Authors Note: just a word of warning, this is going to be pretty angtsy and I apologise.
Robbie sat in his armchair, contemplating that his back was hurting more recently. He should probably go to the doctors about that, though he knew he wouldn't. He knew full well that he wouldn't go unless it got really, really bad. Or unless Lyn told him to go. And even that was a push. But all in all, he knew he was lucky. He was wearing well for a man of his age. He could still hear and see, although not as well as he had been able to 20 years earlier, but that was par for the course. He was still mobile and he could still reason. That was good enough for Robbie Lewis. It wasn't like he wanted to run a marathon or something anyway.
Robbie looked out of the window, before drawing the curtains. It was raining and the street looked cold. He smiled, glad that his house was well heated and went to make a cup of tea. Once he had the piping hot drink ready, he sat back down and flicked the television on
He was on the verge of falling asleep, the result of a good meal and a warm house, when the doorbell rang. Lewis almost decided against answering, after all he wasn't expecting anyone. But Robbie wasn't the sort of guy to leave someone stood out on his doorstep, even if his back was protesting vehemently at being made to move.
He was totally unprepared for what awaited him.
The door opened, although he had to fight against the wind to make it so. The rain from before having turned into a fully fledged storm. Head bowed against the elements, he pulled the door back and gasped at what was before him.
"H-Hathaway?" The ex sergeant nodded, a hesitant smile on his face. He was soaked through, his shirt clinging to him where it had been uncovered by his coat. He still looked as Lewis remembered him, cropped hair. That same hair was now glistening with damp.
"Lewis...I'm sorry for turning up like this, really I am but-"
"James you've always been welcome, I only wish you'd come by sooner...Now what was that but?"
"But...We need somewhere to stay, just for tonight see and I didn't know where else to go."
"We?" enquired Lewis, wondering where James' companion was, he couldn't see Chrissy. James twisted around and when he turned back, he was holding a young boy. A young boy with a shock of blond hair who was unmistakeably James Hathaway's. As soon as he clapped eyes on Lewis, the lad buried his head in James' neck and clung on to his coat tighter.
"Sammy? Sorry sir, he's shy and probably tired." Lewis smiled at the boy winningly.
"Well, Sam is it?" The little boy removed his head from the fabric long enough to nod uncertainly. "Well Sam, we can't have you freezing out here can we?" James smiled gratefully and nodded at his son when the boy looked to him for guidance.
"Go on Sam, its fine." Once the lad had his dad's approval, he clambered down from James' shoulder and then took Robbie's offered hand.
"Come on James, bring your stuff with you. I'm assuming you've got stuff."
"Yeah. Thank you so much." Lewis waved the hand that hadn't been commandeered by a child in the air to silence him.
"Don't worry about it James. But you've got some explaining to do." he said in that matter-of-fact tone that James remembered so well, as he shut the door behind him.
.
They sat and had some food after Lewis had found out that James and Sam hadn't eaten since lunchtime. Lewis had insisted that, since it was half nine at night, Sam at least was going to have some food.
So it was that all three of them sat there at quarter to ten, eating beans on toast. Lewis had a thousand questions, but James looked so tired that he didn't want to push the lad. Once Sam had finished his food, he immediately climbed down from the table and walked over to the bags that Hathaway had dumped in the hall. Pulling a Thomas the Tank Engine one from the pile, he tugged it open and sat on the floor. James and Lewis watched him, Lewis marvelling at the fact that his once celibate and intense sergeant had a son. He would never have doubted that James would make a good father, he just never expected to see it. James was smiling softly and as Lewis noticed, he was unable to stop his own face softening as he watched James looking at his son as tenderly as he'd once looked at a four year old Lyn or Ken. Eventually, Sam pulled a small blanket out of the bag and smiled triumphantly. The little boy then walked over to James and tugged on his jeans, until his father picked him up and pulled Sam onto his lap. From this 'safe' position, Sam regarded Lewis warily, comfort blanket pulled up to his nose, still unsure about the older man despite the fact that his Dad seemed to be at ease with him. Robbie and James made small talk, mainly about the crazy weather patterns and the state of the worlds economy for a little while until Robbie noticed that Sam had fallen asleep curled into James' side. He'd sensed that Hathaway didn't want to talk with his young son in the room.
"You'd better put him to bed Jim. The spare room has a big enough double bed. I don't have anything kid sized, Lyn's son sleeps on the sofa but I think Sam is a little too young to be left down here on his own."
