James

DS James Hathaway rolled the unlit cigarette between his fingers for a moment as he shivered slightly in the crisp almost-January air. He'd told Lewis and Hobson that he'd gone outside, so that he could have one last smoke before his New Year's resolution to quit kicked in.

It was only half-truth. The real reason that he'd gone was so that Laura and Robbie could finally have some proper time alone. When Lewis had learned that Hathaway's date had come down with the flu at the last minute, the inspector had gone out of his way to ensure that James didn't feel excluded from the festivities. It was clear that Lewis thought he had no right to enjoy himself if Hathaway wasn't enjoying himself as well. Hathaway found the whole thing rather touching—if somewhat irritating. By trying so hard to include James, Robbie was inadvertently neglecting Laura—his official date for the evening. Instead of whirling the elaborately gowned pathologist around the dance floor, Inspector Lewis had spent majority of the past hour-and-a half making sure his socially awkward sergeant always had a plate full of exquisite dark chocolate truffles and a glass brimming with champagne, until Hathaway had finally managed to excuse himself.

Fervently hoping that Lewis and Hobson were using his absence to spend some quality time together on the dance floor (or better still under the mistletoe), Hathaway brought the cigarette up to his mouth and was about to light it when a familiar voice distracted him.

" Blowing off my party—are you, James?" asked Chief Superintendent Innocent asked as she walked toward him.

" I wasn't, ma'am. I was just…I fancied some fresh air..."

'And polluting my lungs with nicotine, thereby making impossible to get a breath of fresh air. Well done, James. She's never going to buy that excuse,' he thought as he quickly slipped the unlit cigarette into his jacket pocket.

" Don't worry, sergeant; I was only teasing. I guess I'm just a bit surprised you're not currently waltzing some pretty little PC onto cloud nine."

" I'm afraid my waltz is a little rusty." Hathaway smiled slightly as the bittersweet memory of the last time he'd "waltzed" came to mind.

After her parents had bought her the videotape of Sleeping Beauty as a birthday gift, Scarlett Mortmaigne had insisted on re-enacting the final ballroom scene with James as her prince. Although Hathaway had vehemently protested at the time (as any self-respecting nine-year-old boy would've done), truthfully, he hadn't really minded much. It had been sort of nice in a way—having an innocent excuse to hold Scarlett in his arms, allowing himself to believe for a moment that she really was his princess. He wondered now how he'd ever been so foolish. Happily Ever After wasn't for the likes of him—assuming it even existed at all.

" Still…" Jean added a few minutes later and snapped James out of his reverie, " I can't blame you for needing a break; I certainly did."

" But everything's done now. Your party is a success. Just calm down, relax, and enjoy yourself."

" When have you ever known me to 'just calm down and relax'?" Innocent added, and Hathaway laughed. " And much as I want to enjoy myself, I…I don't think I can."

" Try. It shouldn't be too hard. The music is fantastic, the food delicious, the decorations gorgeous, and the champagne peerless."

" And what of the company?"

" Delightful," he said, and she gave a reluctant smile. "Present company excluded naturally," he added.

Jean seemed not to have caught his teasing tone for she stared out blankly into the distance. " Yes, I expect I haven't been very pleasant tonight," she said—more to herself than Hathaway. "I really should try to change that—though it's far easier said than done."

Though Hathaway was curious as to what exactly had prompted Innocent's current sombre demeanour, he knew better than to pry into her personal business. " Don't be silly. When you're not shouting at me, you make a very charming conversationalist, and you look lovely tonight."

It was true. The chief superintendent was elegance personified in a sleek, gold-belted, floor-length, one-shouldered deep violet gown.

" Flattery will only get you so far, sergeant," Innocent said as she absently reached up to touch one of her dangling amethyst earrings.

"Don't be so quick to brush off compliments, ma'am—particularly not sincere ones."

" Well, then thanks, I suppose. You look rather dapper yourself."

Hathaway shrugged. He always felt out of place at posh white tie affairs—mostly because they reminded him so much of the Mortmaignes and the other titled- but-ignoble families he'd met over the years. James couldn't even don a dinner jacket without Scarlet's bitter " You're not one of us" ringing in his ears.

