Lewis fic: Act of Contrition 1/2
Story: Act of Contrition
Author: wendymr
Characters: Robbie Lewis, James Hathaway, Jean Innocent
Rated: PG (gen)
Summary: After lying to his Inspector, James feels the need to pay penance.
Post-ep what-if to LIfe Born of Fire. With thanks, as always, to the stellar lindenharp for BRing.
Act of Contrition
Chapter 1: Apology
The morning after the fire, Robbie finally gets to the station at around ten. Wearily, he drags himself up the stairs - his back’s giving him gip after carrying twelve stone of lanky sergeant out of a burning house - and to the office. It’s almost a shock to find it empty.
But it couldn’t be anything else: Hathaway’s still in hospital. He’s being discharged later this morning, once the doctor’s made her rounds and confirmed that he’s ready to go home. Robbie’s arranged for a uniform to drive Hathaway back to his flat. He’d stayed at the hospital himself only long enough to see the bloke awake and suffering no major ill-effects from the attempt on his life.
It’s not that he wouldn’t drive Hathaway home himself, and part of him wants to, just to reassure himself that the bloke’s suffered no irreparable harm from his idiocy, but it wouldn’t be a good idea. They still need to sort out what happened - and Robbie needs to decide what he’s going to do about it and how much he’ll tell Innocent. He and Hathaway need to have it out, draw a line under the incident and set out ground rules for their future working relationship. But it’s too soon for that yet. Robbie needs time for his anger, and the fear that he’d lost his sergeant to the fire, to settle. And Hathaway needs time to recover from the drugging and smoke inhalation.
Maybe tomorrow. That would be good timing - Hathaway’s been signed off work for two days. He’ll go over to the lad’s flat tomorrow evening and they can talk, away from the office, sort it all out.
In the meantime, there are reports to write, and no sergeant here to write them. Robbie sighs, pushes aside the image in his head of James waking up, the smile on his face and his murmur of “You saved me,” and pulls up a new document on his computer.
***
He’s finished the first draft of the case report by mid-afternoon, many deletions and rewritings later. It’s not that he wants to conceal the truth, but there’s no need to dump Hathaway in it, or reveal what’s clearly something very personal to him, by stating that he lied in response to direct questions or outlining exactly how his actions apparently contributed to Will McEwan’s suicide.
Just as he’s stretching and considering going to make a cuppa, a beep alerts him to an email. He switches windows on the computer. The new mail is from james.hathaway@btinternet.com, and the subject-line is Apology.
Robbie sighs. Couldn’t the man have let it lie for a bit? Surely he realised that his governor would be in touch sooner or later?
He clicks on the email anyway. Might as well see what the stupid sod’s got to say for himself.
Sir,
While I realise that it would be more professional and courteous to do this face to face, I am cognisant of the fact that the last time we talked you told me that you didn’t want to see me. As such, I am respecting your wishes.
I owe you an apology. The words themselves are grossly inadequate, but please believe that I mean them with more sincerity than anything I have ever said to you. My lies and withholding of the truth damaged the investigation but, far worse than that, they destroyed your trust in me. I lied to you, which I know was by far my most grievous offence.
It would be completely understandable if you don’t believe me now either, but I need to tell you that working as your sergeant has been a privilege, albeit one I have abused. You have been the best governor I could have hoped for - far better than I deserved - and I am immensely grateful for your patient teaching, the times you’ve defended me, and for all I have learned from you.
I have notified Chief Superintendent Innocent of my intention to resign from the Force, although if it’s your intention to institute disciplinary proceedings against me - as you should - I am willing to submit to dismissal instead.
Sincerely,
James Hathaway
Robbie has to read it twice before the contents sink in, and then he shoves his chair back in fury. “Sodding hell! Stupid bloody moron!”
Hathaway offering to resign itself isn’t the problem - it’s only to be expected given the lad’s habit of self-abasement, most likely based on that Catholic guilt complex of his. It’s the fact that he’s already contacted Innocent. That means that all the careful editing Robbie put into the report, all his plans to protect Hathaway from the full consequences of his actions, have been blown out of the water.
Now he has to talk to Innocent and convince her to ignore whatever it is that Hathaway’s been insane enough to say to her.
Just as he gets to his feet, the door of his office is pushed open and the Chief Superintendent herself appears in the doorway.
“Robbie, I’ve just had the most extraordinary email from Sergeant Hathaway.”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “Well, I don’t know exactly what he said, but I know he emailed you. Sent me an email too.”
Innocent looks at him, clearly waiting for more, but he stays silent. Without knowing exactly what James said to Innocent, that’s the better strategy for now.
She breaks the silence first. “Lewis, you know that I don’t normally interfere in the working relationship between an inspector and his or her bagman. That’s something they need to work out for themselves. But if a serious breach of regulations is at issue, and Hathaway’s email strongly suggests that it is...?”
Robbie rubs his eyebrow, delaying to choose his words carefully. “I don’t think bein’ stupid is grounds for dismissal, ma’am. Or resignation.”
Innocent frowns, moving to lean against the wall with her arms folded. “You’re telling me that’s all it was? Then why is Hathaway claiming otherwise?”
“Because he’s bein’ stupid. Yeah, he made a mistake, an’ I was going to talk to him about it before he came back to work, but I didn’t realise he was going to do this.” Robbie waves vaguely at his computer.
His clear hint that Innocent should just pretend she never received Hathaway’s email and leave matters to him doesn’t work. She raises an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “What exactly did he do, Lewis? And is this why the two of you were at outs yesterday?”
