On Monday morning, as soon as he had brought Knox his tea, Hathaway offered his apology. He said he regretted having been so difficult and so resistant to the lessons Knox was trying to teach him. He realized now that Lewis's training had not done him any favors. It left him too independent and defiant of authority. At his level of inexperience, he should have been given closer guidance. And he promised to be more open to accepting the wisdom of his current senior officer.

Almost all of this was patently untrue, but Hathaway managed to deliver it convincingly. Knox beamed with pleasure at the turnaround in James's attitude.

The senior partner's attitude changed as well. He smiled at Hathaway and frequently complimented him on his work, patting James on the arm or the back, and even thanked him once.

James made sure to keep up the endless repetitions of "Yes, Sir," and "Thank you, Sir." And he kept his smoke breaks within the narrow time frame Knox had set for him.

It seemed to be working. Knox went the whole day without issuing a single RDA. Late in the afternoon, Innocent stopped by their office, looking pleased.

"Hathaway, I was not expecting you to be here. I haven't had any reports of misdeeds today. Has something changed?"

Knox stood proudly next to Hathaway. "Indeed, it has. James has done some thinking and it looks like his attitude is on the right track at last. I feel like I finally have a partner." Knox put his hand on James's rump.

"Well, good. We all should be able to get more work done now."

But Hathaway felt far from good about the day. He took a shower when he got home, but still felt dirty afterward. His dinner tasted like cardboard. He wondered how long he would be able to keep up the charade. He knew he was compromising himself, but he also knew it was necessary for his own good, and for Lewis's, if he was coming back. It wouldn't do for James to get himself sacked.

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. Even after he went to bed, he tossed and turned, sleeping only for short snatches, then waking and stewing about everything. At one point during the night, he found himself bent over the toilet, heaving up his cardboard dinner and glass of wine. Just as well it hadn't tasted like anything.

* * *

The next morning, shortly after nine, his mobile buzzed. Knox was not in yet, so Hathaway switched on the call: "Yeah, Hathaway."

"Mister Hathaway?" The woman's Irish brogue was thick. "This is Maggie O'Reilly, I'm the in-home-care aide for Mister Lewis? An' he had you down as the local emergency contact. Well, it's not exactly an emergency, but I'm at me wit's end, y'know? I tried to check on him this mornin' and he had a kind of tantrum, I'd call it. Y'know, I've been doin' this work for years 'n' years and I've seen this lots of times, especially with men. A man thinks he's goin' to get better and then one day it hits him he won't. He gets angry and scairt all at the same time. Most get over it after a while, but some don't, y'know. Anyway, I knocked on his door and he started yellin' an' cursin' an' shoutin' that he didn't want me to come in. I heard things breakin' like he was throwin' things. I think maybe someone should check on him. Someone strong. Are ye strong Mister Hathaway? I think maybe two strong men is what's needed to go an' check on him."

Hathaway rang off after thanking her profusely. Two strong men . . . He punched another number into the phone.

* * *

Three hours later, Hathaway and Mack rang Lewis's doorbell. Mack had been unable to get off work until his lunch break, and Hathaway didn't want to go without him. When there was no answer to the bell, Hathaway pulled out his key and they let themselves in. It was not immediately obvious that anyone was there.

"Sir?"

"Go away." It was hard to tell where that came from.

They advanced into the flat. The kitchen area was a mess. The floor was strewn with broken glass and crockery, sausages and eggs, and an overturned pan. Lewis's empty wheelchair was there, and his catheter tube and bag were on the floor, oozing urine.

"Sir?"

"Ah, here ya are. What's all this aboot, then, Robbie?" Mack stood over Lewis's prone form near the sofa. "Robbie? Ya cannit make the world gan away."

"Mack? I can't bloody do this any more." Lewis's face radiated rage, pain, frustration, and humiliation all at the same time. "I can't take a pan off the fire without burning myself. Can't get a plate from one side of the room to the other without spilling it. Can't reach anything. I can't even take a piss. A bairn can do that much, but not me." His despair was complete. "Why the bloody hell did David Harvey have to miss this time?"

Hathaway had no idea how to react. "Come on, Sir, let's get you back in your chair."

"LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, HATHAWAY! You have no idea what this is like. Just . . . go away!"

Hathaway retreated to the far side of the room, devastated. The fact that Mack was there made it sting even more. It took all of James's effort to fight the tremendous urge to bolt from the flat.

