Warning for death of a child in canon (Dead Of Winter)
"I..I've found her sir."
"Her? James?"
"The girl...the girl Zelinksy kidnapped. I found h-her"
"That's brilliant. Good lad."
"It...it isn't sir."
"What?"
"It isn't brilliant sir."
"James? James are you ok?" There was no answer, just a click as Hathaway's phone had ended the call. Robbie would later learn that the call had ended because James' phone had slid out of his grasp and crashed onto the cold stone floor of the patio.
.
Robbie arrived at the scene and parked his car in some available space a few streets. The area outside the house was swarming with grim faced SOCO's and uniformed constables. He couldn't see James anyway, and God knows he stood head and shoulders above the rest of his colleagues.
He hurriedly asks passing officers if they've seen Hathaway, but no one gives him an answer. He's told that Dr Hobson is waiting for him upstairs, and he goes to her, trusting James to be doing something worthwhile.
"Laura?"
"Its not pretty Robbie, its really not." He stares at the girls body as Laura outlines her injuries. She's been here for a few days, and the smell advertises this to all in the room. He almost feels that he can't tear his gaze away, but he does, looking up to see Laura's slightly watery eyes looking into his own. This is going to be a tough case for all concerned.
"Where's Hathaway? He's normally here before you."
"He was" Robbie says quietly, as the implications of the phone call he received from James earlier sink in. "Oh God Laura...he found her."
"Go and find him Robbie, I'll give you the report later. Go and find James." Just then, a young constable knocks uncertainly on the door.
"Sir? Sergeant Hathaway is in the garden, says he's found some evidence." Robbie nods and dismisses the youngster, before taking a deep breath.
.
James is stood by a small hole in the ground, staring at it like its the most interesting thing in the world. He snaps his head up as Robbie walks towards him, and starts speaking before Robbie has a chance.
"There's tool marks over there and there," he says calmly, pointing at marks in the grass that suggest a rake or shovel has been stood up in the soft ground recently. "Been no rain so...so its all well preserved."
"James..." Lewis starts, but Hathaway presses on.
"I've got forensics looking through the garage for a shovel or something. They can get fingerprints. It'll have traces of blood on it as well. I think it was in the attic before...just before. And then he carried it down...downstairs after he'd used it to..." James coughs and looks away. His face hardens and he carries on with his report in a monotonous tone, as if he was reading a weather report.
"There's the starts of a grave here, doesn't look like he'd made much progress before we arrested him. At that garden centre. That could be why he hadn't finished. There's um, there's no over looking properties, so its unlikely anyone saw anything. And no one will have heard anything sir would they?" Robbie can see that James is starting to lose his cool a bit and his heart aches for the young man in front of him.
"James..." He tries again, and again, Hathaway keeps talking.
"No one will have heard anything will they sir? Because he'd have been quiet about it and she...and the girl...she couldn't have made any noise sir, because she was dead." He stops then, nothing more to say it seems. To anyone else, James would look the embodiment of calm and collected right now. But Lewis isn't just anyone else, he's worked with James for 5 years now and he knows what to look for. The way that James keeps swallowing, as if he's containing the words that he wants to say. The way his jaw is working, chewing the inside of his cheek to give him something else to focus on. At any other crime scene, James would have his moment of contemplation, and then he'd be off, carrying out his duties like his usual professional self. But he's not here. He's simply stood there,like he can't remember what he should be doing, staring at the beginnings of a shallow grave like he wants nothing more than for it to swallow him up. But Hathaway won't fall apart here, not with his colleagues so close by. Lewis knows what will happen; James will hold it in all day, making out that he's fine. And then the young man will take himself off home tonight, have a few strong drinks and then stamp his emotions down until they are buried.
But that won't do. Because Lewis knows that this won't go away. He's seen the body, and he knows that James was here alone when he found her, when he saw that. He'd bet money that James just stood there looking, unable to look away.
Robbie puts a hand on his shoulder gently.
"Come on lad. Lets get you out of here eh, somewhere warm."
"I'm..."
"James...humour me eh?" Hathaway nods reluctantly and follows him as they walk the few streets to Robbie's car.
.
Robbie only turned his back for a few seconds. It was only the amount of time it took for him to bend into his car and chuck the papers onto the back seat so James could sit shotgun. But it was enough for James to seemingly disappear from sight. He was just about to head back to the crime scene, in case James had gone back for something, when he heard a soft sound from the passenger side of the car.