“Yes,” he admits. “But we would’ve sorted it. Like I said, I was gonna talk to him, make sure it didn’t happen again.” Her narrow-eyed stare makes clear he’s not going to get away with leaving it at that. Resigned, Robbie continues, “You know that Will McEwan and Hathaway were friends from school.” Innocent nods. “When Hathaway was still training to be a priest, Will came to him and asked his advice about sexual orientation. Hathaway gave him the standard conservative religious position. Will apparently took it to heart.” That’s as much as Innocent needs to know.
“And Hathaway didn’t tell you this.” It’s not a question.
“Not until yesterday afternoon. It explains why he was a target, of course,” Robbie continues, hoping to distract Innocent by reminding her that James was almost the fourth and final victim of Zoe/Feardorcha’s revenge killing spree.
She’s not to be distracted. “Did his withholding information affect the investigation?” Robbie’s about to answer when she holds up a hand. “I want the truth, Robbie. No protecting him.”
“I know.” And, yes, he will protect Hathaway, but not by lying. He’s had time to think this through and to conclude that, although it would undoubtedly have helped to know earlier what The Garden was, it wouldn’t have led to solving the case any sooner. James didn’t know who the likely murder victims would be, so there was no way that they could have protected them. And, though he hasn’t yet had a chance to ask his sergeant, he’s pretty certain that Hathaway didn’t know that Zoe Kenneth was Feardorcha Phelan.
Even without a negative impact on the case, however, Innocent would certainly consider that Hathaway lying to his governor over and over about knowing more than he’d admitted is a sackable offence. She doesn’t need to know that, though. Yes, it was stupid of Hathaway. Yes, he is personally angry and offended by Hathaway’s lies. But does the bloke need to have his career destroyed over it?
No. No, he doesn’t.
“No, ma’am,” he says, meeting Innocent’s gaze. “I don’t believe it did. If he’d told me sooner, it wouldn’t have led me either to any of the victims or to the murderer.”
She studies him in silence for close to a minutes, then nods. “And you were planning to deal with this yourself, rather than bringing it to my attention?”
“I hadn’t decided.” It’s mostly true. His preferred course of action was to deal with it himself, but it would have depended on Hathaway’s reaction during the discussion he’d intended to have with his sergeant.
Innocent tilts her head to the side. “And you don’t feel that a detective sergeant withholding information germane to a current enquiry is something that merits formal disciplinary action? Demotion, if not dismissal?”
Robbie stretches his back wearily. “If it had affected the case, yeah. Of course. But it didn’t, and I believe Hathaway would have told me sooner if it would have made a difference. Doesn’t mean I was just gonna let it go, though!”
Her direct stare is unnerving - but of course it’s what she intends, and he could strangle Hathaway for leaving him open to this.
“So, what? You’d have given him a bollocking and left it at that?”
“And a warning that if it happened again I would take it to you - assuming he took proper responsibility for his actions. If he didn’t, then I wouldn’t have left it at that. Though, judging by his emails to the two of us, he’s taking responsibility to the point where he thinks he needs to resign. But my reaction’s hypothetical, ma’am, since I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet, given he’s recovering from smoke inhalation and bein’ drugged!”
Which, of course, is very probably affecting the decisions he’s making, as well. Could be partly why he sent those stupid emails.
Innocent sighs. “I am aware of that, Robbie. All right. I’ll leave it with you - for now. And assuming that you recommend no disciplinary action and I accept that and your recommendation to ignore Hathaway’s stated intent to resign, what then? Should I assign him to another inspector?”
Damn it. That’s the one question he’s not ready to answer yet. “Can that wait until after I talk to him, ma’am?”
She nods. “That’s probably the first sensible thing you’ve said in this conversation, Inspector.”
He refuses to rise to the criticism in her tone. “Hathaway’s a good copper, ma’am. I’ve never had any cause to complain about him before now. Yeah, you’ve pulled us up on a couple of things, and I take equal responsibility for those ‘cause I was with him when they happened. This is out of character, and I don’t think it’s fair to ruin a decent officer’s career because of one bad decision.”
She straightens. “All right. I’ll leave it in your hands for now, but I want a full report after you’ve spoken to him, and I’ll want to see the two of you once he’s back at work - assuming you want to keep him as your sergeant.”
Robbie releases a silent sigh of relief. “Thank you, ma’am.”
***
Half an hour later - the sooner he sorts this mess out the better - Robbie pulls up outside Hathaway’s flat.
Just as he thinks he’s not going to get an answer, the door’s opened. His sergeant, dressed in tight jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that make him look about sixteen, looks out at him. Pale-faced - which makes the cut on his cheekbone appear even more livid - Hathaway stands and just stares at him for a long moment without saying anything, astonishment clear in his eyes.
“Sir! I didn’t expect- Didn’t you get my email?” Hathaway says finally.
“Oh, I got it, all right,” Robbie says grimly, stepping forward and giving Hathaway no choice but to let him in. “Innocent got the one you sent her, too.”
“Then I don’t understand...” Hathaway frowns, looking bemused. “What are you doing here?”
Robbie gives him a stern look. “Don’t you think pulling your arse out of the fire last night was enough, Sergeant? Obviously you didn’t, since I’m having to do it again today.”
He glances around the flat, the compulsive habit of a trained detective. Then he stills and looks around again. An open packet of cigarettes spilled over the coffee-table, several of the cigarettes shredded. No smell of nicotine in the flat, however. Dirty dishes on the kitchen counter, but they’re at least a day old - James hasn’t eaten since coming home from hospital, unless he ate something that didn’t require crockery.
And what’s wrong with the temperature in the flat? It’s bloody freezing in here.
