"Chapter 14"
Alec sat Daisy down on one of the chairs (the same one that Beth had chosen, he noticed idly), trying to ignore his shaking hands as he did so. She was looking up at him curiously, clearly concerned but willing—for the moment—to allow him to explain. He opened his mouth but couldn't say anything, still too caught up in the whirlwind of emotion her presence was causing. He shook himself angrily; he was still a copper, damn it, he could school himself better than this!
It was the most difficult thing he had ever done but he managed in the end to lock away most of his mind-numbing terror, convincing himself that this was no different than telling a murdered victim's family of their loss.
"Daisy, that accident a few years ago wasn't a one-off thing," he said quietly, slowly sitting in the chair facing her.
"What do you mean?"
A child's innocence. "I have a heart problem," he said quietly, leaning forward slightly. "Arrhythmia. It means my heart isn't beating correctly and so it doesn't pump blood like it should." She had been opening her mouth to ask what he meant but he knew that if he stopped now he would never find the nerve to continue. "I had an episode about a week ago now—"
"Like the one before, at home?" Daisy asked.
"Worse." He shook his head, wishing he could tell her differently. "Much worse, I… I was in the hospital for a few days."
"But you're getting better, right?" she demanded; she was picking up on his mood and fear, as much as he was trying to hide it. She was suddenly stiff in her seat, white-knuckled hands clutching the armrests. "You're out of the hospital, that means you're getting better."
It broke his heart in a completely different sense now to silently shake his head. "No." His voice was choked. "It doesn't."
She wilted. That was the only way he could describe it; white-faced she stared at him like she had never seen him before, all of her rigidness dissolving into nothing.
"What—" Her small voice was like a knife, making him flinch. "What-… does that even mean? You can't—you're not—" Her voice tapered off suddenly but she was still horribly frozen.
He drew a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry." He found he couldn't quite look her in the eye, his shame too great, and suddenly he found himself unable to stop from continuing, too close to breaking down for comfort: "I'm sorry, I can't fix this—I shouldn't have asked you to be here—"
Her hands grasped his, intertwining their fingers. He met her gaze, taken aback, but she didn't waver. "Don't. I'm staying."
In an utterly soppy moment he lifted their hands and kissed her fingers, relieved beyond words. For the next several moments neither of them moved nor spoke; silence was their refuge now.
0000000
John stopped over shortly after nightfall, apologizing for his tardiness; he had finally found a job (however temporary) as a janitor at the Broadchurch police station—a fact that caused Alec and Ellie to look at each other in surprised resignation at the ironies of life before congratulating him.
"It's just until I get my feet under me," was his reply, shrugging off their comments. He still couldn't help his small grin, however, and Ellie realized that a very heavy worry had been lifted off his back. "I'm hoping to find a job working on cars again."
He had been delighted about meeting Daisy when Alec introduced them, but Daisy's lack of bewilderment of being told about her father's friend told Ellie that Alec must have been more forthcoming about his past with her than he had been with Ellie herself. Knowing him, he had told her John's story as a warning about what people were capable of. If Daisy had any prior knowledge of John's past, however, she hid it well: her smile was perfectly even and she even reached out her hand first for a handshake.
It was clear that John was smitten.
Ellie could understand why; she was just as taken by Alec's daughter. For being so young it was clear that Daisy was already an old soul, quiet and observant. She listened more than she talked, but she was very bright and had a fantastic wit. She was sassier than anything, a spark that Ellie had seen so very rarely with her father in her eyes and voice that showed she was already very sure of herself.
Her presence had a clear impact on Alec as well; over the past week or so Ellie had seen glimpses of what he must have been like long before she met him, and hearing so many stories of what he and John had gotten into together (stories that could keep her entertained as she and Alec and John stayed up until the late hours of the night) had helped build on that image. With Daisy there, however, he seemed much more at ease and he smiled more than she had seen him do before. His own sense of sass certainly became quite more prevalent; father and daughter would snipe back and forth for several minutes straight going in circles in a mock-argument.
"I am not obsessive!" he protested over breakfast one morning. Ellie had dropped Tom off at school and was just coming in the door and was able to hear him, and Daisy's answering snort.
"Please, Dad. When haven't you been obsessive about something?"
"Having a collection of something doesn't mean you're obsessed!"
