OK, so I don't buy how Lewis and Hobson got together... So I'm filling in some gaps. Broadly speaking this will follow the events in Ramblin' Boy...but I will try not to rehash much that you actually see on screen. This is what we didn't get to see! Hope you enjoy - please review if you have a moment, it's great to hear your feedback, and since I'm writing this one 'in real time' I look forward to incorporating suggestions!
Sitting outside in the pub garden, Laura Hobson should have been excited. It was one of those balmy summer evenings, she had on a new dress, she'd finally had time to get her hair cut, and, cradling an icy gin and tonic, she was waiting to meet a handsome and intelligent microbiologist. But she wasn't excited. In truth, Laura was exhausted. Three callouts this week, one to the murder of a child, found in a shallow grave outside Banbury, and her persistent, relentless insomnia had left her drained and fragile.
The date had been arranged almost a month ago, but what with Michael's lecturing, her erratic shifts and his recent trip to Princeton, they had only just managed to fix a space in their diaries. Divorced, a leading light in his field, and an excellent polo player, by all accounts, he was surely one of Oxford's most eligible bachelors. At least that was what Abigail, one of her old College friends insisted. "Why not? What have you got to lose?" They'd met at Abigail's fiftieth birthday party, exchanged numbers and promised to call. In the end he'd sent her an email, and here they were. First-date hell, and frankly she was tired of it.
He was running late, so she had ordered a drink and sat down in the garden. She didn't feel nervous these days, too many terrible first-dates under the belt to worry about nerves. Just a little sad that it had come to this. The pub was busy, and she let her eyes wander to the groups of people at the other tables. It was a Friday night and the after-work crowd were well into their second pints...laughing loudly, chatting animatedly. She checked her phone, he was now twenty minutes late.
Over by the river, she noticed a familiar figure, gazing out over the water. Robbie. She smiled to herself, as she always did when she thought about him. He looked slightly sad, pensive. Idly she wondered if he might have a date too, then rapidly dismissed the thought. No, not Robbie. He turned slightly, and the breath caught in her throat. Suddenly she didn't want him to see her here, waiting for someone else. This whole set up suddenly felt tawdry and pathetic. But he turned back...He didn't see me... she murmured to herself, smiling at the irony. Wouldn't be the first time...
What was it, this strange relationship of theirs? He was her closest friend, and yet there was so much unsaid between them. There had been a time after Val's death when she had genuinely wondered whether they might have a chance together, as something more, but as the years passed, he never mentioned it. And the longer the silence stretched, the harder it became to break. What are you waiting for, Laura? Knights in shining armour to sweep you off your feet? A ride off into the sunset? No. Not anymore.
As Michael strode purposefully towards her, grinning confidently she raised a wan smile. It was going to be a long night.
Resting her bike against the wall and threading through the heavy lock, Laura yawned loudly. It was just after 10, but she was truly shattered. In the end, Michael had been interesting to talk to - well, listen to. She hadn't really managed to get a word in edgeways, but on this particular occasion she hadn't minded. Luckily, he had an early flight to Singapore the next morning, so had called time on their 'date' just after 9.30. He'd pulled out his iPhone, trying to schedule another meeting, but she artfully dodged that request with a promise to check her diary when she got to work tomorrow.
So...home again. As she walked through the hall and into the kitchen, Laura didn't bother to turn on the lights. The gloom suited her disposition. Extracting a chilled bottle of wine from the fridge, she poured a glass, and padded into the living room. It was tidy - of course - but there were several neat piles of paper organised on the coffee table. She switched on the small side lamp, and sat down on the sofa. Pulling her feet up underneath her, she picked up the top file and began to read.
Several hours later, she was still working. It was well past midnight, and the house was silent. The files now lay at her feet, and the pad in front of her was covered in her precise notes. She glanced at the clock on the side table and sighed. She should try to sleep. But she knew that sleep would be impossible tonight. Several days of callouts, a tragic death... she was overtired, and she knew what that would yield. Fitful, terrifying nightmares. As reliable as the seasons. They had started early in her career, waking her almost every night for the first few years of her training. Vivid and brutal images, always in slow motion, always accompanied by a harsh sound of laughing. Eventually, with the careful administration of benzodiazepines and lots of exercise, she had eased the relentlessness of the dreams. But recently they had become worse than ever. Of course, being nearly buried alive hadn't helped, but it was more than that. Whenever she shut her eyes, a cold dread would seep over her, and she was afraid to sleep, knowing that soon she would wake, feeling worse than before.
In the darkness, a flashing red light caught her eye. Picking up her phone, she checked the screen. Robbie. He must have texted earlier, when her phone was still on silent.
'You alright, Laura? You weren't your useful sprightly self this morning. Beer?'
He knew. He always did. She smiled to herself. Yes, he was always thirsty, but he was always looking out for her too. She glanced at the clock. 12.45am. He'd probably still be up. Robbie was as bad as she was in the sleeping department, and it wasn't uncommon for them to hash through the finer details of their work at this hour.
'I'm fine. Trouble sleeping again. You still up?'
Within a minute of her pressing send, the phone began to vibrate.
"Honestly Laura, you're as bad as me..."
She smiled sadly, as they slipped into their easy banter.
"I know, I know...sleep is for the weak, and all that."
"How was your evening? Did you do anything nice?"
She faltered for a moment, wondering if he had seen her by the river after all,
"Fine. Nothing special. You?"
"Thrilling - shift with Hathaway until 10, a no. 36 from the Bengal, and a pile of paperwork the size of bloody Big Ben. Honestly, I'm getting too old for all these late shifts.'
