"where angels tread"
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A/N: This is a crossover between our favorite British tv show and a little-known tv show of the 80s called 'Highway To Heaven'. A bit of a different twist to a BC fanfic, but I was struck by this idea and it wouldn't let me go. I debated putting this story up at all but ultimately I decided that it was still a story that can be told. It'll only be about three chapters long and despite the title of and the crossover tv show it will not be overtly religious.
My other stories, specifically 'Under Different Stars' and 'Everybody Wants To Rule the World' haven't been abandoned; I've taken a brief detour into the 'Bonanza' fandom, and a couple weeks ago I was laid off my job, so until RL settles down again updates will be sporadic at best. But they will still be finished.
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Alright, alright, what is the set up here? I mean, who's your boss?
God.
What?
My boss. It's God.
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It was a grey and overcast (but surprisingly dry) windy autumn evening when Beth Latimer left the stifling atmosphere of her home and walked along the cliffs of Broadchurch. She had been steadily growing more and more stifled in the four walls of her household as the weather grew chill and the nights longer until finally she bade Mark and Chloe goodbye for the evening and left for her favorite walking trail.
Her swollen belly hampered both her speed and her endurance and she had to stop for a moment halfway up the cliff. Her hands automatically came up to rest atop her stomach that was so steadily growing this other life inside of her and she felt the familiar surge of love and resentment stir within her much as she tried to suppress it.
It had been now been months since her Danny, her little boy, had been murdered by Joe Miller but the pain was as strong as it had been since first finding his body on the beach. It was as she had told Paul—although her heart had melted seeing her unborn baby growing in her womb, there still wasn't enough room in her soul for another child when she still couldn't let go of Danny. In some moments she would feel her baby move and she would smile with the unconditional love of a mother; then in others a loathing would choke her for this growing parasite and fleetingly (shamefully) she'd wonder why she didn't already go and abort the pregnancy.
Well. It was far too late for abortion. The only thing left to do now was to carry to full term.
With a sigh Beth sat down on a boulder and looked out over the ocean crashing along the shore below her. It was peaceful here. It allowed her to think.
"Penny for your thoughts," came a sudden voice from behind her. Startled, Beth jerked fully upright from her tired slouch and twisted on her seat to find she'd been followed. Surprise made her speak without speaking.
"Who the hell are you?"
She immediately winced at the unbelievably rude words of her greeting fell in the air, waiting for her newfound company to become insulted, but the man merely grinned in easy reply. "A stranger," he said simply, as if that explained everything.
Maybe it did. Beth cleared her throat nervously and shifted again on her spot. "I-… ah, I didn't realize you were up here too." At this specific spot she was sure she would have either seen him or heard his approach.
His grin gentled in a way that told her he guessed the drift of her thoughts. "I didn't think you would," he assured her quietly. "You were miles away."
She glanced back at him sharply. Something about him reminded her about Steve Connelly and it made her uneasy. "Not the most polite thing to do, sneaking up on me like that."
"Your greeting wasn't so polite, either, so let's just call it even." He seemed genuinely amused by her sharp tongue, not put off in the slightest. "You looked like you could use some company."
It was on the tip of her tongue to let him know in no uncertain terms that she was perfectly happy to spend this time by herself, thank you, but she paused before the words left her mouth. "If you want to," she found herself saying instead.
"Thanks."
Her heart finally evening out again, Beth let her hands drop away from her stomach and took a moment to look over the stranger. It was hard to determine his age but she supposed he was in his late 40s, small and stocky with curling hair grown to his shoulders. Plain worn blue jeans, faded white sneakers, a weathered brown leather jacket—he seemed entirely out of place and the stranger he professed to be. "I'm sorry, I didn't as you your name."
He seated himself on the opposite edge of the boulder facing her. He had an easy smile, open and warm. "Jonathan Smith."
She snorted. "'John Doe' would've been a bit too obvious, wouldn't it?"
"Maybe. I didn't choose it."
His dry remark made her lip twitch with real amusement. "Parents always think they're clever."
