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Fic! Lewis
Last one for now.
Title: Come clean, come good
Summary: repeat with me the punch line 'Just like blood' (title and summary from I Say, I Say, I Say by Simon Armitage)
Rating: Teen
Wordcount: 3847
Warnings: none
Genre: AU
Characters/Pairing: Lewis, Hathaway, couple of OCs
Prompt:
Prompt No. 44
Along the lines of the slave!AUs, where are all the vampire!AUs? I would love to see either of the boys as the vampire, where vampires are known or unknown.
by maekala
(NB the prompt was slash but I missed this the first time round so technically it’s pre-slash)
Notes: Mostly avoids canon references as trying to work out how it would fit with James being a vampire was a pain.
Thanks again to seiyaharris for the beta :D
--
James Hathaway is a failed experiment: a vampire who knows he’s an aberration in God’s eyes. Once, he was a flawed man who tried to be good, tried to be a priest, and he failed so badly that he couldn’t see any other way out.
In short, James Hathaway is a dolt.
--
By the time he decides to try the police force (he has studied and studied and studied, he has been a pilot and a pianist and a baker, once or twice), James is tired. Tired of having to be on edge all the time, tired of hiding himself, his intelligence, his strength.
It’s an act of desperation. Law and order, helping people, solving crimes: it’s another attempt to atone for what he is, and if this doesn’t work, well, maybe he really has reached the end of the road.
--
Training is not a problem. He wonders if some of it might be, being watched so closely, but he realises early on that there must be other vampires in the police force. There would have to be, of course. He’s heard the whispers the same as everyone else: they’re everywhere, at every level, and the humans have no idea.
--
His years in uniform pass quickly; a combination of novelty and hard work. He passes his sergeant’s exams easily, and then he gets his posting.
Oxford. It always comes back to Oxford.
--
He’s relieved beyond words to find that DCS Jean Innocent is a vampire, but then it suddenly occurs to him to be scared.
She calls him into her office on his first day, and just looks at him for a long moment like she’s wondering how much mess he’d cause if she just staked him right now.
“Don’t be so ridiculous.” She says, startling him. She can’t read minds, surely?
“I’m sorry…”
“Honestly, how have you got this far? You can’t hide a thing. Don’t panic, James, I’m not going to hurt you. Yes, a few strings were pulled to get you here, but there’s safety in numbers and you’ll thank me for it one day.”
“There are more of us? Here?”
“A few. You won’t get to work with them too often – I try to avoid anything that could lead to the more observant members of the human workforce joining the dots – but they’re here.”
It has been a long, long time since James was surrounded by his own kind. Those that didn’t want to kill him, anyway.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She smiles at him, thin and bloodless.
“This is a good set-up we have here, James.” Innocent says. “You’d be a fool to cause trouble.”
“I’m not here to cause trouble.” James promises. “I just want to live in peace.”
“Then we’re going to get along very well.”
--
James meets Lewis and it’s like he can sit in the sun again. He’s unlike anyone James has worked with, and they fall into a rhythm so quickly, it worries him.
--
“What were you doing before this, then?”
So many things, James doesn’t say. He talks about university and the seminary as if it happened a couple of years ago, and not a couple of decades.
--
After their first case, when he and Innocent have a conversation that’s mostly made up of nods and looks, James waits while she asks Lewis if he wants a bagman. It’s been a long time since he’s wanted something this badly that wasn’t blood.
Lewis agrees to take him on (oh, Lewis has no idea what he’s taking on), and James smiles at him, unable to remember the last time he was this happy.
--
Innocent doesn’t bring it up for a year or more, though he hears through the grapevine that she’s taken others to task.
“Not that I expect you’ll listen to me, but I wouldn’t tell him.” Innocent says. She never looks at him properly when they talk about what they are, but he appreciates that.
“I wasn’t planning to, ma’am. I know how important it is to be careful.”
“Good.” Innocent says, smiling brightly at him. “I’m happy to hear that. If they were all like you, it would make my life a lot easier.”
“I presume you mean just in this aspect of –“
She looks exasperated again. “Yes, James, I do.”
“I’ll just get back to work then, Ma’am.”
“Yes, James, you do that.”