Abruptly, he reaches for Hathaway, grabbing the bloke’s wrist. Yes - freezing.
“What are you doin’ to yourself?” he snaps, exasperated. “Where’s your thermostat?”
“Sir-” James begins, a faint protest.
But Robbie’s seen what he’s looking for. “Ah, just sit down, will you? You’re no use to man nor beast at the moment.” Ignoring Hathaway, he examines the thermostat. The heating’s off, and it’s barely nineteen degrees in the flat. He flips it on, turning the setting to twenty-three, and strides into the kitchen to fill the kettle. “Got any soup?” he asks, turning briefly to look at his sergeant, who’s still standing by the coffee-table, looking unhappy.
Hathaway doesn’t answer immediately, so Robbie starts searching through cupboards, coming up lucky on his third attempt. A can of Baxter’s Tomato and Mediterranean Herb. That’ll do.
“Sir, this really isn’t necessary,” James protests as Robbie rummages for a can-opener.
“Don’t recall asking for your opinion, Sergeant,” he responds curtly, pouring the soup into a bowl and finding a plastic dish to cover it with. Three minutes in the microwave, stir, then another two minutes - that should do it.
He carries the soup over to the small kitchen counter, then gives Hathaway a stern glare. “Sit.”
He’s expecting an argument, but Hathaway comes over and sits on the stool, then plays with the soup. Robbie sighs. “Do I need to spoon-feed you an’ all?”
Hathaway’s head jerks up. “I didn’t ask you to-” He breaks off, but not before Robbie’s heard the resentment in his voice.
“No, go on.” He doesn’t take his eyes off his sergeant, lips thin. “Finish what you were going to say.”
Hathaway stares down at the counter. “No. You’ve got every right to give me another bollocking. I suppose my email was an attempt to avoid it, but it’s your prerogative.”
“Oh, for...” Robbie sighs, exasperated. “I didn’t come here to shout at you again.” He halts, taking a second to examine his motives. “All right, I probably did. Right now, I’m more pissed off about you actin’ the bloody martyr.”
“What?” Hathaway’s voice is low and dangerous. “I think I’m entitled to set the temperature to whatever level I want in my own flat. And not to eat if I’m not hungry.”
Courageous speech, Robbie thinks - but ruined by the growling of the bloke’s stomach as he finishes.
Robbie stifles a smirk and waves at the soup-bowl. “Just shut up and eat, man.”
Hathaway has the grace to look faintly abashed as he meets Robbie’s gaze for a moment, then begins to eat.
***
Robbie makes tea while Hathaway eats, then once his sergeant’s scraped the bowl clean he carries the mugs to the coffee-table. He’s damn well going to be comfortable while he talks.
Hathaway carries the soup-bowl to the sink, then comes back to the living area. “Can I get you some biscuits, sir?” He’s rigidly formal and polite; unrecognisable as the distraught young man who’d pleaded with him in New College Lane yesterday.
“No. Sit.” Robbie’s claimed the armchair; Hathaway takes the sofa.
“I meant what I said in my email, sir,” Hathaway says immediately, a pre-emptive strike. “I do apologise for my actions. I... regret very much that I betrayed your trust in me.”
“Yeah, got that.” Robbie’s tone is curt; he’s not going to ease up just yet. “What I did not get from your email is why you lied. Or whether you’d do it again.”
The only response to his questions is silence. Robbie sits with his gaze fixed on the younger man, expression impassive. He’s had far more experience than Hathaway in waiting out uncooperative suspects, after all.
Eventually, Hathaway concedes. “I was... ashamed,” he begins, his voice quiet. His hands are twisting on his lap. “What I said to Will - the lack of compassion I showed, the arrogance I demonstrated... blinding myself to my own evil in my rush to judge him.” Hathaway’s clearly quoting someone, but Robbie doesn’t ask. It’s not necessary, and he won’t be distracted.
“The common curse of mankind: folly and ignorance. I thought I was so clever, but I was just a stupid, prideful idiot parroting what I thought I knew, thought I believed, and I didn’t see what it did to Will - what my appalling bigotry made him do. And I couldn’t tell you because I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to know what I’d done, what a hypocrite I’d been - and that Will’s suicide was my fault.”
As Hathaway falls silent again, Robbie reaches for his tea - he needs a moment or two to decide how to respond. The important issue’s not about James lying to him, not now - he can see why the lad lied, even though it demonstrates a lack of trust in him. The guilt and self-hatred pouring off James right now is much more worrying.
He begins with a gentle question, the way he would when he’s trying to get under an interviewee’s guard. “How well did Will know you?”
Hathaway’s head jerks up in surprise. “We were at school together-”
“And had a row at fourteen after he came out to you, yeah. But you stayed in touch? I mean, he sought you out when you were in the seminary.”
“Yeah. We were never as close, but - yes, we were still friends,” Hathaway agrees.
Robbie sets the trap. “And he knew you were training to be a priest. So you’d say your views weren’t exactly a mystery to him?”
Surprised blue eyes meet his. “I suppose not, no.”
“So isn’t it possible that Will knew exactly what you’d say when he asked you the question?”
Hathaway’s sharp intake of breath is enough to confirm to Robbie that he’s had the impact he wanted.
“Just think about that one for a while, lad. You’re a copper. You know suicide’s never that simple. Anyway, I’m not here to absolve you of your guilt over Will. You’re the only one who can do that.”
