"The wound is the place where the Light enters you."
-Jalaluddin Rumi
It's only 15 minutes before the end of her shift that Laurel gets a new patient. A quick scan of the chart tells her that it's Alec Hardy, 44, post-op for pacemaker insertion, complete with a long history of severe arrhythmia. At this stage, it's a dangerous surgery but the condition can be fatal without it. Laurel is about to put the chart away and take new vitals when she realizes that he hasn't got a family to update, and that section of the chart is blank.
Her heart clenches as she watches him sleep and she has to fight to stay in the moment. He's not a John Doe, but he's alone, and- she shakes herself and finishes the new patient input forms for her floor. By the time she's done, her shift is past over and her coworker, Sarah, pops her head in to relieve Laurel.
Instead of going home, Laurel sits down in the visitor's chair next to the bed and waits. No one should be alone, not through something like this.
It's... bright. Really bright. Very white, very clean.
Hospital.
It's got to be, and it's a familiar one, too. It's got that smell. But what's happening here, did he...? Was this another heart attack, or - did he just pass out again? Where's Miller-?
He stupidly tries to sit up only to find his body weighs a ton. Groan- it's these meds they've got him on. And it's not particularly bright, he notes, just oversensitive eyes. And then it hits him:
"I'm alive."
It only comes out in a weak, croaky whisper, but he's alive! He even breaks out bleak little smile for this one, lying there and feeling himself breathe and think and exist. Not til he opens his eyes again does he notice a figure there. Someone waiting. He turns a little towards her, clears his throat.
"How much longer 'til I can leave?"
Laurel has been sitting there for- oh, an hour? she's lost count- when the man on the bed quite suddenly springs to life. At first, it's just mumbling, but- "whoa!" she cries, pushing lightly on his shoulders to keep him from sitting up.
"Yeah, you're alive." She's only just caught what he said at first, though it clearly wasn't addressed to her… She gives him a smile, still tinged with concern. "Think it'll be at least a few days yet, though you'll have to ask the doctor for sure. Wouldn't be in too much of a rush, if I were you. You'll likely be feeling that surgery you just had, and all the good drugs are here."
"How're you feeling? If you'd like, I can call up your nurse."
"A few days? -No, no no, don't call the nurse... " He's very eager to get moving- there was something he had to do, something urgent. He can't wait a few days... this is his second chance. He's going to use it.
But - maybe just rest a bit first. His head feels like lead, and he winces.
"M'fine. No- I'm brilliant, this is..."
Laurel has half moved to call Sarah back in, but she stops when he tells her to. "Glad you're feeling alright," she says with a bigger smile. "Please don't be afraid to tell someone if you start to feel worse, though. It's best to get ahead of these things."
He squints at her. Can't remember meeting her, let alone her name, if she's got one.
"Who are you again?"
Laurel's pleased to see him so clearly alive and functioning. It feels like a victory, like she's pulled him through by sitting here- stupid, for sure, but after everything that's happened, it makes her feel better.
"Oh, sorry, Mr. Hardy! I'm Laurel. Should have introduced myself."
Ugh, God, she's chatty. Hardy turns back to stare at the ceiling a moment before squeezing his eyes shut. They're heavy anyway, can barely keep them open. They're so full of this sort of talk at this place, and something about it has always struck him as a little forced.
"...Laurel. Just Laurel?" His voice sounds gritty and tired. Maybe he can go back to sleep soon. "That's a first name, isn't it?"
She laughs. "Yes, that's just the first. I've got three, if you're interested. But the last one is Darvill. Laurel Darvill. 'M afraid I already know your name from the chart, sorry for the advance knowledge here."
She can see him winding back down- typical behavior, really, to come and go from sleep for several hours after anesthesia- and leans back slightly.
"Mm." Acknowledgement, dismissive. Seriously, she's just got to load on the extra details, doesn't she? "Married? Mrs. Darvill. What am I supposed to call you?" Honestly, don't these people do proper names? This bloody town. He's a bit too cheerful about being alive to be truly bothered, though, in all honesty. She's just trying to help. Maybe she's an intern.
"Oh, no, not married," Laurel answers lightly. She's not going to get into why. She's starting to think he doesn't have any interest in having her here at all, anyway, and maybe she was wrong to stay. "Just call me Laurel. Everyone does."
