A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! (and I'm being deliberately un-PC about it)
This is the story of three different Christmas times in Alec Hardy's life and for those of you who know me, there will be angst and sadness, but it's a Christmas story, so there is also hope, a miracle and a love. I should include a trigger warning as the story will deal with depression and Alec finds himself in a very dark place.
When I wrote most of this story over the July 4th weekend, I thought I'd be done with "A Million Holes" and farther along with "The Ocean Breathes Salty", but it didn't turn out this way. So it might feel a tiny bit out of context and I apologize for that. Just as a reminder, Emma is Baxter's daughter (Alec and Daisy meet her in "A Unicorn In The Snow"). (This is the revised chapter which can also be found as part of "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul – Part Three")
Three Times Christmas
On Christmas Eve, he survived.
On Christmas Day, he died.
On Boxing Day, he lived.
Chapter 1 - Beaten
December 2012
Hardy woke up, the chilly air creeping into his bones. The heat in his new flat had been a constant source of disgruntlement. He missed the fire place in his old house. He pulled his pillow over his head to muffle the frustrated groan that the image of Dave Thompson cuddled up with Tess in front of a flickering fire evoked.
He rolled over, and his gaze fell on the shiny object on his nightstand. His wedding ring. Last night, he had finally found the courage to take it off. Weeks after the divorce had been finalized. He stared at it, ignoring the pain in his chest and the sting in his eyes. The buzzing of his mobile jerked him out of his gloomy thoughts. Hardy stretched to reach the phone. When he pulled it closer, he accidentally knocked the ring off the nightstand. It fell and landed with a soft clink on the wood floor, spinning to a rest. Hardy watched as it slowed down and eventually stopped. The faint noise rang loudly in his ears. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, then scooted to the edge of the bed, dangled his long arm over the mattress and carefully scooped up what was left from a marriage of almost fifteen years. He palmed the golden band and gently curled his fingers around it.
He dragged his tired body out of bed, shivering in the cold. Then, he padded to his closet, still holding on to the ring. He rummaged through his belongings until he found what he was looking for. It was a small wooden heart shaped box, decorated with glitter and fake gems that were stuck on top of the colorful paint. Daisy had made it for him in nursery school. She had said that Sir Alec needed a treasure box. He flipped the tiny metal lock and placed the ring inside. Maybe one day he'd be able to let go of it for good, but it wasn't today.
His phone went off again. Hardy sighed and squinted at the letters. His far-sightedness seemed to have outgrown the considerable length of his arms. He grabbed his glasses and deciphered the message. Baxter offered him a ride to court. Hardy hesitated, but then accepted. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to have company. Tess might be there.
It took him longer than usual to settle on a shirt, tie and suit. He didn't feel comfortable in most of his clothes these days as Tess had picked out a lot of them. The weight loss that had come with his heart condition didn't help. He ended up with a dark grey suit that had become his favorite. At least it fit him better than most. The hot shower warmed up his cold body, but he paid for the brief relief with a bout of vertigo that didn't go away until his morning cocktail of pills had taken effect.
His clean-shaven face stared back at him from the mirror, and it was a frightening sight. The beard had helped to conceal the pale, gaunt features that he didn't recognize as his own. He shouldn't have gotten rid of it. Passing his hand over his smooth skin, he wished he still had the scruff to hide behind. He decided against slicking his hair back, letting his fringe fall into his forehead.
He forced himself to eat some toast, fighting the ever-present nausea that came as a courtesy of his potpourri of medications. He had another upcoming appointment with Emily Abbott to discuss the pacemaker placement again. He had been putting it off, not quite seeing the reason why he should take the risk. He hadn't had any major attacks in weeks and he blamed the tiredness on his nightmares and the resulting sleep deprivation. And who would care anyway if he suddenly dropped dead one day? He flinched at the glum thought. He'd been unsuccessfully fighting the effects that his increasing isolation had on him. During his last visit, Emily had given him a questionnaire about depression and when he found himself ticking off one box after the other, he'd taken it, ripped it apart, picked up a new one and given Emily a happier version of his life. One look at her face was enough to realize she didn't buy it, but she also didn't press the issue.
