Broadchurch: Across the Pond

Chapter 10

TW: vomiting, mild drug use

Alec was woken around midnight by a peculiar sound—a retch, a splatter, and a moan. He recognized it immediately, and followed the noises to Ellie's bathroom. She was sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, muttering a prayer.

"Damned sushi, "she groaned, and vomited explosively. "Aren't you going to say 'I told you so'?"

"'Course not.c"He wet a washcloth and put it on the back of her neck. "I'll wait until tomorrow, when you feel better."

"Cheeky bastard."

"Step up from what you usually call me. Stay there," Alec ordered. "I'll be right back."

"Where would I go?" Ellie mumbled, but he was already gone. She performed a courtesy flush, and realised that the cool cloth he'd given her felt nicer than it had any right to.

Alec returned with a can of ginger ale and two tiny white pills. "Take these."

"What the hell is—"

"Anti-nausea medicine." He popped the can open and offered it to her, along with the pills. "These'll help, I promise."

She swallowed the pills with a tiny sip of ginger ale and rested her head on the toilet bowl.

"God, I haven't been this sick since I was pregnant with Fred."

Alec sat against the cabinets, long legs stretched out in front of him. "You're not, are you?"

"Not what?"

"Pregnant."

"What kind of question is that?!" Ellie yelled at him. "Of course I'm not pregnant! Bloody hell!"

Then she noticed that his dark eyes were shining with something very close to amusement. She swatted at him. "Piss off, Hardy."

"The cops here think we're together, anyway. Even Daisy says we should date."

"And...what did you tell her?"

"I told her that you're my friend, and my coworker, and I've never felt for you that way."

"Oh, thank God," Ellie blurted. "Sorry, I mean...I can't imagine dating you. I just can't."

Alec snorted; for him that was practically a belly laugh. "I can't imagine dating you, either. I don't understand why so many people think we're a couple."

"Social construct. Men and women can't be friends or coworkers without having sex."

"Too right," he agreed. "And it's not like I don't date."

It was Ellie's turn to snort. "Every date you go on is a disaster."

"Me? Have you met yourself?"

He wasn't wrong. Her last date walked out when he realised who her ex-husband was. It was such a mess that the bartender gave her free shots for the rest of the night. She'd called a cab because she was too drunk to walk home.

"Maybe you're right," Ellie admitted.

"Sometime I think we're such a good team because nobody else will put up with our bullshit," Alec mused.

"You got that right. Wait a minute," Ellie said. "Since when do we talk about dating and relationships?"

"Since I'm trying to take your mind off your stomach," he answered. "You haven't thrown up in over five minutes."

"What was that stuff?" she asked. "Holy Water?"

"Compazine."

"Why do you have it?"

He seemed reluctant, but answered anyway. "One of my meds causes nausea. The Compazine takes care of it."

Ellie instantly regretted pushing him on it. He was being kind, which was extremely rare for him, and now she'd made him embarrassed. "I'm sorry I called you a bastard."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not."

"Let's get you back in bed, shall we?"

"I...guess."

Alec helped her up; when she was standing on her own, he stepped back. As she had done for him the day before, he tucked her into bed—except he left a rubbish bin nearby.

It seemed that the sushi buffet had claimed multiple casualties. At least six members of the team were missing the next morning, and most of the others looked hungover. Sanchez was hours late.

"Okay," Alec said, "now I'm going to say I Told You So."

Ellie rubbed her eyes and made a beeline for the coffee maker. Thanks to Alex's ministrations, she was in better shape than their colleagues, though not by much. After two cups of coffee, more Compazine, and a Gatorade from the vending machine, she started to feel a bit better.

"Leslie Hefner," Alec repeated, pacing in front of the windows. "We have nothing on her. It's like someone decided not to investigate her death as thoroughly as the others. Why would they do that?"

"Maybe they didn't do that, maybe their record-keeping is shit," Ellie suggested.

"Why do you insist on thinking the best of these idiots?"

"Because I don't hate the world and everyone in it."

"Not yet."

"Hang on."Ellie stepped over to the whiteboard and tapped a picture, one she had found floating in the sea of papers with nothing but a name scrawled on the back. "Keith Larson. I saw that name a minute ago."

She went to her computer, clicked a few keys, and brought up a profile. "Look at this."

Alec leaned over her shoulder and slipped on his glasses. "Leslie Hefner's neighbor. Twenty-five, no alibi for the night she was killed, but he was still eliminated as a suspect. Nice work, Miller!"

"Thank you, sir."

"Why was he eliminated if he didn't have an alibi? And if he's been eliminated, why was his picture still in the files?"

"Must've been an oversight. But...." Ellie scrolled down. "Here's his last known address. That's more than we've got on any of the other suspects." She paused, realising what she'd just gotten herself into. "You're going to make me go outside again, aren't you?"

 "I most certainly am. Come on!"