There was no indication that the day would be anything other than soporifically ordinary. No case meant no dead people, of course, which was always good. But for Hathaway, it also meant a whole day spent doing paperwork in the same room with a grumpy DI Lewis. The superintendent, when she happened to catch Lewis on days like these, always maintained a tolerantly amused manner which maddened Lewis and, consequently, frightened the hell out of Hathaway. When Lewis couldn't grouse in Innocent's face, he did it in Hathaway's, and James was sick of bearing not only his own but also Innocent's fair share of Lewis' irritation. It only made it worse to think longingly of the clue-prospecting and pub-crawling murder inquiries that always switched that light on inside his boss, the one that, in turn, switched on that little voice in Hathaway's head that whispered to him that he was in the presence of greatness and should just sit back and enjoy the show. Basking in his governor's reflected glow, knowing he'd been of invaluable assistance along the way… That feeling made this prison of staples and paper-cuts almost bearable.
Except for the fact that Lewis hadn't said a word to him in over two hours. James was no chatty Cathy, but this grating silence was slowly overwhelming the limits of his nervous system. He'd even welcome the occasional grouse right about now, but the bits of Lewis he could see behind and between the stacks of paper did not look accommodating.
"Going for a smoke," he mumbled, lifting his jacket off the back of his chair just as the cell in the pocket went off with an electronic whine that jarred both of them. Not looking up, he apologized quickly and flipped it open. "Hathaway."
Eerie silence descended once more on the office, but as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, James' world blurred into fractured beams of colored light and far-away sounds until he finally managed to tumble back down into his desk chair. Lewis was looking over with puzzled concern, but Hathaway had given up any notion of escaping and taking the call in private. He couldn't move. Eventually, his mouth opened, and a voice emerged he'd never have recognized as his own. "So you know exactly what happened. Mum, what did he actually say?" "Well, what makes you think it isn't that simple?" "One, Hertfordshire is not my jurisdiction; two, there is nothing to investigate—no, there isn't, Mum—and three, no, I will not waste time plodding 'round like some half-baked conspiracy theorist when Jess needs me." "I'll see you there. Goodbye, Mother."
A beat. Two. His heart stuttered back into rhythm, and then, with the anguished scream of a wounded animal, he drew back his arm and launched the phone at the wall. It shattered on the door frame, bits of plastic and metal sliding out into the hallway. Lewis sprang up out of his chair as if he'd been fired from a gun barrel, whereas Hathaway sank back down into his; unless Innocent were lurking somewhere in the corridor, this was the safest place to let off steam, and he already felt a bit lighter. Someone was calling his name…? Oh. "Sorry?"
Lewis was suddenly right there, leaning up against the side of Hathaway's desk. "Jim, for God's sake. I said: what is it? What's 'appened?"
Could he actually say it out loud? No, not yet. "I need a few days' leave, sir. Family stuff." He met his partner's eyes, begging him to understand why he was being so evasive. Happily, Lewis seemed to understand.
"See yeh when yeh get back, then." He reached out and planted a hand on Hathaway's shoulder, fixing him to the here and now. Port in the storm, Hathaway thought. No surprise there. One more reason why he didn't want to go. He needed this so badly. But it wasn't his turn yet; right now, he had to be there for his little sister.