Work Text:
THURSDAY
JULY 19, 2007
Father James Hathaway pulled open the door to The Winchester* and stepped inside the crowded pub. He gave an annoyed huff as he discovered it was just as humid and stuffy inside as the sultry summer weather outside. Patrons glanced over curiously at the newcomer who stood out from the rest of the clientele in his freshly pressed pale pink Oxford shirt and stylish creased dark gray trousers, a small gold cross glittering at the base of his throat, but quickly lost interest and went back to watching the cricket match playing on the telly.
While he waited for the G&T he ordered from the harried barman, James checked out the faces sitting around the bar, looking for a single specific face. Not seeing the one he sought, he widened his range, finally spotting his quarry at a table towards the back of the room. That Robbie Lewis was off by himself instead of watching the match with the rest of the fans only confirmed James's worst fears.
James paid for his drink then strolled over to where his friend was sitting, staring at an empty pint glass on the table, another half-empty one clutched tightly in his right hand.
Up close, James could understand Lizzie's warning to him that Robbie might be in a bad way when found. The man looked utterly dejected, and James wondered what had happened to cause it. Hopefully, he would be willing to share his troubles so James could try to help, in whatever way he could.
"Ah, here you are," James greeted, as he took a seat across from Robbie. "I've been looking for you."
Torn from his solitary thoughts, Robbie glanced up in surprise at his unexpected companion. "James? What are you doing here?" A quick perusal of James's unusual apparel rated an added, "And in that outfit?"
"You stood me up." At Robbie's confused expression, James elaborated, "The Mozart concerto at New College?"
Robbie nodded, distractedly. "Ah, right. Yeah. That was tonight, eh?"
"Yes, it was. I waited until 7:30 before I tried calling you. When you didn't answer, I rang Lizzie, in case you had been delayed at a crime scene." James sipped at his refreshing drink, wishing there was more ice in it. "She said I might find you here."
Taking a pull of his beer, Robbie muttered a disgruntled, "A'course she did."
"She's worried about you," James relayed, "as am I. It's not like you to cancel plans without telling me."
"Had things on me mind," was Robbie's blunt non-apology.
"I can see that." And James could. In a word, Robbie looked awful. Jacket off. Tie half undone. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Those were all understandable changes to his typical well-groomed appearance. Obvious concessions to help ease the worst of the stifling heat.
But it was Robbie's mused up hair, as if he had been running his hands anxiously through it. The deep lines carved into his cheeks and forehead, born of worry. The hollowness in his normally sharp, intelligent eyes speaking of a profound sorrow. Those were the things that worried James. "Are you okay?" he asked, gently.
"I'm fine," Robbie grumbled. "Can't a man just get pissed once in a while in peace?"
Though the words stung, James quickly acquiesced, not wanting to disturb his friend more than he apparently already had. "Of course. I didn't mean to intrude. If you want me to leave. . ." He started to stand up but was immediately stopped by Robbie holding up his hand.
"No, no. . .don't mind me," Robbie said, gesturing at James's chair until he sat back down again. "I didn't mean to snap at ya'. Just not a good day, is all."
James rolled his glass restlessly between his large hands, feeling the cool condensation wetting his skin, and silently cursing the fact he couldn't smoke inside the pub, as he debated with himself whether he should pry or not. Something was bothering Robbie. Something that caused him to skip out on a concert they had both been looking forward to for weeks. Something that had driven him into a pub on the edge of town to drown his woes alone.
But James knew Robbie well. Knew he could be a very private man. As much as James had come to learn about him over the last few months, there was so much he wasn't privy to. This may be one of those times he should just be quiet and supportive and let his friend work it out for himself.
And yet, his gut told him that was the wrong choice.
Decision made, he kindly invited, "Tell me about it?"
Robbie's glass was halfway up to his lips. "Maddox didn't tell ya'?"
"No. She just said that you might need a friend."
"Need a lot more than that," Robbie mumbled, as his glass continued its journey, and he took a healthy gulp. Placing it back on the table, it was another few uneasy moments until he finally revealed, "She found him. The man who killed Val. Wasn't even part of our case. Just someone we questioned in passing. Somehow Lizzie connected the dots."
Of all the things James had considered might be causing Robbie's current distress, that wasn't in the top 20. "Surely that's a good thing?" he said, cautiously.
"Don't bring me Val back, does it?" Robbie snapped.
"No, it doesn't," James readily agreed.
"Sorry, James." Robbie exhaled a frustrated breath. "I'm not. . .I don't mean. . ."
"It's okay," James assured him. "I understand."
"Do you?" Robbie challenged.
"I'd like to." James downed some of his drink. "That's why I'm here."