Mouth slightly open, he's about to thank her for whatever it is he's assuming she probably did to help, thereby hopefully prompting her out of the room- but. He lets it close again.
Laurel clears her throat awkwardly. "Sorry, I'll leave you be if you'd like to sleep. I can even go, if you'd like. I just noticed that you didn't have any family and thought- someone should be here when you woke up." Or if he didn't.
"My family… Yeah, they're not here, not in Broadchurch," he says after a painful minute. Not a lie, but they don't know he's chosen to submit himself for potentially fatal surgery, either. They don't need to know. Nobody does. He survived, after all... There was no need to put them through it, too.
She reaches out to gently pat the hand that doesn't have an IV; he only looks mildly up at her. "I understand. My family isn't here, either." She thinks her family would probably- no, definitely- come out if she was having potentially fatal heart surgery, but she won't question and she won't judge, it's not her business. "I'm sure they'll be glad to know you're alright, though. I know I'd be worried." She chuckles at herself. "I have been worried and we hadn't even properly met. Anyway, sorry, I'm sure you'd like me to go so you can get back to sleep. Don't feel obligated to entertain me."
"Laurel..." he tries for a minute. Allows a small silence to fill between them while he thinks of possibly something nice to say, until he sighs faintly and closes his eyes again.
Tess'll be disappointed.
Daisy'll chew him out for not telling her. So will Miller.
Ahh, but they'll get over it. Ellie'll say he's done something right for a change, in the end.
"Mhm. Thanks, Darvill."
Laurel chuckles. "Laurel," she corrects, but she stands up and leaves it at that. He's clearly uncomfortable with her presence.
"Feel better," she says softly, glancing over his thin, haggard form. "Don't forget to call the nurse if you feel badly. I'll let you sleep." She wishes he still had someone to stay, but she's not doing him much good here and the last thing he needs when he's healing is to feel awkward around a stranger.
"Best of luck, Mr. Hardy." One last soft smile and she leaves.
Ugh. He swallows something unpleasant, shakes his head a little, slow and behind on the conversation. "No, can't call y'that..." he mutters, but he's already partially asleep again.
He doesn't hear her leave.
Laurel has a bright smile on her face when she walks into Alec Hardy's room at the beginning of her shift a couple of days later. "You're still here, then?" she asks with a little wave. "Hope you're on the mend some. Mind if I take a few vitals, love?"
She gets a brief half-smile. "Still here," he agrees- though the question was rhetorical- and pushes himself up to rest back against the headboard. It takes a little effort, but he's watching her now, compliant. She's right, he is feeling a little better. Check away, he seems to say.
"Thanks!" Laurel says, taking her stethoscope off of her neck and putting it in her ears. She listens to his heart and breath sounds, takes his pulse and his temperature, assesses his pain levels, a quick test of fine motor skills, and she's done. "Looks like you're doing pretty well to be two days post-op. How's your heart feeling, Mr. Hardy?"
"Mm." He hums a little and settles back again. Standard checks. They're quick. "Fine," he replies lightly. "It's fine. Seems to be workin' at any rate. Thanks."
It might be fine enough that he can leave tomorrow... Still imagines he might be a little weak in the knees.
But it's right at this moment that he thinks his heart might have stopped again: Ellie Miller bursts through the door amidst a small tornado of colorful names for him. She marches straight up to the foot of his bed, pointing an accusatory finger, "YOU WANKER! YOU HAD SURGERY AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN RING ME? IF YOU'D DIED ON ME I WOULD HAVE DESECRATED YOUR GRAVE- SIR."
Laurel can't quite help it- she scuttles back at the explosion of noise, away from the short, very angry woman. She makes herself scarce- to be honest, this is what she does best- and listens in. So, Hardy does have a family that's at least close enough to drive over, he just hasn't told them what's going on.
It's a glad sight for Laurel, who has been very concerned about him. Everything about him says he's completely exasperated to have to be here, probably won't follow doctor's orders, might even leave against medical advice.
Hardy's hardcore trying to get a word in with Miller over her yelling, "Mill- Miller - no, Miller, listen- Ellie, please-" but she's not having a word of it. Her rant ends with a bag of grapes (definitely seeded, this time) dropped at the foot of his bed and a glower that rips past his exasperation.
