Author's Note: This fic will consist of three main timeframes- the end of series 7 (during the case shown in "Intelligent Design"), Hathaway's return from abroad, and decision to return to the police, and the period between S8 and S9 during which Innocent presumably leaves the station. I was originally going to post each part/timeframe as one chapter, but as I am notoriously impatient, that did not really work out. However, I will clearly indicate a switch in time.)

As I don't really trust the showrunners where Jean is concerned, this will almost assuredly end up being non-compliant with Series 9. And as it' somewhat lengthy, the next series may have aired by the time its finished, so I apologize in advance. Rating is T for now, but let me know if you think it needs to be changed. I also hate the title but am having trouble coming up with a better one at this point in time, so it may change. (Also, I'll be away for the next week, so the next chapter won't be for a little while)

Part One: The Richard Seagar Case ("Intelligent Design")

Jean Innocent started slightly when she heard the knock at her front door. Even before her husband had officially moved out two days ago, he had seldom spent much time at their flat. As a result, Jean had become accustomed to living in near silence. For the most part, she barely noticed the quiet, as the clamor in her mind largely overpowered any background noises. But when her mind was as bereft as it was now, the rare unexpected sound was deafening.

She glanced at the mantel clock, one of the few nice pieces Roger hadn't tried to take with him. At a quarter-past eleven, it was far later than she'd realized. (Wasn't it strange how time simultaneous dragged and raced when life was all-but-empty?) It was rather late—too late even for that very persistent Jehovah's Witness who'd been harassing Jean for weeks.

Still, if someone was calling at this hour, it must be important. Innocent put down the book she'd been idly perusing, rose to her feet and re-tied her lilac silk dressing gown. For a moment, Jean let herself believe that it was her husband at the door—that Roger had finally realized what an idiot he'd been and had come to grovel miserably at her feet. Depending on the eloquence and sincerity of his apology, she may even deign to forgive him…eventually.

She shook herself out of this foolish daydream. Even if it was Roger, he was likely only here to get more things he'd left behind. Well, he could have them, could even have the clothes off her back for all Jean cared, so long as he promised to bugger off for good this time.

But when she opened the door, her soon-to-be ex-husband wasn't the one waiting on her doorstop. It was James Hathaway, and he looked more lost than Jean had ever seen him.

Innocent's eyebrows rose slightly at seeing him, and Hathaway wondered if Jean found it creepy that he knew where she lived. He himself was a little surprised that he'd remembered. A few months ago, he'd given her a lift to-and-from work, while her car was being serviced. Though it wasn't a particularly difficult street to find, James had assumed he'd forgotten the way. And so he had—until he had needed a place to go and found he could recall every turn perfectly.

Hathaway had known he shouldn't be on his own tonight. Not while he was feeling as hollow as he did now. Not while guilt was still gnawing at the miniscule part of him that could still feel. He briefly thought about going the pub, surrounding himself with other strangers who would be drowning their own sorrows. Just being around other people might be enough to keep him from falling over the precipice. But he knew that alcohol would make him more volatile—more likely to do something he'd regret. He had already had far too many close calls—far too many moments when the only things keeping him alive were cowardice and surety of Hell. These moments had always been far from uncommon, but they'd only increased in recent years.

He used to go to Lewis's when he felt particularly useless and unstable. But ever since the inspector had started seeing Dr. Hobson, Hathaway couldn't help but feel awkward around the pair of them. It wasn't because Hobson or Lewis was overly fond of embarrassing public-displays of affection. Nor was there much truth in the latest station rumor—that James was inconsolable at thought of losing Robbie to Laura. Or at least, he wasn't inconsolable in the way that people thought.

It was simply that—damn it—they were so happy, and he didn't want to risk jeopardizing that.

Besides which, going to his inspector now would prove an ineffective treatment for Hathaway's ailment. Moreover, James was starting to think that genuine happiness—apart from a few scattered moments— was simply unattainable for someone like him. And he simply couldn't risk dragging his mentor down with him.

But if he couldn't be alone tonight, and if he couldn't be with Lewis or Hobson, then where could he go? James still wasn't sure how or why, but his mind had suddenly landed on Jean. He kept turning over what he'd overheard her saying to Robbie—about not looking forward to going home at night. He recalled the station gossip that her husband was leaving her for someone else. He suddenly realized that she'd been looking tired, wan, and disheveled for several months now, and he cursed himself for not noticing earlier. If anyone understood how defeated and exhausted Hathaway was now, it would be Jean. At the very least, he doubted there was any way they could make each other feel any worse about their situation.

Hathaway was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not immediately realize that Innocent had spoken. "It's rather late, James. Are you okay? Is everything alright?"

" I… didn't know where else to go." Hathaway suspected that Innocent already knew what he meant, what he wasn't saying. Everyone at the station knew that Hathaway wasn't taking Adam Tibbit's suicide well, even if only a handful of people knew that James felt personally responsible for it.

Jean nodded her understanding. Lewis had voiced his concerns about Hathaway's response to that poor boy's death. Ideally, James probably would have preferred to talk to Robbie under ordinary circumstances, but ever since the inspector and Doctor Hobson had started seeing each other, Hathaway had seemed awkward around his former inspector. Innocent still wasn't exactly sure why this was, but she hoped her boys would work things out between them soon. They relied on each other far too much.

James suddenly noticed that Innocent was wearing a rather flimsy dressing gown over a matching (and equally flimsy) nightdress. In some strange way, the outfit made her look…well different—for lack of a better word. More vulnerable. More feminine. Simultaneously more approachable and more distant. He was suddenly aware of just how much he had violated her privacy and felt his cheeks flush with shame. "I…I'm sorry. I dunno what I was thinking. I should go."

"No, no. Come inside."