A gift from (the) Amazon

Author Note: For disclaimer and introduction, please see chapter one. This story is not a continuation of the previous chapters. Robbie and Laura reboot!

Innocent: What's the matter with him? Not our lovely Laura, I hope. Honestly, sometimes I just want to bang their heads together. Two grown-up, single people who obviously like each other. Don't you think, Hathaway?

Hathaway: I try not to, ma'am.

-The Mind has Mountains

Inspector Robbie Lewis had planned to spend his birthday quietly at home, awaiting phone calls from his grown kids. But his sergeant James Hathaway had insisted that Lewis come out for a pint. When they got to the pub, Hathaway pulled a bait-and-switch in the name of celebration; the promised pint became a glass of scotch, then another, and another. Lewis started to protest at the third glass, but he was feeling no pain and enjoying the ambiance.

"Sir, I meant to give you a present tonight, but it hasn't arrived yet."

"What, did you order it from Amazon? You can never tell online who's honest. Or maybe someone knicked it from the stoop."

Hathaway smirked. "No. I doubt that very much." He then added, speaking into his pint, "Sometimes she acts like she's from the Amazon, though." He thought of Laura "it's-hard-to-strangle-a-man-with-your-bare-hands- I-know-I've-tried" Hobson. The pathologist could be prickly at times, but Hathaway knew that his boss had a genuine soft spot for her- and vice versa.

"What's that you say?" Lewis asked.

"Nothing. Go on, sir." Lewis the Luddite started rambling about the perils of the internet again and didn't seem to notice that Hathaway was making a phone call.

"Where are you, Doctor? You're missing a rare sight- the inebriated Inspector!"

"I'm not sure I want to be around for that," Dr Laura Hobson answered on the other end of the line.

"Come on, Hobson. It would make him happy if you came out for a drink."

"All right. I'll see what I can do to finish this report. No promises, though."

Hathaway hung up and sent a text to the boss lady before turning his attention back to Lewis who was still chattering away. "…and this online journalism, ye cannet wrap fish and chips in a computer, man…" Lewis' Geordie accent got thicker with each glass of scotch.

"Just print barker-dot-biz, sir. But speaking of wrapping, if you do see something turn up with a purple bow on it, that's your gift."

"I'll keep me eye out." Lewis said, lifting his scotch to his eye. Hathaway was not sure if he meant to do that or not. He chuckled at Lewis.

When Laura Hobson did turn up, Lewis rose to greet her and held her in a bear hug for several long moments. "Laura! You're here, bonny pathologist!" She broke free only by shifting to give him a kiss on the cheek. She could smell the scotch on his breath. "Happy Birthday, Robbie. Are you all right?"

"Never better!"

"Why don't the two of you get a table, and I'll get us another round." Hathaway offered.

"He's had enough, don't you think, James?"

"Iron-clad stomach, love." Lewis piped up.

Soon, Hathaway put another scotch down in front of Lewis and a glass of wine for Hobson at the spot opposite him. "Aren't you having anything, James?" She asked.

"Sir, Doctor, something's come up and I have to go."

"What's this about, man? You can't leave!" Lewis looked hurt.

"I just got a text from a lady-friend, sir. Do you understand?" Of course, nothing could be farther from the truth; Hathaway was going home to strum his guitar and meditate. But he hoped that the senior detective would take his hint and follow suit with Hobson.

"Aye." Lewis' face contorted from a pained expression to a ribald grin. "Have a good time, son."

Hathaway beamed at Lewis calling him 'son.' He sincerely hoped that the scheme would pay off for the lovelorn Lewis. Hathaway turned to Hobson, who rose to bid him good night. Hathaway took Hobson's hands and pressed something into them. "These are Inspector Lewis' keys. He should not go home alone tonight."

Hobson groaned and rolled her eyes. "You're quite the sly Fox, aren't you, Hathaway? What would the chief super say if she knew that you'd intoxicated your governor then abandoned him in such a state?"

"Innocent?" Hathaway cracked a devious smile. "Who do you think is picking up the tab tonight?"

Hobson's façade did not crack even though she was internally enraged by the realization of a broader conspiracy. "If I had known that Innocent was buying, I would have asked for a glass of champagne," she said coolly.

It made sense now;Hobson had had a visit from Innocent herself after Hathaway's phone call. Innocent had literally pried the report from Hobson's hands, told her it was good enough and that she should go home. Innocent then casually dropped "by the way, I hear that the lads are getting drinks for Lewis' birthday tonight. If you stop by, be sure to give him my best."

Hobson scowled as Hathaway continued. "Besides, I'm hardly abandoning him; I've delivered him into your capable hands." He kissed her on the cheek, and clapped her on the back. "Got to go. Have fun, kids." A magnum of champagne, she thought.