"It does when you have over two hundred of them," came Daisy's wry reply, and Ellie choked on a laugh as she put her coat up; she barely managed to school her expression before she stepped into view, and was prepared to enter the gentle ribbing—and stopped in her tracks.
"Bloody hell!"
Alec had shaved. Really properly shaved, finally doing away with the thickening beard that he hadn't bothered about for weeks. It was the first time since she had met him that Ellie saw him clean-shaven and the effect was startling.
"That bad?" he asked sarcastically, leaning back in his chair.
She shook herself, reminding herself it was rude to stare. "No. No, you look—different."
Daisy snorted again, crossing her arms as she looked over at her father. "It could've been worse."
The whistling of the tea kettle drew Ellie away from the doorway and she busied herself by making a cup of tea. "So what brought that on?" she asked, motioning to his appearance.
"Daisy wanted me to." He shrugged and finished the last of his drink, deliberately ignoring the glare Ellie sent his way.
"I didn't think you responded to requests."
"I do if it's my daughter's."
Daisy rolled her eyes, moving to the other side of the table to sit. "You're being soppy again, Dad."
"I barely said anything!"
"Yeah, but you manage to sound soppy even with a few words." She ignored Alec's protests and looked at Ellie. "Dad thinks he's tough but he's not," she said matter-of-factly. "There was one time when I found an abandoned kitten on the street and when I went to Mom to see if I could keep it she said she didn't want me to. So I went to Dad."
Ellie smiled. "And he let you keep it."
Alec blushed as Daisy laughed and continued. "He carried it into the house and helped me wash and feed it and then even let it sleep on him when he took a nap on the couch."
Ellie almost 'aww'd out loud but decided at the last minute that there was only so much Alec's dignity could take, but it was clear that Daisy still felt a high sense of fondness for that memory. It was rather adorable.
Alec shook his head. "Clearly I'm out-numbered here," he muttered sarcastically, climbing to his feet—and immediately he had to sit back down, suddenly paling.
Daisy left her seat and bent down in front of him. "Dad?"
He nodded, one hand rubbing at his chest. "Dizzy."
Daisy looked up at Ellie worriedly, but Ellie could only gaze back gravely. A new thought had just occurred to her but she was careful not to say anything about it around Alec. It was hard, nonetheless, to see Alec struggling so much but being the stubborn arse that he was he didn't allow their help if he didn't ask them for it first. He gave himself a moment to recover and then tried to stand again, this time managing it without too much trouble.
Ellie took the seat he'd vacated, feeling serious again very suddenly.
Daisy swallowed, her fear very evident in her expression. "I don't like seeing him like this."
Ellie shook her head in agreement. "Daisy, I wanted to ask you something."
"What?"
She hesitated, almost afraid to discover the answer. "Some heart problems are hereditary, you know, like heart disease. I've looked up a little about arrhythmia and some types of it can be passed down from parent to child."
Daisy's eyes widened in horror when she realized where Ellie was going. "You don't think—?"
"I don't know," Ellie corrected her. "But if you ever or have ever felt light-headed for no reason or have felt your heart jump too many times to be normal you should go see a doctor about it." She sighed, seeing that her words were only scaring the poor girl more. She reached out and grasped her fingers. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but this isn't something you can ignore. Your dad wouldn't want you to ignore it."
Daisy nodded. "I'll set up an appointment."
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Two nights later, they had their first real scare. Ellie was woken by the sounds of harsh, ragged coughing coming from his room, unlike anything she had ever heard before, and she threw her blanket back to get to her feet—and abruptly heard Daisy cry out in alarm. Ellie practically flew to the guest room.
Alec was convulsing on the bed, the sheets thrown into disarray from his movements, his face contorted into a grimace, struggling to breathe. Daisy was beside him, shaking and white with fear, turning to Ellie with desperate terrified eyes.
"Help him!"
She needed no further encouragement. "What happened?"
"I don't know, he was coughing and I went to wake him and he just started to—" Daisy's voice broke before she could finish but Ellie understood.
"Alec, look at me—look at me, that's it." She was fighting to keep her own voice even but even through his evident struggle he was still able to hear her. She felt a little better at that—it wasn't entirely like Briar Cliff all those months ago. "What do you need?"
"Pills," he gasped out; his fingers were grasping at the sheets uncontrollably. "Coat pocket."