She chuckled quietly, imagining him filling out forms and cursing as he put things in the wrong boxes.
"Paperwork never really has been one of your strong points. Anything I can help with?"
"No, more's the pity. So what did you get up to, Laura? Corpses or carnations?"
She smiled…he knew how much she loved her garden,
"Neither actually."
She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose,
"I had a date, Robbie...and before you say anything, it was dull and I won't be seeing him again"
She heard him smile sympathetically.
"I'm sorry to hear that..." His voice was quiet, but he sounded genuine.
"You are?"
"Well, of course, you deserve to be happy, pet"
"I am happy... It's fine. I'm fine."
"I know." The silence hung between them. "Well, if you get really desperate, I can always take you for a curry"
From his tone, she knew he was joking. She knew that she was supposed to laugh it off. Another cheeky comment in their never-ending game. It was what they did for light entertainment. But here on her own, at one in the morning, tired and anxious, it didn't feel very funny anymore. She closed her eyes and smiled wanly at the phone, unsure what to say.
"No jokes tonight, Robbie, I'm not in the mood"
The sudden change in tone shocked him and for a second he wasn't sure how to reply. Laura never missed a chance for a laugh.
"Aww come on, I'm only winding you up, don't worry I won't follow through!"
Again, silence as the truth in his words hit home. Then a muffled sound as she transferred the phone to her other hand.
"Please Robbie, I'm not in the mood for games tonight, I'm tired."
His brow furrowed, as he waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, he found his voice:
"I'm not playing games with you, I'm sorry Laura, I didn't mean to upset you"
She was quiet for a moment, then her soft voice faltered slightly as she replied and he realised that she was fighting back emotion:
"Yes, you are...but no matter how much I try to keep to the rules, I can't win. And I'm tired of playing."
Robbie Lewis sat back heavily in his chair, alarmed and confused at the turn the conversation had taken. He felt queasy. For a moment he could almost pretend that he didn't understand what she meant. But he did. And she was right. This was his game, his rules, and he knew exactly what she was saying. A carefully orchestrated dance which kept them safely at arms' length. A game with no winners, a delaying tactic he'd chosen first out of necessity, and kept out of habit. As the silence stretched out between them, he knew that it was time to put an end to their hopeless charade.
"We don't need to play anymore, Laura, I'm sorry."
She bit her lip, not trusting her voice. She nodded, knowing that finally he had made the situation clear. She would not let him know how upset she was by his rejection. She should have known better to hope. She was stronger than this, and she had known it was coming. Nothing had changed. Pressing her eyes shut, she steeled herself. Tomorrow they would go back to work, tomorrow she would be professional, and then maybe, in time, they could be close friends again. It was easier this way. Finally he had been straight with her.
"Thank you"
In the circumstances, it seemed a strange choice of words, and it took a moment for him to process it.
"No Laura, I mean... I agree."
He waited, trying to choose his words carefully.
"Let's stop playing around…"
She blinked, not immediately understanding,
"No more games?"
"I'm too old for games, Laura."
He paused, unsure how to say it. How to finally tell her how he felt. How he had been feeling for months.
"And I want us to…"
What did he want exactly? Did he know? He swallowed, trying not to overthink things,
"I want to be with you"
For a long moment, she was silent. She took a deep breath to compose herself. In an instant, the picture had changed. He had said it. The pause stretched out.
"I want that too"
There. What needed to be said, had been said, and for a moment neither of them felt the need to say anything further. Perhaps a conversation that had required over a decade to be spoken deserved a silence which befitted it. Clutching her knees to her chest, she wiped the tears from her face and asked in a quiet voice,
"What do we do now, Robbie?"
He smiled to himself, as her organized, logical brain took control of the situation. He knew how much this conversation had taken for her, for both of them. How long it had been coming.
"Now, pet, I get you into bed"
Instantly cursing himself for the unintended double-entendre, he was relieved when she burst out laughing.
"Robbie Lewis, you should be ashamed of yourself!"
He grinned, relaxing into their easy banter,
"You always did have a filthy mind, Dr Hobson"
She sighed, the husky edge returning to her voice,
"You have no idea..."
They talked for another ten minutes like this, each teasing the other, easing the tension of their earlier exchange, until Laura yawned audibly.
"I meant it, you know, you really should try to sleep"
"I know...but"
"No buts, I mean it."
She hesitated, well aware that she was potentially returning to their earlier awkwardness:
"How are we going to do this, Robbie?"
He heard the caution in her voice and wished for a moment they were having this conversation face to face, so he could give her the hug she so desperately needed:
"I don't know. I think we should just take it one step at a time...see what feels right. There's no rush, pet. I'm sorry I couldn't say this sooner. I can't tell you how much I'm dying to see you tomorrow."
She grinned, her rapier wit returning:
"Well, so long as there aren't too many other people dying to see me tomorrow, I'm sure I can fit you in at some point".
He laughed out loud at that one, imagining her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.
"I'll take my chances. So, agreed - step by step...and go to bed."
"Yes, sir"
"Are you giving me cheek, Dr Hobson?"
"Maybe." She paused, softening her voice, "Good night Robbie, see you tomorrow".
"Good night, Laura"
As Robbie placed the phone carefully on the table, he closed his eyes. Finally, it was said. He had no idea what had prompted their exchange this evening; just like he honestly had no idea why it had never happened before. He had imagined telling her, and every time he'd thought through the words, he had felt terrified, overwhelmed, perhaps a little guilty. But now he felt none of those things. Just like every time he spoke to Laura, a warm feeling had spread across his chest, and this time, it hadn't left him. It just felt right.
