The next morning wasn't as quiet as the last. Sam was reluctant to let James leave. And you didn't need to be a genius to work out that James was just as reluctant to leave Sam.

"Why you need to go?"

"Because, you need more clothes, since your bag is full of toys. And Daddy needs to do important adult things."

"Wha' adult things? Staaaay here." Sam held onto James' trousers as the man attempted to get ready.

"Adult things Sam. You'll find out soon enough."

"When?"

"When you're an adult."

"When's that...next week." James couldn't help but laugh.

"Thankfully no. In fourteen odd years son." Sam's eyes went wide.

"That's...forever. Wanna be an adult now."

"No you don't kid" James said softly, so softly that Lewis almost missed it. He decided now would be a good time to step in.

"Come on Sammy, how about we go and find that football eh? We can go to the park this afternoon. Sound good?" He caught James' look of gratitude as the boy tore upstairs.

"Thank you sir. I really hope he isn't too much trouble."

"Nah" Lewis looks at him and sighs. "Just promise me that you'll let me know what's going on. If you have to stay longer or something. And if anything bad happens James...You will tell me won't you?"

"Yes. I promise. Honestly." Lewis nods, even though he doesn't really believe him.

.

Lewis dropped down onto the sofa. He didn't remember four year old kids being so tiring. Although last time he had regular contact with a child of that age, he was five years younger. It made sense, he couldn't run around like he used to be able to. And playing another game of football would most likely kill him if today was anything to go by.

The morning had been easier. Sam had gone quiet after James had left and had just sat on the sofa watching kids cartoons on the TV. Every now and then, he'd hear a car go past and climb up to have a look if it was James coming back. Eventually Lewis had explained that Hathaway had gone by train. After that, it seemed that Sam had accepted that he wouldn't know when James was back and had started playing, pestering Lewis to build the 'flying ramp' again. That had kept the young lad amused for all of 20 minutes.

Lewis had decided that after lunch, they had to see about getting rid of some of Sam's boundless energy.

"Do you want to go to the park after lunch Sam?
"Hy'e park?" Lewis figured that must be a park in London.

"No. Oxford park." He couldn't remember the name of said park, and it would be of little interest to the boy anyway.

"Hmm...With the football?"

"Yeah if you want.."

"Yeah!...Is Daddy coming?"

"I don't think so lad, he's still in London isn't he?"

"Oh yeah...Is there swings?"

"Course there is bonny lad, what park doesn't have swings?"

It'd taken them a little longer than planned to find the football, it had some how found its way into the airing cupboard. But nevertheless, they managed it and at a bout four o'clock, they were happily playing football in a nearby patch of green space. Eventually Lewis had to call a stop to the game, feeling like he was in very real danger of having a coronary. He picked the little boy up and carried him home on his shoulders, Sam loving it even though Robbie was;

"Not as high up as Daddy."

"Yeah well your Dad is too tall by half."

Now it was six-thirty in the evening and they were back, frozen pizza's cooking in the oven. Sam was starting to get tired and he was sat quietly on the sofa, inspecting all his toy cars, putting them in some sort of order that made absolutely no sense to Lewis. Suddenly, the boy looked up and spoke.

"When is Daddy coming back?"

"I don't know Sam."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will Sam. If he can, he'll always come back to you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." There was no point elaborating, otherwise the conversation would get way too deep for the four year old to grasp. In any case, Sam seemed to accept this answer and he came over to the older man, balancing on the sofa like a see-saw and planting a small hand on Robbie's arm.

"Unca Robbie?" Lewis hesitates, worried that he's going to be asked another deep question that he won't really be able to answer.

"Yes Sam?"

"Whens'a pizza ready?" Lewis chuckles and ruffles the lads hair.

"Probably about now, come on. You're going to have to help me serve it up."

.

Its half past nine now, and Sam is in bed. It had been a battle, not because the little boy refused to go, but because he refused to let Robbie leave the room. So Lewis had sat on the edge of the bed, telling Sam stories until he drifted off to sleep, blanket clutched to his nose.

Now, Lewis is sat on the armchair downstairs, unease slowly creeping up on him. James has been gone nearly 9 hours now and he hasn't heard a word from him. And Lewis, having accepted that he saw James as a son, is worried like he would be if James was teenage boy out after midnight.

He starts watching TV, its one of those late night comedy quiz shows. Any other time, he'd probably find it funny. But he can't tonight, he's way to worried about what could be happening sixty miles away.

He hears a small sound and turns, to see Sam stood in the door way with his blanket. He looks so small and Lewis smiles at him, even though he knows that smile is only there because he doesn't want the lad to see his worry.

"Can't sleep Unca Robbie." Sam takes another step into the room. "Want Daddy."

