’ve been unprofessional, but because it wouldn’t have done you any favours with your new governor if he thought you were telling me everything that went on. But I didn’t mean you couldn’t talk to me if it got so bad you were thinking o’ leaving!”
James’s mouth turns down at the corners. “I thought you’d try to talk me out of it. And, yes, I now know I was wrong.”
“Good.” Robbie sips his pint. “Should be obvious by now that none o’ that matters to me. I’d rather see you workin’ on a building site and happy than stuck in a job you hate.”
That gets him a genuine smile. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” James hesitates for a moment, then adds, “What will you do? If Innocent doesn’t offer us anything, I mean.”
“She will.” He’s completely confident about that. “She doesn’t want to lose either of us before she has to, let alone both.”
“But if she doesn’t?” James persists.
He shrugs, as if the answer’s obvious. “What I said, probably. And you? Back to Cambridge, I suppose?”
James frowns. “Here, Cambridge - I haven’t decided. But I thought you’d be moving to Manchester once you retire?” He stubs out his cigarette, and it feels as if he’s avoiding Robbie’s gaze.
He shakes his head. “It’s what Lyn wants, but I’m not keen. Yeah, it’d be nice to be closer to her, but Oxford’s home. Lived here for over thirty years, an’ everyone I know’s here. Course, I hadn’t thought you might be leaving when I made up me mind,” he adds, scowling faintly. “Was a bit of a surprise last weekend when you mentioned what you were planning.”
James reaches for another cigarette and lights it. “I didn’t think you’d be here, so...”
Ah. So James’s plans might be negotiable, depending on him. Not for the first time, and this time he’s not going to ignore the bloke saying it. He waits until James meets his eyes, then says, “Well, I will. So... I hear Oxford has a not bad theology department.” He pauses, trying and failing to hold back a smile at James’s stunned expression, then changes the subject. “Been meaning to ask you for weeks. Emergency contact?”
James stills, then carefully blows out a puff of smoke, watching it instead of Robbie. “You’ve known me for six years. Who else do I have to list?”
Your father, Robbie thinks, but he won’t say it. He doesn’t need James to tell him why not, and he won’t invade the lad’s privacy by bringing it up. If James ever wants to tell him, he’ll listen, but Robbie’ll never tell him what he knows.
Instead, he reaches across and lays his fingers briefly against James’s wrist. “I’m glad you chose me. Meant I got to see you an’ make sure you were all right without havin’ to make a fuss about it. Though you could’ve told me, instead of lettin’ me discover it when I was trying to find out who to contact for you.”
That makes James frown, and he stares at Robbie, puzzled. “Why does it feel like we’ve already had this conversation? Or at least that I‘ve heard you say that before,” he adds, more slowly.
Robbie frowns as well, because he knows this is the first time he’s mentioned it. Though, wait...
“Think I said something when you were still unconscious.” He pulls a face, a bit embarrassed now at the memory. “Doctor said I should talk to you. Probably said a whole lot of nonsense, but I think I mentioned that.” And if James remembers that, what else does he remember?
Though does it really matter? He didn’t say anything he didn’t mean - and if he’s learned anything about the last few weeks it’s that for some reason he can’t fathom at all James seems to be insecure about their friendship. It’s completely ridiculous: he’s told the lad he thinks of him as his best mate. He even asked him to share a flat. Doesn’t that tell James where he stands?
Maybe not, though. Maybe he really does need to spell it out a bit more, if James is being so unusually thick. After all, it’s obviously the combination of James being thick and him not saying things that got them into the mess they’ve been in - and he’s had quite enough of that, thank you very much.
“Strikes me,” he says slowly, “that we’ve had a few misunderstandings lately. An’, yeah, we could blame Innocent, ‘cause it all started after she split us up. Or we could... well, accept responsibility ourselves for not always sayin’ what we mean.”
He’s got James’s full attention. “Go on.”
“All right.” No point trying to think of the words; he just needs to say it, however it comes. “Told you the last time we went for a drink that I missed you. You’re me best mate. We’ve always spent a lot of off-duty time together, an’ it was never just because you were me sergeant. And - just in case it wasn’t clear - nothing I’ve suggested, or any invitation I’ve given you, has been out of... I dunno, pity or obligation or anything like that.”
James leans his forearms on the table, and his head dips. “I know that. I should have known that - I don’t know why, but I think I forgot it a few times recently. It’s been my fault, not yours. You kept trying, and I kept pushing you away.”
“Yeah. Been a bit of a twat, haven’t you?” Before James can respond, he adds, “Sorted now, that’s all that matters, eh?”
