Broadchurch: Across the Pond

Chapter 5

TW: medical crisis, needles

He stalked out. Ellie shook her head and turned back to her computer. The LAPD had truly bodged this inquiry. The first crime scene was open, and the second washed away in a storm, leaving only the third intact. To compensate, Ellie suspected that they would have to bring in the persons of interest in each murder and question them all over again—except none of their contact information was listed. It would be a logistics nightmare.

Her mobile buzzed, startling her. The caller ID read SHITFACE—a joke that she should probably change before he caught sight of it. She picked up. "Get lost already?"

"Is my jacket in there?" Alec asked

Ellie frowned at the empty room. He didn't sound right. "Yeah, I see it."

"Bring it to me," he pleaded. "Loo by the lift."

"What's wrong?"

"Just bring my jacket. Now!"

She grabbed his rumpled jacket and ran down the hall, not caring what anyone thought. She tapped on the door. "Alec? Sir?"

The knob rattled as the lock was undone from the inside. Ellie shoved it open and was horrified to see Alec slumped against the wall, his face sweaty and pale. He was struggling to breathe, almost hyperventilating. He looked up at her with unfocused eyes.

"Shut the door," he choked. "Give me the jacket."

Ellie did both, then knelt beside him. "What's going on? Is it your heart?"

Fumbling through the pockets, Alec didn't answer. He pulled out a syringe—but his hands were shaking too hard to remove the cap. Ellie did it for him. "Where does this go?" she asked.

"Leg."

Gritting her teeth, Ellie plunged the needle into Alec's skinny thigh. He groaned, and she thought she'd done it wrong. But soon his breathing started to ease, the desperate heave of his chest slowing to something almost normal. By the time she'd counted to sixty, he was starting to get his color back.

"Sir," she said softly. "Was that what I think it was?"

Closing his eyes, he ignored the question. "Go back to the office, I'll be there in a minute."

"Like hell, you're going to hospital!"

"I am not going to hospital."

"We've been through this before," Ellie reminded him. "And you almost died on me."

Alec coughed and sat up a bit straighter. "That won't happen again."

"Okay," she relented. "Try and pull yourself together. Back in a tick."

"Wait, what're you--"

"Stay there."

She left him to recover, and strode purposefully to Sanchez's office, where she informed the detective that they were knocking off for the day and would be in tomorrow. Then she gathered up her and Alec's belongings and returned to the bathroom.

"Sir," she called. "Still alive?"

"Think so," answered his tired voice. "Be right out."

There was a scrabbling sound as he struggled to his feet, then he opened the door. He'd put on his suit jacket, and seemed a bit more put together, but he was still sweating, his face gaunt.

"You look like shit," Ellie informed him.

"Thanks."

"Anytime. I told Sanchez we're quitting for the day." Ellie put on her Mom Voice, hoping it would have an effect on her stubborn coworker. "If you won't go to hospital, then you're going to bed. Call it a compromise."

"What did you tell Sanchez?" Alec asked curiously.

"That you got food poisoning and passed out in the loo."

"Nice one. You'd make a good criminal."

They took a taxi to the hotel, and went straight to their rooms; Alec looked close to a second collapse by then. Ellie shoved him onto his bed with a firm, "Sit." Ignoring his exclamation of "Miller, get out of there!" she dug a set of pyjamas from his suitcase and tossed them to him. She'd tease him about the polka dot print later.

"Right," she said. "Put those on, I'll be back."

"Are you seriously tucking me in bed?" Alec demanded of her retreating figure.

"Yes, because you're rubbish at taking care of yourself."

He growled but didn't argue. Ellie went to her bathroom, where she changed out of her business suit and into slightly less formal black trousers and a blouse. She didn't want to be caught her jammies if someone knocked on the door.

She found Alec standing in front of the mirror, examining the small scar on his upper chest. "Admiring your bony physique?"

"Shit." He quickly put his nightshirt on. "Sorry."

Ellie waved her hand, dismissing his concerns. "I've seen worse than you, Skeletor. What were you doing?"

"I was trying to see if the pacemaker was cocked up, not that I could tell. My chest is on bloody fire." He set two fresh syringes on the nightstand before sitting on the bed; the vertigo had returned, just a bit. "Are you going to stand there and watch me sleep?"

"No, I'm going to stand here until you're all cuddled down like a good boy, so I can make sure you don't get up and do something stupid."

"Don't you trust me?"

"No." Ellie noticed with some alarm that his breathing getting labored again. She frowned. "Do you need another injection?"

"I'm fine," Alec said irritably. "I just need to rest." He pulled a face. "God, that sounds dramatic."

"Dramatic or not, it's true."

She made sure he was settled and went to her own room, leaving the door ajar despite him yelling at her to close it.

"Shut up and go to sleep!" she yelled back. "That's an order!"

"You and I are going to have a talk about privacy later!"

"I look forward to it, sir."

1. In the show, it's never said exactly what heart condition Alec has, but my personal headcanon is atrial fibrillation