Work Text:
TUESDAY
NOVEMBER 14, 2006
It didn't take long for Robbie to take James up on his offer. The following Sunday found him once again at the little cottage behind St. Giles, enjoying a cuppa, a plate of homemade macarons (courtesy of one of the friendly church ladies) and some entertaining conversation. Three days later, James had shown up at the station with cups of take-away tea and a bag of bakery-fresh scones, which they shared in a nearby park.
After that, it became a regular routine for them, getting together almost daily at various cafes and bistros around town. Occasionally, when the mood struck them, they'd pop into the local pub for lunch and a pint instead. Any opportunity they could find to take time out of their busy days just to sit and relax with each other for a bit while chatting about work, current events, abstract theological theories, and anything else that came to mind.
Eight weeks after their initial meeting, and six weeks into their still-new, and very unlikely friendship, they were sitting closely side-by-side on a bench by the Thames River, cups of hot coffee in hand, relishing the sunny, if rather chilly, November morn. "Gonna be too cold to do this soon," Robbie commented.
"We'll make do somehow," James replied, sipping from his cup. "I hear there's a new coffee shop opening up on Branbury Road next week."
"It's a date." When James looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, Robbie quickly amended, "You know what I mean."
"Of course." James took a puff of his ever-present cigarette. "I got word from the diocese today. Father Duncan is retiring so he can take care of his ailing mother."
"Sorry to hear that," Robbie said. "About his mum. Must be hard."
"He's very devoted to her. Thought it was for the best." James tapped off some excess ash, staring intently at the ground where it landed. "They've offered me St. Giles, if I want it. Apparently the flock is satisfied with my endeavours."
Robbie felt an involuntary smile cross his face at James's choice of words, as usually happened when he heard his late friend's hated name. "Well, as one of your lost sheep, I'm happy for you."
A tic upwards of James's lips as he looked back up at Robbie. "So you think I should take it?"
"A'course you should," Robbie answered, confidently. "It's a great opportunity, what you've been working for."
"I'm not sure I'm ready yet," James admitted, uncertainly.
"You're more than ready," Robbie assured him. "And you must be doing somethin' right if you're being noticed by the higher ups."
"Is that necessarily a good thing?" James pondered as he puffed on his cigarette.
"Not necessarily, no, but in this case, yes." Robbie took a sip of his drink. "Plus, you'd miss me if you were gone."
"I wouldn't go that far."
Robbie shot him a fond look before turning his gaze back to the scenery. "B'sides, where else are you gonna get a view like that?" He gestured to the iconic river and surrounding landscape. "I mean, why do you need God when you've got all this?"
"God is in everything, (1)" James stated, simply and assuredly.
"I just don't understand you, James," Robbie said, sipping his drink. "How does a learned man such as yourself still believe in God and the Bible? Science proves it all wrong. Just a bunch of stories."
James took a long drag from his cigarette and blew out a deliberate puff of smoke. "It may have the minutiae wrong, but the important bits are all that matters. Love thy neighbor. Thou shall not kill. Be a good person. Avoid temptation. God and science aren't mutually exclusive, Robbie. (2) Both can exist where there is truth. Faith doesn't change that, just enhances it."
"But don't you ever doubt?" Robbie insisted.
"I question," James corrected. "There's a difference."
"Some say faith is a curse," Robbie pointed out.
"No, but it can make things difficult sometimes.(3)." James sipped his coffee. "You don't have a high opinion of faith, do you?"
Robbie shrugged. "Faith is fine, I sup'ose. It's not my cuppa, but whatever gets you through."
" 'To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible' (4)", James recited, reverently.
"Get that from a fortune cookie?"
James chuckled, good-naturedly. "Close. Saint Thomas Aquinas. I had to do a mediation on him at the seminary. Interesting fellow. I think you'd like him."
"More religious mumbo-jumbo?"
"A bit."
Robbie took a drink from his cup. "I'll pass, thanks."
"It was worth a try." James shifted his position, lounging back on the bench and crossing one mile-long leg over the other. "Can I ask you a question?"
"You just did."
A little huff of laughter. "I guess I walked into that one."