James nods, then raises his head and smiles. “Yes. And, since I have the weekend off, why don’t you come over to mine tomorrow, as soon as you finish work? I’ll cook.” He pulls a face, then adds, “I’d say stay the night so you don’t have to worry about having a few drinks, but I know my sofa’s no good for you, and you never let me give you my bed.”
Robbie sips his pint again, then waves the glass in James’s direction. “See, this is exactly why we should just bloody get a flat together. Oh, not the only reason, course not, but it’d be much more convenient.” He holds up a hand as James is about to speak. “Don’t give me any of that crap about not being good at sharing living spaces. We’ve never had a problem hanging around each other’s places half the weekend. And as for the other bit of nonsense you came out with - in the unlikely event that you did end up unemployed for a bit, d’you really think that’d matter to me? Don’t insult me.”
For a long moment, James simply stares at him, apparently lost for words. Finally, he begins, “I...” With a quick shake of his head, he tries again. “You’ve been... incredibly generous. And honest. And it’s only fair that I - I can’t tell you how much I want to say yes.”
Robbie cuts in. “Then just-”
“It’s not as simple as that.” James takes a jerky drag of his cigarette, sitting now with shoulders hunched, and something about his posture just twists at Robbie’s heart, though he doesn’t know why. “If I accepted, it’d be under false pretences. I haven’t been completely honest with you, and please don’t ask me what about, because I can’t tell you-”
“Can’t or won’t?” What the bloody hell’s got into him now? And he’s avoiding Robbie’s eyes again; that’s always a bad sign.
“All right, won’t. And can’t. The point is that if you knew you’d never want me living with you. So-” James does finally look at him again. “Thank you. Thank you, more than I can say, for asking - but I can’t.” He smiles then, that faint curve of his lips that for some reason never fails to make Robbie want to smile in return. “I’m happy to help you look for a bigger place, though. And if it happens to have a second bedroom I can use every now and then, I won’t complain. Might even be persuaded to help you move.”
So that’s it, then. No point asking again, clearly.
It was just a thought; no big deal, not really. So why’s Robbie feeling as if James’s refusal is a crushing disappointment?
***
I haven’t been completely honest with you... If you knew, you’d never want me living with you.
At home later, Robbie’s still thinking about what James said, and every bit as baffled as he was earlier. What could he possibly mean?
He’s known James for years now. Okay, the lad can be secretive - and sometimes with good reason - but what could be so bad that if Robbie knew he’d have a problem with it? Secret criminal? Smackhead? No chance. James would never - and there’s no way Robbie wouldn’t have noticed it if he were.
So what else? What could he possibly think Robbie would object to?
He scratches his head, pacing his living-room, as he tries to think, to look for clues, to figure it out.
James uncomfortable meeting his gaze sometimes. His obvious unhappiness at the idea that Robbie might leave Oxford - and his clear relief when Robbie stated his intention to stay. Thinking back a few weeks, that soppy - almost adoring - look on the bloke’s face after he regained consciousness, and the way he reached out his hand to be held. His unhappiness - hurt? - when he found out that Robbie had a new sergeant. And all those quick, almost stolen glances - back over how long? More than just a few weeks, or even a few months - where he’d turn away if Robbie saw him looking.
He’s been a stupid, thick, blind sod, hasn’t he?
Is it that James is a man, or that there’s an age-gap of a generation between them, that he didn’t see it? Never even imagined the possibility?
And now that he has, what should he do about it?
He sinks into one of the dining chairs, scrubbing his face, striving for logic. Yet all he can see is what he missed back in the pub: James’s eyes, the twist of his lips, when he said he hadn’t been honest. He was hurting - and not for the first time lately, either.
Yeah, he’s a stupid fucking idiot to think it was ever all about being partners.
In some ways, it’s a ridiculous idea, though, isn’t it? Yes, he’s long suspected that James is gay, or at least bi, but he’s - what? Thirty-four? Thirty-four to Robbie’s fifty-seven. Not that much older than Lyn, and Robbie finds his brain skittering away from the implications of that, not that it’s not crossed his mind in the past. But then James might be young in years, but he’s not in most other ways. In so many ways, he might be from Robbie’s generation.
The only time he’s really reminded of James’s age these days is when the bloke’s feeling insecure about something - like recently, and how did that all start? Not difficult to see, looking back: after the attack, when James regained consciousness, Robbie was there - holding his hand, even - and over the next couple of days they were closer than ever before. Until work intruded again, and built distance between them.