Hathaway’s expression changes; no longer the anguished young man and instead completely the obedient, penitent sergeant. “I know. You’re here because of my misconduct on the job. And I haven’t answered your second question: would I lie to you again?” He pauses, clearly considering. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “I’d like to be able to assure you that I wouldn’t, but I had no idea before this last week that I would lie to you at all. Not that it matters,” he continues in the kind of polite tone that makes Robbie want to shake him. “It won’t happen again, because I’ve resigned.”
Robbie sighs. “Yeah, an’ that’s another bloody stupid thing you did. Emailing me’s one thing - we can sort it out, even if it takes a while. But emailing Innocent? I had to bloody plead with her to ignore what you said and let me deal with this meself rather than instigating disciplinary proceedings.”
Hathaway blinks. “You shouldn’t have done that, sir. I know I deserve disciplinary action. I thought things might be easier all around if I resigned straight away, though I will understand if that’s not acceptable to you or Innocent.”
It’s taking everything he’s got not to shake the bloke. “Like I told Innocent, you made a stupid mistake. It’s not a sacking - or a resigning - matter. The rest - that you lied to me, an’ that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth and know that I wouldn’t judge you for it - that’s between you and me. It’s got nothing to do with Innocent.”
“No.” Abruptly, Hathaway is implacable. “I realise that, yet again, you’re trying to save me from the consequences of my actions, and it’s more than kind of you, sir. It’s also entirely unnecessary. I know what I did, and I know the consequences. I intend to resign as soon as I can get hold of the official forms.”
“And what I want doesn’t matter?” Robbie’s incredulous.
“I regret to say it, sir, but no.” Hathaway stands. “I appreciate your coming over, and I’m aware that you’ve been very lenient with me, which is far more than I deserve. However, I would prefer to be on my own now.”
He’s being asked to leave. The cocky young git’s throwing him out!
Of course, he’s got every right to - this is his home, after all. But telling his governor to leave isn’t the best way to advance his career. Which would matter if Hathaway cared about advancing his career, and he’s just announced that he doesn’t.
Robbie stands. “Yeah, I’ll go, if it’s what you want, Sergeant. It’s a shame - after everything that’s happened, I can see you haven’t learnt a thing.” He reaches the door, and then turns back to deliver his parting shot. “You’re still afraid to face the consequences of your actions. Yeah, you can run away again now, if you want - resign from the police, go and find your next career - but sooner or later you’re going to find that you’ll never be able to run away from yourself.” More gently, he adds, hand on the open door, “You’re a good man, James, and a decent copper. When you stop bein’ so hard on yourself, phone me.”
He walks out, closing the door behind him, and the last thing he sees is the stricken, agonised look on his sergeant’s face.
***
By the time Robbie gets back to the station, he’s calmed down enough to acknowledge that he has no intention of giving up on Hathaway. Which is fine, except that he needs to find a way of making sure the idiot bloke can’t sabotage himself before Robbie can bring him to his senses.
“Robbie!”
Damn it. He was hoping to make it back to his office without running into Innocent. Difficult to talk to her without knowing what he’s going to say.
“Well?” she asks as he walks into her office. “Did you manage to talk sense into him?”
He goes for the easy way out. “He’s only just out of hospital, ma’am. Probably still has that bloody sedative in his system, as well as suffering from shock. He’s not in any fit state to make decisions.”
“Ah.” Innocent raises an eyebrow. “He’s being stubborn.”
Robbie sighs and concedes. “He is.”
Innocent studies him in silence for a few moments. “You think I should give him more time to think it over.”
It is what he wants, yes, but how reasonable is it to expect that? “What I think is that the lad’s had a difficult few days. In hindsight, I should have taken him off the case as soon as I realised he knew the bloke who committed suicide.”
“You should have, yes. But that’s not the point at issue here.” Innocent drums her fingers on her desk. “Sergeant Hathaway is an adult and should be expected to behave like one.” Robbie doesn’t comment. He’s already said all he can in Hathaway’s defence; any more would do more harm than good.
“What do you want, Robbie?” Innocent asks abruptly. “Earlier, you said you weren’t sure whether you’d want him transferred to another inspector. I appreciate that you’re doing what any decent inspector would do for his sergeant by trying to save his career, in spite of his own actions, but do you actually want him back on the job?”
Does he? It’s not even a difficult question, despite his hesitation earlier. “Yeah. I do. Like I said, ma’am, he’s a good copper. He’s done an excellent job as me sergeant up until now, and he’s got the potential to go far. I’d hate to see that ruined by a bit of stupidity that’s more than likely the result of grief an’ nearly being killed.” Innocent’s still looking expectantly at him, so he adds, “We work well together, ma’am. I’d prefer to keep things as they are.”
“All right,” she says after another pause. Turning to look at her computer screen, she adds, “From what I understand, he’s been signed off work until the day after tomorrow. He’s got two days of unused lieu time which he has been asked to use up but hasn’t, and the two of you are scheduled for off-duty on Sunday and Monday. That’s five days, Robbie, and if he hasn’t come to his senses by then I really don’t think he’s cut out for the job.”
Robbie slowly exhales. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She inclines her head. “I’ll email him back acknowledging his email and informing him that I don’t expect to see him back here before Tuesday, and if he still feels the same way then I’ll put the process in motion.” Robbie nods approval. “I’ll even tell him I would prefer it if he would reconsider. All right?”
“It’s very generous of you, ma’am.” He gets to his feet, preparing to leave.
“Oh, I’ll expect something in return,” she tells him, tone dry. “How about trying to avoid any complaints about the two of you for the next six months?”
Robbie pauses on his way out. “I’m sure we can try,” he concedes.
He’s got five days, which is better than he’d hoped for. Now he just has to find a way to knock some sense into Hathaway before Tuesday.