That got a mirthless chuckle from Robbie. "Nosy bastard you are."
"Very," James replied in his characteristic dry manner. "It's part of my charm."
Robbie shook his head fondly, a small sad smile touching his lips. "I wouldn't quite call it that." He took a drink of his beer before he shared, "I met him at the station, in the interrogation room. Maddox didn't want me to, but I had to see him for meself. He was just so. . .so. . ." Robbie paused, grappling for the right word, before he finished, "Ordinary. (1) No one special at all."
He held James's gaze, his usually warm blue eyes filled with anger and betrayal. "This man has haunted me for years, James. I had built him up in me head to be this Bond-like super villain, but he was a nobody. Just a two-bit career criminal, and not even a good one at that."
Dropping his gaze to stare at the scuffed up pub table, Robbie heaved a bone-tired sigh. "I thought when we caught him everything would magically get better, but it didn't. Just reopened old wounds I thought had healed."
James ached for his friend's torment, and wished he could have been there when Robbie had confronted that man, if only to give him strength to fight his inner demons. "Did he say how it happened?" he asked.
"He was the getaway driver for a robbery that went wrong. Hit her as he sped away from the scene. Didn't even stop to check on her. Just drove off to save his own arse." Robbie took another long pull from his glass as he firmly declared, "Val deserved better."
"Yes, she did," James soothed.
"Me 28th wedding anniversary this weekend," Robbie divulged. "Or it would have been if not for, well. . ." He gave a defeated shrug of his shoulders, which spoke more than his words did.
"I'm here for you, Robbie," James pledged, earnestly. "Please know that."
Robbie's mouth ticked up minutely. "I do," he replied. "And thank you." Finishing off his beer, he set the glass down next to its empty twin and leaned back in his chair.
James sipped at his own drink before inquiring, "What will happen to him?"
"Pr'bly get charged with manslaughter. A few years behind bars. But if I had my way, I'd bring back the noose," Robbie spat out, bitterly.
"You don't mean that."
"Like hell I don't!" Robbie fired back, loud enough to draw the attention of a few folks at a nearby table.
"I know you're a good and merciful man, Robert Lewis," James insisted. "Thoughts like that are spoken in anger, but don't reside in your heart."
"Spare me the bloody platitudes, Padre." The words were no sooner out than Robbie was pulling them back. "I'm sorry. Again. Here you are, tryin' to be nice and all and I'm bein' a complete arsehole."
"Not a complete one," James half-joked, earning a watery chuckle.
"I deserved that." Robbie pointed to James's drink. "May I?"
"Be my guest," James said, passing the glass over. Robbie needed it more than he did, and it was the least he could do for his hurting friend.
Although imagining the headache Robbie would have in the morning, it might have been kinder to refuse him.
"Ta." Robbie drained half the glass before placing it back on the table. He played with the stirrer, poking at the floating lemon slice, before admitting, "I keep running it through me head, ya' know? Her last minutes. Did she know what happened? Did she realize she was dyin'? Did she suffer long? Did she call out for me? Wonder where I was? Figured I had just left her for the job again, like I had done our whole marriage? Curse me out for not bein' there when she needed me the most?"
Before he could talk himself out of it, James reached across the table and placed his hand over Robbie's. " 'What if's' are the way to madness," he said, tenderly, as he gave the hand a comforting squeeze. "Don't carry the burdens of the world on your shoulders, my friend."
Tears welled up in Robbie's eyes, and ripped at James's heart. "Can you absolve me of this?"
James shook his head, sadly. "I wish I could." And he meant every word of it. There was nothing James wanted more than to take away Robbie's pain, even if it meant taking it on himself. If only he had the power to do so.
"But. . .?" Robbie prompted.
"We're not in a confessional and even if we were, I can't absolve you of your guilt," James explained, as he clutched Robbie's hand tighter. "It is not a sin in the eyes of the Lord."
Robbie drained the rest of James's drink and shot off a sarcastic, "Then what good are ya'?"
"I can pray for you, that one day your soul will know peace."
"Fat lot of good that'll do me," Robbie snarked.
"And I can get the next round."
His offer had the desired effect, as Robbie smiled a genuine smile for the first time since James's arrival. "Now THAT is actually helpful."
* * * * * *
Due to the thirsty, demanding crowd, it was nearly ten minutes before James returned to their table. He found a forlorn Robbie staring grimly out the window, and once more wished he could do more to ease his friend's misery than just supply him with alcohol.
He placed Robbie's beer on the table as he reclaimed his seat, casually draping one long leg over the other. The movement caught Robbie's eye and he turned away from the window, his attention once more on his companion. "That took a while," he commented. "Thought you popped out for a smoke."
"Tempted," James confessed. "But they're just short staffed tonight." He didn't mention that during his wait he had quickly called Lizzie to let her know he had found her wayward boss, and assure her that he was all right. He might have also informed her that Robbie would most likely be taking a sick day tomorrow, once the booze caught up with him.
"Well, cheers," Robbie said, holding up his glass.
"Shalom," James replied, clinking their glasses together, pleased that he got a tiny grin. He took a sip of his drink, and even though he was sure of the answer, he asked the question anyway. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"Awww, nothin'," Robbie replied. "Just thinkin' about Val."
"Anything in particular?" James encouraged.
With a sad sigh, Robbie revealed, "Sometimes it feels like she's slippin' away from me, James. Little things that meant so much, each day there seem to be less of them." He brought his glass to his mouth and took a drink. "I'm afraid one day I'll wake up and she'll be gone forever."
James tried to think of some way to respond to that. Deep in his heart, he knew Val would never leave Robbie, but he understood the fear was real. Time marched on, memories faded. It was just life. Still, he knew he should say something that might comfort his dear friend and ease his mind.
Remembering a lesson from a comparative religions course he had taken at Cambridge, he related, "There are many cultures around the world that believe as long as one person says your name you're never forgotten. With a champion like you in her corner, I don't think Val has anything to worry about."
Robbie gawped at him for a beat, then two, as if trying to work out a puzzle with half the pieces missing. Finally he uttered, "Who ARE you, James Hathaway?" his tone a mixture of awe and bafflement.
James felt a smile tug at his lips. "A friend, I hope," he answered, sincerely.
"You're more than that, and you know it."
The smile tugged a little harder. "A very good friend?" he amended.
"Aye, the finest kind," Robbie agreed. He took a long pull of his beer before placing the glass on the table. "Christ, look at me," he mumbled. "Old man cryin' in his pint. How pathetic is that?"
"Not pathetic," James corrected. "You're a man who is grieving. There is no shame in that."
"But it's been five years, man," Robbie fairly whined. "When does it end?"
"It never does," James told him honestly. "She'll always be a part of you. The good and the bad. And that's as it should be."
"I know. It's just sometimes I wish. . ." Robbie's wistful words petered out, but James was quick to pick up the thread.
"That you had a TARDIS?"
Robbie chuckled, as James knew he would. "I wouldn't mind one sometimes, yeah."
They both grew quiet as they sipped on their respective drinks, thinking their respective thoughts. It didn't take a psychic to know what, or rather whom, Robbie was thinking about. James, of course, was thinking about Robbie. Something he seemed to be doing a lot these past few months. Thoughts one male friend should not have about another male friend, especially if one of those male friends also happened to be a celibate servant of God.
When did his feelings towards Robbie change, James wondered? Was there even an exact moment, or was it something that had been building and morphing all along? Right from the start James had found himself drawn to this man in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time. Maybe that should have been a warning to stay away. Instead, it had been a siren call, one James had no desire, or willpower to ignore.
Many nights he would lay awake, wondering what it could be like if he admitted his true feelings to Robbie. To turn his back on the church and its occasionally outdated dogma in pursuit of mortal love. How would Robbie react to such a confession? Would he be disgusted or intrigued? After seeing him at The Screaming Spires festival with his nephew, it's doubtful Robbie would be repulsed by James's affection for him. But that's a long way from being receptive to or returning it.
And at any rate, it seemed to be a moot point. James had the church, and Robbie had Val, and never the twain shall meet.
Which brought James back to the present, and what he could do to offer solace to his friend. As he watched the other wallow in his despair, James was reminded of the first time they shared tea at his cottage, when he said he wanted to hear Robbie's story when he was ready to tell it. Now seemed like the perfect time, though he was aware it had the potential of rending his own heart.
In the end, James did the right thing, putting aside his own fears and feelings, as he asked, "Tell me about her?"
Robbie's face creased in confusion. "You know about her," he said.
"Not what happened TO her," James clarified. "Tell me something ABOUT her. One special thing you remember. Something that you loved about her."
There wasn't a moment's hesitation as Robbie immediately replied, "She had the most infectious laugh. It was this high pitched uncontrollable giggle. She'd try to muffle it because she hated it so much, but I couldn't get enough of it. When I had a bad day at work, I'd come home and tell her joke after stupid joke until she'd start laughing. Would make me forget all me troubles."
By the time he had finished speaking, a big smile was plastered across Robbie's face, and James knew he had chosen the correct path. Regardless of what it did to his own soul he'd gladly suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune as long as it made his friend smile like that. "How did you two meet?"
"At a concert in 1974. 'The Midnight Addiction'."
James shook his head as he admitted, "Never heard of them," causing Robbie to shoot him a dirty look.
"I weep for your generation," Robbie said in mock-disgust.
"Forgive my ignorance, I'm more a Simon and Garfunkel guy," James jokingly apologized. "You were saying. . .?"
"They were playing for the first time in Newcastle. I was a huge Esme Ford fan. Had her poster hangin' up on me bedroom wall. She was wearing a top hat, and no bra." (1)
"Ah, so a true virtuoso," James quipped.
"I'll have you know she had an amazing voice, but you can't take a picture of that. So, anyway, a'course I had to go to the show. Val was up from Oxford visiting her cousin, Danny, who was a mate of mine. I swear, James, one look at her, with those big doe eyes and those freckles on her nose and well. . ." Robbie chortled. "It was like, 'Esme who'?"
James laughed along with him. "Love at first sight, huh?"
"Oh, yeah. Told her that night I was gonna marry her one day. She just said, 'I'm holding you to that.' " Robbie took a drink of his beer. "Five years later, I kept me promise."
"You two were lucky to find each other." Almost as lucky as I am I found you, James thought but didn't say.
"Very lucky."
James sipped his G&T. "Did she have any hobbies?"
"She loved to dance. Not the modern stuff. We took ballroom dancin' classes together before the kiddies came along. At one point, she was seven months pregnant, and I could barely get me arms around her." Robbie paused, adding a soft, regretful, "I should've taken her dancing more often."
Not wanting to undo all the progress he had made, James tried to steer the conversation back onto safer ground. "What else did she like to do?"
Robbie took a sip of beer before he responded. "She liked learning. Was always takin' night classes, improvin' her mind, she'd say. And she enjoyed cooking. She'd comb through women's magazines, looking for new recipes to try out. I'm a steak and spuds man meself, but she was more adventurous." He snorted an amused guffaw. "They were almost always awful, but it made her happy so I'd give 'em a try. 'A course, we had the number for the local pizza shop on speed dial, just in case."
James felt his lips twitch in a small grin. Finally, he had found a flaw with the flawless Valerie Lewis. And immediately he sent up a quick act of contrition prayer for his petty jealousy. Tonight was about Robbie, after all. Not about James's moral failings in regard to his dearest friend.
Attempting to cover up his momentary weakness with a bracing gulp of his drink, James asked, "What about the kids?"
He regretted the question as soon as it was voiced.
"Aw, she was a great mum," Robbie said, practically glowing with pride. "Loved kids. Wanted a whole house full of 'em. There was this one time. . ."
* * * * * * * *
For the next two hours--while people around them watched snooker on the telly, played darts, and argued about politics--they sat at their table, sharing a plate of bangers and mash as Robbie talked about his life with Val. Once he got started, he couldn't seem to stop.
The additional rounds of drinks James kept buying didn't hurt, either.
Like the finest kind of friend he was, James listened to the stories Robbie told, laughing at the right places, offering a sympathetic ear and a symbolic shoulder to cry on at others. Robbie couldn't know how each word spoken about his beloved wife stabbed at James, and yet, like some kind of flagellant, he kept asking questions, coming back for more punishment. Painfully aware with each passing minute he could never have what Val did.
As closing time approached, and Robbie seemed to finally be talked out, James announced, "I don't think you should be alone for your anniversary. Come over to mine Saturday night. I'll make dinner."
"You can cook?" Robbie asked in surprise.
"I'll have you know I make an excellent fish pie," James smugly replied. "I'll even decorate it with potato curlicues just for you."
"Sounds like a plan."
"C'mon, let's get you home."
It was with some degree of difficulty that James managed to help Robbie stand up and arm in arm, they made their wobbly way to the front door. Outside, they waited together at the taxi queue. James was thankful that Robbie hadn't driven to the pub, as he was in no condition to get behind the wheel of a car. And quite frankly, neither was James.
After a couple of minutes, a taxi pulled up. James opened the back door for Robbie, who turned and gave him a smile. "Thank you, James," he said, "for tonight. For. . .well. . .for being you." And before James knew it, Robbie had pulled him in for a hug. Not a manly, drunken hug but an affectionate, grateful hug. The kind of hug two friends share.
The kind of hug James and Robbie had never shared before.
James had just enough time to wrap his arms around Robbie and return the embrace, savoring the few brief moments of closeness and warmth, before the other man was patting him on the shoulder and retreating into the backseat.
"Anytime, Robbie." James whispered as the cab drove away, already mourning the loss of that hug.
THE END