And now there’s this new thing - no, not new, but newly exposed - creating a different distance between them. Though now that he thinks about it, it’s probably this, as much as work, that caused the distance originally. Now he’s worked it out, all those looks, and looks away, are so bloody obvious. James must’ve concluded that his feelings were one-sided, and then been terrified of him figuring it out.
Now he knows, it’s out in the open, and the only one who can make things right for James is himself. If he wants to.
It’s unconscious - at least, he thinks it is - but he finds himself staring at the photo of him and Val, over on the telephone table. And that’s when it strikes him: if James were a woman, not only would Robbie have noticed this a long time ago, but he’d have done something about it.
Because, if he’s honest, James isn’t the only one who feels something, is he? It’s not that long since he thought he was driving to a crime scene to find James’s corpse, his heart breaking every mile of the journey.
He thought he didn’t want another relationship, wasn’t ready for one. That’s what he told James. But that’s just rubbish, because hasn’t he been in one all this time?
“You won’t mind, will you, bonny lass?” he murmurs, still looking at the photo. Somehow, his imagination’s telling him that Val’s smile’s grown wider.
***
James is dressed in one of his long-sleeved T-shirts, and he’s got what looks like a glass of whisky in his hand, when he opens the door of his flat. “Robbie? I didn’t expect...”
“Just wanted a little chat.” He starts to move forward. “Mind if I come in?”
James steps back, though his expression’s wary. “Of course.” He indicates his glass. “Drink?”
“Nah, had enough earlier.” And besides, he doesn’t want to get distracted. “Been thinking since the pub,” he says. “Trying to work out what you meant. Not one of my finest bits of detective work, I’ll admit, but I think I might’ve got there at last.”
James goes still so abruptly it’s almost as if someone’s thrown liquid nitrogen over him. “Oh, you do, do you?” he says after a pause, and there’s a definite edge to his voice.
Robbie opens his mouth, but no words come out. Bloody typical, isn’t it? He works up his courage to get this far, and then screws it up.
Okay. Try again. “Are you...” His mouth dries up. “Do you fancy me?”
James blinks. Then he smirks. “Do people actually say that any more?”
Robbie shakes his head, barely smothering an exasperated smile. “You know exactly what I mean.”
James’s smile is bland. “I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?” But the lad can’t hide what’s in his eyes.
Robbie advances further into the room, cutting off James’s exit to the kitchen. “It’s not just attraction, is it?” Ah. Now there’s fear and longing in his friend’s expression - hidden quickly, but he saw it all the same. And he’s seen it before, too, hasn’t he? God, he’s been so bloody slow.
He’s pushed James as far as he can without giving anything back, that’s clear. So it’s his turn. Long overdue, too, it is.
Time to say it - say everything he intended to before, so there’s no misunderstanding. “When I thought you were dead, it was the worst thing that’d happened to me since Val. Was gonna find your murderer, put him away, then pack it in. Didn’t want to do the job without you. Then you were alive after all, and I swore I’d make sure you know how... important you are to me. Failed miserably at that. Could say it when you were unconscious, but not to your face.”
Now James is staring at him again, eyes almost impossibly wide, and he’s wearing an expression that says he’s just about daring to hope, and Robbie wants to hug him. And to kick himself, for ever making the bloke think he wasn’t loved.
But he has to finish making himself clear first, since James is being a bit slow on the uptake.
“Told meself last week, when you asked about Laura, that I didn’t want another relationship. I’d had the best I could ever have and couldn’t offer second-best to someone else. Thing is, what I didn’t realise is that I was already in another relationship, wasn’t I? And I’ve been offering you second-best. But only because I didn’t know.”
James steps back until he’s pressed against the wall. He looks as if he’s just run a four-minute mile. “I... Robbie, I don’t want to misunderstand - why are you telling me this?”
Ah. James isn’t being slow. He’s just afraid to trust what he’s hearing, afraid that he’s wrong. “Think I worked out why you said no to me. What it is you said I wouldn’t like. An’ I wanted you to know that it’s not a problem. Nothing like.”
James says nothing, but his expression’s silently pleading with Robbie to carry on. Robbie takes a deep breath and keeps his gaze fixed on James. “So. You’re in love with me?”
On a long exhale, James says simply, “Yes.”
Robbie nods, as if the final clue’s just slotted into place in a tricky case. “Sorry it took me so long to figure it out - not just what was bothering you, but me own side of things. Should’ve realised it when I thought you’d been killed, but - well, I’m not just fifty-seven and from Newcastle, but I’ve never been - that way-” James gives him a sardonic look, obviously challenging his word choice. “All right. Interested.” He shakes his head. “Sod it. In love with a bloke before.”