It was time to go, to hopefully close this chapter of his past. To leave the river behind and maybe have a chance to move on. He shrugged on his coat – not the thick woolen one that had been a gift from Tess the past Christmas – made sure he had his pills on him, and left the place he still couldn't call home.
Snow flurries fell softly on his head and got caught in his mop of hair. They didn't stick on the ground, it hadn't been cold enough yet. He stared at the melting white puffy crystals. Last year he'd built a snow man with Daisy, like they had every winter. He hadn't spoken to her for weeks with the exception of the brief phone call on his birthday a few days ago. She had been short with him and in the end cut off the conversation with the excuse she needed to do homework. He had never felt lonelier in his whole life.
"Stop moping about and get in!"
Hardy's head snapped up to be greeted by Baxter's steely grey eyes. He had popped open the door while the car was running and gestured for him to climb in. Hardy dusted off some flakes that were melting already and then slumped onto the passenger seat. He didn't say a word, too caught up in his own world. After they'd passed the first traffic light, Baxter broke the silence.
"Good morning, Ed. Thank you for picking me up." Baxter sounded like he was talking to a child whom he was trying to teach manners to. Hardy rolled his eyes.
"Seriously? You had to do that," he growled.
"Yup. 'Cause it seems you've forgotten how to behave like a normal human being," Baxter retorted seamlessly. Hardy shook his head and stared out the window.
"So, did you think about coming to spend Christmas with us? Louise wants to feed you some of her famous chestnut stuffing. She feels you're getting too skinny with all that rabbit food you're eating," Baxter continued a conversation they'd had last week.
"She said that? I don't believe it. Sounds like something you would say," Hardy argued, shooting his boss a sideways glance.
Baxter smirked. "She might have been influenced by my choice of words."
Hardy snorted in response and Baxter's grin grew wider. "You didn't answer my question."
"I dunno," Hardy sighed. "I wouldn't want to impose. And maybe...," he trailed off, not wanting to reveal the feeble hope he had that Daisy might want to spend Christmas with him. Tess had told him they might have some other plans but she hadn't shared what they were. Hardy had a suspicion that it had something to do with Dave, but until he knew for sure he forbid himself to go down that path.
Baxter gave him a quizzical look, but didn't press the issue. His voice was soft, when he said, "You're always welcome, Alec. You don't have to decide right now."
"Thanks," Hardy mumbled, his eyes trailing the traffic outside. They rode in silence until they reached the court building.
Before they walked in, Baxter held him back. "Alec, whatever happens in there today, remember it wasn't your fault. Don't believe your own lie," Baxter reminded him. They exchanged a brief glance and Hardy dropped his gaze to the floor.
"He's going to plead not guilty, isn't he?" Hardy asked with a quiver in his voice. Baxter's hand clasped his shoulder.
"I don't know, but I wouldn't be surprised. He didn't want to discuss any deals with the prosecution, so it's a fair assumption," Baxter said evenly.
Hardy dragged his hands down his face. "What if he gets off? I couldn't live with myself."
"Don't think about it. It's only the plea and the case management hearing. A lot can happen in court," Baxter tried to alleviate his anxiety.
Hardy found Baxter's eyes. "I'm not sure I can make it through a full trial, Ed," he admitted quietly. Baxter wasn't fast enough to hide the concern and sorrow from his expression. Hardy caught it before Baxter was able to ban all emotions from his face.
"Don't worry so much. We'll deal with it when... if we have to." Baxter forced a smile and Hardy tried his best to mimic it.
"Aye," he breathed. They walked in, Baxter's warm hand still resting on his shoulder. It couldn't fight off the chill in his bones, but at least it made it bearable.