"Aye I guessed that lad. Come over here, we'll see if there's anything on telly eh?" Sam nods and he walks over to the chair. He rubs his eye and Robbie can see how tired he is, the boy just doesn't want to be alone. Suddenly realising that there will be absolutely nothing appropriate for kids on the TV, he gets up to look at his DVD's. Finally he finds the Thomas the tank Engine DVD that he's had in the house since Lyn's bairn was the same age. He puts it on and Sam's face transforms into a sleepy smile as he recognises the theme tune. Sam climbs up onto Lewis' lap and snuggles into his side, making sure that his blanket is available to Lewis if the older man needs it. He smiles at the way that Sam obviously assumes that his comfort blanket will save everyone and he takes hold of a corner; if Sam thinks he's ok, the the little boy is more likely to relax.

Its barely ten minutes before the little boy is asleep and Robbie takes him upstairs and puts him to bed for the second time that night.

It appears to be for the best because ten minutes later again, the doorbell rings. Lewis is immediately up and ready to answer it. He's been worrying about Hathaway all day.

When he opens the door, and James nearly falls through it, it does nothing to ease his worry.

"Jesus, Hathaway what-" he stops as he takes in the scene. James is holding himself up with a hand on the wall and there's blood on his face. He looks like he's got the beginnings of a black eye and his knuckles are grazed. There are scratches on his neck and face. He's holding his shoulder stiffly.

"Had a disagreement sir." Lewis decides that this isn't the time to remind him of the whole 'don't call me sir' thing and guides him into the living room. It soon becomes apparent that James is limping. Once the younger man is sat on the sofa, Lewis asks the questions that he's been holding back.

"James, what the hell happened?" James ignores the question, instead sitting forward with a wince.

"Sam? Is he ok?"

"Sam's fine James. He went to sleep about 15 minutes ago. Now what the hell happened?"

"Got jumped outside my flat didn't I. No I didn't see them." He adds, pre-empting the next question. Lewis shakes his head.

"That's not what I was gonna ask lad. I was going to ask if you are ok." James face softens and he nods.

"It looks worse than it is Robbie. Honestly. Just scrapes and bruises."

"Sure...because scrapes and bruises give you a limp James" James looks abashedly at him.

"Well, ok, the limp was caused by being kicked in the knee." He says facetiously. Lewis groans at him and gets up to make tea.

"You look tired"

"Aye, well your lad is full of bloody energy isn't he?" James smiles and gets up stiffly to help make the drinks.

"Was he ok?"

"Yeah...He was quiet in the morning, missed you. But after a while he was ok. Sent him to bed at seven but at half nine he came downstairs and said that he couldn't sleep and he wanted you."

"Did he put up a fuss?"

"Nah. I stuck on Thomas the Tank and he was asleep in ten minutes." James nods, satisfied that his son is ok and hasn't been too much trouble. They drink the tea, stood in the kitchen, although James has to sit after a little while.

"Are you sure you're alright?" James rubs a hand absently across his knuckles and grins.

"Yeah...I gave as good as I got anyway." Lewis grins back at him despite himself.

"At your age James, that really shouldn't make you as happy it is."

"At my age?"

"Cheeky sod, Com'ere. You should probably get that cleaned up." James obliges, too tired and too worried (not that he'll ever admit it) to be embarrassed that Lewis is effectively treating him like a kid.

Once the majority of the blood has been wiped away, Lewis has to concede that James is right. Its not nearly as bad as it looks. He is going to have one impressive shiner though.

"Is it ok if I sleep on the sofa Robbie? I don't want to wake Sam up if I can help it."

"No problem at all Jim. You'll be alright? I seriously need to go to bed, I haven't played foot ball like that in ages." James nods and they say their good nights. The implications of the attack on James hang in the air between them, but neither man wants to bring it up. It can wait till morning. Robbie wants to sleep and James wants to see his son before turning in himself.

When he comes downstairs in the morning, Lewis isn't surprised that Sam is curled up on the sofa next to his father, James' arm around him, both of them sound asleep. A soft smile plays across his face as he remembers coming home from work stupidly late, or maybe it was to bloody early. He didn't want to wake Val up, she'd been having a bad time of it, the kids playing up more often than usual. When he'd woke up on the sofa in the morning, Ken was asleep next to him, a hand clutching his pyjama top. Looking over at the sofa again, he couldn't deny that fatherhood suited James more than he'd thought possible.

As he watches, Sam stirs, blinking his eyes open. He shifts and when he sees Lewis, he smiles sleepily.

"Mornin' Unca Robbie."

"Mornin' kidda."

"I can has a drink?"

"Aye come on. Don't wake up your dad though." Sam shakes his head vigorously.

"No. Gotta let Daddy sleep."

"Aye that's right." The boy squirms out from under James' arm and goes over to Robbie arms outstretched. Lewis bends down to pick him up and Sam puts his arms around Robbie's neck. Once Lewis is satisfied that James is still asleep, he heads into the kitchen, sitting Sam on the counter.

"Juice or milk eh lad?"

"Milk! Makes your skellington strong."

"That it does...milk it is then." Lewis hands the little boy a glass of milk and makes him and James a cup of tea.

When they go back into the living room, James has sat up and stretched his leg out in front of him. Lewis frowns, in the light of the next day, his bruises look even worse, although he knows they are superficial.

"You look like you've done a few rounds."

"Feels like it too."

"Idiot." Robbie mutters cheerfully as he goes to make them breakfast.