"Sorry. Dad humour. What were you going to ask?"
James brought the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled. On the exhale, he enquired, "Did you ever believe in God?"
"Is this a deal breaker?"
"Of course not. I'm just curious."
Robbie drank his coffee as he mulled over the question. "Mebbe when I was younger. Impressionable. Hopeful. But now?" He pursed his lips and shook his head in the negative. "Nah. I've seen too much bad in this world. God doesn't exist, or if he did, he buggered off a long time ago. Sorry to disappoint you, Father."
James seemed to digest Robbie's response as he took one final puff of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and crushing it with his shoe. With a slight thoughtful tilt of his head, he stated, "God isn't responsible for bad things."
"No, he just takes credit for the good stuff. Like a politician."
An amused smirk pulled at James's lips. "You would have been burned at the stake in the Middle Ages for saying something like that."
"Guess it's a good thing we ain't in the Middle Ages then."
"Indeed." James took a sip of his coffee before revealing, "God may have created us in His image, but He bestowed free will upon us. He chooses not to interfere so we can grow and learn. If people do bad things it's because they can, or because they want to."
"Ah, but by that line of reasoning, if God gave us free will, then it IS ultimately His fault," Robbie argued. "Could charge Him as an accessory after the fact."
Again, that slight twitch pulled at James's mouth. "You have a very interesting view of the world, Inspector Lewis."
"Comes with the job. Speaking of, how's your Latin?"
"Better than my Greek," James joked, referring back to the case Robbie had sought his assistance with a week earlier. "Why?"
Robbie reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper in a plastic evidence bag. "Can you make any sense of this?" he asked, handing it over to James. "It's from me latest crime scene."
James placed his cup on the bench so he wouldn't accidentally ruin the document. "Someone left a note at a crime scene in Latin?"
With a world-weary sigh, Robbie just said, "It's Oxford," as if that explained everything.
"Does your boss know you're showing me this?"
"She won't care, as long as I solve the case." Jerking his head towards the bag, Robbie encouraged, "Go on, boy wonder. Work your magic."
James studied the handwritten note for a few moments, reading it aloud, "Fatum ad eos venit qui non exspectant, (5)" and once again Robbie was struck by how musical the dead language sounded coming from James's lips.
"And in English for the rest of the class?"
"Roughly translated, 'Fate happens when you least expect it'.
"Like tempting Fate?" Robbie clarified.
"Yes, it could be interpreted that way." James handed the bag back to Robbie. "Does that help?"
"It might," Robbie replied as he pocketed the evidence once more. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
"Ya' know, between the two of us, we make a pretty good detective." Robbie gave a cheeky grin. "I'm the brains, of course. (6)"
"Of course," James deadpanned. Picking up his cup once again, he said, "I don't mind. I quite enjoy being Watson to your Sherlock."
"And if you take over St. Giles, you'll get to do so for a long time."
"You make a very compelling argument."
"It's a gift." Finishing off his coffee, Robbie said, "There's something I've always wondered about your job."
"What troubles you, my son?" James intoned in his best priestly manner.
"How do you decide how many Hail Marys to assign someone in the confessional?"
Without hesitation, James answered straight-faced, "I pull a number out of a hat."
"Figured as much." Robbie was pleased when James chuckled along with him.
They sat for a few moments of peaceful silence as Robbie took in the beautiful scenery and James finished off his coffee. It was getting late, and Robbie knew he had to get back to the nick soon, but he didn't want this meet-up to end just yet. The time he got to spend with James had become very special to him, a break from his otherwise dreary life, and he selfishly longed for a few more minutes.
Maybe one of James's holy friends heard his wish because suddenly the man turned to him and asked, "Have you given any more thought to what we talked about the other day?"
It took a moment for Robbie to understand James's question before he replied, "You mean about visiting Lyn?"
"Family is important, Robbie," James intoned, wisely. "Don't let it slip through your fingers."
"I don't mean to. It's just the job." Robbie rubbed his hands together restlessly. "Sometimes it gets away from me."
James wouldn't be put off. "The holidays are coming up," he hinted. "It's the perfect opportunity for a reunion."