--
Occasionally, James tries to date people, but his attempts are usually short-lived. He doesn’t know how to deal with people, and even when by some fluke he manages to say the right thing and act the right way, he holds so much of himself back. He doesn’t go in for casual sex, not least because all the vampires in Oxford seem to know each other’s business, and he has enough to worry about.
He realises gradually what it is he really wants, but there are so many reasons it can’t happen it’s pointless to even think about it. So he settles for less than Lewis and is never surprised when it ends.
--
Dot (nee Dorothy, nee Dorcas) Parsons is a hundred and seventy year old in the body of a thirty year old. She chain smokes because it doesn’t matter and she’s a brilliant copper.
She’s had plenty of practice. This is the third time she’s joined the police, and she’s staying in uniform this time. She says you can get away with more. James doesn’t think he could bring himself to do that, not when he knows he could rise higher.
She’s bad at keeping up the boundaries the rest of them are careful to mind, but somehow she gets away with it, even with Innocent. She’s easily the chattiest person in the station, and has been known to get people to confess just by talking incessantly at them (for some reason, this works well on small-time car thieves).
James wouldn’t say they’re friends, exactly, but he’s glad that she’s here. She makes it a little easier on the rest of them, putting herself out front and centre the way she does. James is still trying to fit in, but she’s been there and done that and she says it isn’t worth the effort.
--
A couple of times, he almost thinks Lewis has figured him out. The way he looks, or the things he says – James just wonders where they can have come from if he doesn’t know. And then the next minute everything will be back to normal, and James will be sure Lewis is clueless.
And as much as he’d like Lewis to know, sometimes, it really is safer this way.
--
He doesn’t feed very often. He’d rather not feed at all, but it makes life easier if he just…tops up once in a while.
He’s careful to choose people who are healthy, people who can stand to lose a little bit of blood. He usually ends up going for young athletic men, because there’s always a steady supply around Oxford. He tries to avoid the ones he’s attracted to (he goes back for them later). This isn’t about pleasure, it’s about sustenance.
Dot rolls her eyes when he says this; she doesn’t see any harm in what they do.
“For crying out loud, Jimbo,” She says, dragging on a cigarette, “how many people have you even killed?”
“Two.” James says. “In person, anyway. Probably more if you count the war.”
James was human in the last world war. He was also a pilot, and part of the reason he decided to go into the priesthood was that he couldn’t adapt back to Civvy Street.
“I don’t.” Dot says. “No-one with any sense counts it. We all did what we had to do. I was a Wren, you know. Lived in Sussex, then. And I was married, if you can believe that.”
She stops talking for a moment and takes another drag on her cigarette, and James wonders how long it’s been since she last thought about this husband. She shakes her head, like she’s trying to get rid of the memory.
“Anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is, you keep thinking you’re evil and bad and all that, but you’re not. Do you think I’m evil as well?”
”What we are is evil. We’re unnatural. Whether or not we go around murdering people or solving murders is irrelevant. We can’t change what we are.”
She rolls her eyes at him. ”Well, I suppose that’s where we differ. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with what we are.”
They’ve discussed this many times, and James knows by now that they’re never going to agree, so he drops the subject. Sometimes, he wishes he could be more like the rest, more accepting of who he is and what he has to do to survive.
Occasionally it’s been pointed out to him that if he feels that strongly about it, he shouldn’t even be here anymore, and furthermore that it would be quite easy to sort that out, but his survival instinct is just too strong. He could have killed himself properly back when he was human, even though it was a sin, but he chose this half-life for a reason. It’s just that sometimes he forgets what that reason is.
--
Normally, James is quite capable of understanding the difference between himself and the murderers they investigate. He can parse it in terms of necessity, of harm done, of malice. He can also tell that there’s a gulf between him and the vampires that do go around on killing sprees, feeding off everything in sight without any care for who it might hurt. It’s just that sometimes he doesn’t think ‘morally superior to a murderer’ is a high enough bar to set.
Maybe this is why he wants to tell Lewis. And yes, he gets the symbolism of wanting to confess, thank you, and yes, he could just go and confess to a priest (he’s tried that before; it didn’t help), but really what it comes down to is that he trusts Lewis, and if Robbie can tell him that he’s not evil, maybe he’ll believe it.