Mack took a deep breath. "So it gets hard for you and that's the end of it. Poor Robbie. No one has ever had it so bad."

"Mack, shut up. Go away."

"No, I won't shut up, mate, and I won't gan away. It's hard for the rest of us, too, man. Not knowin' what it's like for you makes it even harder. An' this bonny lad, where've you left him, like? You've trained him up special to be your own champion racehorse, haven't you? An' now you're just abandoning him? Even though you know that pillock Knox'll put your canny stud to the plough an' flog him whenever he shows his mettle. Did you know he hates it now, your lad? What he does, what he is. You're the one what ruined him for that kind of boot-licking, so that makes you the one what's responsible for his misery, y'know. If this was just about you, I'd say it's your choice an' I wouldn't give a rat's. But him, he's your partner, Robbie, man. This is about your team."

Lewis was staring at Mack as if in a trance. And when Mack held out two big hands with a quiet "Howay, man," Lewis was powerless to stop himself from taking them and letting them pull him to his feet. Mack caught him around the waist and threw Lewis's near arm over his shoulder.

"Now, Robbie, you're gan to walk down the hall and into the bog, and take a piss like a man. Otherwise, we'll have to figure out how to shove that little hose back up your spigot."

At first, Mack was the only thing holding Lewis up. But James could see Lewis begin to take his own weight and move his feet as they went down the hall.

Moments later, Mack stepped out of the bathroom, relief and exhaustion on his face.

And a bit of surprise. "Huh. He's doin' it. And he's standin' on his own."

"Thanks, Mack. That was . . . champion?"

Mack smiled, but looked steadily at Hathaway. "I'm sorry I misjudged you, me. You know, when we first met, like. You're a right canny lad, James."

Then Mack headed for the door. "I have to get back to me graft. Let me know if you need me again." He called to Lewis, "Gan canny, mate!"

With a bit of trepidation, Hathaway went to the bathroom doorway. Lewis was holding onto the edge of the vanity counter, resting almost all his weight on his hands. He was breathing hard and sweating, but working his way along it. When he got to the end of it, he looked up at Hathaway, shifted his weight to one arm, and held the other up and out, waiting for James's shoulder. Without a word, Hathaway stepped into place and put his arm around Lewis's waist, the way Mack had held him.

Slowly they made their way to the dining table, where James eased Lewis down into a chair on one side, and then sat in one on the other side. Still unsure of where Lewis was emotionally, Hathaway didn't look at him, studying the floor instead. Several minutes passed.

"'Champion racehorse.' You wish." James jerked his head up. Lewis was smiling at him crookedly.

He smiled tentatively back. "I like the other one. What was it? 'Canny stud'?"

Lewis snorted. "Who knew Mack could turn a metaphor?" Then he looked away, toward the mess in the kitchen.

"I guess I owe Mrs. O'Reilly an apology." After a moment, he added quietly, "Probably some other people, too."

* * *

That evening, Hathaway's phone buzzed just as he got out of the again-ineffective shower. He wrapped a towel around himself and sprinted to the phone. Lewis calling.

"Sir!"

"Hey, Hathaway. I um . . . wanted to thank you for coming over today. And cleaning up the kitchen. And I wanted to let you know I called Innocent tonight and told her I expect to be back in maybe three weeks. It might be less but I don't want to be disappointed if it isn't. She said you and Knox had a pretty rough go of things for a while but this week it seemed like it was better?"

"Well, it's not exactly like working for you, Sir."

"Then you have something to look forward to."

"I'm . . . really glad you're coming back, Sir. So, you . . . um, think you'll be able to . . . walk again?"

He was silent a while. "I don't know, Hathaway. It's really, really hard. After you left, I slept the rest of the day. I just now woke up and I ache all over. But I have hope now."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Another pause. "Yeah, James, there is. I'm sorry, but I have to ask that you not call me for now. I've had some bad spells and I expect I'll have lots more. Most of the time I'm a mess mentally and sometimes I'm a mess physically, too. I have almost no control over half of my body and I feel like I have no control over anything. I kind of lose it any time the phone rings. I'd like to feel as if I have power over something, even if it's small."

It was Hathaway's turn to be silent.

"I'll probably be feeling better in a couple more days. And I can always call you, right?"

"Yes, Sir, you can always call me."

* * *