As much as the woman's appearance is a relief to Laurel, her patient did just have major heart surgery, and she can't just stand by and allow him to be doubly stressed, so after as soon as she recovers herself, she steps in. Besides, she thinks she and the newcomer might have something to talk about. "Ma'am, might I have a word with you out in the hall for a moment?"
She gives a side glance to the patient as she replaces her stethoscope on her neck. "And you, Mr. Hardy, I would be grateful if you could stay put."
He's got to admit it, he's a little grateful for Darvill's intervention. Ellie shoots him one last look and nods to Laurel, her voice shaky and tears prickling her eyes (which she angrily wipes away). "Tell me he called someone," she pleads, but she mainly sniffs it at Hardy like a warning shot.
"Shit," Hardy groans to himself as they clear out, sinking lower into the bed. She's going to be the death of him if she doesn't shock his heart out, first.
Laurel has to stifle a laugh at the overly aggressive grape-gifting as she leads the way out into the hall, glancing back at Hardy before she goes. Now that it's one-on-one again, she's a little less uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Ellie, was it? Ellie Miller?" She thinks that's what she's caught from Hardy trying to interrupt. "I'm Laurel, Laurel Darvill, his nurse."
Ellie's still glowering, but drops her gaze. "Sorry. Sorry about in there, I just- yes." She looks up, trembly but swallowing it back. She's gotten better at this. "Ellie Miller. Lovely to meet you, Laurel..." She offers an attempt at a genuine smile, but her anger's quickly dissolving into a breakdown now that she's left the room. "Thanks- thanks for - helping," she manages. "God, I really hate him sometimes."
Now that Ellie isn't so aggressive, Laurel feels like she can relax a bit. "To be entirely honest with you, Ms. Miller, he seems as if he needed to hear it." She gives the other woman a shy smile of tentative camaraderie. "I was just concerned about his heart, love." She places a comforting hand on Ellie's shoulder.
"O h, I know..." Ellie concedes softly. Her voice is broken and cracked, and she's definitely struggling to gulp back tears now. Laurel's right, and Ellie feels a surge of gratitude for a compassionate presence. Seems so hard to find, these days. "He's such an idiot..."
"But also, I wanted to talk to you a bit without him hearing," Laurel continues after a tiny grin at this assessment. "He, um, he didn't call anyone, and it's worrying me for a couple of reasons. To start with, he's just been through a traumatic and very dangerous surgery. He may not realize it, but he'll need emotional support as much as anything else."
Ellie blanches a little, her fears confirmed. "Christ. No one?" Of course, she'd honestly hoped he'd feel compelled to call her about something like this at the very least if he called anyone - they'd been working together all week! And then he's gone and done this and - nothing! She'd been trying to reach him for two days! She's got to close her eyes briefly to reign in her anger again, and take a few deep breaths.
Laurel looks away, slightly embarrassed because she doesn't much like speaking so candidly with a stranger. "I was here the day he had his operation, and I sat with him a few hours past the end of my shift so he wouldn't wake up alone, because he had no one waiting on him." She shakes herself- he's not Ben. He's not dying alone.
Ellie nods, and forcibly wipes her eyes again. "Thank you," she says, and forces a grim smile. "Thanks for staying with him... I - should've been here. I would've... I'd hoped he'd let his daughter know, for god's sake, but..." Her heart is hurting. What's new?
Laurel listens to Ellie speak and nods encouragingly. "Of course. My f- erm, let's just say I know how you feel. And no one should be alone through something like this." She pauses and sighs. "Anyway, patients like him- stubbornly self-reliant- can have bad outcomes if they don't- well, it would be best if there's someone around once he leaves to keep an eye on him." She looks at Ellie anxiously, hoping she's not overstepping a line here but wanting to do right by her patient.
Ellie swallows thickly again. "I won't let him out of my sight once he's out," she promises. "How much longer's he got…?"
"Thanks for keeping him under surveillance. He'll likely be here for two or three more days." Laurel gives a slightly wry smile. "Do you happen to have his daughter's contact information? Legally, I can't disclose anything over the phone without his permission... But if you talk to him, you can get word to her."
Ellie lets her gaze fall, almost guiltily, and sniffles. She nods. "It's on his mobile... He's not as clever with his passwords as he ought to be. I'll call her if he doesn't..."
