A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and leaving comments (now that there is no way of even knowing how many people are looking, those comments are even more appreciated). It's day 13 of the investigation, a Friday, and it's going to be a long day for our favorite detective… thank you my dear hazelmist for taking a look and pointing out mistakes. What would I do without you?

CHAPTER 15

Hardy was pulling the porch door shut behind him. He didn't want to run any risk of being caught by Daisy or Tess. It was early but Emily had said to call her anytime. His finger hovered indecisively over her name. He sat down on the stones under the old willow tree, still feeling the effects of this morning's attack. Yet again, he had woken up shaken by the same nightmare. The pain had been almost unbearable and the struggle to breathe made him panic. Considering how his condition seemed to worsen rather than improve with the new medication, he really wanted to talk to her.

She picked up on the second ring. Her voice was heavy with sleep when she identified herself. He immediately felt bad for disturbing her this early.

"Erm... it's Alec Hardy. Sorry if I woke..."

She didn't let him finish. "No worries. What's the matter, Alec?" Her concern was apparent.

He took in a few breaths. It was hard to find the right words, even if he had played out the conversation in his mind before.

"I... erm… I haven't been doing so well. Yesterday at work... I had a few episodes... and then I passed out at home," he stuttered, feeling self-conscious and vulnerable. His head was hanging down and he dragged his fingers through his hair.

She was silent for a few moments. Her struggle not to sound too worried when she continued was obvious. "Alec, when you passed out, what did you feel? Too fast or too slow of a heart rate?"

He chewed his lower lip. He'd rather not think of the moment everything seemed to halt along with his fading heartbeat. Uncomfortable in his own skin, he revealed, "Too slow. And there was a lot of pain and blurry vision... I couldn't... I was very... weak, my legs gave out." It was extremely awkward to talk about what happened, even with her who was his doctor. He felt so hopelessly inadequate and embarrassed over his own frailty.

She sighed. "I guess, it could be worse."

He was confused. How could it be worse? "I don't think I understand. What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His annoyance was shining through.

"Alec, what do you remember from what I've told you about your heart arrhythmia?" she was probing him gently which was only increasing his frustration. How was putting him on the spot going to help? He hated it and she'd better have a good reason to quiz him like that.

"Erm… it's genetic and it causes my heart to beat irregularly. It can make my heart stop which happened a few weeks ago and it makes me feel like shit all the time now. So do the medications. And I need an operation to get it fixed." He realized he sounded defensive but he couldn't help himself. He kicked at a pebble in front of him.

She sighed again. "All right, that's a start but I think I'll have to go over some things with you again." Hearing him suck in some air to protest, she continued quickly, "Before you complain, let me explain one important fact that you must understand in order to be able to help yourself until you will let me help you with the pacemaker."

Sensing the urgency of her words, he sat up straight and tried to focus. Which wasn't easy as he spotted Daisy through the window waving at him and holding up his tea mug. He waved back at her and mouthed 'work'. She shrugged and walked away from the window. He shifted his attention back to what Emily was saying.

"Okay bear with me. This is going to be a bit long winded but it's important, Alec," she prefaced her explanation.

"Fine. I'm listening," he growled.

She took in a deep breath and started speaking, with a measured pace and he could tell she had given this talk before. "There are two basic problems with your heart Alec. One is that your heart rate slows down so much that you're not getting enough blood flow and therefore oxygen to your body. That's what makes you pass out, lack of oxygen to the brain. Most of the time this is self-resolving, even if you pass out from it. It's still dangerous let's say if it happens while driving and it will make you feel fatigued a lot. Does that sound about right for what you've been experiencing?" she asked.

"Mmm, sometimes. Not always. I've been tired though," he admitted. Somewhere in his brain, Pippa's bloated face reminded him that his exhaustion wasn't only to blame on his heart condition but very much so on his sleep deprived state.

"The fatigue is a symptom of the low heart rate. That's where the pacemaker comes into play. It can help greatly with that. It kicks in when your heart slows down too much and does the job for you. Do you follow me so far?" She paused.

He had gotten up during her explanation and was pacing around in the yard. It was hard to comprehend and he knew she had told him before but now that it had become a daily routine, it seemed to make more sense. He realized she was still waiting for his answer.

"I think so. So is that what makes it stop then?" He was feeling rather uneasy asking that question. It wasn't the greatest past time he could imagine - discussing the various ways his heart could fail him, while hiding from his family in his backyard on a chilly April morning.

