He woke up and rose from his bed, noticing with satisfaction that his ribs didn't hurt for a full 20 minutes after he moved downstairs. This boded well, and he was almost grinning as he made himself an omelette. It was going to be today.

It had been a week and a half since he had been discharged from hospital. A week and a half since Lewis had found him in that field. He still had a scar on his leg and a few lingering cuts on his face, but otherwise he looked a lot more healthy. He did have a bit of a cough still, that had developed in the wards. A mixture of germ ridden ward companions and a day spent in a cold damp field. He was grateful that it wasn't pneumonia. He was officially on sick leave for four more days but Lewis had promised to cover for him and let him come in to work after he had complained of super boredom for the umpteenth time.

Washing up his plate and leaving the pan to soak, he filled a water bottle from his tap and shoved it into a drawstring bag. Chucking a packet of Skips in there along with a strip of ibuprofen tablets, he pulled it closed and dropped it onto the sofa. Wandering back up to his bedroom, careful of his ribs, he selected the thin green hoodie out of his wardrobe and shrugged it on. Satisfied that it would provide warmth, he left the room and exited through his front door, picking up his bag as he went.

He got out the car and slung the bag over his shoulder, wincing slightly as it slammed into his still-tender ribs. He smiled as he walked through Wytham Woods. This was the first morning that he'd felt ok enough to get up and go for a walk. The last week had been tricky to say the least. In between nightmares and late night coughing fits, he'd had little sleep. But last night had been ok and he felt somewhat regenerated as he wandered through the forest.

In hindsight, he realised as his ribs started to hurt, it was probably not a good idea to come out so early. There was barely anyone about at half 7 in the morning and he realised uncomfortably that if he got into any serious trouble, there would be no one to help him out. Grimacing, he took the bag of his shoulders ans took a ibuprofen, washing it down with a gulp of water. As he put the bottle back he saw the bad of Skips. Some tiny voice in his mind whispered to him that you probably shouldn't take painkillers on an empty stomach and he ripped open the packet, smiling at childhood memories. He hadn't had a bag of Skips for years. They cost more nowadays.

10 minutes later and he was sat underneath a tree, leant back, breathing heavily. Maybe he'd been a little hasty. Maybe he wasn't as up to it as he thought. He could feel the taste in the back of his throat that either meant he was going to throw up, or pass out. In two minds about what to do, he tried to get up. The spots that danced in front of his vision, convinced him that he really should be setting about trying to get help. He pulled out his phone and seeing that he had signal, reluctantly dialled the familiar number.

Lewis frowned as his mobile rang. He set down his fork and picked it up, confusion flitting across his face as he saw the number displayed on the screen

James Hathaway Calling

James calling at 8am? He supposed that the lad probably did wake up early on days off, but when he was on sick leave? He jolted back to awareness and answered the call.

"Jim? What's up?"

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"Where?...Jim, are you ok?"

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"Yeah sure...No, it's no bother. Really James, its fine! On the main path yeah?"

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No worries. You want me to get an ambulance out?"

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"Ok, calm down, I've got it, no ambulance. Well I had no way of knowing that you weren't dying."

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Hathaway, you're getting fainter. What's-?"

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"Ah shit. Try and hold on kidda. I'm on the way, right? 10 minutes."

Lewis hurriedly got his shoes on and grabbed his car keys. In truth in was more like a 15 minute drive but he was going slightly faster than he should be. He was fairly sure that Hathaway wasn't in any immediate danger, he'd just overworked himself, but he didn't like the idea of James unconscious in the woods alone. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure that James was unconscious. However, the lad did mutter something about passing out and it sounded to Lewis like he was struggling to stay awake.

He parked the car and walked quickly towards the main path where Hathaway had said he was. It surprised him that even now, there was no one about. He saw a familiar, lanky frame slumped against a tree and broke into a jog. As he leant down to his sergeant, Lewis breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The lad was awake and alert, just pale and breathing heavily.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time eh Jim?"

"Nothing sir. Just over did it. Thought I was better than I was didn't I?"

"Aye, stupid boy" Lewis countered, but there was no real annoyance in it. "Come on. Can ye get up?"

"Think so." James stood up unsteadily, closing his eyes for a few moments to stop his head spinning. A few minutes later they were both walking to the car, Hathaway sipping his water in an attempt to get rid of the vile taste still at the back of his throat. He looked over at Lewis, making mental note to buy his boss a pint after work when he went back. In light of the events of the morning, he decided it was probably best to have the 4 days sick leave he was still due.

As Robbie started the engine and slipped into gear, he sneaked a quick look at his sergeant. The boy would be fine. If anything this would teach him to listen to doctors next time. James caught him checking and he hastily averted his gaze.

"Thank you sir"

"Away man, don't mention it. Couldn't have left you out there alone could I?" Hathaway shrugged. "Still, I appreciate it sir. I owe you a pint."

"Deal" agreed Lewis. "I'm going to hold you to that." James laughed and leaned back in the chair. The car was warm and he felt safe. He could feel relaxation spreading through his body and surmised that despite everything, today was still going to be a good day.

Lewis stopped at the traffic light, wondering if it was too early to go and find a bacon sandwich. Deciding that 20 past 8 was indeed prime time for breakfast at a good café, he turned to ask Hathaway if he fancied it. A warm smile spread across his face as he saw the younger man asleep in the passenger seat, a look of contentment on the normally deadpan features. He chuckled lightly and changed direction, heading for Hathaway's home. The lad could do with proper bed and Lewis was sure he wouldn't begrudge him the odd slice of bread and rasher of bacon. He'd even make James a sandwich too if he wanted one.