"My father certainly has a sense of humor."
She smiled politely, not wishing to discuss families long dead. "I'm Beth."
"I know."
On guard, Beth stiffened again. "I'm sure you do," she said bitterly. There she went again with the rude remarks before she could stop them from slipping out, but she was tired. Reporters had run around Broadchurch following Joe Miller's arrest and Beth just wanted some normalcy back in her life and not be recognized by everyone on the street.
Jonathan simply looked at her for a quiet moment before he answered. "A friend told me," he admitted. "I'm not a reporter, Beth. I'm not here to get the latest news on how the estranged family is doing."
"Then what are you here for?"
There it was, that gentle grin that somehow put her at ease rather than increasing her mistrust. "Like I said: you looked like you could use some company."
"I'm married," she told him shortly, just in case he really was some sick bastard wanting to hit on her.
He nodded. "I know."
Of course he would know that, following the story of Danny's murder. He didn't say anything else after that declaration but he also didn't move closer to her, or move at all, actually. It seemed he was waiting for her to speak.
She floundered, put off by the quiet. "What are you doing so far from America, then?" His accent was clearly born and bred across the pond.
He shrugged. "I travel a lot. Never stay in one place for very long. I was just passing through when my boss told me to take a few days here."
"Just like that? Wish I had a boss like that, giving me a vacation on a whim." Her grin died quickly, however, weighted down by the past few months. Danny would never go on vacation with his family again. "I got too crowded in my house," she confessed suddenly. "I needed some air."
"Crowded and irritating," he agreed about the house. "The view here certainly is worth the climb. I thought the Pacific was beautiful."
"You lived by the ocean, too, then?"
"All along the California coast for- oh, about twenty years." He looked out upon the waters again, that same slight smile on his face. "Nothing more beautiful in the world than the sea." For a moment he was quiet, contemplating the view, then he looked over at her again. "So what's the matter then?"
Beth barked a bitter laugh, burrowing into her light jacket. "What's not the matter anymore? You've watched the news, read the papers—my best friend's husband murdered my son." She couldn't contain the hatred in her voice.
Jonathan surely noticed the tone but he didn't point it out. He didn't speak at all, actually; he waited.
She shook her head despairingly. "Joe Miller's plea hearing is only a few days away. It's the moment that I've been waiting for since Danny died—to hear his killer admit he's guilty."
"He might say he's guilty. He might not." The way he said it sounded like a caution. "Guilt plays a funny game. It makes you say and do things you might not otherwise do."
She glared at him, tempted to stand up and walk away. She couldn't run from him as she had Connelly but her fury with this man was swiftly reaching the same levels she'd had with the con man. "You sound like you're taking his side."
"I'm not. What Joe Miller did to Danny was his own doing." It was spoken matter-of-factly, so much so that Beth couldn't help but be slightly mollified with the response. She unclenched her hands and forced herself to inhale deeply. "You're angry."
The simple remark made her nod. "All the time," she admitted quietly. "I hate Joe Miller for what he did. I'm furious with myself, with Mark… even Danny, for not telling us what was going on. And Ellie…" She trailed off, finding it difficult to speak aloud about her former best friend.
Her fury directed towards Ellie Miller was still burning strong.
"You get tired after awhile."
For a split second Beth was scared she spoken of her exhaustion aloud, but after a moment she realized that it had been Jonathan who had last spoken. She caught his gaze, realizing belatedly that his eyes were a shade of tepid green similar to her own. "You sound like you've been tired before, too."
Jonathan stood, breaking the moment apart as he slid his hands into the pockets of his beaten jacket. "Everyone has been or will be, Beth. What matters is what we do after we've dropped from the exhaustion." And as abruptly as he had started a conversation with her, he nodded a farewell. "I'm sure I'll see you around. Enjoy your view."
Startled and a bit put off by such a short dismissal, Beth looked over at the same view Jonathan had just mentioned, her hair tousled by the sea breeze. When she turned back to the trail leading back down to the beach she found Jonathan gone and the walking path empty.