Hardy had been in this court room a million times before, but today was different. It could be his last. When he had said to Baxter, he didn't know if he'd be able to withstand a full trial, it hadn't been an exaggeration. He was under no illusion that the only reason why his heart had been reasonably behaved the last few months was due to the utter lack of stimulation and all-encompassing boredom that had become his routine. Baxter had made sure that his tasks at work were not straining and didn't require any major exertion. The talk behind his back that they didn't trust him any more with more complex cases was hurtful to say the least. It fit the picture though they had wanted to paint. The rumor that it was truly his responsibility that the key evidence had been lost had taken firm hold at the Sandbrook nick. The first occasion he had walked into a conversation that was blaming him for everything and how unfairly Tess and Thompson had been treated, his heart almost gave out on him. But he got used to it quickly. Keeping to himself also helped. The only person who remained friendly and often asked how he was doing was Annie Swenson. He was grateful for her timid signs that she cared about him. There were times when her smile was the only thing that got him through a day.
He scanned the crowd nervously. Tess hadn't come. He didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed.
He felt a pair of eyes resting on him. Karen White didn't leave him out of her sight. She had come very close to the truth, but besides rumors and allegation, she had never had enough to prove they had lost evidence. That could soon change if they faced a full trial.
The first row of seats for members of the public was taken up by the family members. Ricky Gillespie had an arm around Cate's shoulder. Her face was flat and her eyes were dull, long unkempt hair hanging down. Hardy knew that she had more and more drifted off into a world of addiction. It pained him to see her like that. He didn't dare think about what a not guilty plea would do to her. Ricky caught him staring at them. His face pulled into a scowl and he tugged Cate closer. There was a clear message written all over his face and Hardy looked away.
Marilyn Newbery sat in the row behind them. Her blond hair was pulled back to a bun and her lips were pressed into a tight line. Her expression didn't give away what might be going on inside. Ashworth had continued to deny vehemently he had anything to do with Lisa's presumed death. They had never found the body, a fact that bothered Hardy immensely. The prosecution had even offered a deal if Ashworth were to reveal Lisa's whereabouts, but he remained silent. It was infuriating.
When he stood for the judge, he had to hold onto Baxter as the room suddenly tilted around him. He sucked in a sharp breath, uncomfortably aware of the too fast heartbeat in his chest. His fingers searched for his pills, unwilling to take the risk of waiting until they could sit down again. He popped them out with one hand and stealthily smuggled them into his mouth. He'd gotten quite good at that.
As soon as everyone had taken their seat, Baxter leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "You all right?"
"'M fine," Hardy muttered under his labored breath.
"Liar," Baxter retorted, but then shut up when they called in Ashworth.
Hardy hadn't seen Ashworth since the day before his world had fallen apart. Prison hadn't left his mark on him yet and he carried himself with confidence. Hardy glared at him, but it didn't seem to faze Ashworth.
Claire Ripley had called him the previous day, panicking about what would happen if Ashworth were to walk free. He soothed her as much as he could. Ever since that day she'd come to him begging for company to go to the clinic, he'd stayed in touch. He knew she was using him for her own purposes, but he had no idea what those were. When he had convinced her to testify against her husband, he'd thought their cat-and-mouse game had been over, even if the winner wasn't clear. He had been wrong. She was still playing with him and he dreaded what a trial would bring out in her.
After the usual formalities had been satisfied, the indictment was posed and Hardy held his breath. His hands kneaded his thighs and his heart was hammering away.
"Lee James Ashworth, how do you plead?" the crown's clerk asked.
Ashworth was standing tall and with a smirk on his face, he stated, "Not guilty."
Hardy's heart stuttered and he couldn't suppress a moaned gasp. Baxter's hand had found its way back onto his shoulder.
"Breathe," Baxter ordered him calmly. "Don't give him the satisfaction of passing out in the court."