She took in a breath and let it out. "No Alec. Not usually. What causes the cardiac arrest - your heart stopping - is the more dangerous side of your condition. Because of the abnormal way your heart generates a beat it is vulnerable to get jolted into an extremely fast rate which is called ventricular tachycardia or V-Tach for short. If it does that you might feel a fluttering sensation or an uncomfortably fast beat."

He thought of all those moments his heart had been racing away and leaving him with the empty feeling in his chest. He never even entirely grasped the concept of what was going on inside his failing body. The sun was shining in his face and under any other circumstances he would have welcomed the warmth that it was spreading through him. Today though, all he could feel was the chill of the fear for his life that was more and more taking a hold over him.

"Alec, are you still listening?" Her concerned voice pulled him away from his morbid thoughts.

"Aye. I was just… thinking of what you mentioned. It doesn't always make it stop though, right?" he asked, hoping for confirmation that he would be all right. It was naïve, but he had nothing else to cling on to at the moment.

"It depends. Sometimes when that happens your heart will still be able to pump okay, sometimes it won't. That's when you collapse without a pulse and need resuscitation. In the worst case your heart just quivers and doesn't pump at all. That is when you die, Alec." Her voice was somber and a sadness had crept in that Hardy couldn't ignore.

He had stopped pacing. 'That is when you die' - nothing else of what she had said sunk in besides those words. He knew the feeling she talked about, he had experienced it way too many times in the past weeks. His voice was trembling when he asked his next question.

"And the pacemaker fixes that as well?"

"Alec, the pacemaker doesn't fix anything. It only prevents you from passing out when your heart starts beating too slow. What will save your life is something called an ICD device. It's part of the pacemaker and your own personal defibrillator that will deliver an electrical shock when - as you put it - your heart goes to shit. Neither that nor the pacemaker will make your condition go away, it will keep you upright and hopefully alive, that's all." She paused and when he didn't say anything, she added. "I'm really sorry, Alec. I thought you understood that."

He shook his head, despite her not being able to see. "No, I had no idea," he admitted, defeat making his voice gravelly. He slowly sat down on the stone again. His face was stoic, desperately trying not to let on in case Daisy was watching him. For the first time since he had been diagnosed, he truly understood. He was never going to be healthy again.

"Alec? Please say something. I didn't want to spring this upon you like this, but I do need you to understand that when you feel a certain way you have to seek medical attention before it's too late. We can schedule the EP study for next week and then get the pacemaker and ICD surgery done as soon as possible."

He groaned. "I can't do that. I have to finish this case, I told you before. I hope we are getting somewhere but still, I can't let it go." The strain in his voice was painful, even to his own ears.

"You just told me that you're doing worse. It's not responsible of you to go on and possibly not make it through this case, you realize that, don't you?" she argued.

He rolled his eyes. He had to make her understand why he couldn't give up. "Emily, I don't sleep anymore. Every night I wake up with the same nightmare, drowning in that bloody river, saving a dead girl. And more nights than others it's not even Pippa that I pull out, it's Daisy." His voice was breaking up and his eyes were stinging. "If I don't get the killer convicted I will never be able to find peace, I need to finish. Please, just help me to do that." He was begging her now, not knowing what else to do. The desperation was all encompassing. His heavy breaths crackled through the phone, anxiety making him too tense to even be able to stay composed.

After what seemed like an eternity to him she spoke. "I will help you Alec. Under one condition. You must schedule the procedure for no later than two weeks from now. If you're still busy with the case we can see about rescheduling, but for now that's my deal. You can either agree or I will talk to your CMO."

His relief was audible when he agreed to her plan. She instructed him to take some of his medications more frequently with the hope of minimizing any further attacks. They both were under no illusion that he would be symptom free, not as long as he kept pushing himself like that. Neither one of them brought it up though. He had to promise to call in on Monday and let her know how it was going. She was going to let him know about the date for the procedure. When he hung up the phone with her he wanted to hide in a corner but he couldn't. Daisy was waiting for him to take her to school and Pippa's ghost was driving him harder and harder every day that went by. He took a few moments to compose himself and then put a smile on his face that was almost as big a lie as not telling Daisy and Tess about his deadly disease.

Hardy and Daisy were rushing out the door, running late for school and work. They had spent an awkward breakfast together, mostly due to the clinging eerie feeling of the phone conversation he just had. Daisy had been chatting away at first but then when she caught him not paying attention for the third time, she gave up. They grumped at each other when they realized how late they were. She forgot her homework, he forgot his phone and by the time they finally sat in the car, he was sweating as if it was a sweltering summer day and not a chilly April morning. He started the car and left their drive way with squealing tires.