***
tbc in Chapter 2
Author: wendymr
Characters: Robbie Lewis, James Hathaway, Jean Innocent
Rated: PG (gen)
Summary: After lying to his Inspector, James feels the need to pay penance.
Post-ep what-if to LIfe Born of Fire. With thanks, as always, to the stellar lindenharp for BRing.
Act of Contrition
Chapter 1: Apology
The morning after the fire, Robbie finally gets to the station at around ten. Wearily, he drags himself up the stairs - his back’s giving him gip after carrying twelve stone of lanky sergeant out of a burning house - and to the office. It’s almost a shock to find it empty.
But it couldn’t be anything else: Hathaway’s still in hospital. He’s being discharged later this morning, once the doctor’s made her rounds and confirmed that he’s ready to go home. Robbie’s arranged for a uniform to drive Hathaway back to his flat. He’d stayed at the hospital himself only long enough to see the bloke awake and suffering no major ill-effects from the attempt on his life.
It’s not that he wouldn’t drive Hathaway home himself, and part of him wants to, just to reassure himself that the bloke’s suffered no irreparable harm from his idiocy, but it wouldn’t be a good idea. They still need to sort out what happened - and Robbie needs to decide what he’s going to do about it and how much he’ll tell Innocent. He and Hathaway need to have it out, draw a line under the incident and set out ground rules for their future working relationship. But it’s too soon for that yet. Robbie needs time for his anger, and the fear that he’d lost his sergeant to the fire, to settle. And Hathaway needs time to recover from the drugging and smoke inhalation.
Maybe tomorrow. That would be good timing - Hathaway’s been signed off work for two days. He’ll go over to the lad’s flat tomorrow evening and they can talk, away from the office, sort it all out.
In the meantime, there are reports to write, and no sergeant here to write them. Robbie sighs, pushes aside the image in his head of James waking up, the smile on his face and his murmur of “You saved me,” and pulls up a new document on his computer.
***
He’s finished the first draft of the case report by mid-afternoon, many deletions and rewritings later. It’s not that he wants to conceal the truth, but there’s no need to dump Hathaway in it, or reveal what’s clearly something very personal to him, by stating that he lied in response to direct questions or outlining exactly how his actions apparently contributed to Will McEwan’s suicide.
Just as he’s stretching and considering going to make a cuppa, a beep alerts him to an email. He switches windows on the computer. The new mail is from james.hathaway@btinternet.com, and the subject-line is Apology.
Robbie sighs. Couldn’t the man have let it lie for a bit? Surely he realised that his governor would be in touch sooner or later?
He clicks on the email anyway. Might as well see what the stupid sod’s got to say for himself.
Sir,
While I realise that it would be more professional and courteous to do this face to face, I am cognisant of the fact that the last time we talked you told me that you didn’t want to see me. As such, I am respecting your wishes.
I owe you an apology. The words themselves are grossly inadequate, but please believe that I mean them with more sincerity than anything I have ever said to you. My lies and withholding of the truth damaged the investigation but, far worse than that, they destroyed your trust in me. I lied to you, which I know was by far my most grievous offence.
It would be completely understandable if you don’t believe me now either, but I need to tell you that working as your sergeant has been a privilege, albeit one I have abused. You have been the best governor I could have hoped for - far better than I deserved - and I am immensely grateful for your patient teaching, the times you’ve defended me, and for all I have learned from you.
I have notified Chief Superintendent Innocent of my intention to resign from the Force, although if it’s your intention to institute disciplinary proceedings against me - as you should - I am willing to submit to dismissal instead.
Sincerely,
James Hathaway
Robbie has to read it twice before the contents sink in, and then he shoves his chair back in fury. “Sodding hell! Stupid bloody moron!”
Hathaway offering to resign itself isn’t the problem - it’s only to be expected given the lad’s habit of self-abasement, most likely based on that Catholic guilt complex of his. It’s the fact that he’s already contacted Innocent. That means that all the careful editing Robbie put into the report, all his plans to protect Hathaway from the full consequences of his actions, have been blown out of the water.
Now he has to talk to Innocent and convince her to ignore whatever it is that Hathaway’s been insane enough to say to her.
Just as he gets to his feet, the door of his office is pushed open and the Chief Superintendent herself appears in the doorway.
“Robbie, I’ve just had the most extraordinary email from Sergeant Hathaway.”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “Well, I don’t know exactly what he said, but I know he emailed you. Sent me an email too.”
Innocent looks at him, clearly waiting for more, but he stays silent. Without knowing exactly what James said to Innocent, that’s the better strategy for now.
She breaks the silence first. “Lewis, you know that I don’t normally interfere in the working relationship between an inspector and his or her bagman. That’s something they need to work out for themselves. But if a serious breach of regulations is at issue, and Hathaway’s email strongly suggests that it is...?”
Robbie rubs his eyebrow, delaying to choose his words carefully. “I don’t think bein’ stupid is grounds for dismissal, ma’am. Or resignation.”
Innocent frowns, moving to lean against the wall with her arms folded. “You’re telling me that’s all it was? Then why is Hathaway claiming otherwise?”
“Because he’s bein’ stupid. Yeah, he made a mistake, an’ I was going to talk to him about it before he came back to work, but I didn’t realise he was going to do this.” Robbie waves vaguely at his computer.
His clear hint that Innocent should just pretend she never received Hathaway’s email and leave matters to him doesn’t work. She raises an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “What exactly did he do, Lewis? And is this why the two of you were at outs yesterday?”