Laurel hesitates before digging in her pocket for a second and pulling out a pen and a notepad. Scribbling on the top page, she rips it off and hands it to Ellie. "I, um, I saw his address on his chart and it's only a few streets down from my house. Here's my number. Call me if you have a problem or he does something stupid, okay? I can be there in two minutes. Day or night." She can't stop thinking about Ben and it makes her offer despite her shyness.
Ellie looks up, a little surprised by the offer... but touched. Oh god, she's tearing up again, she's really got to pull herself together before she goes back in to see Hardy. She tries to get her throat to work, but it simply refuses, so she nods quickly instead and sniffs again.
Laurel smiles encouragingly and wavers for a moment. "I don't mean to overstep here, but do you need a hug? It seems like you could use one."
Ellie is certain she can't accept a stranger's hug right now, but everything is falling apart. This younger woman right now seems like the sanest voice in the world, and she can't help it - she needs something grounding right now, to let herself be vulnerable because she just can't do this...
So she laughs a little watery laugh instead and wipes her eyes again, holding gently onto this nurse somewhat like a scared child hugging a parent.
Laurel gives a soft chuckle and steps forward to wrap her arms around the older woman in a firm hug. "He's fine," she says gently. "He's been through a lot but he's fine. And he'll stay that way." Firmly. She means it.
"Oh, he'd better be." Ellie's voice is muffled and crackling on Laurel's shoulder, but likewise defiant. "He's going to hear from me if he's not." She's ready to cry all over again, and she allows herself another few seconds of it before she manages, "Thank you Laurel... I'm sorry, your shoulder's going to - gonna be all wet…"
Laurel throws her head back and laughs in surprised delight at Ellie's apology; the laugh is infectious enough to pull a smile out of Ellie Miller, and she rubs away the last of her tears out of her eyes.. "I'm a nurse, love," Laurel murmurs. "It's a good day if the worst thing I've got on me is tears. You're fine, I offered. You know, you don't have to wait for an emergency to call me. I'm a good listener, too." She runs her hand down Ellie's arm until she can grab her hand and squeeze it.
Ellie, grateful, squeezes back before letting go of the nurse entirely… Nods, trying to find the words. "Thank you... You're very kind, Laurel. And… I'll keep that in mind." She's suddenly a little shy at the idea of confiding in someone so much younger, but the offer is much needed. Just someone to talk to. Someone besides the therapists and Hardy.
"Shall we go see if the patient has managed to get into any trouble in our absence?" Laurel suggests.
Over in his room, Hardy's been listening to the muffled voices just outside his door, "shit, shit..." Running a hand over his face as he tries to think of what to say to Miller. Oh, she'll never try to understand - he'd known he was setting himself up for this (judging from his last several episodes and her bedside manners) - but he'd had to bet on the chance that he'd either not live to see it, or find himself lucky enough to avoid her detection. He really shouldn't have been kidding himself. Now all he can do is wait and hope and - well, pray, maybe, that Miller will come back to see him and accept his apology and explanation. What else can he do, aside from choke on grape seeds?
He looks up when Miller and Darvill come back in, and he locks eyes with Miller. Shit.
Laurel glances at him and heads to her computer to open his chart, feeling the need to update him with Ellie standing there in case he tries to keep things from her.
"Well, Mr. Hardy, your surgery two days ago to implant a pacemaker has successfully regulated your heart rate to fix your arrhythmia, but you still need to stay with us for several more days and regulate your activity levels until we're sure you're adjusting correctly." She's sure they know exactly what she's doing, but before Ellie lays into him again, it might help for her to know the gist of what's going on here.
Then she very conspicuously start typing in a show of privacy. She really does have things she has to do on his chart or she'd leave them to it entirely. The best she can do is try not to listen.
Hardy swallows and straightens again and starts, damn it, "Ellie—" He's eager avoid having anything else in addition to grapes thrown at him.
"—Don't call me Ellie," Miller snaps, but it's quiet. She can't trust him with his own life, right now. And she's far from forgiving him. Even so, her anger has quelled to a dull roar in the back of her mind.
Hardy glances uncomfortably between Miller and the nurse. He's certain Darvill did that on purpose.