"Dad, you don't have to kill us. We'll get there in time," Daisy whined.

"It's all right, darlin'. I've got this." He was distracted by the nausea his morning pills had caused him as well as her fiddling with the stereo. She was trying to hook up her phone so he could listen to the band whose concert she wanted him to come along to.

"Daisy, could you not do this right now, please," he growled, irritation making his Scottish accent stronger. It bothered him more than it should have, but he had a hard time focusing as it was without his teenaged daughter playing DJ in the car.

"Oi, you said you would listen to it?" He shot her a quick glance, just long enough to catch a glimpse of her pouting face. Another driver honked at him and his attention snapped back to the road. He was grabbing the wheel harder than usually, his knuckles turning white. He felt the urge to hold on tighter and tighter to overcome the odd sensation of not being connected to the car.

Daisy was looking out the passenger window, ignoring him with every bit of teenaged indignation she could muster. They stopped at a light and he turned towards her.

"I do want to listen to it, just not right now. It's too distracting. Please, darlin', don't be like that," he pleaded with her.

"Dad, it's green." Her voice carried all the annoyance of the world. He sighed inwardly and gave up.

"Fine. If you can figure out your phone and the car, I'll listen to it now." She smirked and busied herself with trying to figure out the bluetooth connection between the mobile and the vehicle's sound system.

Hardy was uncurling and stretching his fingers before placing them on the wheel again. They felt numb. He looked up at the traffic light they had just passed and blinked. Did he just see the green halo double? By the time he had put two and two together it was too late. His brain was already so foggy that it only registered the low heart rate very sluggishly. His vision went from blurry to black and his head lolled back. The next thing he remembered was the screeching sound of abruptly stopping car tires, a loud persistent horn and Daisy's scream. More out of reflex than clear thought he hit the brakes. The car stalled and an eerie silence followed only interrupted by Daisy's quiet sobs and his heavy breathing.

An angry face popped up outside of the car. "What the fuck man? Your light was red, you fuckwit." The other driver banged his flat hand against his window and Hardy slowly opened the door. His hands were shaking so hard that he could barely grasp the handle. His voice faltered and left him staring at the man with his mouth gaping open, sucking in one labored breath after the other. The other driver squinted at him and Hardy could only imagine how awful he must look, considering that the man went from being furious to concerned within seconds.

"Jeez man, you look like shit. You all right? Did you have a heart attack or something?"

Hardy shook his head and croaked a "no" that didn't sound very convincing. He turned to Daisy who was white as a ghost. Her wide eyes were fixed on the other car which had come to a halt mere inches away from where she was sitting on the passenger seat. Hardy shuddered. The impact would most certainly have left her seriously injured, if not possibly killed her, if the other driver had been just a tad faster. He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped.

"Darlin', it's all right. I'm sorry, I truly am, that I scared you like this." She flung herself into his arms. He hugged her across the middle console, turning his head to face the young man who wasn't looking that great either. Hardy realized that he was just as shaken as Daisy and himself.

"I'm sorry, sir. Did you get hurt or anyone in your car?" The man shook his head. "How about your car? Any damage there?" Hardy inquired anxiously. Again the head went side to side. "I would understand if you wanted to report this. We can call the police if you'd like." He was sincere about the offer even if that would certainly be the end of his career, but he felt so guilty that he had to suggest it.

"No. I don't think we have to. Nobody got hurt and the cars aren't damaged. We were all very lucky, I guess," the young man stated, shrugging his shoulders. "We should clear the cross roads, people are gonna get antsy with us blocking the road."

Hardy nodded. His trembling hands were tightly wrapped around Daisy but he would have to let go. His heart was still thudding slowly in his chest, nowhere near back to normal. His thoughts were racing. The school was only a couple of streets away. If he pulled himself together, he should be able to make it there. And then he'd have to come up with a plan if he still was feeling like this. He reluctantly released Daisy from the hug.

"Are you ready to drive again?" he asked gently. She swallowed, nodded and buckled her seat belt back in. Hardy threw one last glance at the other man who was on his way back to the truck he was driving. He shuddered again. Daisy could have been dead and it would have been entirely his fault for being so stubborn about the driving and the pacemaker. He couldn't bear the thought. There was no doubt in his mind anymore what he needed to do once he reached the safety of his office.

They made it to the school in one piece. "Dad, we're not going to tell Mum about this, right? She would never let me ride in a car with you ever again."