“Yes,” he admits. “But we would’ve sorted it. Like I said, I was gonna talk to him, make sure it didn’t happen again.” Her narrow-eyed stare makes clear he’s not going to get away with leaving it at that. Resigned, Robbie continues, “You know that Will McEwan and Hathaway were friends from school.” Innocent nods. “When Hathaway was still training to be a priest, Will came to him and asked his advice about sexual orientation. Hathaway gave him the standard conservative religious position. Will apparently took it to heart.” That’s as much as Innocent needs to know.
“And Hathaway didn’t tell you this.” It’s not a question.
“Not until yesterday afternoon. It explains why he was a target, of course,” Robbie continues, hoping to distract Innocent by reminding her that James was almost the fourth and final victim of Zoe/Feardorcha’s revenge killing spree.
She’s not to be distracted. “Did his withholding information affect the investigation?” Robbie’s about to answer when she holds up a hand. “I want the truth, Robbie. No protecting him.”
“I know.” And, yes, he will protect Hathaway, but not by lying. He’s had time to think this through and to conclude that, although it would undoubtedly have helped to know earlier what The Garden was, it wouldn’t have led to solving the case any sooner. James didn’t know who the likely murder victims would be, so there was no way that they could have protected them. And, though he hasn’t yet had a chance to ask his sergeant, he’s pretty certain that Hathaway didn’t know that Zoe Kenneth was Feardorcha Phelan.
Even without a negative impact on the case, however, Innocent would certainly consider that Hathaway lying to his governor over and over about knowing more than he’d admitted is a sackable offence. She doesn’t need to know that, though. Yes, it was stupid of Hathaway. Yes, he is personally angry and offended by Hathaway’s lies. But does the bloke need to have his career destroyed over it?
No. No, he doesn’t.
“No, ma’am,” he says, meeting Innocent’s gaze. “I don’t believe it did. If he’d told me sooner, it wouldn’t have led me either to any of the victims or to the murderer.”
She studies him in silence for close to a minutes, then nods. “And you were planning to deal with this yourself, rather than bringing it to my attention?”
“I hadn’t decided.” It’s mostly true. His preferred course of action was to deal with it himself, but it would have depended on Hathaway’s reaction during the discussion he’d intended to have with his sergeant.
Innocent tilts her head to the side. “And you don’t feel that a detective sergeant withholding information germane to a current enquiry is something that merits formal disciplinary action? Demotion, if not dismissal?”
Robbie stretches his back wearily. “If it had affected the case, yeah. Of course. But it didn’t, and I believe Hathaway would have told me sooner if it would have made a difference. Doesn’t mean I was just gonna let it go, though!”
Her direct stare is unnerving - but of course it’s what she intends, and he could strangle Hathaway for leaving him open to this.
“So, what? You’d have given him a bollocking and left it at that?”
“And a warning that if it happened again I would take it to you - assuming he took proper responsibility for his actions. If he didn’t, then I wouldn’t have left it at that. Though, judging by his emails to the two of us, he’s taking responsibility to the point where he thinks he needs to resign. But my reaction’s hypothetical, ma’am, since I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet, given he’s recovering from smoke inhalation and bein’ drugged!”
Which, of course, is very probably affecting the decisions he’s making, as well. Could be partly why he sent those stupid emails.
Innocent sighs. “I am aware of that, Robbie. All right. I’ll leave it with you - for now. And assuming that you recommend no disciplinary action and I accept that and your recommendation to ignore Hathaway’s stated intent to resign, what then? Should I assign him to another inspector?”
Damn it. That’s the one question he’s not ready to answer yet. “Can that wait until after I talk to him, ma’am?”
She nods. “That’s probably the first sensible thing you’ve said in this conversation, Inspector.”
He refuses to rise to the criticism in her tone. “Hathaway’s a good copper, ma’am. I’ve never had any cause to complain about him before now. Yeah, you’ve pulled us up on a couple of things, and I take equal responsibility for those ‘cause I was with him when they happened. This is out of character, and I don’t think it’s fair to ruin a decent officer’s career because of one bad decision.”
She straightens. “All right. I’ll leave it in your hands for now, but I want a full report after you’ve spoken to him, and I’ll want to see the two of you once he’s back at work - assuming you want to keep him as your sergeant.”
Robbie releases a silent sigh of relief. “Thank you, ma’am.”
***
Half an hour later - the sooner he sorts this mess out the better - Robbie pulls up outside Hathaway’s flat.
Just as he thinks he’s not going to get an answer, the door’s opened. His sergeant, dressed in tight jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that make him look about sixteen, looks out at him. Pale-faced - which makes the cut on his cheekbone appear even more livid - Hathaway stands and just stares at him for a long moment without saying anything, astonishment clear in his eyes.
“Sir! I didn’t expect- Didn’t you get my email?” Hathaway says finally.
“Oh, I got it, all right,” Robbie says grimly, stepping forward and giving Hathaway no choice but to let him in. “Innocent got the one you sent her, too.”
“Then I don’t understand...” Hathaway frowns, looking bemused. “What are you doing here?”
Robbie gives him a stern look. “Don’t you think pulling your arse out of the fire last night was enough, Sergeant? Obviously you didn’t, since I’m having to do it again today.”
He glances around the flat, the compulsive habit of a trained detective. Then he stills and looks around again. An open packet of cigarettes spilled over the coffee-table, several of the cigarettes shredded. No smell of nicotine in the flat, however. Dirty dishes on the kitchen counter, but they’re at least a day old - James hasn’t eaten since coming home from hospital, unless he ate something that didn’t require crockery.
And what’s wrong with the temperature in the flat? It’s bloody freezing in here.
