After The Phoenix
It was no good. He couldn't concentrate. Every flash of the screen, every hint of red or orange and his mouth went dry.
Any word beginning with the letters "FI-" and he broke out in a sweat.
God knows how the other occupant of the office was feeling. Well there was on sure-fire way to find out.
"Fancy a pint sergeant?"
A guarded look greeted him, not quite a smile, but not a scowl. Blank. No. Not blank. Carefully controlled. Designed purely to hide feelings. Lewis hated it. He didn't want his colleague to feel like that around him. He wanted the lad to feel like he could talk about things. He'd seen the man take things to heart and he didn't want to leave him to stew over his thoughts on his own. He shouldn't have to. Lewis reminded himself that this was partially his fault. Oh yes, he'd had good reason to be pissed off at Hathaway, more than good a reason. But he shouldn't have lashed out when the lad was that vulnerable, that lost. He should have supported him, took him home, told him to stay there. Maybe then he wouldn't have got so drunk. Maybe then Zoe Kenneth... He stopped his thoughts. That way lies a guilt trip. Looking at the man in front of him, he realised that he'd need to offer more of a rope to pull him in. He just hoped it wasn't a rope that would hang them both.
"I'll even have the orange juice if you want?"
That worked. A smirk worked its way, unbidden onto the younger man's face and he nodded, almost shyly.
In the car they talked.
Things were said, things that needed to be discussed.
In one of them trust was somewhat restored and the other, a sense of loneliness was slightly lifted.
Things were almost back to normal.
Hathaway had the orange juice. He didn't mind.