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It was the fourth sleepless night and he was tired of it. Night after night he would roam the flat, looking longingly at his guitar then to the half empty bottle of scotch on the coffee table. Nothing was working. Still the dreams persisted. Nightmares really.
Hathaway grabbed his coat and headed for the cool night air and the nearest pub.
James collected his pint and headed straight out the back doors to the tables clustered on the tiny patio. That’s when James saw him. His Governor, his boss, one of the reasons he couldn’t sleep. “Sir?”
When Lewis turned he barely recognized Hathaway, his cloths were rumpled. He had dark circles under his eyes. While his eyes were cataloging his sergeant he couldn’t stop his mind from going back to the shouting match and the betrayal he was still feeling. “Hathaway.” Lewis acknowledged and started to rise. “I should be going it’s late.” Lewis wasn’t ready to deal with this yet. The feelings were still too raw.
Hathaway’s eyes dropped. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointment in the older man’s eyes. “Yes, it’s very late.” He agreed, without looking up.
It happened two nights ago. James had walked in and Lewis had left without a word said between them. James missed the companionship they shared. He needed to talk to someone and that someone was going to walk away from him again. Enough.
“Sir.” Lewis stopped, amazed as always that Hathaway could make that simple word mean so much. “Please, sir?” Lewis understood that James wanted him to stay. Maybe it was time for them to talk.
With a resigned exhale, Lewis nodded his head and gestured to a nearby table. They sat across from each other, waiting for the other to say something, anything.
“Sergeant?” Lewis asked.
Finally James raised his head and looked at Lewis. “I’m sorry.”
When James said nothing else, Lewis’ disappointment sharpened his tone. “That’s not good enough, Sergeant.” He started to rise when James’ hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
“Please.” The word, a strangled whisper, stopped Lewis.
“James, talk to me. Please lad, talk to me.” Lewis’ pleaded
James slowly nodded and a single tear slipped out of his anguished eyes. Lewis realized that this was not the place to have this kind of conversation. He continued to rise and the hand on his arm tightened. Lewis reassuringly patted the hand, and then slipped his hand under James’ arm to get him up, too. “Come on, lad. Let’s go somewhere a little more private, eh?” James was so relieved that Lewis wasn’t leaving him, he meekly complied.
As James let Lewis into his flat he fell back on his manners, and asked his guest if he wanted anything. Lewis just shook his head and pointed to a spot on the couch next to him. “Talk.”
James slouched over to the couch and slumped into it, wishing it would swallow him.
While James was frantically trying to figure out how to start, Lewis was looking around the flat. He decided that it looked just like his Sergeant at the moment, disheveled and confused.
Lewis realized he’d have to get the conversation going so in the most authoritative voice he could muster, “Well?” When that didn’t get anything going he thought of the last time they had talked before the fire - well actually yelled at each other, more like. Lewis decided a different approach was in order. “You said that I wasn’t listening to you. I’m listening now. What was I not hearing before? What did I not understand?” He took a deep breath, trying to keep his feelings of betrayal from showing. He’d let the anger go, while sitting in his office worrying about James’ safety; seeing him lying there through the smoke; sitting by James’ bed waiting for him to wake. He had let himself forgive. He tried to see James’ side but James was such an enigma he just didn’t have a clue. “Please James, help me understand.” He grabbed the lad’s knee and gave it a shake. “Let me in,” he pleaded.
The quite plea broke through. James closed his eyes and the tears came. Slowly, he started to speak.
His friendship with Will, the guilt he’d carried. How he’d turned away from his faith. How he’d avoided his friends.
As Lewis listened, he found he could see how Hathaway had pulled himself into a shell. The shell was the only thing he showed to the world. Never showing his vulnerable side, he hid with his smirks and snide remarks. As Robbie listen he understood a little of what James was going though, maybe not all, but enough.
When the words faded, James looked at Lewis for the first time, since they’d come back to his flat. “I’m so sorry, Sir.” There was so much grief; Robbie could do only one thing. He reached over, put his hand on the back of James’ neck and pulled him to his shoulder where he wrapped both arms around him. Letting him know without words they were going to be all right. James heard what he was saying and returned the offered comfort.
While Robbie was replaying the last few hours, he slowly realized that the weight against his shoulder was increasing. He heard a soft snore from the area of his shoulder and knew he would be staying a while. Loath to wake James, he merely guided his head to his lap. “Lift your legs, James,” he whispered. Even half asleep, James obeyed. With a soft smile, Lewis reached over to the chair and retrieved a discarded coat and gently covered him.
Robbie watched the young man sleep. He couldn’t resist stroking the blond hair, trying to give a little comfort. Trying to give James as much comfort as he would accept. He just wished it could be more. He wanted so much more from this troubled young man. He knew he shouldn’t, on so many levels. James was so much younger, so much smarter. But he still yearned for so much more. So he listened, tried to understand, and tried to comfort.
It wasn’t enough.
Robbie startled awake not realizing he’d drifted off. Looking around at the unfamiliar flat and wondered what had woken him. The head on his lap started thrashing. “No, Zoe.” With those words he knew. He shook James’ shoulder. “Come on, James. Wake up. You’re dreaming, lad.” When the thrashing got worse, he shook harder. “James!” Hathaway shot straight up screaming, “Zoe!” and started coughing. Robbie scooted over and patted his back until the coughing eased a bit. “You’re ok, lad. You’re just dreaming, deep breaths. You’re ok.”