Desperate to change the subject, Hathaway glanced around, his eyes eventually locking on the glistening snow blanketing the ground and dusting the trees and buildings. " It's beautiful out—isn't it? The snow—I mean. It's the perfect touch for a holiday party."

" I hate it," Innocent said, and he looked at her in surprise. " Well, I suppose it's pretty enough, but when you think about all the trouble it's caused... For awhile, I didn't even know if the blizzard would stop in time for the ball, and we'd have to cancel. Even when it did, I still had to make sure that the caterers and the string quartet would still be able to come—as well as phoning everyone to make sure they knew the party was still on. And then of course, whenever there's a bad storm, there's always confusing detours, traffic accidents…delayed flights." Her voice wavered slightly as she said those last two words.

Ah, so that was what was getting her down. " Ma'am, your husband?"

The chief superintendent gave a slight nod. " He was supposed to be back by 4:30, but because of the storm… they pushed it back until day after tomorrow." She straightened her posture in an attempt to appear composed. " You…you must think I'm horribly silly, whinging about all this."

"No one could ever accuse you of being silly, Jean, and your disappointment is understandable."

" I guess I was just really…really looking forward to this—to having this one romantic moment together. But I suppose I was just being naïve. He's already missed Valentine's Day, Easter, our anniversary, and Christmas this year. Why should New Year's Eve be any different?"

A few tears were now streaking down her cheeks, and Hathaway instinctively reached into his jacket pocket for a tissue. Instead he found a lacy handkerchief that must have been left there by the person who'd rented the suit before him. He handed it to Jean who gently dabbed at her eyes and then handed it back to him.

" Thanks. I suppose I must look quite a fright now."

" No, as I said before, you look wonderful."

" So my make-up's not all messed-up?"

"Your mascara isn't even running."

She winked. " It's waterproof."

" That's one of the things we love about you, ma'am; you're always prepared for anything."

" I'm not very prepared for this weather," Innocent said as she rubbed her bare arms. "It's freezing. Why don't we go back inside?"

Hathaway agreed, and the two re-entered the ballroom. They each grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server and watched the couples whirling around the dance floor.

" They look so happy—don't they?" Innocent remarked, seemingly casually although Hathaway detected a slight note of envy in her voice.

" Hmm?"

" Robbie and Laura."

Hathaway followed the chief superintendent's gaze and reflected that "happy" was a bit of an understatement. Though their waltz was more than a little clumsy, Hobson was positively glowing, and Lewis's grin was as wide as the Cheshire Cat's.

The string quartet was playing "Auld Lang Syne," and Hathaway found himself wondering what the upcoming year would bring for the couple. And what of Hathaway himself—or even of Innocent come to think of it? In fact, the only thing that Hathaway was totally and completely sure of was of the occasional sorrow and frequent joy he'd felt over this past year. "They do look happy," he said finally. "Ecstatic in fact."

" At least some good came of all this hard work, then." Innocent sighed dreamily. "Isn't it wonderful when two people who so obviously belong together finally find each other after long last?"

"I never had you pegged as a romantic; you're much too practical," Hathaway remarked, giving the chief super an appraising look.

"I like to think there's a bit of the romantic in all of us—even in grave little introverts like you."

" Grave and introverted, I'll give you, but I think you and I can both agree that there's nothing 'little' about me."

Jean laughed, acutely aware of just how much she had to strain her neck upward in order to meet his gaze properly. " No there's not—is there? You're a great man, James Hathaway, in stature and in character."

"Try to remember that the next time I do something to piss you off."

"Just promise you won't do anything tonight. I've worked too hard on this event to have you screw everything up."

He gave her his most mischievous grin. "It's funny you should say that, because I'm sort of getting the itch right now to create a bit of a minor scandal."

" You wouldn't dare!"

" Yes I would, and you're going to help me with it." He grabbed both of her hands and led her onto the dance floor. "Come on, Jean. I want to find out if your waltz is as quick as your wit."

THE END

Many thanks to prosfan for her valuable insights on characterization and British culture. And a very Happy New Year to all of you!