Chapter Thirteen

Christmas Day arrived in typically bleak British fashion; cold, damp and miserable. As he had every morning since that terrible Lewis made his way into the John Radcliffe hospital, to sit and chat to his sleeping sergeant. They had been keeping him sedated for a few days but yesterday the dose had been weaned down. Now it was just a case of seeing when, and if, Hathaway would wake up.

He let himself into James' private room, replying to the attending nurses quiet "Merry Christmas" with a gentle smile. He sat down in his usual chair with a sigh, and it was only after long moments that he realised that a pair of wide, blue eyes were watching him appraisingly.

"Jim!" he started forward, almost pitching himself out of the chair.

"Sir," he greeted quietly, his voice hoarse from his recent time on a ventilator, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry - !" a sudden thought occurred to Lewis, "Do you need a doctor or... I should let them know you're..."

Hathaway smiled, sleepily.

"They know, said I'd make a good Christmas surprise sir."

Lewis sank back into his chair relief written over his face.

"You do, but Christ Jim, you gave us all a hell of a fright!"

"Sorry sir," Hathaway's voice was small and full of contrition, "you didn't have to come in on Christmas Day sir. I know hospitals aren't your favourite place."

"Don't be daft lad! Not going to leave you on your own at Christmas," he paused in thought for a moment, "Although I do have to pop out for a while. Didn't expect you to be awake you see. You must be shattered!"

Hathaway nodded.

"Painkillers are making me really sleepy," he yawned, widely, "but I can't feel anything, which is nice."

Lewis stood up decisively, pleased to hear that Hathaway, for the moment at least, was relatively pain free.

"Right sergeant," he said quietly, "you get some rest, I'll see you later."

He couldn't miss the look of loneliness and disappointment of Hathaway's tired face.

James Hathaway didn't expect Lewis to come back for some time. He had berated himself soundly for assuming that his boss wouldn't have made alternative plans once he had been hurt, and resigned himself to an afternoon of counting ceiling tiles for as long as his exhausted eyes would stay open. So when, forty five minutes later his boss breezed back into the room carrying some bags, he couldn't help but be surprised.

"Sir?" he questioned, hating how weak and feeble his voice sounded, "I thought you had plans."

Lewis grinned and rolled his eyes.

"God, you're forgetful sometimes Hathaway, though I suppose you have an excuse this time."

He pulled a laptop and DVD out of one of the bags and proceeded to set it up on a table that was strictly speaking meant to be used for eating from.

"I can't do much about Midnight Mass but I believe you mentioned something about A Muppet Christmas Carol?" he prompted, and was relieved to see the injured man's face light up with a delighted grin.

"Sir you didn't have to..." Hathaway's voice caught, prompting Lewis to rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Get away lad, I wanted to see it," he told him with a jovial grin, " And look," he pulled a packet from another bag, "I even brought you your own packet of Christmas Tree Chocolates."

"Go on Sir, I'll let you share," that dry tone that Lewis had missed so much while Hathaway had been unconcious, was back in his voice, making the inspector grin with relief.

"Don't be daft lad," Lewis went back to rummaging in his bag, "I brought me own!"

An hour later the exhausted Hathaway was fast asleep, leaving Lewis to finish the film alone. He was startled out of the final musical number by his mobile phone, but was unsurprised by the caller.

"Merry Christmas Laura!" he answered.

"Merry Christmas!" she replied, "You sound cheery, I take it that means that the dashing sergeant Hathaway is back in the land of the living?"

"He is,"he confirmed, smiling at the sleeping man, "and he managed to tell me some interesting facts about the Muppets that no one should know so his brain appears to be in working order."

She laughed, relieved.

"Are you still going to Manchester?" she asked, "If so I'll pop over and see him tomorrow afternoon?"

He shook his head and then realised she couldn't see him.

"No, when she heard what happened Lyn offered to bring the family down instead. Made some joke about finally being able to meet the adopted child." He rolled his eyes, before continuing , "Don't think she'll mind. He might though, think she's planning on recruiting him to keep an eye on me while she's busy with the baby."

"Robbie!" she exclaimed teasingly, "He does that anyway! Now I must dash, but I'll see you tomorrow. Give him my love when he wakes up."

"Aye, will do."

With that he hung up and settled back in his chair to enjoy Christmas.