James nodded. The couch shifted behind James and he looked around frantically. Lewis patted his shoulder. “Just getting you a cuppa, back in a tic.” James only nodded again.
Lewis came back a couple of minutes later. “The cupboard’s a bit bare, Sergeant.” Hathaway was sitting on the couch with his head resting on the back. “Here.” Robbie handed him a glass of water. James took a healthy gulp and put the glass on the coffee table.
“Want to talk about it?” Robbie offered. James just shook his head. “I’m fine, sir.”
Robbie sat next to James, sitting a little closer then before. James didn’t seem to notice.
“No you’re not. Please talk to me.” Robbie started to doubt the progress they had made with James’ continued silence. “If you can’t talk to me, talk to someone. It’s the only way you’re going to get past this. I promise you.”
Knowing that Lewis was the only one he would be able to talk to about this and with all he had said earlier, James thought, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’.
“We were sitting on her couch and she gave me a scotch. I wasn’t paying attention. I was checking to see if you’d tried to contact me on my mobile. I downed the scotch and only afterward thought it tasted slightly bitter. But I got distracted and didn’t think about it again.”
Robbie was watching his partner closely and saw that his cheeks and ears were turning pink. Giving his friend and himself a break he said. “You don’t have to get too graphic.” He really didn’t want to hear the details of James snogging Zoe.
James gave him one of his classic smirks. “It didn’t get terribly graphic. We made it to the bedroom, where she left me to get her iPod. That’s when I started to get sleepy. When she came back there was a faint hint of smoke. But I thought it was my imagination because the room was spinning. That’s when she told me she’d drugged me. She calmly started the iPod and began yammering on about everything.” He stopped talking and drew his knees up on the couch. He wrapped his arm around them trying to keep warm.
Robbie got the coat around him and left his arm across his shoulders trying to reassure James that he was safe, that the memories couldn’t hurt him. “Go on,” Robbie gently prodded.
“I think I reached out for her but I could barely control my arms.” He shivered. “When she told me she was Feardorcha. I was so shocked. I knew him. She didn’t look anything like him but when I tried to get up from the bed she…he pushed me back and held me down.”
“Go on,” Robbie encouraged, feeling a shiver run through the young man’s slim frame.
James hunched into the coat and laid his head on his drawn knees. He closed his eyes but continued. “Then she changed the music. I couldn’t move. All I could do was name the tune. I could smell the smoke but I couldn’t move. Then there was a weight at my side. Then an arm around my waist, I couldn’t…” Robbie’s hand was rubbing up and down his arm. He was trying to reassure his friend, trying to dispel some of the terror running through the body of the man in his arms.
Robbie slowly got the trembling man to unfold a little and rest his head on his shoulder again. “Do you think you can sleep now?” Robbie asked in a low voice.
The head on his shoulder shook rapidly. “I haven’t been able to sleep in my bed since. Haven’t been able to lay stretched out on the mattress for more than a few minutes before jumping up trying to get away.”
Lewis noticed the pillow and bedding stuffed into the corner of the couch. No wonder he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He hadn’t.
Robbie kissed the golden head under his chin then squeezed the shoulder under his hand. “Well then we better fix that, starting now.”
“Sir?” James questioned as Robbie got them off the couch.
“We’re going to bed, lad. I’m knackered too. Kipping on your couch isn’t an option with me back.”
James’ eyebrows went up. “Sir?” was that a squeak?
“You seemed to rest on the couch. We’ll just try the same thing only I’ll get to stretch out too.” Robbie offered as if he was explaining a technical police procedure.
“Sir, that’s really not necessary.” James really didn’t want this to happen. He didn’t know how his body would react. His friend was just trying to get him to sleep a little. Trying to give him comfort, at least for a little while.
“Do you usually go to bed in your jeans?” Robbie questioned as James pulled back the covers.
James looked up guiltily. “No, sir.” He gulped.
“James, we’re getting ready to sleep together, you can call me Robbie.”
“Sir?” was that another squeak?
“Robbie.” Robbie could only smile at his stunned partner. “Do you wear pajamas to bed?”
He shook his head. “No, just shorts and a shirt.”
“Well, go on with you.” Robbie encouraged. He removed his jacket and tie then slipped off his shoes.
James mentally shook himself, disrobed where he stood and quickly got under the covers.
Robbie fluffed a couple of pillows then lay out on top of the covers. He got comfortable, then pulled James to him. He manhandled James into the desired position. “Maybe this way you can sleep without the nightmares or panic?” He pressed James’ head against his shoulder, taking the opportunity to massage the downy head. “Try to relax a little,” he encouraged with the gentle head stroking.
While James’ eyes were closed, his mind was racing. ‘Relax, you have got to be kidding.’
But slowly with the soft mattress cradling his body, with the warmth he was snuggled against, with the wonderful scalp massage going on, he did in fact slowly relax.
His arm snaked out to anchor itself to the man who had brought a little peace to his troubled mind. He was just dozing off when he heard it.
“Sleep, bonny lad. I’ve got you. I’ll not let you go. You’re safe, love.” Then a soft kiss to his head again. Not a paternal kiss, but a kiss to a beloved.
He fell asleep knowing at least for this night the nightmares would stay away.
And it was enough.
End