--
He broaches this idea with Dot when they’re both out one morning having a cigarette. He’s been going back and forth on it for days, worrying about what Innocent will say.
Dot is not impressed.
“Just man up and tell Innocent you’ve changed your mind, you tomtug. And then you can do us all a favour and tell Lewis.”
”How is me telling him going to do you a favour?”
”You’ll stop moping about it.” Dot says, grouchy this morning. “Fucking summer, I hate it.”
James can’t disagree, and they stare out at the bright sunshine, both glum.
--
Lewis sees him.
Lewis sees him.
Lewis sees him.
James can’t think of any words strong enough for his stupidity, and he knows how to swear in three languages.
He’s feeding on some hooray Henry who’d staggered down the wrong alley. And yes, he was working, and yes, theoretically he could have been seen, but he was on duty with Lewis, Brennan and Parsons, so he only had a one in three chance of being seen by the wrong person, and he was so, so hungry.
He looks up from feeding, letting the man slide down against the wall (he’ll wake up soon enough, disorientated and putting it down to the alcohol) and then he looks up, and Lewis is there, staring at him, mouth open, and James can’t think of anything to say.
Lewis turns and leaves before James comes up with anything.
The worst thing is, he’d cleared it with Innocent. He was going to tell Lewis. He was just waiting for the right time.
--
“Oh, fuck off, Hathaway.” Dot says, when he finds her and explains. “What are you, some amateur who’s only been drinking blood six months?”
“Apparently so.” James says, covering his panic with a layer of glum.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t tell anyone.” Brennan says, arms folded across his chest.
“Like who?” Dot asks.
“Let me see, someone like the pathologist he’s been dating, maybe?”
“Oh, hell no.” Dot spits when the realisation hits. “You’d better find him and explain, before he does tell her. Or Innocent.”
“What could he tell them?” James asks, aware that he probably should be reacting more like Dot.
“Quite a few things, you arse. I mean if he decides to go straight to Innocent, it doesn’t matter if he sounds like a rambling nut, it doesn’t matter if you were going to tell him, she’ll know you were seen, and then you’ll be for it. If he goes and blabs to Hobson, we’re all screwed, because she doesn’t know about any of it, does she? So will you and find him and tell him something now before it all goes tits up?”
“What she said.” Brennan says, jerking his head away from them to indicate that James should go.
“Don’t worry. I’ll sort it.”
James left them behind. The benefit of having fed so recently was that his sense of smell was keener than usual, and he was so used to Lewis’ scent that he could track it anywhere. He followed it down a couple of back streets until he came to a pub.
James almost felt weak with relief. Lewis hadn’t gone to Innocent; he was probably waiting for James to find him and explain himself. There was a risk he’d called Laura, but he couldn’t smell her anywhere.
He went into the pub, looking for Lewis. It wasn’t crowded, but that didn’t make it any easier. It would be better if he could get Lewis back outside.
Lewis looked a bit pale, and he was nursing a whisky. It was a fairly standard reaction to finding someone you thought you knew well was actually not even human.
James hated it when that happened. He’d got tired of it early on, and he’d tried to avoid telling anyone for the last few decades. He’d got good at it, too. Even now, when he was settled in Oxford, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d tell other than Lewis.
“Sir.” James said, making sure he kept a decent distance. Lewis looked up at him, and James was unsurprised to note the suspicion in his eyes.
“You going to tell me I didn’t see what I saw, Sergeant?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that. But I hope that you’ll give me a chance to explain.”
James waited while Lewis thought for a moment and then downed his drink.
“Aye, I thought you might have an explanation.” He said, sounding strange. “You’re good at that.”
--
They left the pub, walking in step, and James tried to find a subtle way to start.
“You’d best just tell me, James.” Lewis sighed. “We need to get back to Brennan and Parsons. It’s not fair to leave them doing all the work.”
“It always sounds so stupid, saying it out loud.” James said, steeling himself. “I’m a vampire. I’m not – human. Not anymore. I feed on blood. Not often, just when I need to. Most of the time I feed on people who aren’t willing, but they don’t even know about it. There’s no permanent harm. And before you tell me, I know that doesn’t make it right, but it’s better than me not feeding at all and then going on a rampage when I get desperate.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you?”