Robbie can hear James’s inhale from across the room. “I never expected that,” James says, and his voice is shaky.
Robbie gives him a wry smile. “Would never’ve got there if things hadn’t happened the way they did. I mean, I suppose I came close to figuring it out when I thought you were dead, but then you weren’t, and without Innocent splitting us up we’d probably just have gone back to the way we were before, and I’d never have realised. I’d just have kept on ignoring the stuff we never talked about - like why we spent so much time together, or why I preferred bein’ with you than with Laura. And I know I’d never have figured you out if you hadn’t given me that bloody great hint earlier. I mean-” He shakes his head; it’s still hard to believe, even now. “You lovin’ me? Why?”
James actually looks pissed off. “I wish you wouldn’t run yourself down, Robbie. Why wouldn’t I love you? I’ve told you so much of what you’ve been to me. And there’s this.” His expression softens. “You’ve spent the last six years teaching me about love. What it really is, not what the Church or friends or anyone else tried to make me believe. You accepted me as I am, even when I made it extremely difficult for you - when anyone else would have given up on me and walked away. How could I not love you?”
“Christ.” Robbie shakes his head, unable to find words to respond to that. But maybe words aren’t what’s needed. He takes a deep breath and walks across the room towards James. “Not sure I’m gonna be any good at this,” he says as he gets close enough to touch. “Not had any experience with another bloke.”
“You’ll be better than me,” James says, his hands reaching out to grip Robbie’s waist, and that’s when Robbie realises his friend - partner? - is trembling.
“C’mere,” he says softly, and curls his hand around the back of James’s neck. Instead of moving straight for the kiss, he tugs James’s head down to his shoulder, stroking the short-cropped fair hair until the man calms.
Then he loosens his grip, hands moving to the side of James’s head, sliding to hold James’s face between his palms. And that’s when it dawns on him that this isn’t difficult at all. It’s not about whether James is a man or Val was a woman. It’s about whether you love and want the person you’re going to kiss.
And he does, so that’s that. The rest is simple.
***
There’s no denying it. He, Robbie Lewis, has been a stupid, blind fool. If he hadn’t been, he’d have worked out how James felt about him long before now, and they could have been doing this all along.
Better late than never.
The kissing’s bloody fantastic. And the way certain other parts of his body are cheering him on, it looks as if other activities might also be very welcome. Not what he expected - not at his age, not as a bloke who was happily married to a woman for more than twenty years - but he’s not complaining. At all.
James breaks the kiss, hugs him and then loosens his hold, pulling back to look at Robbie. “You absolutely sure about this?”
Robbie almost wants to shake him. Even now, there’s still concern in James’s eyes - concern for him, Robbie knows, not for James’s own needs. He gives James one of his practised exasperated looks, with the automatic fondness that’s always there these days. “Where was me tongue thirty seconds ago? That feel like I’m not sure?”
He gets a cheeky smirk in response to that, though James’s reply is serious enough. “Just had to be certain. This... to say it’s unexpected would be an understatement.”
“Now, you know I always like to keep you on your toes,” Robbie points out, deadpan. James grins, then kisses him again.
Later, they’re drinking tea, sitting next to each other on James’s sofa, and what surprises Robbie most is how little has changed, even though so much is different. James is holding his hand, their fingers laced together on James’s lap, but otherwise this could be any one of dozens - hundreds - of evenings spent together at one or other’s home.
James turns to him, one eyebrow raised in a question. “Is that offer still open? Us sharing a flat?”
Robbie considers for a moment. Should they give it some time, with this new development? But the answer’s easy - as he’s already recognised, they’ve been a couple in every way that matters for a very long time. The only thing that’s new is the kissing - and anything else that might happen in the relatively near future.
He smiles, fingers tightening around James’s. “Course it is. Come an’ live with me. Just not as me best mate. Yeah?”
James leans in to kiss him again. “I’d like that very, very much.”
***
A week later, as instructed, they’re ready to present themselves in Innocent’s office. It’s been a busy seven days: work, for one thing, as well as spending as much free time together as possible - mainly flat-hunting, at Robbie’s insistence; even if they will only need one bedroom, he’d still like a bigger place for the two of them, as well as somewhere they’ve chosen together. If they’re going to be on equal terms outside work, which he’s determined on, James isn’t going to move into a flat he can’t help but associate with his boss.
James wanted to wait to find a flat until he was sure he’d still have a job, but Robbie overruled him. “Told you, it’s you I want, not your ability to share the bills. I don’t care about that.”