Abruptly, he reaches for Hathaway, grabbing the bloke’s wrist. Yes - freezing.
“What are you doin’ to yourself?” he snaps, exasperated. “Where’s your thermostat?”
“Sir-” James begins, a faint protest.
But Robbie’s seen what he’s looking for. “Ah, just sit down, will you? You’re no use to man nor beast at the moment.” Ignoring Hathaway, he examines the thermostat. The heating’s off, and it’s barely nineteen degrees in the flat. He flips it on, turning the setting to twenty-three, and strides into the kitchen to fill the kettle. “Got any soup?” he asks, turning briefly to look at his sergeant, who’s still standing by the coffee-table, looking unhappy.
Hathaway doesn’t answer immediately, so Robbie starts searching through cupboards, coming up lucky on his third attempt. A can of Baxter’s Tomato and Mediterranean Herb. That’ll do.
“Sir, this really isn’t necessary,” James protests as Robbie rummages for a can-opener.
“Don’t recall asking for your opinion, Sergeant,” he responds curtly, pouring the soup into a bowl and finding a plastic dish to cover it with. Three minutes in the microwave, stir, then another two minutes - that should do it.
He carries the soup over to the small kitchen counter, then gives Hathaway a stern glare. “Sit.”
He’s expecting an argument, but Hathaway comes over and sits on the stool, then plays with the soup. Robbie sighs. “Do I need to spoon-feed you an’ all?”
Hathaway’s head jerks up. “I didn’t ask you to-” He breaks off, but not before Robbie’s heard the resentment in his voice.
“No, go on.” He doesn’t take his eyes off his sergeant, lips thin. “Finish what you were going to say.”
Hathaway stares down at the counter. “No. You’ve got every right to give me another bollocking. I suppose my email was an attempt to avoid it, but it’s your prerogative.”
“Oh, for...” Robbie sighs, exasperated. “I didn’t come here to shout at you again.” He halts, taking a second to examine his motives. “All right, I probably did. Right now, I’m more pissed off about you actin’ the bloody martyr.”
“What?” Hathaway’s voice is low and dangerous. “I think I’m entitled to set the temperature to whatever level I want in my own flat. And not to eat if I’m not hungry.”
Courageous speech, Robbie thinks - but ruined by the growling of the bloke’s stomach as he finishes.
Robbie stifles a smirk and waves at the soup-bowl. “Just shut up and eat, man.”
Hathaway has the grace to look faintly abashed as he meets Robbie’s gaze for a moment, then begins to eat.
***
Robbie makes tea while Hathaway eats, then once his sergeant’s scraped the bowl clean he carries the mugs to the coffee-table. He’s damn well going to be comfortable while he talks.
Hathaway carries the soup-bowl to the sink, then comes back to the living area. “Can I get you some biscuits, sir?” He’s rigidly formal and polite; unrecognisable as the distraught young man who’d pleaded with him in New College Lane yesterday.
“No. Sit.” Robbie’s claimed the armchair; Hathaway takes the sofa.
“I meant what I said in my email, sir,” Hathaway says immediately, a pre-emptive strike. “I do apologise for my actions. I... regret very much that I betrayed your trust in me.”
“Yeah, got that.” Robbie’s tone is curt; he’s not going to ease up just yet. “What I did not get from your email is why you lied. Or whether you’d do it again.”
The only response to his questions is silence. Robbie sits with his gaze fixed on the younger man, expression impassive. He’s had far more experience than Hathaway in waiting out uncooperative suspects, after all.
Eventually, Hathaway concedes. “I was... ashamed,” he begins, his voice quiet. His hands are twisting on his lap. “What I said to Will - the lack of compassion I showed, the arrogance I demonstrated... blinding myself to my own evil in my rush to judge him.” Hathaway’s clearly quoting someone, but Robbie doesn’t ask. It’s not necessary, and he won’t be distracted.
“The common curse of mankind: folly and ignorance. I thought I was so clever, but I was just a stupid, prideful idiot parroting what I thought I knew, thought I believed, and I didn’t see what it did to Will - what my appalling bigotry made him do. And I couldn’t tell you because I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to know what I’d done, what a hypocrite I’d been - and that Will’s suicide was my fault.”
As Hathaway falls silent again, Robbie reaches for his tea - he needs a moment or two to decide how to respond. The important issue’s not about James lying to him, not now - he can see why the lad lied, even though it demonstrates a lack of trust in him. The guilt and self-hatred pouring off James right now is much more worrying.
He begins with a gentle question, the way he would when he’s trying to get under an interviewee’s guard. “How well did Will know you?”
Hathaway’s head jerks up in surprise. “We were at school together-”
“And had a row at fourteen after he came out to you, yeah. But you stayed in touch? I mean, he sought you out when you were in the seminary.”
“Yeah. We were never as close, but - yes, we were still friends,” Hathaway agrees.
Robbie sets the trap. “And he knew you were training to be a priest. So you’d say your views weren’t exactly a mystery to him?”
Surprised blue eyes meet his. “I suppose not, no.”
“So isn’t it possible that Will knew exactly what you’d say when he asked you the question?”
Hathaway’s sharp intake of breath is enough to confirm to Robbie that he’s had the impact he wanted.
“Just think about that one for a while, lad. You’re a copper. You know suicide’s never that simple. Anyway, I’m not here to absolve you of your guilt over Will. You’re the only one who can do that.”