“I’ve been doing this a while.” James said.
“Oh? How old are you, then?”
James paused for a moment; it had been thirty years since he’d told anyone human his true age. “Ninety-seven.”
That shocked a laugh out of Lewis.
“And there was me thinking I was teaching you something.”
“Oh, you are. You do. This is the first time I’ve been a police officer.”
“You said the people you feed on often don’t know about it.” Lewis said thoughtfully. “So I want you to be honest with me: have you ever fed on me?”
“Sir – no. Never. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t feed on people I know.”
Lewis regards him critically for a moment, and then nods. “Alright. I believe you.”
“Thank you.” James says. “Sir, I – I do my best to live a good life, despite everything. I can’t change what I am, but I don’t hurt people. And I know you may think you have no choice but to expose me, but please, please – I would do anything.”
“To stop me?”
“To keep my life. I like it here, I like my life, and I feel like I might be doing some good for the first time in decades. I’ll beg if you want me to.”
“I don’t think it’s quite got that far. Why haven’t you ever said anything before?”
James stops and stares at Lewis for a moment. “It’s not the kind of thing you can drop into everyday conversation.”
“Well maybe you should have done.”
“Oh, right. Good morning, sir, how was your weekend? I drank a couple of pints of some rugby player’s blood, it was nothing special. I’ve had better.”
“Better that than you just keeping it to yourself!” Lewis said.
“I’m an abomination.” James said. “Why wouldn’t I want to keep that to myself? Why would I want to burden you with having to hear that?”
“You might be sarcastic and too clever for your own good sometimes, but abomination is hardly the word I’d use. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever known.”
Lewis’ tone is insistent, but this time it’s James who laughs.
“You’ve known me for three years. No, let me rephrase that. You’ve known a version of me for three years. And that version is moral, and mindful of others, and tries his best.”
“But that’s not the real you, is that what you’re going to say?”
“It’s not the version of me that’s been most in evidence over the last century, let’s say.”
“So why change?”
“I was tired of moving on all the time. Tired of always being bad. I was just tired, and joining the police was a last, desperate effort to make good. I was surprised it took, if I’m honest.”
Lewis actually steps closer to him, and James instinctively takes a step back. Lewis shakes his head, and James has no idea what’s going on.
This is not how it usually goes. There’s usually shouting and running away.
It turns out that when James gets what he wants, he has no idea what to do with it.
“I’m not going to do anything.” Lewis says. “I knew about vampires before you. I’m not going to tell anyone, and you’re not as bad as you think you are.”
“It’s that simple?” James asks, wanting to know how Lewis knew about vampires. That can wait, though.
“It is.”
“And – I’m sorry to go on, sir, but I just need to know – the drinking blood doesn’t bother you? It’s assault, at the very least.”
“Could you survive and do your job without it?”
“After a fashion.” James says carefully. “I feed far less frequently than most, and I manage alright. But going without entirely doesn’t always work out for the best. It’s safer not to.”
James has known a few people who tried to go without, and it’s the memory of one of them (or rather, the memory of what he ended up doing, a memory that still makes his stomach lurch twenty years later) that keeps James from really trying to give it up.
“And it does no permanent harm?”
“No.”
Lewis thinks it over for a long moment, and James wants him to say yes, it’s fine, but he doesn’t see how someone can expand their worldview that quickly, to leap from not knowing, to knowing, to accepting all in the space of an hour or so.
“Then it doesn’t bother me.”
James doesn’t quite trust that. Lewis isn’t looking at him like he normally does. It’s difficult to say how things have changed, but James can tell that they have. He wants to keep questioning – is it because of me? Do you know how dangerous this is? Do you really understand? Why are you telling me it’s fine? – but today has been far too full of surprises already.
“Does alcohol have any effect on you, or do you just like the taste?” Lewis asks. Maybe questions are alright tonight, if it’s Lewis asking them.
“I just like the taste.” James admits. “Or rather, I’m used to the taste. Why?”
“I presume you talked to Brennan and Parsons?”
“Yes. They said I should come after you.”
Lewis nods. “Well, if they’re not expecting us back, I think we should go back to the pub. We’ve got more to talk about, and you’re buying.”
--
End note: tomtug is Victorian slang for a fool. Thank you, Horrible Histories.
