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Set after 'The Berrisford Agenda'. A conversation they didn't – and still can't – have. Pretty short, but lengthening it just felt wrong.
D is for
Daughter
Max pushed the door open and walked stealthily down the stairs. It wasn't that she was sneaking, she just wanted to be sure she wasn't going to get her head bitten off. Alec sat at the piano, dry blood crusted over his swollen lip. He didn't look up at her, just sighed and closed the lid of the instrument.
"What do you want Max?" She shrugged and crossed the short space between them.
"I know you don't want me here. But here I am." He still wouldn't look at her, so she leant against the piano. "I get that you don't want to talk about it right now. But I just need to know one thing." He looked up at her then, sharply and suspiciously with narrowed eyes.
"What was she? To you I mean?"
"What was she?" Alec laughed hollowly, eyes intense but guarded. "She a spoiled rich kid," he paused, looked away from her once more, "but she was beautiful, she was kind, she was a friend, a lover. She was someone's daughter and I..." He couldn't finish, couldn't look at her.
Max pushed off the piano. She hesitated, before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and laying her cheek against the top of his head. Alec squeezed his eyes shut. He lifted a hand and grasped one of hers briefly. When his hand dropped back down by his side, she stepped back.
"Okay."
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