Slush of the present

Disclaimer- This story is for fan purposes only. All of the characters are property of their respective owners (not me) and are used here without permission.

Author Note- My goal was to have finished all the half-written fluff pieces that have been accumulating in my computer before the final Lewis series airs stateside, but clearly I am not going to make that deadline. At the very least, here is the first installment. My fondest wish for the end of the series would be that Colin Dexter make an extended cameo appearance as Laura Hobson's father…

-Muffinzelda, June 2013

Dr Laura Hobson was playing chess with her father in the parlour of the retirement community where he resided just outside of Oxford. Mr Hobson deftly moved a knight to capture his daughter's pawn and was surprised when she didn't even look at the board. "It's your move, Laura." She did not respond. Her father followed her fixed gaze to the door where two men had just walked in, still wearing their winter coats lightly dusted with snow. "Is it the tall one you've got your eye on?" The tall blond man caught Laura's gaze and tapped his companion on the shoulder, then motioned towards Laura. Mr Hobson watched the other man turn around, give a surprised smile, and then timidly acknowledge his daughter with a nod and small gesture of his hand. Laura waved back and then stood up. "Ah. Now I understand, my dear."

"Friends from work, dad." She broke her silence as she left to greet the detectives.

"Hello, boys, what brings you here? Is it Bigfoot?" Dr Hobson was the attending pathologist to the latest corpse in Oxford- an elderly woman named Bertha with one foot noticeably larger than the other.

"Aye," the inspector replied. "Her sister lives here. And you're here…"

"…visiting my father." She supplied. "Shall I introduce you?"

"It'd be a pleasure." The two detectives followed Laura to her father seated in an armchair behind the chessboard.

"Dad, I'd like for you to meet Inspector Lewis and Sergeant Hathaway."

"Just Robbie is fine, sir. And my sergeant is James." Laura felt a little shiver of emotion as Robbie Lewis shook her father's hand. Lewis' use of "sir" echoed in her mind like a familiar ghost- Lewis as a younger man speaking to Morse. But back in the here and now, she breathed in a fresh spirit of excitement hearing Lewis- Robbie, she corrected herself- be deferential to her father.

Mr Hobson reciprocated Lewis' greeting. "You must be chilled to the bone. Join us for some tea, won't you?"

"Dad, they're very busy with an investigation." Laura tried to make excuses, but Hathaway- ever the helpful sergeant- leapt right in.

"Nonsense! Inspector Lewis would love to join you for tea. I can interview the victim's sister while you all get better acquainted, sir." Hathaway smirked at Lewis, who knew he was trapped.

"You don't have to, Robbie." Laura said. "I know you don't really have the time."

That was precisely what Lewis was thinking, but he responded graciously. "I always have time for a cuppa in good company."

"I knew a copper named Lewis once." Mr Hobson was the type to get caught up in the nostalgia of a name. "Former boxer. Welsh, I think. I wonder whatever happened to him. Of course, he was ancient even back then. Not a strapping young lad like yourself." Mr Hobson said to Lewis, who was quite tickled at being called youthful whilst in his early sixties. "Ah, listen to me babble on about the past. Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ? » Mr Hobson added wistfully.

"Sir, I'll help you get some tea for the Hobsons." Hathaway motioned towards a table on the other side of the parlour where hot water, instant coffee, cocoa, and tea were set up. "We won't be a minute," he said as he dragged Lewis off. Hathaway reprised Mr Hobson's earlier citation, speaking to Lewis in a low tone as they were filling mugs with hot water. "Mais où sont les neiges d'antan? Where are the snows of yesteryear?"

"Where are the snows of yesteryear? Melted away, unlike this stuff." Lewis said, nodding his head towards the window. "You speak French now too, cleverclogs?"

"I don't really, but it's a well-known poem- ubi sunt and all that. The poet François Villon was a vagabond and a thief- might have even murdered a priest." Hathaway said, proud as ever of his literary reference.

"Sounds more like the lot we're trying to arrest." Lewis retorted.