"Hear that, you knob?" Ellie asks him, her thoughts traveling in the same direction, and pulls up a chair. She plops heavily into it and fixes him with her now well-used glare.
"Ellie—" he tries again.
"—Several more days. You're not going anywhere 'till I say so."
Hardy closes his eyes for a moment to collect himself. If he's not careful, he might just have to listen.
"Ellie, listen. I'm sorry." He's not looking at her. "I - should have called you."
"Yeah. Thought you were bloody well dead, sir; the hell am I supposed to do with that? …You didn't even call Daisy. Tess?"
"Oh, for god's sake, Miller, please don't—"
"—What if you'd died. What then?" Her voice eases when he returns to her last name.
"Miller."
"You just expect me to what— bury you up on the hill? You think I have the funds for that?"
"Miller, please."
"No, sir, just shut up a minute with the 'Miller, Miller', won't you? Listen: Don't you ever — don't you— " She's trying to be stern with him, but she's wavering again. Goddammit. She told herself she wouldn't yell. Wouldn't cry. "You - do this to me one more time, I will kill you myself, sir - and if that's not enough of a threat, well - - tough. You don't get to treat me this way."
She looks like she's expecting an answer, but she's just told him to shut up. "…Sorry. Miller." Honestly, is she done yet?
"Call Daisy. Do it, now. I'm not forgiving you until I see you dial that number, right now. Laurel—" Ellie's voice is evening out, and she looks up at the nurse. "He can make a call, can't he? That won't mess with the… pacemaker, will it? Sir, where's your mobile…?"
Laurel's trying not to eavesdrop, but it's hard to avoid when they're being loud— okay, Miller is— and she's still in the room. Still, she's focusing on her charting and attempting to tune out the voices until she hears a question directed at her. "Oh, yes, of course, he's fine to make as many calls as he'd like." Or not like, as the case may be, but it would take a stronger person than Laurel to stand up to the angry Ellie and she suspects that Hardy won't try it, either.
She wonders at the relationship between the two of them. Ellie calls him sir over and over again, but Laurel can see plain as day that they care about one another.
Ellie's brought out Hardy's phone and flatly hands it over. "See? There we are, then. Call her. She deserves to know, she's your daughter." She retreats and watches impatiently, arms crossed, expectant.
"Miller…" But Hardy sighs, seeing no way out of this. "Fine… fine…"
He dials the number. Beep. It's gone to voicemail. That's to be expected, and Miller knows this.
He waffles for a second, unsure about how to start.
"…Hi, darling, it's me. Dad."
A pause. Miller's practically nudging him with her eyes.
"I… haven't heard from you in a while and - I thought I'd call. Wanted to let you know I've been in the hospital a few days but everything's fine. Nothin' to worry about."
Miller's brows arch.
"…They've put a pacemaker in me, so… yeah. No more broken heart."
Another pause.
"Talk to you later. Call me - when you get the chance. Love you… Alright. Bye."
The call ends with a small snap, and he hands the phone back over to Miller. He's shaking his head like this was a bad idea and casting about for some words. "I - Miller, she- — she didn't need to worry, I was going to call her afterwards, as it was; really, I was. And you."
Miller seems pleased enough for now. "That's nice, sir, but now it's done with. Poor Laurel's had to listen to all of this." She sighs, her eyes falling briefly to the sad lump of grapes still resting on the blankets.
"…I'll check on you tomorrow, all right?" she starts again, but it's much more gentle now.
"Fine. Just don't bring me any more grapes, thanks."
Laurel once again tries to fade to the background, and once she hears her name again and the conversation seems to draw to a close, she gives the pair a small smile. "So, you're off, then, Ellie? Just remember what I said."
Ellie gives Laurel a warm smile as she pauses to pull on her coat. "I'm off," she nods. Her voice has returned to its normal softness. "Thank you so much, Laurel. I'll be in touch—" She glanced at Hardy. "Soon, I'm sure. Thank you."
She goes. Laurel waves goodbye and turns back to Hardy.
He groans and sinks back into bed again, tugging the blankets up to his chin. "Sorry. She's a bit… well… Sorry you had to see that."