Of course. The bloody idiot refused to allow any of them to help him except when he wanted, and it had to stop. She found what he was talking about and passed them over, surprised when he swallowed them dry; he was recovering slightly, sweat starting to break over his skin as he struggled to relax enough to breathe, but he still looked shaken enough not to allow Ellie or Daisy to calm their own racing hearts.
He coughed again, long and hard like it was his lungs he was trying to bring up. Ellie went and filled him a cup of tap water to drink, but he shook his head when she offered it.
"What happened?" Ellie asked when finally the fit passed.
He didn't immediately answer her, looking at his daughter first. "Don't wake me up suddenly, darlin'."
She reddened when she realized what he was meaning. Ellie hoped Daisy wasn't going to blame herself for causing Alec's episode—she didn't know, after all. "You should've warned us about this," she snapped, angry despite herself.
"It didn't matter—" he retorted just as sharply, sitting up slowly.
"It matters now!" Ellie exclaimed; dimly she saw Daisy retreat towards the door, clearly guessing the argument that would ensue. Alec didn't call her back so he probably realized it too. "This isn't something you can brush off anymore, you have to tell us these things! You just scared your daughter for no reason!"
"Don't you dare bring Daisy into this!"
"You brought her into this!" Ellie would not be gainsaid. "You chose to allow her to be here, now act like you wanted to! Let us help you, Alec! You can't do this by yourself anymore."
"I can try," he growled.
"Don't be a child," Ellie snapped, unimpressed. She had seen far too many temper tantrums from both of her sons to be intimidated by Alec Hardy's. "We're not doing this because you asked—we're doing this because we all care. It's about time you learned the difference."
He fell silent, unable to refute her words. He knew she was right, and to his credit he didn't continue to fight her. He began to cough again.
She sighed, knowing she had berated him enough. "Will you be able to go back to sleep?"
He shook his head, his hand rubbing at his chest again. "Probably not," he admitted hoarsely.
Ellie hesitated a moment but then shoved her misgivings aside. "Scoot over."
He looked at her like she was crazy. "What?"
"Look, you're coughing too harshly for it to be normal, right? Clearly you can't lie flat on your back anymore, so we'll just have to pile up some pillows for you tomorrow night." She sat down on his bed and pulled her legs up. "Come on. We can talk for a while. Lord knows neither of us will be getting anymore sleep tonight."
He was still looking at her warily but finally after a moment he did as she asked by easing up against her, propped up just enough that his coughing lessened. For a long still moment neither of them spoke, simply allowing the silence to settle them.
She started to stroke his hair, a mother's instinct she couldn't quite ignore, and she felt him relax a little, more than content to simply lay in silence.
Of course Ellie wouldn't allow that. She became too bored with silence if she wasn't sleeping. "I think you're greying," she teased him suddenly.
He managed to shift enough to look up at her. "Looked in the mirror lately, Miller? You're not much younger than I am, you know."
She frowned. "How old are you?" She had looked at his info, of course, while still with the Broadchurch police but she had never really registered his age.
"Forty-two."
Only two years older than she was. "You're too young to be falling apart like this," she sighed.
"You don't have to be telling me that." He shifted back to his original position, simply breathing for a long moment. Ellie watched him quietly.
She had finally realized what she felt for him. Not romantic love, no, never that. Her love of a wife belonged only to Joe, and she had a feeling that no matter the betrayal or the years it always would. What she felt for Alec was just as strong but in a much tamer sense. She was simply a friend. A true no-strings-attached friend.
"I've thought…" he began suddenly, pausing in search of words. He very carefully kept from moving. "I don't want to be buried. To keep you from pulling that Poe thing…"
Damn Alec and his black humor. "Bully for me, then," she retorted sarcastically. "I was already planning which night I was going to sleep on your grave." She stroked his hair back again, thinking. It didn't surprise her, she found, that he wouldn't want a burial. "What do you want done with the ashes, then?"
He snorted. "Flush them down the toilet for all I care."
"Thought you hated the water?"
He shifted again. "I won't know then, will I?"
She rolled her eyes. "True." In a flash of mischievousness she grinned. "Are you sure we can't hold a memorial service? I'm sure Paul—"
His eyes widened with horror. "No!"
She snickered. "Come on, a few words by the vicar's got to give you some points, right?"
That garnered an amused grin. "Yeah, but what you don't know is that a lot of Christians lie straight through their teeth to make someone look good. Especially at funerals."