"If you're sure sir, honestly if it's too much trouble we can-"
"Oh no James, if you think I'm sending you and that kid out into a storm to find somewhere to sleep...don't be stupid. You can't go traipsing around Oxford with a...How old is he?"
"Turned four three days ago sir."
"You can't go traipsing around the city with a four year old in tow. Its not fair on him. Go on Jim, take him upstairs." James nodded, slightly floored by the generosity of his old boss as he shifted Sam onto his hip.
"Thank you sir. We won't stay long, I promise, I'll find somewhere else tomor-"
"-James, you can stay here as long as you need to. On one condition."
"Sir?"
"You explain to me. Everything." James considered trying to make up an excuse, but he saw that Lewis wouldn't be having any of it. He gave a short nod and grabbed two of the bags he had with him, before heading upstairs with his son.
.
Ten minutes later, James reappeared.
"How he manages to get changed into pyjama's while he's still pretty much asleep, I'll never know. I'm lucky he was half asleep though."
"Why's that?"
"He'd never have let me leave him in there on his own if he'd been awake." Lewis smiled fondly, his bairns had gone through similar stages, although thankfully at different times. His expression suddenly turned more serious.
"I'll put the kettle on James. And then, we need to talk."
They sat down with the tea and James sighed.
"Look sir, I would have told you all this before, but...its all abit...I didn't know what to do or think or...and then just now. I didn't want to say anything in front of Sammy. He's a smart little boy."
"I understand Jim. There are some thing that kids, especially one so young, shouldn't be around for. But he's in bed now. So you can talk. Firstly though, I'm not in the force any more, stop calling me sir."
"Yes sir." Lewis rolled his eyes while James grinned and for a spilt second, the years fell away and they were the dynamic duo once again. As soon as the moment happened though, it was gone. Lewis was aware that the conversation was going to get heavy. Starting with one small detail;
"Jim...Where's Chrissy?" Robbie saw the stiffening of the shoulders and the way James swallowed and he knew what had happened. He'd been there himself.
"She died. A year ago. A year ago on Wednesday. She died nine days after our son turned three." He swallowed again and Lewis fought the urge to get up and hug him. He'd never have thought that James Hathaway could have looked more young and lost as he had in that hospital bed after Zoe Kenneth had tried to kill him at the age of twenty-nine. Fourteen years later and the man now looked exactly how he had, if not more. Robbie wondered if he had looked that lost after Val had died. He doubted it, he'd just looked drunk.
"I'm so sorry kidda. Really, so sorry. What...What happened?"
"Mugged. She was mugged in London, we moved there you see. Some yob held her at knife point and then stabbed her. That's what the Met say anyway."
"Did they catch him?"
"Oh yeah, they caught the little shit that did it. He's bloody lucky. Got 6 years. He'd have gotten eternity if I'd got to him first." There was fire blazing in Hathaway's eyes, and it scared Lewis a little.
"You could have found me at any time Jim, why wait a year?"
"I couldn't face explaining it to people. I couldn't face telling people she was...well you must know. I'm sorry, I didn't think...Shit I should have gone somewhere else." Lewis reached out a hand to touch his former sergeants arm.
"Don't be stupid Jim. I know how you feel. At least I think I do, I was mostly drunk for the first year."
"I think I would have been, if it wasn't for Sammy. He still asks for her you know. When he's tired or upset. He doesn't get death, but he gets me." Lewis smiled sadly.
"What did you tell him?" James sighs quietly.
"The truth. He doesn't get what 'dead' means. But when he sees me sad, he knows. He'll come over and ask me if I'm sad because Mummy's dead. Then he tells me not to worry, when she's done being dead, she'll come back." James said all this quietly and Robbie knows that this is the first time he's said any of this out loud to anyone. The younger man looks up and he appears so lost that Robbie just wants to turn back time and give him a second chance.
"What am I going to do when he does understand Robbie?"
"Whatever he needs you to. There's no rule book for this Jim. There never has been. I'm lucky in a way I suppose, that my two were old enough to understand. But when little Sam does, you'll know what to do."
"You sure?"
"I promise James. You'll know what to do." Lewis straightens up a little and moves his hand from where its been resting on Hathaway's forearm.
"Now what happened to make you turn up here soaking wet...Not that I mind. I just want to know what's going on James. And no brushing it off. If it was just you, then I'd be inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt. But with that boy, you need to tell me everything, never know, I might be able to help." James sighed and began to recount the events of the evening.