As much as she didn't like being manipulated, Hobson decided to make the most of the evening with Lewis. The two were having a grand time chatting about his kids, the pieces she was rehearsing with the community orchestra, more about his grandkids, a bridge tournament she'd recently played in… until Robbie noticed something and couldn't stop laughing.

"Is something funny, Inspector?" She asked playfully.

When at last his laughter ebbed, he leaned in close to her. Her heart skipped a beat when- for just a moment- she thought he was going to kiss her on the neck. Instead, he reached around to her back and pulled off the adhesive purple bow that Hathaway had affixed to her before leaving. "I think that our James is trying to tell us something."

"I think that your James needs to learn that women are not objects!" Hobson cried out in mock horror.

Lewis' response was more laughter. "You're upset?" He sputtered out between chortles.

"Well, it's a tad degrading, isn't it? I mean, you've been drugged and I've been gift-wrapped!"

"Don't be cross with him, Laura. I'm the poor sod whose sergeant needs to trick the girl I like into coming home with me."

"Only because you've never asked me to go home with you yourself! Honestly Robbie, if you really liked me you could do something about it." She sounded exasperated. This isn't where she wanted the conversation to go.

He paused and took a swig of scotch. "Bah. You deserve better: an-intellectual-university-exciting-European-jet-s etter-I-don't-know-who-Laura-younger-than-me." His words were running together, but she made sense of most of it.

"Oh please; your age argument is rubbish. You know better than anyone that some people die far too early. And I can tell you as a pathologist that I have seen many corpses that had defied death far longer than anyone would have reasonably expected." She saw his face falling and regretted her tone, overly dismissive of his honest rambling. He's trying to tell me that he likes me. Why must I always talk about corpses?! She scolded herself, and then softened her tone to re-orient the conversation. "The point is, age doesn't matter. When you find someone you have a connection with, you should just hold on for as long as it lasts." He put his free hand over hers over his and gave it a little squeeze, but he didn't lift his head.

Hobson realized that she would much rather be with happy-drunk-Robbie than depressed-drunk-Robbie, though admittedly neither was preferable to a sober Robbie. Time to flirt, she thought, hoping to bring happy-drunk-Robbie back from the abyss. She thought of things she would not ordinarily say, but he was quite inebriated and probably wouldn't remember anyway. "I'd like to think that one day you won't be able to stand it anymore and you'll just scoop me up in your arms and have your way with me." She flashed her most coquettish smile.

That idea did perk him up a bit. "Nah, I'd take you out for a nice dinner first."

"You've taken me out for a nice dinner at least a dozen times, Robbie. Maybe you should vary your technique."

"There's nothing wrong with me technique, I'll have you know."

"Depends on what the desired outcome is, I guess."

"Hmph." He swallowed what remained of his scotch. "Let's take a walk. It's too hot in here."

As they walked along the Thames, Lewis was clinging tightly to Hobson's side. Was it for stability or something more? The fresh air did him good, but his head was reeling. He stopped at a bench and plopped down onto it. She sat and huddled next to him for warmth. He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. In his uninhibited state, he then took hold of her wrist and started to awkwardly poke her arms through the sleeves as if he were dressing one of his kids back in the day. She was going to protest that she could do that herself- and furthermore that the proper way to help a lady with a coat would be to stand behind her. But in truth she welcomed his touch, and he just seemed so intent on bundling her up that she left him to it. "Laura Hobson." He said her name to himself as if he was curiously identifying a specimen. He closed the jacket tightly around her and then added with a mischievous grin, "gift-wrapped."

"Not funny, Robbie Lewis!" She swatted at him in playful contempt before landing her hand on his chest. She felt him inhale and exhale. She finally got the nerve to ask. "Do you think you'll ever be ready to let someone into your life?"

He looked up at the sky and exhaled deeply. "Marriage is a lot of work. Even the best marriage."

"There is plenty of middle ground to explore between solitude and marriage, Robbie."

There in the dark, it was easier to be completely honest with him. They were away from the bright lights of the mortuary, away from the din of the pub. Laura opened up her heart and let it all tumble out. "Me, for example. I like my space. I've learned the hard way that I'm far too selfish to live with anyone. I'll never be anyone's wife, but that doesn't mean I want to remain celibate. I'm a physical person. I'd like to be with someone that I can trust completely, someone I could ring up and know he'd be happy just to hear my voice. Someone I can depend on to be there, someone who can depend on me too whenever he needs someone."

She let him ruminate on everything she had said before asking, "what do you want, Robbie?"

He rubbed his temples and remained silent. He put his arm around her, and they both stared at the river in a tacit understanding. A good half-hour later, he spoke. "I'm ready to go home, Laura. With you."

"OK." Hobson felt her heart flutter for the second time that night.