They might have found somewhere: the ground floor of a very nice Victorian detached house just off the Woodstock Road in Summertown. Two bedrooms - so room for Lyn and her family to visit - plenty of parking, and full use of the back garden, so there’s somewhere for James to smoke. There’s even a couple of pubs in walking distance. He can afford it on his own if need be, but with both their salaries it’ll be very manageable. He’s just put in an offer to the letting agents and they’re waiting to hear.
Just what they’ll tell Innocent about their change of address they’ve yet to discuss, but they’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.
Innocent waves them to seats as soon as they come in, and gets straight to the point. “I believe I may have found a solution that should meet everyone’s needs, but it will require some concessions from the two of you.”
Robbie glances at James, but he’s nodding, listening. “Go on, Ma’am.”
“Robbie, as I know you’re aware, there has been a considerable amount of pressure from the Home Office for local forces to take some serious action in cutting down the number of unsolved cases on our books. It doesn’t look good for the police.”
Robbie nods. Cold cases: a never-ending thorn in their side. He hates them; the lack of closure for victims and families eats away at him.
“Recently, the Home Office set aside specific funding for pilot projects. I put forward a proposal, and I just heard this week that we’ve been successful. The funding’s for five years, with an option to extend for a further five if we can show we’re getting results. I propose to establish a dedicated team, headed up by two senior officers, focusing on evaluating unsolved cases, recommending which should be reopened, assigning them to other teams and working on some themselves. I will confess that I’d thought of involving one or both of you in some way anyway, since you’ve both shown an interest and some success in clearing up old cases.”
Right: the work James did on the Chloe Brooks case, which was actually outstanding. And, Robbie realises, solving the mystery of Val’s killer. And, yes, he’s complained a time or two over the years about sloppy detective work in cold cases he’s been given to re-examine.
James still isn’t saying anything, but another quick glance his way shows that he’s interested; he’s nodding faintly, and he’s getting that focused look in his eyes.
“I’d like to be involved, Ma’am - very much, as it happens. Thing is, though, I’m due to retire in less than three years.”
“Which brings me to the concessions I mentioned.” Innocent leans forward. “As I’m sure you know, Robbie, there is scope in the policy for an officer to stay beyond their official retirement date for up to ten years by mutual consent.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Robbie sees James’s head turn, and his face is alight. Doesn’t take any guessing at all to know that he wants Robbie to say yes here and now.
But then James turns back to Innocent. “You said two senior officers, Ma’am. I am a mere sergeant. Who else would be involved?”
“Ah.” Innocent gives James a direct look. “The concession on your part will be to take those inspector’s exams you’ve been avoiding for so long. The unit will be run by a DCI and a DI, with a team of two sergeants and five constables. Subject obviously to resource needs elsewhere, you can pick your own team.”
Robbie blinks. “Detective Chief Inspector?”
Innocent’s clearly trying to hold back a smile. “Naturally. This role needs to be at that level in order to be effective. Your promotion will be effective immediately on finalising the arrangements - James’s will have to wait until he passes his exams and goes on the required course.”
His brain’s on overdrive. Detective Chief Inspector? He never thought he’d get to Morse’s rank - for years, he was afraid he’d end up retiring as a sergeant. And James as a Detective Inspector, and in a role where they’ll be working almost as equals, rather than governor and bagman? Even signing on to work for an extra five or so years past retirement’s not a problem - not doing something he’ll enjoy, and still working with James. As for the team, well, he’d like to hang on to Bennett, and if he’s not mistaken James is going to want Julie and Gurdip...
“Sir?” By James’s tone, he’s been trying to get Robbie’s attention for a while. He turns his head, signalling apology. “Do we need to think about it, or...?”
He doesn’t need to, and it’s clear that James doesn’t either. “I think we’d be happy to accept, Ma’am.”
“Yes, indeed,” James agrees, with a level of enthusiasm that’s rare from him. “Thank you.”
“Good.” Innocent nods crisply, signalling that the discussion’s over for now. The two of them stand, turning to leave. “Oh, and Robbie? James?” They pause and look back. “I trust I am invited to the housewarming?”
Robbie shoots a mildly panicked look at James, but his partner doesn’t bat an eyelid. “Naturally, Ma’am. As soon as we have a house to warm, at any rate.”
“Excellent.” She smiles sweetly, in full awareness that she’s just given Robbie kittens, and waves them out of her office.
end
This is the house where I imagine James and Robbie renting the ground floor flat - follow the link and you'll see a lovely garden out the back, and some nice internal photos as well: