Indelible

[hedda62]

Yup, watched it. So first of all, "Anne Rand," really? And, oh dear God, that was David Soul playing the murder victim, and I'm showing my age, so shut up.

I have another not-micro-fic, naturally, and I guess I will polish all these up together and stick the result on AO3 at some point. It sort of goes where you would expect; I'm as much a romantic as anyone.

ETA: Posted the whole thing at AO3: Da Segno al Coda. No need to read here unless you're observing my editing.



"More steady on your feet than the last time I walked you home," said Lewis.

"When was that, sir?"

"Ah. Convenient amnesia. Never you mind, then. One pint suits you better."

"I expect so." Hathaway kept walking, the measured stride that matched Lewis's, but not so precisely as to be ridiculous. One wouldn't care to be ridiculous. Again.

After a moment he thought he should make conversation, so he said, "Tooth better?"

"Still a bit tender. Not bad."

"That's good. She's an excellent dentist." Hathaway hesitated, then added, "Dishy, too."

"Dishy," Lewis scoffed. "Who says that? You got that off Laura."

"Why, who does she think is dishy, sir?"

"You."

Hathaway expressed the proper surprise, silently, and Lewis went on, "Not that she fancies you, don't get any ideas. She's just said it once or twice. Three times, maybe."

"Does she think you're dishy?" Lewis just snorted. "How about DI Peterson?"

"Don't think so, no."

"Mm. Well, one wouldn't want the constabulary turned into a soap opera."

"Anymore than it is, yeah. You have noticed how Julie..."

"What?"

"Never mind."

They walked on, Hathaway's mind swirling around the completed case, until he thought to say, "I was given a promotion."

"What?" Lewis stopped and turned to stare at him. "When? Innocent never--"

"Accidental, sir. Lilian called me Detective Inspector Hathaway when she opened the door that last day."

"Ah." Lewis started walking again, then said, "Sound good to you?"

"Odd. As though the two of us had been turned into one being."

"My brains, your suits. One decent detective, I told you. You should go for it, though."

"Merging with you, like an amoeba in reverse?"

"You know what I..." Lewis stopped, then clarified: "Promotion."

"Would you like that, sir?"

"Off-duty. Don't call me sir."

Hathaway's feet stilled. He took a deep breath, not looking at Lewis, and said, "Would you like that, Robbie?"

"Not much. But that's selfish."

"I go angling for selfish, on my days off."

Lewis chuckled. "Take me next time, will you? What's worse, do you think? Selfishness or cowardice?"

"Cowardice," Hathaway said immediately.

"The indelible stain, hm? Why?"

"The vices suffered by oneself are subjectively more sinful. I have a thumb on the balance; can't help it."

"You are aware most people don't think that way? At least the segment of the population we tend to arrest."

"Unfortunately that sort of analysis isn't likely to work as a profiling tool," Hathaway said. "And yes, before you say it: most people don't think in terms of sins either." He touched his chest. "Conditioning."

"You're not a coward, anyway."

"Yeah. I am. Where it counts."

"Number of times you've rushed in, saved people, saved my life even--"

"You know what I mean," Hathaway said, forcing a tone completely different from Lewis's gentle chaffing, meeting his eyes.

In the silence that followed, he lifted a hand and touched Lewis's face, tracing the line running next to his mouth... the side opposite from the now-missing tooth. Lewis began to speak; Hathaway shushed him, then dropped his hand, turned away and began walking once more. He waited for Lewis to catch up before introducing a new subject.

"Thank you, sir," he said, "for providing backup at Professor Lipton's house. It's possible you saved my life. Again."

"You called me. I realized what was wrong. It's what we do for each other. James--"

"What?"

Lewis put a hand to his arm; he stopped walking, facing grimly ahead. "James, look at me," Lewis said.

Hathaway turned smartly. "Sir."

"Don't be a smartarse. Lipton might have killed you, yeah, because you couldn't have kept your bloody mouth shut once you knew he was guilty. Why can't you be honest with me unless you're pissed?"

In his hardest bad-cop voice, Hathaway managed, "Take me home, give me a couple of large whiskies, and you might find out."

Lewis reached out, brushed a thumb along the corner of Hathaway's lip, and lowered his hand. "Let's do that, then," he said quietly. "Your place or mine?"

"I keep better whisky," Hathaway said, managing to add "Robbie" instead of "sir."

"Yours, then." Lewis paused, then added, "Least I think so. Let's go and see."