Hardy took in a shuddering breath and leaned forward, feeling the pull of Pippa's weight on his arms. He didn't hear any of the proceedings arranging for the trial to take place. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he wouldn't be able to leave the river behind. The noise of the crowd moving out of the court room brought him back. He looked up and met Marilyn Newbery's eyes. Anger was burning quietly in them and it was harder to take than Ricky's loud cursing and thrashing about. Cate was too stunned to react, tears flowing down her face.
Hardy was suffocating. He needed to get out of there. He pushed to his feet and staggered out the door before Baxter could come after him. His fingers desperately clawed at his tie and collar. He ripped the button off and yanked the tie over his head. He made it to the restroom where he stumbled into a stall and vomited into the toilet. Shaking, he slid down the plastic partition wall and buried his head under his heavy arms.
There was a loud noise. The door to the restroom was thrown open and Hardy suspected that Baxter had followed him. He didn't look up which was a mistake. He never saw the first blow coming. Ricky's fist hit him hard on the temple and dazed him instantaneously. His head fell to the side and thudded against the wall of the stall. His body followed, tilting towards the floor. Hardy tried to catch his fall, but wasn't fast enough. His face landed flat on the less than cleanly tiles of the men's restroom. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth made him retch. Before he could pick himself up, Ricky had kicked him in the stomach and against his ribcage, robbing Hardy's lungs of all air.
Hardy groaned and tried to curl up and protect his head with his trembling arms as much as he could. Suddenly, there was shouting and noises of a fight. Baxter's authoritative voice boomed through the room, ordering Ricky to stop. Hardy dared to peek out from under his hands. He had never been happier to see his friend. Two uniformed officers pulled Ricky off of him and away.
"Alec! Talk to me," Baxter demanded, stooping next to him. Hardy couldn't because the pain in his chest was growing and with it the empty feeling that let Hardy know his heart was about to stop.
"Need... AED," Hardy croaked. It surprised him that he remembered Emily's instructions for what he should ask in case something like this happened. Baxter was already way ahead of him. He had Hardy's shirt open and the stickers slapped on before Hardy could even process what was going on. The last thing that Hardy heard was the tinny robotic voice advising to stand back. Then his world went black.
Hardy woke to the sight of the familiar ceiling tiles in the cardiac ICU at South Mercia University Hospital. His head was throbbing and he couldn't really open his right eye. There was a dull ache in his abdomen and a careful deep breath resulted in sharp pain in his chest. Otherwise he seemed to be in one piece. He ran his hand over his chin. There was only a short stubble. So maybe a day might have passed since he got beaten up at court.
He patted around for the call button, expecting they had left it somewhere close like they always did. He found the remote like device, but accidentally hit the wrong spot. The head of his bed started to move down. He didn't mind, not quite enjoying the raised position they had put him in. He straightened out the mattress and decided to go back to sleep instead of ringing for the nurse, exhaustion making him weary.
The girl clawed at him, tugging him back into the muddy dark. On all fours, he desperately dug his fingers into the earth between the bluebells. Her dead weight pulled on him relentlessly. His limp body was dragged under the water, and the murky river flooded his lungs. He gagged and retched, fighting to get to the surface but to no avail. His gasps grew weaker and weaker until there was only the rattling noise of air bubbling through the foul liquid.
He woke gasping and coughing violently. Breathing was hard. Much harder than it should have been once he recovered from his nightmare. His body shook with the convulsion of another coughing spell. He doubled over to his side, drowning while he was awake. He panicked, not knowing what was going on. It didn't stop, not even when he expelled the mucous that seemed to have been stuck in his lungs. He opened his hand to wipe away the mess, and his heart almost stopped again when he saw the traces of pink, bloody froth on his palm.
A nurse had come into the room and swiftly plugged the oxygen cannula into his nose. He grabbed at it, feeling suffocated by the air pushing into his nostrils. He hacked up more mucous and tasted more blood in his mouth. The nurse held down his hand, preventing him from yanking at the cannula.