He's her only patient at the moment, so she goes to sit next to him, already ready to get off her feet for a few minutes even though she's not far into her shift. She shrugs in response to Hardy's words, and a small smile plays at the corners of her lips. "In my family, at least, volume is a sign of caring. She wouldn't yell at you if you didn't mean a lot to her. Wouldn't be worth the emotion, otherwise."
"Mm… s'pose so." It doesn't sound like it's a revelation. But he's got just the tiniest, quickest of smiles. "When I first met her, never'd've guessed she could be so loud, though…"
Then again, she's a mother of two. It does fall into place. At any rate, Darvill's words are a kindness.
Laurel chuckles. "Never trust quiet to stay quiet. Push anyone the wrong way and you'll find yourself with an earful." She remembers her mother telling her oldest brother that once after Laurel got angry enough to yell at him. She hasn't seen him so shell shocked since.
"Mm." Sometimes she sounds straight out of a greeting card. Keeps making him smile a little, anyway.
Laurel thinks he looks haggard, worn. Maybe from the surgery, maybe not. "Say, love, do you like to read? Or write or draw or anything like that?" Feeling as if he'll scoff at her suggestion, she follows it up quickly with an explanation. "You just seem antsy to leave. Might help if you had something to take your mind off of being here."
He's fallen into silence, resting. Only looks up when she speaks again. "Oh… not really. I mean - I read, yes." He shifts a little. "Dunno if I can keep my eyes open long enough, though, quite frankly." And looking through glasses right now sounds particularly unappealing.
"Okay. Well, that'll probably improve as you move out from the surgery and your body gets used to the pacemaker. I'm sure I can track down something for you to read. People leave them here sometimes, so we've got a shelf somewhere to store them."
"Well… Don't bother too much over it." Thank you, is what he means. Her generosity is welcome, even if he's apparently adamant about not accepting it. He's leaving tomorrow anyway...
She's not wrong. He is antsy to leave. Claire. She's vulnerable right now. He's out there, Hardy's seen him several times, now. Knows where he is, or - has an idea. Not to mention, new leads. He's got every reason to be antsy. And Miller's on her own right now, too, with Fred and no one else. It's all keeping him up, no matter how heavy his eyes still feel. And that's not even to mention the trial.
Laurel's not done. "Or- if you find yourself feeling particularly restless or anxious, I could read to you. Easier on the eyes than reading yourself, of course, and sometimes it's nice to just listen to the rhythm of someone else's voice. It's soothing. Just something to think about." She grins. "'s not like I have much else going on right now. You're my only patient." Her expression is cheerful, trying to make him feel comforted but not like she's pushing anything on him. He's very free to talk with her or go to sleep or take her up on her offer, whatever he'd like.
"Well..." He's not been read to since... uh. Well. When was he last read to? Probably Daisy, learning to read. And before that... hard to say. Had his parents ever read to him...?
Weirdly, he wants to say yes. But he knows he won't.
"I'll, er- keep that in mind. Thanks." He might be grateful for it later, if he honest-to-god cannot fall asleep in spite of his exhaustion.
The company for now is just fine.
Laurel nods companionably. "Well, if you decide to take me up on it, we've got quite the variety, love. People have left everything from Harry Potter to Stephen King and a lot of nonfiction, as well. If you've got a favorite, I might be able to find it."
Hardy nods casts about a bit for some other distraction… He finally settles on more conversation, which feels a little odd. "…Large family? Yours, I mean. Are you local?"
Laurel thinks he still seems preoccupied, but this time, it's almost brooding rather than thinly veiled impatience. She decides that maybe she shouldn't leave him alone right now and accepts the abrupt change of topic.
"Oh, yes," she answers, soft and with great feeling. "Two parents, six siblings, all of them still in Bournemouth but me. Add in a collection of spouses and kids and you've got a large family for sure. And yourself? You've got a daughter, I hear? And Ellie?" Her voice is light, conversational, giving him an out in case he doesn't want to talk about them. He does seem the type to clam up, but given what she's overheard, she's a little sad over what seems to be a bit of a broken relationship with the girl who didn't answer the phone.
He clearly loves her very much, though, and suddenly Laurel misses her own dad. Her family might annoy her, smother her, not quite understand her fully, but she'd be lost without them... she feels a surge of compassion. Hardy must have a difficult life even when he's not having surgery on his heart.