Slowly, Lewis learned that James had received a few threatening letters from an unknown person. They'd been threatening him at first, but he had dismissed them. But then the letters had started making threats against his son. And that he couldn't allow, so he waited for the next one and intercepted the messenger. It had turned out to be a 15 year old boy that had been paid to deliver it as he walked past. By Hathaway's own admission, he had probably been harder on the lad than he needed to be. The boy had said that he didn't know who it was, they'd been in a car and stopped him. The driver and passenger had had their face covered and he'd been too frightened to say no. The teenager had insisted that he'd only been asked to deliver this one.
This had been going on for a few weeks. But then tonight, things had taken a more sinister turn. James had made him and Sam dinner and then sent the boy off to bed. He'd played guitar for a little while and then returned it to his room. There had been an old episode of Minder on television that he fell asleep to. He was awakened near the end by the sound of Sam shouting to him.
"I knew this wasn't him being merely afraid of the dark. He sounded terrified." James told Robbie how he'd run upstairs to find Sam sat on the edge of his bed nearest to door, crying and talking about the man in garden. Sam had said that there was a man in the garden wearing a mask and trying to get over the fence to get away. It was only when James tried to get his son to go back to bed that he noticed some thing else was wrong. His guitar had been moved into Sam's room. It'd scared him as he realised that they'd be watching the house for at least an hour, choosing to move the guitar because they'd heard him play it. Robbie listened to all this with mounting horror, seeing the fear return to James as he recounted it.
"They went into my little boy's room. They were in his fucking room! And where was I? Asleep on the fucking sofa...Any-anything could have happened." He raised a shaky hand to his eyes and wiped them, and Robbie realised with a jolt, that there were tears barely contained there.
"James..."
"The whole way here, I was just imaging what could have...they were in his room Robbie." This last bit was said with such desperation, that Lewis clean forgot that Hathaway was now 43 years old, he looked every bit as young as the son he was so worried about. "So I panicked, packed up some clothes and some of Sammy's toys, and ran. Was only when I got to the train station that I even considered where I could go."
"Look, you've got to hang on to the fact that nothing happened. You're here now, you're both safe and you can stay as long as you need to."
"Thank you. I'm sorry about all-...Thank you."
"You're overwrought James. You've been worrying about this on your own for too long. Go upstairs to your son and get some sleep lad." James nods and gets up.
"Dunno why I was so apprehensive about telling anyone..."
"That's always the way Jim, go on, go to bed."
James does so and after cleaning away the dishes and cups, Robbie heads to his own room, head whirling with what he's learnt.
.
Lewis squints at his clock, wondering what it is that's woken him up at four forty-nine in the morning. He realises after a few moments that, as always, its his bladder.
As he gets out of bed, he can hear another noise. He can hear little Sam whimpering quietly. A few seconds later, he hears James shift in the bed and murmur comfort to the little boy. Although the walls are thin enough to hear the high pitched sound of a crying child (although Lewis thinks, that it could just be that its a case of 'once a father, always a father'), he can't hear what James is saying to calm Sam down. His bladder reminds him why he's standing out of bed and he sighs, heading towards the bathroom. The spare bedroom door is half open and Lewis catches the conversation as he goes to walk past. The unmistakeable tone of a tired and sad child cuts through the silent upper floor of Lewis' house.
"Want Mummy. When will she be not dead?"
Robbie closes his eyes as he imagines the look on Hathaway's face. He doesn't catch James' answer but it apparently doesn't satisfy the young child as he continues crying, albeit the sound is muffled due to the fact that Sam's face is buried in James' chest. Robbie carefully pokes his head around the door frame and the sight almost makes him tear up.
James is sitting on the bed, legs over the side, his arms around the bundle of pyjama's and child in his lap. His chin is resting on his son's head, tears falling silently down his face as he kisses the top of Sam's head and mumbles comfort to the little boy.
Eventually, Sam falls asleep in his father's arms and James carefully lays him down and pulls the covers over him again. Lewis uses this as a distraction to go to the toilet, he doesn't want James to think that he's been spying. As much as he wanted to go in and offer support, this is something that the man had to do alone. He can't resist checking up on him on the way back though. The ex-sergeant is under the covers now, back facing the door. Lewis doesn't need seventy years of life to know that the shaking is caused by James crying. He can see that James' hand is covering Sam's own and he retreats back to his room, content at least that they have each other.
More than anything, Robbie Lewis wishes he had a time machine.