That was the first thing she had said since the near accident. He nodded in agreement, not trusting his voice. She hugged him tightly before she left the car. His gaze lingered on her until she disappeared through the school gate. Reluctantly he started the car and inched his way back into traffic. He held it together until he was two streets down. Then he pulled over, his chest shaking with the suppressed sobs. He had almost killed his daughter. He got out of the car, tears still running down his cheeks, grabbed his belongings from the backseat, locked the doors and called a taxi. No more driving for him. Not like this, not until he had properly taken care of his problem.

He made the taxi drop him off at the entrance of the parking garage. Nobody noticed him, when he snuck in through the side door. As always, the wait at the elevator was robbing him of whatever patience he might have left, but the stairs were not even an option anymore. The short walk through the CID main floor was equally trying. He saw Baxter raise his head and making a motion to follow him, so he hurried to get to his office and shut the door behind him before anyone could bother him. His keys clicked in the lock, eliminating the risk of being disturbed.

He tried Emily's front desk first but she wasn't in yet. Bollocks. There was a moment of hesitation if he should call her again on her mobile, but the urge to talk to her won. It didn't take her long to pick up. Before she could even say anything the words spilled out of him, losing whatever composure he had desperately held onto.

"I almost killed Daisy… in the car… I blacked out and ran a light… you have to help me to get this fixed… please Emily… I don't even know what to do," he sobbed into the phone, pacing up and down in the confined space of his office. He was vaguely aware that he was breathing way too fast, panic taking a firm hold over him.

"Alec, listen to me, just listen to my voice, focus on nothing else… breathe in… and out… and again," she soothed him. He clung to her softly spoken words, his chest rising and falling with her directions. When he had calmed down some, she started asking a row of quick questions.

"Where are you now?"

"In my office." Where his boss was going to knock at his door any minute.

"Did you take your medication this morning?

"Aye." Not that they did any good.

"Good. How about any of the rescue pills after the incident?"

"No." He hadn't even thought about it. He fumbled through his pockets.

"Take some now then." He did and told her so. He was getting anxious again and resumed the pacing.

"I need you to relax and try to calm down. Are you sitting down?" She sounded doubtful.

He stopped in front of the sofa and plopped on it. His knees were nervously bouncing up and down in a futile attempt of releasing tension and he wiped at his face, trying to rid himself of the tears and fear alike.

"I am now. Please, Emily…" He wasn't even sure what it was that he was asking for.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Her voice was soft, gently probing but without being pushy.

He took in a deep breath and exhaled with the words. "We were rushing to get to school. I was distracted and didn't recognize the signs of the attack until I blacked out at the wheel. I ran a red light and we almost got hit by another car. The truck just stopped inches away from the passenger side. She would have been dead, Emily, if the other guy hadn't stopped in time. It's all my fault for being such a stubborn arse and not taking care of myself. I can't bear to think…"

"Then don't," she interjected. "No use to obsess over something that didn't happen." She waited for a reply and when none came she added. "Am I right, Alec?"

"Right," he agreed reluctantly. Intellectually that was a logical thought, emotionally however it was a very different story.

"Now, let's talk about how we can make things better for you. I think with some persuasion of the NHS on my part we might be able to get the EP study done as early as next Friday. That's a week from now. We could possibly think about doing the pacemaker then, but I'd have to discuss this with my colleagues. Will you be able to arrange that?" She ended with the most important part.

He didn't even hesitate. There was no doubt in his mind what needed to be done. "I will make the time."

"Fantastic. We will discuss all the details on Monday when you come to the office. You will need someone to drive you there and pick you up after. Can't just be a taxi, has to be a person accompanying you. I'd suggest your wife…"

"No. Not her," he interjected. He was surprised by the vehemence of his own statement. A frown etched itself into his forehead, when he wondered why.

"Alec, how do you think you're going to hide this from her? You will have a wound and a big dressing in your groin and need to be lying down for the rest of the day you have the procedure. And after that you're supposed to take it easy as well. No running up and down stairs, no lifting, no other strenuous activities. You will need her help. This has to stop and you need to tell her," Emily urged him sternly.

A groan was all he could get out. He had promised himself he would tell Tess this weekend but with every day that had gone by, the secrets and lies were growing from a tiny heap into a mountain which by now seemed much too steep to climb. She would be so angry at him. The fact that she'd been blowing up at him over so many little things in these past weeks certainly didn't inspire confidence that she'd take this information any better. And even if it hadn't been for that – how do you tell your wife that you have been hiding a potentially deadly disease from her? Would she even care?

