By Friday morning, nothing could keep Hathaway from coming in to work. He had had his fill of mothering while he recovered and adjusted to doing things with one hand, as he would have to do for a while yet. The pain was manageable with the painkillers he had been prescribed.

As he was putting on his tie, his mobile buzzed: Hobson calling. "Hi, Laura, what's up?"

"Lewis is. Thought you'd want to come talk to him before anyone else gets here."

* * *

James swallowed hard before knocking gently on the door and entering. Lewis was watching the door as it opened, and he smiled despite his pain when he saw who his visitor was. "Hey."

"Welcome back to the big, bad, world, Sir." Hathaway pulled the chair up next to the bed. He was aware of feeling as if he was grinning like an idiot.

"You only say that because you haven't spent the last few days in my nightmares. I'm quite happy to be back in this world." Then he became more serious.

"Hathaway, what the hell happened, anyway?"

"What do you remember?"

"Having a wonderful dinner with your mother, her inviting herself back to my place. I definitely remember that. Then something hit me on the head. After that, I'm not sure where reality and morphine divide. I remember you being there, and that bastard falling on me. I had a knife—that can't be right. He tried to get it from me and I had to keep it. I don't know why. That was definitely a dream, y'know? One of those where you have to do something that makes no sense and you have no idea why but you know it's important and you just do everything you can to make it happen." He looked hopefully at Hathaway, as if James could divine the meaning of dreams.

Hathaway took a big breath. "Sir, you did have a knife. And Hobson found that you carved the hell out of Turner with it. Killed him, in fact. Up to your elbows in blood, she said." He did not like to see the confusion that clouded Lewis's expression.

"Turner? Was that his name? He was Doctor Who?" Lewis made his way through the tangle of images in his head.

"Hathaway—what happened to Louise? Is she alright? I can't believe I subjected her to all this."

James snorted. "Don't worry about the delicate Louise. She saved all our bacon by swiping a knife, thereby freeing herself and me, and kicking Turner in the nuts so I could take his gun and hand him off to you to finish with the knife. She's going back to London tonight."

Lewis's expression reflected his appreciation of her mettle.

"I knew that woman had moxie." A dreamy smile made its way across his face.

"Sir, don't get too attached to her, please. I say this for your sake."

Lewis looked at him closely. "Has she talked about me since then?"

"Don't make me your messenger, Sir. You want to know how she feels, you talk to her. I'll tell her you're conscious and you can take it from there."

* * *