Title: Come clean, come good
Summary: repeat with me the punch line 'Just like blood' (title and summary from I Say, I Say, I Say by Simon Armitage)
Rating: Teen
Wordcount: 3847
Warnings: none
Genre: AU
Characters/Pairing: Lewis, Hathaway, couple of OCs
Prompt:
Prompt No. 44
Along the lines of the slave!AUs, where are all the vampire!AUs? I would love to see either of the boys as the vampire, where vampires are known or unknown.
by maekala
(NB the prompt was slash but I missed this the first time round so technically it’s pre-slash)
Notes: Mostly avoids canon references as trying to work out how it would fit with James being a vampire was a pain.
Thanks again to seiyaharris for the beta :D
--
James Hathaway is a failed experiment: a vampire who knows he’s an aberration in God’s eyes. Once, he was a flawed man who tried to be good, tried to be a priest, and he failed so badly that he couldn’t see any other way out.
In short, James Hathaway is a dolt.
--
By the time he decides to try the police force (he has studied and studied and studied, he has been a pilot and a pianist and a baker, once or twice), James is tired. Tired of having to be on edge all the time, tired of hiding himself, his intelligence, his strength.
It’s an act of desperation. Law and order, helping people, solving crimes: it’s another attempt to atone for what he is, and if this doesn’t work, well, maybe he really has reached the end of the road.
--
Training is not a problem. He wonders if some of it might be, being watched so closely, but he realises early on that there must be other vampires in the police force. There would have to be, of course. He’s heard the whispers the same as everyone else: they’re everywhere, at every level, and the humans have no idea.
--
His years in uniform pass quickly; a combination of novelty and hard work. He passes his sergeant’s exams easily, and then he gets his posting.
Oxford. It always comes back to Oxford.
--
He’s relieved beyond words to find that DCS Jean Innocent is a vampire, but then it suddenly occurs to him to be scared.
She calls him into her office on his first day, and just looks at him for a long moment like she’s wondering how much mess he’d cause if she just staked him right now.
“Don’t be so ridiculous.” She says, startling him. She can’t read minds, surely?
“I’m sorry…”
“Honestly, how have you got this far? You can’t hide a thing. Don’t panic, James, I’m not going to hurt you. Yes, a few strings were pulled to get you here, but there’s safety in numbers and you’ll thank me for it one day.”
“There are more of us? Here?”
“A few. You won’t get to work with them too often – I try to avoid anything that could lead to the more observant members of the human workforce joining the dots – but they’re here.”
It has been a long, long time since James was surrounded by his own kind. Those that didn’t want to kill him, anyway.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She smiles at him, thin and bloodless.
“This is a good set-up we have here, James.” Innocent says. “You’d be a fool to cause trouble.”
“I’m not here to cause trouble.” James promises. “I just want to live in peace.”
“Then we’re going to get along very well.”
--
James meets Lewis and it’s like he can sit in the sun again. He’s unlike anyone James has worked with, and they fall into a rhythm so quickly, it worries him.
--
“What were you doing before this, then?”
So many things, James doesn’t say. He talks about university and the seminary as if it happened a couple of years ago, and not a couple of decades.
--
After their first case, when he and Innocent have a conversation that’s mostly made up of nods and looks, James waits while she asks Lewis if he wants a bagman. It’s been a long time since he’s wanted something this badly that wasn’t blood.
Lewis agrees to take him on (oh, Lewis has no idea what he’s taking on), and James smiles at him, unable to remember the last time he was this happy.
--
Innocent doesn’t bring it up for a year or more, though he hears through the grapevine that she’s taken others to task.
“Not that I expect you’ll listen to me, but I wouldn’t tell him.” Innocent says. She never looks at him properly when they talk about what they are, but he appreciates that.
“I wasn’t planning to, ma’am. I know how important it is to be careful.”
“Good.” Innocent says, smiling brightly at him. “I’m happy to hear that. If they were all like you, it would make my life a lot easier.”
“I presume you mean just in this aspect of –“
She looks exasperated again. “Yes, James, I do.”
“I’ll just get back to work then, Ma’am.”
“Yes, James, you do that.”