Hathaway’s expression changes; no longer the anguished young man and instead completely the obedient, penitent sergeant. “I know. You’re here because of my misconduct on the job. And I haven’t answered your second question: would I lie to you again?” He pauses, clearly considering. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “I’d like to be able to assure you that I wouldn’t, but I had no idea before this last week that I would lie to you at all. Not that it matters,” he continues in the kind of polite tone that makes Robbie want to shake him. “It won’t happen again, because I’ve resigned.”
Robbie sighs. “Yeah, an’ that’s another bloody stupid thing you did. Emailing me’s one thing - we can sort it out, even if it takes a while. But emailing Innocent? I had to bloody plead with her to ignore what you said and let me deal with this meself rather than instigating disciplinary proceedings.”
Hathaway blinks. “You shouldn’t have done that, sir. I know I deserve disciplinary action. I thought things might be easier all around if I resigned straight away, though I will understand if that’s not acceptable to you or Innocent.”
It’s taking everything he’s got not to shake the bloke. “Like I told Innocent, you made a stupid mistake. It’s not a sacking - or a resigning - matter. The rest - that you lied to me, an’ that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth and know that I wouldn’t judge you for it - that’s between you and me. It’s got nothing to do with Innocent.”
“No.” Abruptly, Hathaway is implacable. “I realise that, yet again, you’re trying to save me from the consequences of my actions, and it’s more than kind of you, sir. It’s also entirely unnecessary. I know what I did, and I know the consequences. I intend to resign as soon as I can get hold of the official forms.”
“And what I want doesn’t matter?” Robbie’s incredulous.
“I regret to say it, sir, but no.” Hathaway stands. “I appreciate your coming over, and I’m aware that you’ve been very lenient with me, which is far more than I deserve. However, I would prefer to be on my own now.”
He’s being asked to leave. The cocky young git’s throwing him out!
Of course, he’s got every right to - this is his home, after all. But telling his governor to leave isn’t the best way to advance his career. Which would matter if Hathaway cared about advancing his career, and he’s just announced that he doesn’t.
Robbie stands. “Yeah, I’ll go, if it’s what you want, Sergeant. It’s a shame - after everything that’s happened, I can see you haven’t learnt a thing.” He reaches the door, and then turns back to deliver his parting shot. “You’re still afraid to face the consequences of your actions. Yeah, you can run away again now, if you want - resign from the police, go and find your next career - but sooner or later you’re going to find that you’ll never be able to run away from yourself.” More gently, he adds, hand on the open door, “You’re a good man, James, and a decent copper. When you stop bein’ so hard on yourself, phone me.”
He walks out, closing the door behind him, and the last thing he sees is the stricken, agonised look on his sergeant’s face.
***
By the time Robbie gets back to the station, he’s calmed down enough to acknowledge that he has no intention of giving up on Hathaway. Which is fine, except that he needs to find a way of making sure the idiot bloke can’t sabotage himself before Robbie can bring him to his senses.
“Robbie!”
Damn it. He was hoping to make it back to his office without running into Innocent. Difficult to talk to her without knowing what he’s going to say.
“Well?” she asks as he walks into her office. “Did you manage to talk sense into him?”
He goes for the easy way out. “He’s only just out of hospital, ma’am. Probably still has that bloody sedative in his system, as well as suffering from shock. He’s not in any fit state to make decisions.”
“Ah.” Innocent raises an eyebrow. “He’s being stubborn.”
Robbie sighs and concedes. “He is.”
Innocent studies him in silence for a few moments. “You think I should give him more time to think it over.”
It is what he wants, yes, but how reasonable is it to expect that? “What I think is that the lad’s had a difficult few days. In hindsight, I should have taken him off the case as soon as I realised he knew the bloke who committed suicide.”
“You should have, yes. But that’s not the point at issue here.” Innocent drums her fingers on her desk. “Sergeant Hathaway is an adult and should be expected to behave like one.” Robbie doesn’t comment. He’s already said all he can in Hathaway’s defence; any more would do more harm than good.
“What do you want, Robbie?” Innocent asks abruptly. “Earlier, you said you weren’t sure whether you’d want him transferred to another inspector. I appreciate that you’re doing what any decent inspector would do for his sergeant by trying to save his career, in spite of his own actions, but do you actually want him back on the job?”
Does he? It’s not even a difficult question, despite his hesitation earlier. “Yeah. I do. Like I said, ma’am, he’s a good copper. He’s done an excellent job as me sergeant up until now, and he’s got the potential to go far. I’d hate to see that ruined by a bit of stupidity that’s more than likely the result of grief an’ nearly being killed.” Innocent’s still looking expectantly at him, so he adds, “We work well together, ma’am. I’d prefer to keep things as they are.”
“All right,” she says after another pause. Turning to look at her computer screen, she adds, “From what I understand, he’s been signed off work until the day after tomorrow. He’s got two days of unused lieu time which he has been asked to use up but hasn’t, and the two of you are scheduled for off-duty on Sunday and Monday. That’s five days, Robbie, and if he hasn’t come to his senses by then I really don’t think he’s cut out for the job.”
Robbie slowly exhales. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She inclines her head. “I’ll email him back acknowledging his email and informing him that I don’t expect to see him back here before Tuesday, and if he still feels the same way then I’ll put the process in motion.” Robbie nods approval. “I’ll even tell him I would prefer it if he would reconsider. All right?”
“It’s very generous of you, ma’am.” He gets to his feet, preparing to leave.
“Oh, I’ll expect something in return,” she tells him, tone dry. “How about trying to avoid any complaints about the two of you for the next six months?”
Robbie pauses on his way out. “I’m sure we can try,” he concedes.
He’s got five days, which is better than he’d hoped for. Now he just has to find a way to knock some sense into Hathaway before Tuesday.
***
tbc in Chapter 2