Author's Notes: I usually resist posting before a story is complete because I never know when it may abandon me for months at a time (this one is an all-too good example of that, my computer tells me I started it Jan. 14th, and only now has it decided it's ready to be done). For reasons I can't really explain, I'm making an exception with this one and will be posting it chapter by chapter over the next little bit. Though you never know, I don't suspect it will abandon me now as all the original bits and pieces right down to the end line are finished in the rough. It's only lacking the scene write-ups from the show and as that means I get to watch some of my very favorite Lewis moments—shouldn't be a problem.

Disclaimer: Purely for fan purposes—no copyright infringement intended.

On Courage and Matters of Conscience

"You have nothing on him…let him go," Innocent told him with a decisive nod. She stretched out the file, but he left it there between them.

"He's the killer, and you know it," he told her.

"Then prove it," she ordered, waving the file at him. The look on Lewis' face when he finally reached out should have been enough to give her pause, but she chose not to see it.

Before he marched out the door, he turned and demanded, "Why'd you become a copper?"

"What?"

"Why'd you become a cop? What are you doing here?"

"I hardly see how knowing that will help your enquiries, Lewis."

"Just answer the question. Why did you become a copper—because if you make me release him…there'll be another murder within a day! On your hands! So, tell me, why are you here? Is it just a pay-packet to you? Rubbing shoulders with the high and mighty? Does protecting innocent people have nowt to do with it?"

"Get out, Lewis! Now! If you are so certain he's your killer, get out there and prove it!"

"All I need is—"

"I don't care—just get out!" He shook his head at her before stalking away. She flew across the room and shut the door behind him. Leaning her back against it and blinking away hot, angry tears, she fumed, 'How dare he?' But she couldn't keep up her anger for long because she couldn't think of one time he'd seriously miscalled a murderer. Played around with the idea of one or another innocent of the crime, but never vehemently said, 'This is the one,' and been wrong.

As the burning heat of her anger was lost under the cold dread of his certainty, she groaned and breathed quietly into the accusing silence of her office, "What have I done?" But, even so, she didn't open her door and call him back, didn't pick up the phone and tell him to hold Philip Hafton for a bit longer.

Why was she there? The pay was nice but hardly enough to sell her soul. Rubbing shoulders…she couldn't deny she liked mixing it up with Oxford's elite. It was a nice bonus, but her husband's standing in the business community won her that place as much as the job. It wasn't why she was there. How dare he presume she was there for any other reason than he was himself?

So, why was he the one beating his head against the ungiving wall of word from on high? Why was he the one on the side of the right while she was the one issuing orders that any fool could see were a mistake? Lord Philip Hafton had almost assuredly killed the man he believed to be his wife's lover, and now on her order he was going to be released to kill her as well.

Why was she there? Lewis couldn't know and she hoped he'd never be in the place to find out just what pressures were on her. She'd been given the word to see to Hafton's release, and she had no way to fight it. She knew that. It would have been beyond futile…yet, Lewis had to have seen he had no chance in swaying her and still he'd taken his stand anyway.

He had less to lose though. He knew she couldn't very well chuck him out. At worst, he would have been taken off the case and forced to stand by why someone else did what he refused to do. If she'd bucked this order, she'd have stood the chance of losing everything. Not the money or the position…because regardless of Lewis' insinuations, they weren't why she was there. But the chance to intercede on the behalf of the men and women like Lewis…the ones out there busting their guts to see justice done, to protect the innocent. It was a fine line she walked every day and this…a peer of the realm held in custody on suspicion of murder?

Lewis was lucky he'd been able to keep Hafton for the short time he had—and didn't he know how much she'd had to wheedle to give him those few measly hours? Did he really believe he could drag a lord down to the nick as though he were nothing more or less than the shopkeeper from the corner shop? Could he really be that foolish?

No. Surely not. So why'd he drag the whole mess into her station in the first place? She didn't need to ask herself that. She could still hear the certainly with which he'd stated there'd be another murder within the day. He'd known what he was doing bringing Hafton into the station…he'd been trying to keep a woman alive. If that put him in the firing line, he either hadn't considered or hadn't cared.

He knew what he was doing there; he knew why he was a copper. And she knew for herself as well—only it just wasn't that easy.

So, Hafton walked out of the station, and she'd have to trust Lewis and Hathaway to find proof that couldn't be swept under the rug or dismissed before the lord murdered his lady and left Innocent with blood on her hands. What were the odds the man, if he were guilty as Lewis charged, would have the aplomb to carry out a second murder knowing the inspector was gunning for him? Surely, he'd lie low and give Lewis the time to gather his proof and make a case…surely.