They didn't speak much on the drive back to his flat, but Lewis kept his hand on her thigh as she drove. "Here we are," she said. Hobson got out of the car but made no forward motion towards his flat. He rounded the car and took her arm, but she remained firmly planted there. "Make sure you drink plenty of water. Ring me if you want to talk."

"Laura, if I invited you in, would you? Come in to me flat, I mean. Have a night-cap. Stay?"

"Absolutely, I would, if you ask me another night." He looked crestfallen, and she so hated to disappoint him when at last he had the courage to say what they both wanted. "Oh, Robbie. You've had a lot to drink tonight. I just want to be sure you won't have any regrets. I couldn't bear it if you were to wake up hung-over and then say to yourself, 'what's she doing here?' "

Lewis took both her hands in his. "Laura, I am thinking more clearly than I have in years. The only regrets I'll have tomorrow will be for not figuring this out sooner."

"Would you settle for a good night kiss, perhaps?"

"If I must. Good night," he whispered as he kissed her gently.

"And happy birthday, Robbie," Hobson said as she kissed him back more passionately than she had intended. He responded in kind, and it was evident that the neither one of them was going to break away from their embrace. Before she knew it, Lewis had pinned her against the car and she was raising her leg up against his side. "On second thought, let's go inside, Robbie. We've waited long enough, haven't we…"

Lewis' head was throbbing and his stomach was unsettled, but he felt wholly at peace. Indeed, the effects of the scotch were considerably mitigated by the warmth of his bedmate. "Laura, are you still awake?"

"Mmm hmm." She opened her eyes to face him on the same pillow. "I am now. How're you feeling?"

"Good." He lied. "It's just…" He really didn't know the right way to finish his thought. "I wasn't just after a birthday shag. You know that, right, love?"

"Of course I do. In all the years I've known you, your motives have never been less than genuine."

"So are we really together now? Like a proper couple?"

"I should hope so!" Hobson propped herself up on her elbow to look at Lewis. "But earlier down at the river you never did tell me what you want."

He knew that it was his turn to be candid with her, but he was still hesitant. "I want to be with someone who's known me for years, mostly because you know that I don't like to talk about it."

"It?"

"Feelings… and whatnot."

"I'm not psychic, though. You have to tell me what you mean when you say 'a proper couple.'"

"Look, I won't try to change you if you won't try to change me. I just want us to be happy being ourselves." He looked into her eyes, and his dread of relationship-talk finally dissolved. "I don't want to get married again, but I don't want an open relationship either. We each have our own place, but I want to ring you to say good night when we're not together. I need to know that I am the only one."

"You are the only one, Robbie Lewis. You are the only one I have wanted for a long time."

"Likewise, Laura."

They kissed in the triumph of their new understanding, but Hobson broke away as she remembered how they got to this point. "One thing though, I'd like to keep our happiness between us for a while. Tell your family if you want to, of course, but I don't want to tell people at work. Not even James, and especially not Jean Innocent. "

Robbie concurred. "Agreed. We should keep our life together private as long as we can. Can you imagine? We'd never hear the end of it!"

"I wonder how long you can really keep a secret from James," she challenged him.

"I promise you that I won't say a word."

Epilogue

Hathaway nervously awaited Lewis' arrival at the station Monday morning. When Lewis did turn up, he glared at his sergeant. Little did Hathaway know that Lewis had been practicing his stern face all morning in order to conceal his joy.

"Dare I ask if you found your present on Friday, sir?"

"Aye," Lewis said sarcastically. Hathaway's anxiety was palpable as Lewis continued. "Turns out my gift was a lecture on how women are not to be treated as objects. Women like to be given gifts, not given *as* gifts, you dolt. You know what Hobson's like when she's angry. What were you thinking with that stupid purple bow?" Lewis took the purple bow from his pocket and threw it on Hathaway's desk.

"Sorry, sir. I thought it was worth a try." Hathaway said as he picked up the bow, which was now affixed to an Amazon gift card. "What's this for?"

"You'll need it. Hobson's compiling a required reading list of feminist literature for you."

"Goodie," said Hathaway sardonically; although secretly, he rather enjoyed reading the major works of liberation theory for any oppressed demographic.

"I'm going to get some coffee. And when I get back, you are going to call Hobson to apologize."

"Sir." Hathaway confirmed. He examined the gift card, which was in a generous amount. On the outer sleeve of the card, Lewis had scrawled, "thanks." Hathaway wondered if he really had to apologize after all.

Author note: I have one or two more of these tales mapped out but nothing even remotely close to publication. As far as this premise is concerned, my imagination will be compromised once I've seen Ramblin' Boy anyway (*excited squeal!*). So, that's it for a little while. Thank you for reading and for your supportive feedback!