Hardy slides his eyes closed, though he focuses on her voice. Quite a large family, indeed. Bournemouth. He's not keen on answering questions just now, but he supposes he did just ask something personal. Ugh.
He fights with the silence a moment, perhaps a little too long. He could probably get away with simply not answering at this point, but he finds himself responding.
"…Yeah. Fifteen. Lives with her mother. And Miller— she's a, uh - she's a colleague. Local, obviously, but I'm not."
"She sounds like a lovely girl. I'm sure you miss her." She leaves it at that. Her tone is warm, not pushy, not asking questions that he doesn't seem to want to answer; she knows the feeling. "I think I quite like Miller, too. She seems very strong. I wouldn't want to mess with her." She means it... Despite Ellie's tears, the woman seems to possess an ironclad will that Laurel admires and will never have.
Hardy says nothing about Daisy. Yes. Yes, he does miss her. Terribly. Thinks about her every single day. Aches to be part of a whole again. Remembers that it'll never, ever happen. Tries weakly not to think about Tess. Rinse and repeat.
"Yeah... Miller is… she's good. She's a good person. Good detective, too, but she was never meant to be that hard."
She settles back in her chair as he talks about Ellie. "Mm, I can see that. I don't know what made her hard, but she's made of something fierce. Don't have to do anything more but look at her to know that. She'll get through whatever it is and remember who she is. Reminds me of my mum, a bit, she does, let me tell you, Mr. Hardy. That woman is a force of nature but I've never seen anyone more compassionate to anyone with a scraped knee or a lost puppy. A strong woman but a kind one."
"Heh. I can imagine."
He finds himself almost appreciating her chattiness, now, her generosity, content just to listen and allow his tired mind to linger on other things. Books. Ellie. Her family. Maybe he will take her up on that reading offer, after all... Her voice is soft and easy; just the sound of it - the sort of bedside manners a nurse ought to have. Patient. Forgiving.
"Ahh, she's a mother, too, Miller. Two sons." He looks up and offers Laurel the sliver of a smile. "Maybe it's the strongest forces of nature that're the kindest."
Laurel can definitely see Ellie as a mother. She's got that air to her. She takes his minuscule smile and returns it with ten times the wattage, pleased to have gotten a positive reaction from him. He's a bit of a grumpy bloke, and while it doesn't bother her, she thinks that some smiles would be of great benefit to him. "Yeah," she agrees softly. "You might be right."
His eyes fall closed again and he listens to a small silence. Drowsiness is quickly overcoming him - maybe her words really are working.
"You know, I actually... could you read? An'thin', I don't care what it is…"
She hops up immediately at his question. "Of course!" she chirps quietly but exuberantly. "Be right back." It's the work of two minutes to run to the bookshelf in the nurse's lounge and grab a novel. After a second of deliberation, she settles on Harry Potter. Why not? She brings it back and sits down next to him again. "I've brought some magic for you." Her smile is gentle now. He needs some magic in his life, she thinks.
He had a feeling she might take to the reading idea. Gives her something to do, something to help with. And honesty - he's not sure if it's the drugs or the tiredness or the dull, aching nameless feeling in his chest, but- he doesn't particularly feel up to being alone, right now. Daisy still hasn't called back.
He frowns a little. Pulls himself out from the drowsiness for a moment to look at her again. "Magic-? Oh-"
Harry Potter. Should've known.
He settles back, a little amused.
Laurel grins and starts reading about Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number Four Privet Drive. She can tell he'll be asleep sooner rather than later, so she makes her voice low enough that while he can hear her words, they won't be a barrier to him falling asleep. It's nice, somehow, sitting here doing this. She's glad the floor is dead. This is why she became a nurse- to help people- and oddly enough, she feels as if this simple act is making a difference.
Hardy's asleep before the end of chapter one.
A/N: Most of the story is already written, so updates will be posted once or twice a week or so as time allows! In addition, the genre will likely change later on, characters will be added as they appear, and the rating will increase. This fic is a collaboration between indigoiseau and boomerbird10. The story is Broadchurch AU beginning mid-series 2.
Disclaimer: we are in no way affiliated with the makers of Broadchurch and on an unrelated note, we are neither medical professionals nor law enforcement officers, and as such, we will cheerfully ignore actual medicine and/or English jurisprudence and we will invent at will!