--
Occasionally, James tries to date people, but his attempts are usually short-lived. He doesn’t know how to deal with people, and even when by some fluke he manages to say the right thing and act the right way, he holds so much of himself back. He doesn’t go in for casual sex, not least because all the vampires in Oxford seem to know each other’s business, and he has enough to worry about.
He realises gradually what it is he really wants, but there are so many reasons it can’t happen it’s pointless to even think about it. So he settles for less than Lewis and is never surprised when it ends.
--
Dot (nee Dorothy, nee Dorcas) Parsons is a hundred and seventy year old in the body of a thirty year old. She chain smokes because it doesn’t matter and she’s a brilliant copper.
She’s had plenty of practice. This is the third time she’s joined the police, and she’s staying in uniform this time. She says you can get away with more. James doesn’t think he could bring himself to do that, not when he knows he could rise higher.
She’s bad at keeping up the boundaries the rest of them are careful to mind, but somehow she gets away with it, even with Innocent. She’s easily the chattiest person in the station, and has been known to get people to confess just by talking incessantly at them (for some reason, this works well on small-time car thieves).
James wouldn’t say they’re friends, exactly, but he’s glad that she’s here. She makes it a little easier on the rest of them, putting herself out front and centre the way she does. James is still trying to fit in, but she’s been there and done that and she says it isn’t worth the effort.
--
A couple of times, he almost thinks Lewis has figured him out. The way he looks, or the things he says – James just wonders where they can have come from if he doesn’t know. And then the next minute everything will be back to normal, and James will be sure Lewis is clueless.
And as much as he’d like Lewis to know, sometimes, it really is safer this way.
--
He doesn’t feed very often. He’d rather not feed at all, but it makes life easier if he just…tops up once in a while.
He’s careful to choose people who are healthy, people who can stand to lose a little bit of blood. He usually ends up going for young athletic men, because there’s always a steady supply around Oxford. He tries to avoid the ones he’s attracted to (he goes back for them later). This isn’t about pleasure, it’s about sustenance.
Dot rolls her eyes when he says this; she doesn’t see any harm in what they do.
“For crying out loud, Jimbo,” She says, dragging on a cigarette, “how many people have you even killed?”
“Two.” James says. “In person, anyway. Probably more if you count the war.”
James was human in the last world war. He was also a pilot, and part of the reason he decided to go into the priesthood was that he couldn’t adapt back to Civvy Street.
“I don’t.” Dot says. “No-one with any sense counts it. We all did what we had to do. I was a Wren, you know. Lived in Sussex, then. And I was married, if you can believe that.”
She stops talking for a moment and takes another drag on her cigarette, and James wonders how long it’s been since she last thought about this husband. She shakes her head, like she’s trying to get rid of the memory.
“Anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is, you keep thinking you’re evil and bad and all that, but you’re not. Do you think I’m evil as well?”
”What we are is evil. We’re unnatural. Whether or not we go around murdering people or solving murders is irrelevant. We can’t change what we are.”
She rolls her eyes at him. ”Well, I suppose that’s where we differ. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with what we are.”
They’ve discussed this many times, and James knows by now that they’re never going to agree, so he drops the subject. Sometimes, he wishes he could be more like the rest, more accepting of who he is and what he has to do to survive.
Occasionally it’s been pointed out to him that if he feels that strongly about it, he shouldn’t even be here anymore, and furthermore that it would be quite easy to sort that out, but his survival instinct is just too strong. He could have killed himself properly back when he was human, even though it was a sin, but he chose this half-life for a reason. It’s just that sometimes he forgets what that reason is.
--
Normally, James is quite capable of understanding the difference between himself and the murderers they investigate. He can parse it in terms of necessity, of harm done, of malice. He can also tell that there’s a gulf between him and the vampires that do go around on killing sprees, feeding off everything in sight without any care for who it might hurt. It’s just that sometimes he doesn’t think ‘morally superior to a murderer’ is a high enough bar to set.
Maybe this is why he wants to tell Lewis. And yes, he gets the symbolism of wanting to confess, thank you, and yes, he could just go and confess to a priest (he’s tried that before; it didn’t help), but really what it comes down to is that he trusts Lewis, and if Robbie can tell him that he’s not evil, maybe he’ll believe it.
