Disclaimer:

I do own Lewis as much as our dear sergeant is ever going to be something other than tall and lanky. That is to say: Not at all!

Well, since the end of December I'm totally hyped with Inspector Lewis and finally (after reading and watching as much as my time would allow) I found the muse to write my first Lewis fanfic. On a side note: English is not my mother language, so please bear with me and tell me if I made some totally gross mistake.

Hope you enjoy!

In line of duty:

James Hathaway dashes across the green, long legs eating ground at an alarming rate. He can make out Evan Bellard in the distance running to escape arrest. Slowly but surely he's gaining on him.

As the distance between sergeant and criminal diminishes finally James sees his chance! They have nearly reached some futuristic sculpture, when he leaps. James crashes into the older man and both go down in a tangle of limps. He tries to get his bearings quickly but is surprised at how fast Bellard adepts to the new situation. James manages to get a good punch in, but that is all before something catches the reflection of light and Hathaway rolls away instinctively.

It's a good thing he did! There's a flash of intense pain, a moment of uncertainty and then that exhilarating feeling of relief! He's sustained a bad slash instead of a possible life threatening stab wound! With a single adrenaline accelerated swipe he gets rid of the dagger. It flies through the air to land somewhere out of sight.

Meanwhile Bellard uses Hathaway's distraction to scramble up and run – only to smash headlong into the very piece of art that culture loving members of Oxford society have put on display there. He bounces back forcefully, the heavy sculpture toppling over in the other direction.

More than a bit amused that a piece of art should have left such a forceful impression on Bellard and fuelled by adrenaline, James rolls himself atop the other man with more brute force than grace. The detective is still a bit dazed from their earlier scuffle but he already hears his governor approaching.

Come on, James, hold him down just a lil' longer! That dagger lies somewhere out of reach so all you have to do is keep him down 'til Lewis arrives!

That is his mantra while the lanky sergeant once again wrestles with his opponent. The other man is stronger but also dazed from getting acquainted with that quite solid stone sculpture and James Hathaway is a trained copper – albeit an injured one, if you count that nasty slash across his shoulder.

A few more moments of scuffling, giving as good as they get, then Robbie Lewis enters the fray. Together they are finally able to subdue and arrest the suspect.

"An epitome of gracefulness, ye were, lad, when you tackled 'im down that second time 'round. Greatly entertaining, I would say." Lewis teases good naturedly, eliciting a self depreciative smile from his bagman.

"To be a king or a fool, you have to be destined for." This is accompanied by another one of Hathaway's mischievous slightly smug smirks. Robbie mildly shakes his head while he cuffs Bellard to the next available sturdy iron fence.

"I would say we complement each other quite well, what with your long legs and my hulky built." With that he helps his sergeant up. Both grin but Lewis' grows a bit sour when he sees the bloody gash that mars his bagman's left shoulder. It seems the weapon has sliced not only the younger man's posh suit but also a fair bit of his skin.

HLHLHLHL

"It's a pity, Sir." Lewis looks up from the balled up hanky he's currently pressing onto that nasty gash and finds his partner gazing into the distance. They were sitting on the kerb and waiting for backup to arrive. He follows Hathaway's line of sight noticing the overturned sculpture that once has been a valuable work of art. Robbie can already guess what the former Cambridge student is going to say. Some highly intelligent, philosophic things about the fugacity of art and life in general, he is sure of it.

Lewis humours him anyway.

Ought to let our dashing sergeant have some fun from time to time. 'T is good to see the lad smile.

"What's a pity, Jim?"

But Hathaway doesn't elaborate on the sculpture's cultural value, nor does he quote some obscure Latin saying. Instead he looks down on himself, grimaces slightly and finally looks back up. The younger man heaves a great sigh before stating in a perfectly sombre tone of voice:

"Another suit ruined in line of duty. And seeing that the person responsible for said destruction is plunged in dept up to his ears, again there is nobody to reimburse me."

Robbie cannot help but chuckle, both at the words and Hathaway looking like a sheep on its way to execution – a very stoic kind of sheep, though, he has to give him that.

"Tell that DCI Innocent, I'm sure she'll be sympathetic to your loss."

"Yes, Sir." It comes sarcastically. "She will tolerate that as much as she does when we investigate cases against proper members of Oxford's upper class."

Their banter is interrupted by the sound of sirens and the customary blue flashes of police cars.

"Ah, cavalry is coming. I think that's our cue to wrap this up and then get you to see a doctor. At least we should do tha' before Innocent arrives and hears your radical comments about her most frequented social circles."

"As of yet I was not aware of being a member of some radical borderline association." James replies with a touch of haughtiness.

"Hah! What with bein' a Cambridge graduate? Could have fooled me!"

HLHLHLHL

After seeing a doctor and getting his injury treated Robbie has taken Jim home and now watches as the highly intelligent and yet impulsive man settles gingerly on the sofa.

"Now that you are all stitched up (Hathaway grimaces in memory of that) and ready, you should get some rest. The bad guy is arrested and there's nothing left to do for us than paper work. And frankly, I think I'll manage it on me own for once. Can't have someone accusing me of letting me sarge write all that fancy reports for me." Lewis says this with humour gleaming in his eyes and James reciprocates those feelings – especially at hearing his guv'nor slipping back into good ol' Geordie.

"And take care of ye. No more knives for you today. Especially not those long dangerously looking ones you keep in that kitchen of yours for God knows what purpose."

"Well, Sir. Something is said about being prepared to settle your differences with others. After all I could get into an argument with my boss." Hathaway's teasing might sound harsh in some stranger's ears but Lewis knows his sergeant very well – trusts him with his life, actually.

"Remind me to always decline when ye invite me to a fancy dinner of your own doin'. Oh and remind me not to get on your bad side – at least not before I had the chance to throw out those sharp knives of yours."

James actually chuckles – a sound not often heard from the solemn detective – and for a moment his keen beetle eyes express gratefulness and trust like no eloquent speech or quoted verse could have done. Robbie clears his throat, slightly uncomfortable with how emotional this situation is getting, but it warms his heart. He smiles and in a warm gruff murmur states:

"Now, off to bed with ye, Jim. I need you fit when ye get back on Monday. Who else is there to stick with me when we confront Oxford's good and great with the depth of human depravity?"

"Sir, with that we could make a true philosopher of you yet!" That facetious not-quite-there smile flits across James' angular face again.

"Cheeky sod!" But when he takes his sergeant's arm to help him up to his room, his grip is firm and reassuring. James knows he is safe with that man – safe to tease, safe to show his true self and safe let his guard down for a bit.

HLHLHLHL

That's it. So what do you think? Like it? Hate it? I would appreciate your feedback greatly, be it positive or not.