"It's a ballad lamenting women lost to the past; scandalous or virtuous, they all shared the same mortality. As you said yourself, the snows of yesteryear have melted. The point is that you can't cling to the past, just as Mr Hobson invoked his old copper-friend Lewis. What's gone is gone."

"Rubbish. Dr Hobson could argue that she has our victim's corpse well-preserved in her freezer."

"I mean-"

"I know what you mean." And Lewis did know exactly what Hathaway meant; it was a thinly veiled reference to Lewis' beloved late wife. But Lewis both feigned innocence and invoked Innocent to rebuke his sergeant. "Sounds to me like you're encouraging me to give up the search for this woman's killer and have a tea party instead. Shall I have you explain that to the Chief Super? I'm sure the boss lady would love to hear the poetry of François the Villain."

"Villon, sir."

"Right then, Sergeant, your job is to arrest the murderers, not quote them."

Meanwhile, across the room, Mr Hobson was remarking to Laura, "I think the young one fancies you."

"Who, Hathaway?" Laura asked in surprise. Hathaway was probably 25 years younger than his governor.

"No, young Lewis!"

Laura was suppressing a giggle as Lewis and Hathaway approached with hot beverages. Lewis placed a mug in front of Laura and Mr Hobson while Hathaway placed one where Lewis was to sit and laid some powdered cream and sweetener packets on the table. "If you have everything you need, sir, I'll go speak with Bigfoot's sister." Hathaway spoke in a mock-obsequious tone and made himself scarce.

"So, tell us about yourself, young Lewis." Mr Hobson inquired.

"Just a copper from Newcastle, me. I came down south, met me wife and decided to stay in Oxford. I'm widowed ten or so years now, but we've got two grown kids and a couple of grandkids."

"I'm sorry about your wife. Laura's mum passed on some years back as well. It's never easy even after all these years. Do forgive my asking, but do you have anyone in your life right now?"

"Dad, can we talk about something else? Like how much you detest the NHS, despite the fact that your daughter is a model employee?"

"Hush up, girl; I'm talking to young Lewis."

Lewis decided to answer honestly. "No. I stay busy with the job and visiting the grandkids. I'm not looking to get married again."

"That's perfect, because our Laura would make a terrible wife."

"DAD!"

"What, Laura? It's true. There is a reason your patients are already dead. You can't keep plants alive, let alone a husband!"

"I'll have you know I keep a thriving garden!"

"Because you hire a gardener to help you out twice a month."

Lewis was laughing now. "Mr Hobson, you should know that Laura is a very capable woman. She doesn't need the likes of me weighing her down."

"Dad, Robbie and I are good friends, and we're going to leave it at that. New topic." Laura put her foot down.

"Fine. Do you play chess, Lewis?"

"Afraid not, sir."

"Cricket or football?"

Now Lewis was in his element. "Both!" He blurted out excitedly. Laura breathed a sigh of relief as Lewis recounted to Mr Hobson the story of his brief stint as an undercover cricket player aiming to bring down drug smugglers.

Eventually, Laura spotted Hathaway lurking in the corner and waved him over. "I think it's time for Robbie to go, dad."

"Come back sometime, won't you? I'll offer you something stronger than tea." Mr Hobson implored. Lewis noted the glass of gin next to the old man and decided that he would like to do just that.

Laura walked him to the door. They looked at each other and burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Robbie. You've been a very good sport. He's in his eighties and gets carried away sometimes."

"No need to apologize, Laura. My own father passed away when he was about my age now, so I think your dad's entitled."

"That explains a lot." She said. He looked at her, not understanding. "Another reason for your fatalistic tendencies, Inspector."

"I suppose so. Likewise, now I know why you're so feisty, Doctor. Anyway, duty calls."

"Drive safely in the snow." She said as Lewis went to join Hathaway at the car.