--
He broaches this idea with Dot when they’re both out one morning having a cigarette. He’s been going back and forth on it for days, worrying about what Innocent will say.
Dot is not impressed.
“Just man up and tell Innocent you’ve changed your mind, you tomtug. And then you can do us all a favour and tell Lewis.”
”How is me telling him going to do you a favour?”
”You’ll stop moping about it.” Dot says, grouchy this morning. “Fucking summer, I hate it.”
James can’t disagree, and they stare out at the bright sunshine, both glum.
--
Lewis sees him.
Lewis sees him.
Lewis sees him.
James can’t think of any words strong enough for his stupidity, and he knows how to swear in three languages.
He’s feeding on some hooray Henry who’d staggered down the wrong alley. And yes, he was working, and yes, theoretically he could have been seen, but he was on duty with Lewis, Brennan and Parsons, so he only had a one in three chance of being seen by the wrong person, and he was so, so hungry.
He looks up from feeding, letting the man slide down against the wall (he’ll wake up soon enough, disorientated and putting it down to the alcohol) and then he looks up, and Lewis is there, staring at him, mouth open, and James can’t think of anything to say.
Lewis turns and leaves before James comes up with anything.
The worst thing is, he’d cleared it with Innocent. He was going to tell Lewis. He was just waiting for the right time.
--
“Oh, fuck off, Hathaway.” Dot says, when he finds her and explains. “What are you, some amateur who’s only been drinking blood six months?”
“Apparently so.” James says, covering his panic with a layer of glum.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t tell anyone.” Brennan says, arms folded across his chest.
“Like who?” Dot asks.
“Let me see, someone like the pathologist he’s been dating, maybe?”
“Oh, hell no.” Dot spits when the realisation hits. “You’d better find him and explain, before he does tell her. Or Innocent.”
“What could he tell them?” James asks, aware that he probably should be reacting more like Dot.
“Quite a few things, you arse. I mean if he decides to go straight to Innocent, it doesn’t matter if he sounds like a rambling nut, it doesn’t matter if you were going to tell him, she’ll know you were seen, and then you’ll be for it. If he goes and blabs to Hobson, we’re all screwed, because she doesn’t know about any of it, does she? So will you and find him and tell him something now before it all goes tits up?”
“What she said.” Brennan says, jerking his head away from them to indicate that James should go.
“Don’t worry. I’ll sort it.”
James left them behind. The benefit of having fed so recently was that his sense of smell was keener than usual, and he was so used to Lewis’ scent that he could track it anywhere. He followed it down a couple of back streets until he came to a pub.
James almost felt weak with relief. Lewis hadn’t gone to Innocent; he was probably waiting for James to find him and explain himself. There was a risk he’d called Laura, but he couldn’t smell her anywhere.
He went into the pub, looking for Lewis. It wasn’t crowded, but that didn’t make it any easier. It would be better if he could get Lewis back outside.
Lewis looked a bit pale, and he was nursing a whisky. It was a fairly standard reaction to finding someone you thought you knew well was actually not even human.
James hated it when that happened. He’d got tired of it early on, and he’d tried to avoid telling anyone for the last few decades. He’d got good at it, too. Even now, when he was settled in Oxford, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d tell other than Lewis.
“Sir.” James said, making sure he kept a decent distance. Lewis looked up at him, and James was unsurprised to note the suspicion in his eyes.
“You going to tell me I didn’t see what I saw, Sergeant?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that. But I hope that you’ll give me a chance to explain.”
James waited while Lewis thought for a moment and then downed his drink.
“Aye, I thought you might have an explanation.” He said, sounding strange. “You’re good at that.”
--
They left the pub, walking in step, and James tried to find a subtle way to start.
“You’d best just tell me, James.” Lewis sighed. “We need to get back to Brennan and Parsons. It’s not fair to leave them doing all the work.”
“It always sounds so stupid, saying it out loud.” James said, steeling himself. “I’m a vampire. I’m not – human. Not anymore. I feed on blood. Not often, just when I need to. Most of the time I feed on people who aren’t willing, but they don’t even know about it. There’s no permanent harm. And before you tell me, I know that doesn’t make it right, but it’s better than me not feeding at all and then going on a rampage when I get desperate.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you?”
“I’ve been doing this a while.” James said.