Crossing around the front, he saw his young sergeant, sat in the road with his back against the car door, hands pressed into his eyes and elbows resting on drawn up knees. It seemed that once they were away from prying eyes, James had crumpled. The sitting on the road was probably a futile attempt to hide his weakness from Robbie as well. Well Lewis wasn't having it, Hathaway needed him now.
"James kidda. Are you alright?" Hathaway shook his head, staying in the awkward position he was sat in.
"No. Sir how could-?...How do I even-?" Robbie sighed sadly and crouched down to the younger man. He knew the questions, he asked them himself often enough. Sir how could someone do that? How do I even begin to deal with it? Robbie would have asked Morse over and over again, on multiple cases if he'd thought his inspector would have been able to give him an answer.
"Some people James, they just...do things. They aren't thinking, or they believe they are right."
"But..she was only six fucking years old." James takes a deep shuddering breath and continues. "She..she had a teddy bear with her...in...in the cistern, all grubby and, it...she was still clutching it and-" He stopped short and Robbie saw the horror in Hathaway's eyes as he watched his sergeant replaying the moment he found her in his head. Lewis doesn't have the answers to this one, doesn't know what to say, James is a tricky bugger to fathom at the best of times it has to be said. So Robbie just puts a comforting arm on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze, before pulling gently at the younger man's arm.
"Come on kidda, lets get you out of the road. Not a safe place to be sitting mate." James lets himself be guided to the kerb and sits down there, Robbie at his side, shoulders touching in an attempt at support.
Before long, James starts taking deep breaths, trying to control himself as he stares ahead of him unseeing anything in the real world, instead seeing a child's body, packed into a water cistern. Lewis realises that James is crying before James himself does. Every exhale shakes and the air catches in the younger man's throat. Lewis lays a hand on James' back and gently rubs circles on it, trying to provide some comfort.
"Let it all out Jim lad. There's no one here. Its ok, you'll be alright, just let it out mate"
With a strangled half sob, James does.
.
Once James tears have dried out, Lewis drives them both silently back to the station, where he instructs James to wait in the car while he goes to talk to Innocent. It worries him slightly that James doesn't protest. Doesn't really do anything.
Jean is very understanding when he explains that he wants to take James home, and Robbie suspects that Laura called her in an attempt to warn her about James' possible state of mind. In any case, Robbie is grateful, because Jean fully agrees with his plan.
He takes drives them both to his own flat and gets James sitting on his sofa, a blanket around his shoulders. It hits him how bloody young the boy looks, shrinking under the cloth as if it'll protect him from the world.
He disappears into the kitchen once he's sure James is going to stay sat on the sofa, and makes them both a cup of tea. Puts three sugars in James', two more than normal, but he knows it'll do the boy good. He knows what else might help, but he's undecided for the moment whether it'll really help.
One look at Hathaway's shaking hands as he reaches for the tea and the quietly whispered 'thank you' that he gets, decides for him. He goes back into the kitchen and returns with a small shot glass of scotch.
"Sir?" James says quietly.
"Just the one James. You got that?"
"Yes sir." They sit in silence for a bout an hour, before James falls asleep on the sofa where he is sat, fingers buried in the blanket, all his limbs drawn in as close as they can be. Robbie eases a cushion under his head, and tucks the blanket around him as best he can, before going to his own room.
Lewis is there for him when he wakes screaming, in the middle of the night, bringing James back to himself and plying him with more sweet tea until the man goes back to sleep. He listens as James stutters out the events of the morning, encouraging the younger man to tell him what happened. He knows that James will feel better for telling someone else.
He wakes up in the morning to James sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with only a slight tremor in his hands.
"Checking it works sir. I er...I dropped it after I phoned you yesterday, can hardly remember doing it" The kettle pings to let them know that it has finished boiling. James gives him a ghost of a smile.
"I though it was about time I made you some tea sir." He mumbles as he goes to the kitchen.
Robbie knows that he's on the mend. He'll dream about this for a long time, the images flashing through his head when he least expects them, just as Mary Lapsley had haunted Morse.
And if he crumbles again...well Lewis will drive him home, give him tea and scotch and listen to anything the younger man wants to say.
And perhaps one day, James' memory of the horror, will be softened by the knowledge that the man who did it is staring at the same brick wall day after day.