Letting Go.
"Sir?"
"Just taking a breather"
"Any luck?"
"I know what you're thinking. But you're wrong. He left something. He left something for me to find or else...Why send me that letter?"
"Sir...Let it go. You've been through every shred of paper, every word, every file, every photo"
"Then we, keep looking!"
"No! I'm not going to stand by an watch you do this to yourself. You know I'm not. There is nothing here about your wife! Let it go!"
"How can I? Its in my head now."
In that moment, what James had seen had frightened him more that he'd care to admit. He'd seen something alien in Lewis' eyes. A type of vulnerability that shocked him to his core. The man had always seemed to be a rock to him. Whenever he went off course, whenever he screwed up, Lewis was there for him. Knowing what to say, how to bring him back. And James desperately wanted to be the same for his inspector. He wanted to be able to reciprocate the support he was given, but he didn't know how. The words wouldn't come. As Lewis went back to his fruitless, desperate search, James turned away. He couldn't bear the pain in Lewis' eyes and he wanted nothing more than to run from the room, put some loud, fast music on and go back to work the next day to a Lewis that was back to his normal self. But he didn't run. He'd never have forgiven himself. He didn't have the words, that was true, but he had himself. Shrugging of his jacket, he crouched down to the mass of papers littering the floor. He began to read.
.
3 hours later and James rocked back on his heels, landing on the floor slightly harder than he meant to. The quiet "Ow" seemed deafening to him in the silent room. Lewis' head jerked up.
"Are you alright?" the whispered voice was tired sounding, defeated and James hated it.
"Nothing broken." Lewis looked back down to the floor. James took a deep breath, it was now or never. "Sir?...Please." He didn't know whether it was the fact that he spoke, of the fact that his voice sounded so pleading, even to his own ears, that made Lewis look up at him.
"I'm sorry James. Look go home, get some sleep, you don't need to stay" James scowled. That wasn't what he meant and he knew Lewis knew it.
"No. Sir this is fruitless, please just come upstairs. You need to eat something, drink something. Sir I... I can't sit by and watch you destroy your self like this."
"I appreciate it James. But I don't need your help." Hathaway bit back a frustrated remark. Instead he lowered his head.
"Just like I didn't need yours eh?" he said quietly. When he looked up again, Lewis was looking at him with a clarity that he hadn't seen for the last 3 hours. He bit the bullet and continued, his eyes staring straight into Lewis' own. "Where would I be if you'd given up on me sir? If you'd just washed your hands of me and walked away?" He knew neither of them needed to say it. They both knew he'd have burnt alive that night. They both knew that if Lewis hadn't cared, he would be dead.
"I'm not trapped in a burning building James, I'm not drugged up to the eyeballs either."
"You might as well be sir. Please? Just come out sir. We can come back. If you really need to. Both of us." James knew he was blabbing, but he didn't want to stop. Just in case Lewis didn't answer, and the silence stretched out again and he'd know he failed.
"Aye. I don't think I'll be back James." The older man suddenly sounded old for the first time in Hathaway's experience.
"Its probably for the best sir. Come on, I'll buy you a pint. By that I mean I have beer in my fridge" He didn't want to say that he didn't trust Lewis to be left alone that night. Lewis smiled at him. It was a small, sad smile, but it was progress. The two men may have entered the basement separately, but they left together.
.
They hadn't found any thing. James had known they wouldn't from the off and he suspected that deep down Lewis had known it too. It hadn't stopped James returning there alone a day later, unbeknownst to Lewis, just to check, just to be sure that he hadn't deprived his inspector of some vital truth. Sitting on the floor of the basement, he cursed the dead man that had caused his friend so much pain. Cooper must have known what he would cause and James hated him for it. Satisfied that he had been right and that Lewis could have sat down there for years and never found anything, he got up and left, slamming the door behind him. Closing the door on the basement tat had caused his friend so much pain in such a short time.
He'd succeeded. He'd been the rock. He'd given back what Lewis had shown to him and he knew that given a little time, his boss would be ok.
And that meant that so would he.