The last thought stopped him dead in his tracks. Of course she would. How on earth could he doubt that? His overly stimulated and exhausted mind started to throw a fast row of answers to this question at him, all of them painful and unwelcomed. Images of her turning away from him, shrugging off his touch, telling Daisy he didn't care about the family anymore were only a few. And then her sad eyes from when they kissed in his office the other day burned themselves into the foreground.

"Alec? Are you all right? You sound like you're having trouble breathing." Emily's voice was sharp with concern and it jolted him out of the memory that had yet again left him profoundly sad. The realization that he was indeed struggling for air filtered in.

"Can you talk?" She sounded distressed.

"'Course I can," he muttered under his breath.

"Then tell me what's going on before I call an ambulance to pick you up in your office."

In the end he had no idea why he confided in her, if it was her threat or maybe he had finally reached a point where it was just too overwhelming. He spilled out his frustration over the constant fighting and the feeling of betrayal he had after what Tess had said to Daisy and how much worse he'd been doing since then. How she didn't seem to see what was going on with him but how that was just as much his own fault for hiding. And his burning question why he felt that need to do so to begin with, why he couldn't just trust her as he should.

Emily listened quietly. It took her a while to answer after he was done. When she did, she sounded sad. "I asked my father once why he never told us that he was so sick until he couldn't hide it anymore. I was very angry at the time, I wanted him to hurt just as much as I felt hurt by his actions. He told me how sorry he was he didn't. He never explained though at first. The only thing that he said to me was, why I had never asked, not once how he was doing in all that time. I yelled at him to not be so stupid, because of course I had asked him many times if he was all right and encouraged him to seek help. He just shook his head and replied that although I might have done that, I never stopped and looked at him, that my own fears and needs didn't let me see what was apparent to others around him who were not as close. That what he needed wasn't yet another voice who told him to go to the doctor, but someone who would just be there for him and hold him when he got scared at night. With no judgement, with no agenda, just to support and be close. Someone who would carry him."

She fell silent and Hardy wondered if she was crying on the other end. He wouldn't be surprised, he certainly felt rather shaken as her words were hitting very close to home. Tess had been so ready to buy his lies and excuses and that one time he told her about his nightmares all she offered was for him to seek therapy. No hug, no closeness. And it wasn't that she didn't seem to care but it was so detached, so sterile. Her sad eyes were drowning him and he felt at an utter loss of what to do next.

Time had passed without either one of them saying anything. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. He struggled for the words as always when it came to expressing his emotions. She must have known as it was her who continued the conversation

"It's all right, Alec. You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to share one perspective. It might be very different for you and your family, but what I wanted to convey was that you shouldn't believe that the struggle to tell your wife and daughter is all just because of your difficulties with sharing. It's a two way street and if either way is blocked, the traffic won't flow. "

She paused and sighed. When she continued, her tone had changed and he realized she was trying to be encouraging and move away from the somber mood they both had fallen into.

"I'm not in your shoes, Alec. And even if I had the experience with my father, I wasn't the one with the burden of adjusting my life to a new reality of having a life-threatening illness. It's hard, and I wouldn't be pushy about you telling your family, but I know that in a week's time, you won't have a choice anymore. And considering how poorly you have been doing, I think relieving the stress of hiding might help you with regaining better control until we can help you with that."

Before he could answer, there was a knock at his door. Damn it. Must be Baxter finally. It had taken him longer than he thought. When he didn't answer immediately, there was another rap at the door, followed by DC Swenson insecure voice.

"DI Hardy? Sorry to disturb, but Claire Ripley is here and she seems rather… upset. Says she needs to talk to you and that she can't wait."

For fuck's sake. What did the woman want now? He dragged his hand down his face, desperately trying to pull it together. That wasn't the reaction he should have. If a person of interest showed up to talk, one should be excited and not annoyed. Emily was right, this wasn't sustainable. He had to come clean at least with his family.

"Be right there Swenson," he hollered over the phone. "Emily, I'm sorry but I've got to go." It registered somewhere that this was the first thing he had said to her since she shared her experience with him. He got up, walked over to the window and stared out into the rain that was falling heavily now. His palm was pressed flesh against it and his forehead rested on the cool glass. It was oddly soothing.

"Thank you Emily," he whispered in the phone, not able to say more for the fear of losing whatever composure he had managed to scrape together.

"You're very welcome. Call me anytime, and I mean that," she said fondly. "I will keep you posted on the details of the procedure and then I'll see you Monday. Go and do your work now, I know you need to." He had the impression she implied much more than tending to the matter at hand. She hung up without giving him a chance to say anything further. He took a few more heart beats to shift his mind to work. It was hard but he took consolation in the fact he was able to. Maybe he could finish this case after all. He sure hoped so.