“Oh? How old are you, then?”
James paused for a moment; it had been thirty years since he’d told anyone human his true age. “Ninety-seven.”
That shocked a laugh out of Lewis.
“And there was me thinking I was teaching you something.”
“Oh, you are. You do. This is the first time I’ve been a police officer.”
“You said the people you feed on often don’t know about it.” Lewis said thoughtfully. “So I want you to be honest with me: have you ever fed on me?”
“Sir – no. Never. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t feed on people I know.”
Lewis regards him critically for a moment, and then nods. “Alright. I believe you.”
“Thank you.” James says. “Sir, I – I do my best to live a good life, despite everything. I can’t change what I am, but I don’t hurt people. And I know you may think you have no choice but to expose me, but please, please – I would do anything.”
“To stop me?”
“To keep my life. I like it here, I like my life, and I feel like I might be doing some good for the first time in decades. I’ll beg if you want me to.”
“I don’t think it’s quite got that far. Why haven’t you ever said anything before?”
James stops and stares at Lewis for a moment. “It’s not the kind of thing you can drop into everyday conversation.”
“Well maybe you should have done.”
“Oh, right. Good morning, sir, how was your weekend? I drank a couple of pints of some rugby player’s blood, it was nothing special. I’ve had better.”
“Better that than you just keeping it to yourself!” Lewis said.
“I’m an abomination.” James said. “Why wouldn’t I want to keep that to myself? Why would I want to burden you with having to hear that?”
“You might be sarcastic and too clever for your own good sometimes, but abomination is hardly the word I’d use. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever known.”
Lewis’ tone is insistent, but this time it’s James who laughs.
“You’ve known me for three years. No, let me rephrase that. You’ve known a version of me for three years. And that version is moral, and mindful of others, and tries his best.”
“But that’s not the real you, is that what you’re going to say?”
“It’s not the version of me that’s been most in evidence over the last century, let’s say.”
“So why change?”
“I was tired of moving on all the time. Tired of always being bad. I was just tired, and joining the police was a last, desperate effort to make good. I was surprised it took, if I’m honest.”
Lewis actually steps closer to him, and James instinctively takes a step back. Lewis shakes his head, and James has no idea what’s going on.
This is not how it usually goes. There’s usually shouting and running away.
It turns out that when James gets what he wants, he has no idea what to do with it.
“I’m not going to do anything.” Lewis says. “I knew about vampires before you. I’m not going to tell anyone, and you’re not as bad as you think you are.”
“It’s that simple?” James asks, wanting to know how Lewis knew about vampires. That can wait, though.
“It is.”
“And – I’m sorry to go on, sir, but I just need to know – the drinking blood doesn’t bother you? It’s assault, at the very least.”
“Could you survive and do your job without it?”
“After a fashion.” James says carefully. “I feed far less frequently than most, and I manage alright. But going without entirely doesn’t always work out for the best. It’s safer not to.”
James has known a few people who tried to go without, and it’s the memory of one of them (or rather, the memory of what he ended up doing, a memory that still makes his stomach lurch twenty years later) that keeps James from really trying to give it up.
“And it does no permanent harm?”
“No.”
Lewis thinks it over for a long moment, and James wants him to say yes, it’s fine, but he doesn’t see how someone can expand their worldview that quickly, to leap from not knowing, to knowing, to accepting all in the space of an hour or so.
“Then it doesn’t bother me.”
James doesn’t quite trust that. Lewis isn’t looking at him like he normally does. It’s difficult to say how things have changed, but James can tell that they have. He wants to keep questioning – is it because of me? Do you know how dangerous this is? Do you really understand? Why are you telling me it’s fine? – but today has been far too full of surprises already.
“Does alcohol have any effect on you, or do you just like the taste?” Lewis asks. Maybe questions are alright tonight, if it’s Lewis asking them.
“I just like the taste.” James admits. “Or rather, I’m used to the taste. Why?”
“I presume you talked to Brennan and Parsons?”
“Yes. They said I should come after you.”
Lewis nods. “Well, if they’re not expecting us back, I think we should go back to the pub. We’ve got more to talk about, and you’re buying.”
--
End note: tomtug is Victorian slang for a fool. Thank you, Horrible Histories.