"Mr. Hardy, let me help you please," she pleaded. "You need the oxygen. It's going to make it better. Take a few breaths. Let's sit you up." She pulled at his aching body and held him until she had raised the head of the bed to support him being upright. Then she gently lowered him onto his pillow. His breaths were shallow and quick, but he felt less deprived of air which allowed him to calm down. The lingering drowning sensation was deeply unsettling.
"Are you okay if I leave you alone for a moment?" the nurse wanted to know. "I'm going to get Dr. Abbott."
He nodded, unable to speak. His hands were fisted into the sheets while he forced himself to take measured breaths which were rattling through his lungs. By the time Emily walked in, fear about had grown into frank panic.
"Emily, what's happenin'?" he wheezed as soon as she set foot into the room. She quickly stepped up to his bed, scanning the monitor briefly and frowning. Before she addressed him, she gave some orders to the nurse who rushed out to follow them.
"Emily, please?" he begged weakly.
She finally turned her attention to him, and he knew the news couldn't be good. She smiled, but there was worry in her eyes that she could never hide from him. She pulled a chair over and sat down heavily.
"Alec, do you remember when we talked last time and discussed my concern about your heart losing its strength to pump properly?" she probed carefully. He vaguely recalled her mentioning it, but he had refused to acknowledge anything new as he was still barely able to wrap his mind around having a deadly arrhythmia. He shook his head slowly.
"Why do I feel like I'm drowning?" he asked instead.
"Because you are," she sighed. A puzzled frown appeared on his forehead. "Alec, your lungs are full of fluid because your heart isn't able to pump blood properly. So it backs up into the lungs and causes the fluid to seep into the tissue. All the little air sacs in your lungs are filled with that frothy stuff you've been coughing up instead of with plain air. It's called pulmonary edema."
She stopped and observed his reaction keenly. He stared at her, processing what she had told him. It certainly explained why he felt as if he was breathing through water. Not that an explanation helped to alleviate his fear.
"Why?" was all he could say.
"The attack you had yesterday significantly injured your heart and it's having a hard time recovering. Alec, I'm sorry to tell you, but you're currently experiencing is called acute heart failure. We've been treating you for that," she answered, her voice soft. She couldn't hide the underlying sorrow from her words.
Hardy squeezed his eyes shut. He had been waiting for this moment, ever since the days after Tess' confession. He'd been living with the thought of dying for months, and now that it seemed more real than ever, he was unbelievably scared.
"Is that it then?" he breathed, shutting out the world behind his leaded eyelids.
"No, Alec. It's not. This is treatable. It's an acute process and happens to many people after a cardiac arrest. With some luck and the right medications, we'll get you back in shape so that you can finally get that pacemaker," she replied, putting all her professional conviction in her voice.
"Luck?" he echoed meekly. If it hadn't been so serious, he would have laughed. "Luck?" he scoffed, louder this time and opened his eyes, a feral gaze resting on her pale face. "Seriously? Luck?" he shouted, desperation ringing in his own ears. And then hysteria got the better of him. At first it was a guttural chuckle escaping his throat that morphed quickly into cackling laughter until he lost all air and ended up coughing up more bloody froth. Exhausted he fell back onto his pillow, squinting at a shocked Emily.
"Luck..." – he sucked in a rattling breath - "... left me a long time ago," he wheezed bleakly. His eyes wandered to the ceiling tiles and he began counting, the only thing he could do to keep him sane. He had lost it and he knew it. He didn't know what frightened him more – his failing heart or his failing mind.
Emily's hand found its way onto his shoulder. She reached out, cupped his cheek with her warm hand, and gently turned his head towards her.
"You're wrong, Alec. Luck has not left you, you have forgotten how to recognize it," she said warmly. "Ed was there at the court to save your life, that was lucky. Your heart is reacting favorably to the treatment, that is lucky. You haven't died yet, and if that isn't luck then I don't know what is." Her lips curled up into a grin. "Did you know that the nurses have a running bet going on about how many times you'll try to escape during an admission? Whoever wins doesn't have to take care of you the next time you come around. They all participate and you know why? None of them think you'll actually die because they all can't believe how incredibly lucky you've been so far. They also think you possibly made a deal with the devil, but that's a different story."
Hardy stared at her. Her warm eyes sparkled at him and her broad grin made it hard not to smile. Once again, he thought how young she was and how hopeful her outlook on life was despite all the death and dying that surrounded her.
"I'm not lucky, I'm stubborn," he growled, the corner of his mouth curling up.
Emily laughed. "Yah, that's what the head nurse says too. And she's seen it all." She stood up when the nurse came in to inject the medication that she had ordered. "This is a drug that will help your heart to get rid of extra fluid, especially in the lungs. It's rather strong and I'm sure you'll complain about it, but it's going to make you feel better quickly. Oh, and you shouldn't lie flat until the pulmonary edema has improved, you won't feel like drowning as much. Try to get some rest now." She squeezed his shoulder and gave him another reassuring smile.
Hardy called her name right before she left. "Emily, you know what luck is?"
She looked at him quizzically and shook her head.
"To have you as my doctor," he said sincerely and after a stuttering heartbeat or two, he added, "And as a friend."
Emily smiled, blushed, and gave him a nod. Then she left the room without another word. Hardy let his eyes drift to the ceiling again. The tiles were blurring with his silent tears while he cried himself to his lonely sleep.
Emily had been right. He hated the new medication. It caused him to go to the loo every half hour which in his current state was a laborious task to complete. By the time he was able to breathe more easily, he had lost every ounce of weight his body could shed together with the extra fluid that was being squeezed out of him. But that wasn't it. One night his blood pressure plummeted, he could barely lift his arms and he was too weak to vomit despite the severe nausea that hit him out of nowhere. His heart slowed down to a crawl and he felt life was seeping out of him with every sluggish contraction of the faulty organ in his chest. All he could do was lie there and be scared. He didn't recover until they replaced all the potassium that his body had been losing with the strong diuretic that Emily had put him on. He'd rarely been as frightened in his life.
Getting rid of the fluid in his lungs only helped so much though. His fatigue and weakness were marked. Emily tried to reassure him, telling him his tests were getting better, but he didn't feel it. It was one thing to deal with the possibility that his heart was prone to acting up, but knowing that it was failing was a different story. He couldn't tell if his sleepless nights were due to the ever-present dream of drowning or his anxiety that made his frazzled mind go in circles.
He'd cried more than once in front of Emily, but his anger was worse. He blew up at the poor nurse for checking his temperature; he barked at the house keeping staff for clunking around with the trash can; he kicked Baxter out of the room for no good reason, and he yelled at Emily to leave him be so that he could die alone like he deserved to.
After he'd done that, Emily fled the scene visibly rattled by his outburst, but soon thereafter she retruned with yet another set of pills.
"What's this now?" he snarled at her, tired of the repetitiveness of his life. All he wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry himself to sleep.
"Alec, this is an anti-depressant. I'm very worried about some of the things you've said and how you've been acting," she began. He immediately interrupted her.
"What the fuck are you thinking? That I'm some bloody looney who can't handle his life?" he blurted out, unable to control his temper. She flinched under the onslaught of his anger and paled, but continued with a warmth in her voice that he hadn't earned.
"No, you're not. But you're a person in distress who needs help. Please listen to me before you argue with me. You're not in a good place right now. It's not unusual for people who have a new diagnosis of heart failure to be thrown into depression and anxiety. I've been noticing a change in your mood for a while now, and I think it's reached a point where you need to do something about it. I would get our psychiatrist to talk to you, but I think you would refuse. I told him about you, and he suggested this medication. It's one of the few that is safe with your heart condition."
"The last thing I need is to add a mental health problem to my list of ailments," Hardy grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Nobody is adding anything to you record. All I'm asking is for you to think about it," she sighed tiredly, running her fingers through her hair. Hardy felt guilty. Dark circles framed her tired eyes against her pale skin.
"Are you all right?" he asked, suddenly worried about her. She looked at him in surprise. Then she smiled and dropped her gaze.
"I'm fine, Alec. Just feeling a bit under the weather," she replied. Hardy searched her face. He was sure she was lying, but he refrained from being pushy about it. She'd share if she wanted to.
"Will you consider the medication?" He heard the genuine concern in her voice and because he didn't want to upset her even more, he nodded.
Her features brightened up. "Good. That's a start." She stood and with the smile still lingering, she exited his room.
As soon as she had left, tears welled up again and he couldn't help himself but think that maybe she did have a point. His loneliness and despair had been eating away at him for a long time now, and maybe it had finally caught up with him. Not for the first time, he felt like he was staring into a black abyss that was sucking him in and the things that held him back from falling were crumbling away under his weakening grasp.
In a sad attempt at pulling himself together, he wiped at his eyes and sniveled. He would have given anything to go for a walk in the dark night outside. But he could barely make it to the bathroom by himself. He hated what he had become. With a frustrated groan, he hit the light switch and closed his eyes. Time to torture himself again with the illusion of sleep. He hadn't gotten used to the propped-up position that they wanted him to stay in for now. He had tried to lower the bed, but had paid for it with increased shortness of breath. He counted the ceiling tiles in the dim light that filtered through the curtains of the glass sliding door. On his third go around he drifted off to meet the one faithful companion he still had. The ghost of Pippa Gillespie welcomed him to his nightly horror show and in a way the routine was comforting. Almost. Until they drowned together and she left him sputtering and panting in the lonely night.
The sun was flooding his room, heating up his cold body. He wasn't sure if it was a symptom of the heart failure, but ever since he'd been admitted this time, he didn't seem to be able to warm up. He was bored out of his mind and was seriously contemplating if he was strong enough to leave the hospital. They had taken him off the oxygen this morning without any issues. He had been here four days already. Maybe it was time to give one of the nurses a chance to win her bet.
There was a knock on the glass doors. Hardy startled and jerked his head around, feeling caught in the act. He was surprised to see Emma Baxter stick her head through the opening of the curtain.
"Hiya, can I come in?" she asked, smiling shyly.
He straightened up and beckoned her in. "Emma, what're you doin' here?" he slurred his words, sucking in a breath.
"Dad said that you're here and probably plotting your escape, so I thought I could say hello before you run," she teased, sitting down.
Hardy huffed. "Not gonna do much running, I hate to disappoint your father," he stated glumly.
"Hm. I see. A bit moody today, aren't we?" Emma retorted with a frown. Hardy rolled his eyes and pressed his lips together. He noted the tiny folded up gauze taped to her arm. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow.
"You're not having any problems, are you?" he wondered out loud, resting his gaze on where they had taken blood from her. She followed his line of sight.
"Oh, that? No. I'm fine. Routine check-up. They test me every six month to make sure I'm still in remission. I've been cancer free for six years now." Their eyes met. It had been around this time of the year when she had nearly died.
"Do you want to talk, Alec?" she asked quietly. Hardy knew that she helped running a leukemia survivor group. She had told him about it when he stayed with them after he had found out about the affair. Emma's support had played a big part in him being able to cope with his new reality of facing a life-threatening illness. She was one of the few people around him who truly understood.
He dragged his fingers down his stubbly face. "Do you really want to hear me complain about my stupid heart again?" he growled.
She tilted her head and pulled down a corner of her mouth. "If you want to share, I'll be happy to listen. That's what I came for," she invited him to talk. She scrutinized him and then added, "My gut tells me though that you might have something else that's troubling you."
He stayed mute, afraid that if he let go, he'd break through the thin ice he'd been walking on. Emma took in a deep breath, making him wonder what was on her mind.