One week later, the inspector and pathologist were once again enjoying pints as they compared how well Lewis and Hathaway's result matched Dr Hobson's initial analysis. It turned out that Bigfoot's son had some powerful enemies, but the conversation soon drifted away from the case. Laura brought up the latest historical fiction film that had Oxford's denizens abuzz. "I haven't been to the cinema in ages," she said, hinting that she and Lewis might go together.

"We could go Saturday evening, if you'd like," he offered.

She screwed up her face. "I'd love to, but I can't Saturday. I have plans." Scanning his face for signs of jealousy, she saw none. Damn his stoicism, she thought. She was usually one to keep her cards close to her chest, but she decided to add, "I'm going to see my dad." There now, she thought, Robbie does look relieved.

Lewis then surprised her by saying, "I could come with you if you'd like. I enjoyed meeting your father."

"That's kind of you, Robbie, but we shouldn't give him any ideas. I shouldn't admit this to you, but he now asks after you every time we speak. 'Have you seen young Lewis lately? How's our young Lewis doing?' Embarrassing, really."

Lewis blinked at her and made a confession of his own. "It's not that embarrassing, now is it? That's the same way that our Lyn asks after you."

"Does she?" Laura was nonplussed as Lewis nodded in the affirmative. "I never would have suspected that." She paused for a while to consider the idea before speaking. "Robbie, do you think our families know something that we don't? Like maybe they see the forest when you and I only see the trees?"

Lewis understood but wasn't one to speak in metaphors. "Make up your mind, woman," he teased. "Do you want to go to the cinema or to a nature preserve?"

Laura just laughed. "I'll go anywhere with you, Robbie."

"Except to see your father?"

"I'm not saying that, I just mean that we shouldn't give him that impression unless…" Laura's voice trailed off, but she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"I suppose you're right, Laura. How about we go to a matinee then and you'll have time to see your old man for dinner?"

"That sounds perfect!" She smiled contentedly at the idea that things were falling into place right nicely.

Lewis, for his part, trudged home that night in the snow-turned-to-slush. He was lost in thoughts of forests and trees and accidently stepped in a puddle. As lovely as the snowfall had been, the slush was doubly messy. When he arrived at his flat, he didn't linger in silent greeting of Val's picture on the shelf as he usually did. This time, he smiled at the photo and immediately went to change his socks.

Saturday afternoon found Inspector Lewis in fairer weather waiting for Dr Hobson in front of the cinema. She took his arm as she greeted him and they joined the queue together. "You know, Robbie, this may be the first time we've gone to the cinema together."

"Is that so?" Lewis thought about it. Dozens of dinners and countless pints, but maybe this really was the first time they'd been to the cinema. "We almost saw the Fairy Queen," he reminded her.

"We've almost done a lot of things." She riposted.

"Hmph" was Lewis' reply, the sort of grunt that could have been a laugh or possibly a realization of a greater truth. It was hard to tell with him. Inscrutable though his noises may be, Lewis' actions were less so. He worked up the nerve to put his arm around Laura during the film. She responded by resting her head upon his shoulder. Lewis heard a little sniffle in his ear as the protagonist of the film lay dying for a noble cause. He turned his head a little and wiped Laura's tear away with his thumb. Lewis then stole a kiss there in the dark before remembering himself. He pulled out a tissue and handed it to Laura. She blew her nose and settled her head back on his shoulder.

After the film, they walked back towards her car in silence. Though they did not speak about the kiss, they held hands tightly. Their destination reached, Laura was the first to speak. "So. Did you learn anything from the film?"

Lewis looked bashful as he spoke. "I have to admit that towards the end I got a little distracted."

Laura was pleased. "I think you did understand then. The lesson is not to be a martyr." She moved in and gave him a kiss of her own. They both smiled and looked into each other's eyes.

"Maybe we should go see your dad together after all." Robbie suggested before kissing her again.

"Maybe I should call him to say we'll be a little late," she responded the next time they came up for air.

"Hmph," emitted Lewis, this time obviously content.

La Ballade des dames du temps jadis by François Villon is the poem referenced in this story.