"You tryin' to get rid of me?"
"Always," James smirked.
Robbie huffed a small amused chuckle as he smiled back. "I know, it's just been so busy lately."
"If you use that as an excuse, you'll never go."
"Not an excuse," Robbie insisted, "just fact."
"They can do without you for a couple of days." James paused for a thoughtful moment then added, "Or is that the problem?"
"What is?"
"You think if they function without you, they won't need you when you get back."
Robbie made a face and scoffed, "Don't use any of that psychology rubbish on me."
James held up his hands in a placating way. "You're right. I had no business saying that."
The hell of it was, James had a point, and Robbie hated how well his friend knew him after such a short time. Sometimes it seemed like James could read him like a book. Yes, that was exactly one of the reasons he worked so hard. He suspected that Innocent was still trying to find a reason to put him out to pasture, so he had to show them all that he was essential, that he was needed. He may be a plodder but he was still productive.
Maybe that had always been his problem. Trying to always prove his worth. He loved the work, but dammit, he loved his family, too. So many times in his life those two things conflicted with each other.
Perhaps it was time that changed.
"Would be nice to hold me grandson again 'fore he gets too big," Robbie conceded, suddenly realizing with a shock he hadn't done so since the lad was born, nearly four months earlier. "Photos are good and all, but he should spend time with his Pop-Pop, right?"
"Pop-Pop?" James repeated, his face a mask of delight. "That. Is. Adorable."
"Quit it, you," Robbie scolded, playfully.
As if sensing he was pushing his luck, James took a step back. "And I'm sure your daughter would be thrilled to see you, too."
Robbie sighed as he admitted, "I do miss me girl terribly."
"Well, there's your answer." James shifted on the bench, tucking his right leg under him, until he could look directly at Robbie. "I know you care deeply about your work, but don't let it get in the way of what is really important. The job will still be there when you get back."
"You sound so sure."
"I am. Lizzie would probably burn the place to the ground if they tried to get rid of you."
Robbie laughed, as intended. He could easily picture his loyal sergeant doing just that. With a shake of his head he surrendered. "You win. When I get back, I'm going to ask Innocent for a couple of days off."
"Take a week," James told him. "You won't regret it."
"I know I won't." Giving his friend a smile, Robbie said, simply, "Thank you, James."
James flashed a rare full smile, complete with deadly dimples. "You're welcome."
"What about you? Any joy?"
The smile quickly fell away, and Robbie could have kicked himself. James's family was a sore subject, one he seldom discussed, but Robbie had been encouraging him to reach out and try to mend old wounds. "I've spoken to Nell," James finally said. "Dad's not doing so good. She thinks he belongs in a care home."
"What do you think?"
Robbie watched as James clenched his hands, knowing the man was fighting the urge to light up another cigarette. "She's the one who has been looking after him all this time. I bow to her judgement."
"But you think it's wrong?" Robbie guessed.
"I keep thinking about Father Duncan and his mum. What he is giving up for her, and I just wish I had done more for my dad. And Nell, too. I just. . ." James dropped his gaze as he trailed off. After a moment, he exhaled a deep breath, and continued, "I tend to all these strangers, help them and minister to them, yet my own family. . ." The words tapered off once more.
"They feel more like strangers than actual strangers," Robbie filled in.
Looking back up at Robbie, James's lips trembled sadly. "Yeah," he agreed.
Robbie nodded in understanding. "I get it. People you meet at work, the victims. . .they take up more of your time than your true loved ones. It can't be helped. You just try to do the best with the time you've got with them."
James tipped his head to the heavens as he quoted, " 'I would rather feel compassion than know the meaning of it. I would hope to act with compassion without thinking of personal gain.' (7)"
"Saint Tommy again?"
A weak chuckle as James looked back at Robbie once more. "It's one of my favourites. I try so hard to live by it."
"You do." Robbie reached out a hand and clasped his friend's knee. "You're a good man, James Hathaway. Don't ever forget that."
The hopeful smile James gave lit up his whole face, and for one moment, just one, Robbie may have believed in God once more.
THE END