Slowly, she began talking, "I got my first chemo nine years ago, just around Christmas. That was when Daisy gave me her unicorn. I was twelve. I went into remission at first and I was able to continue my life. It wasn't easy. I felt lonely because the other kids couldn't relate. Nobody had ever told them they might die soon. Two years later, I relapsed and my chances of survival where pitiful. My only hope was the bone marrow transplant. The waiting was the hardest. It took them four months to find an appropriate donor. And when it finally was time, I didn't even want it any more. I didn't care about what would happen to me, didn't care about my friends and my family. All I wanted was to hide somewhere and cry. I was done with hospitals, needles, IVs, beeping monitors, and the constant fear that today might be the last day."
Hardy watched the young woman in front of him while she told her tale and stared out the window. She was drawing circles on the mattress, tugging absentmindedly on the sheets. The silence between them drew out until she spoke again.
"The day they told me I relapsed, my world shattered. I had been doing okay with coping, holding onto the hope that I'd be fine. I had returned to school and resumed my drama classes. But the added burden of knowing that my body really was trying to kill me and that there wasn't much they could do besides the vague chance of the bone marrow transplant that might also kill me, was too much. I fell hard and deep. I didn't try to take my life, but I might as well have because I wasn't doing anything to carry on living," she continued quietly.
Hardy tensed up. He remembered how stricken Baxter had been when they learned that Emma's leukemia had come back. One morning, Hardy had found Baxter crying in his car in the parking garage. Emma had been admitted to the hospital because she had refused to eat or drink anything for several days until she collapsed at home. Hardy had tried to comfort his friend, not knowing what to say. All he could do was to take him once again to his ill child and not leave him alone.
"When I was in the hospital, one of the oncologists made me meet another girl my age who had been going through the same. She shared her story and her despair with me. She was the first person I felt who could truly relate to me and reach me in that dark place I was at." She paused and looked him straight in the eye. "And then she told me to stop dying and start living. She told me to face the depression and not give up. She told me to take the medication they wanted me to take. She told me to be patient and believe in a future. And I did. She saved me." Emma concluded her story with a simple statement that carried so much weight.
There was a sad smile on her face. "Megan died a year later, but she never gave up, not until her last day." She sniffed and quickly wiped at her eyes. "I promised her to do the same and I've not broken it. She urged me to help others who are in the same situation." Emma took Hardy's hand and made sure he couldn't avoid her gaze.
"Everyone's path is different and we never know where it goes and when it ends, but every path is worth walking. And if it's leading you to the edge, you must be brave and move on, no matter how much it's pulling you towards the drop," she said firmly.
Hardy swallowed around the lump in his throat. He withdrew his fingers from hers and pressed the heels of his hand on his watery eyes. "I don't know if I can do that," he whispered. "I feel like I'm already falling."
"I know," she admitted. "That's why I came."
Hardy blinked through his tears. "What do I do?" he breathed, his voice breaking.
"Have you considered taking medication? I had a hard time accepting the idea that that was okay and didn't brand me as a looney."
Hardy snorted. "Like I need another diagnosis."
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But after a few weeks of shoving more pills into my body, I saw it differently. Because it worked. It took a while and it was hard to be patient, but I'm glad I stuck it out."
"My doctor wants me to take anti-depressants," Hardy admitted reluctantly.
"Good. She seems to know what she's doing. You should give it a try, Alec. You might be surprised." She smiled again.
"Hm," was his sole response. He didn't know why it scared him so much to face the reality.
Emma stood. "So, are you coming for Christmas? Dad said he invited you."
"Dunno. Don't wanna impose," Hardy mumbled.
"Nonsense. You're always welcome. It's better than being alone. Think about it," she urged him. "Take care of yourself, Alec. And I mean it." She left him with a radiant smile and a reassuring nod.
When he signed himself out two days later, he didn't only leave the hospital with three new medications but also with a fourth bottle that was hopefully going to help mend his broken heart in a very different way.