Chapter Text
He doesn't exactly know what's happening. Actually. Scratch that. He knows he's going to die, no doubt. He's going to die in the middle of a field, with no one else to find him. He could call an ambulance, yes. But would that really make a difference? No. He'd be dead by the time they got there, no doubt. For some silly reason, blood is vital to live, and with the size of the wound located just below his abdomen, he knows that he doesn't have very long.
He hadn't meant to get stabbed. Well, no one means to get stabbed. If he weren't – er – wasn't (present tense, for now) such a bloody idiot, he probably could survive. If he had waited – damn if just waited a little longer – if he waited for Ellie to get out of her meeting, he wouldn't be out here alone. But, alas, there he was, laying in tall grass, silently regretting everything he had done.
But he had a phone. And he had a few minutes to spare. If he was going to die, he wanted to use every last bit of energy he had left to live out his life as a regular human being. As much of a drama queen that he is, as Ellie had repeatedly told him this past week, he wasn't about to go die in some dramatic way… staring out into the never-ending sky, while watching the sun set. If only…
Grunting a bit as he pulled his mobile from his pocket, he rang up one of the only people who would actually care if he were gone. And as much as he hated to admit that people cared about him, he knew that Ellie was a genuinely important aspect in his life. They had grown so close to one another over the many years they had worked together.
"Hello?" he heard a soft voice over the phone.
He smiled a bit, knowing that the last thing he was going to hear was her voice. But suddenly, his vision went dark.
NOT BLOODY YET, he told himself, then applied a grueling amount of pressure on his abdomen, making him gasp out.
"Hello?" Ellie asked again, over the phone, this time sounding more worried.
"Hey, it's me, Hardy," he said weakly over the phone. He gave a gritted smile, hoping it would improve his tone. The last thing he needed was for Ellie to start worrying.
"Agh, I know, you wanker," Ellie said lightly. "Lucky for you, I just got out of my meeting. Any sooner and I would have murdered you for calling."
You wouldn't have to, though, he thought, sadly. But he couldn't help but smile when she said that. It was hard not to smile when she gave her threatening remarks.
"Anyway," she continued. "What do you want? We can go out for fish and chips, if you like – actually, no, don't answer that. I already know your going to say no."
He smiled again, but then silently winced when an excruciating pinching pain shot through his body. "Can you do me a favour?" he asked, now noticing his body was shaking, doing his best to not show any signs of anything out of the ordinary.
"Erm, yeah, sure," she answered. "I mean, depending on what you need. I've gotta pick Fred up from daycare soon."
"Er, yeah, of course," he said, focusing on the blurring greenery around him. "Wee Fred growing up, isn't he?"
There was a bit of silence, but then she spoke again, this time sounding concerned. "Are you alright?"
Panic rushed through his body. He would have tried getting up, waving his hands in the air in denial, but there was no way he had the strength to even sit up any more than he was. So instead, he calmed himself down before speaking and said, "No – just – just making common talk with a – er – friend."
He cringed when there was a silence on the other end of the line. From all the time he spent with her, he knew what different silences meant, and this was definitely not one of the good silences.
"What sort of favour do you need, then?" she asked, the concern in her voice not faltering.
"Er, yeah. Don't question why I'm asking you this," he said carefully.
"Hardy…"
"No, just, hold on a second. Just, can you pick Daisy up and take her to the Latimer's? She and Chloe had something planned tonight," he said, thinking of the big plans they always had on Friday evenings. The two would talk for hours on end, planning what they were going to do every Friday. Something about going out to the beach and then grabbing some desert – something like that.
"Oh," Ellie said over the line. "Yeah, no problem. See you tomo-"
WAIT! NO DON'T GO!
"Ellie?" he asked, now noticing his breathing was getting heavier.
"Why'd you just call me Ellie?" she asked, and not out of plain curiosity. It was out of plain suspicion. He could just see her now, her face flooded with that same worrying look she had given when she had been told who had killed Danny Latimer; it was a painful stare with a wide open mouth and wide eyes.
"Can you tell her – t – tell her to remember that I love her, and that I will love her no matter what," he said. Shit. He'd blown it. He knew it. But he couldn't let Ellie slip away, so he added, "Me and her. Not on – on good terms right now. Could you tell her this. You two – close right? Spending more time? She'd understand from you," hoping his last sentence would fix it.
It didn't help that his words kept falling apart. That they were becoming broken. He wanted to cry so badly. But he didn't. He wasn't going to let it slip. And then, for what seemed like forever, he just laid there, silently. He pondered whether or not he should tell her he loves her.
He really did – does – he does love her. And not just because he needs someone to love him back because he was dying. No. That wasn't him. He had genuinely grown to love the badass cop that was Ellie Miller. She was always there for him, and she had become such an important person in his own personal life – not just in his work life. Though he still refused to go to the pub with her on those few Friday evenings that the office went down together to, and he still mumbled great snarky remarks at her, he loved her. And that was something that she deserved to know.
But just because she deserved to know this, doesn't mean it was the right thing to do. Hardy looked down at his bloody stained shirt. His hand was covered too, and his vision kept getting blotchier and blotchier. No. Instead, he decides to spare her the pain. It's easier to move on when you don't love something. The more attached you are, the more there is to lose.
"Sir?" Ellie asks, sounding more and more panicked by the second. "Hardy? ALEC!"
"See y- you t-t-tomorrow, y-yeah?" he says in ragged breaths. "Tell wee Fred to go – go easy on his mum. She does a – a lot for him. And Tom."
"Alec, I swear if you bloody hang up on me now, I will beat your sorry arse when I see you next," she says angrily, over the phone.
"And, Ellie?" he adds, knowing fully well he's down to his last minute. "Don't forget that – tha – ye need -"
And he drops the phone. Again, not purposefully, but when his vision goes out and his body goes limp, there's not much he can do.
"Sir?" she cries, over the phone, knowing that something isn't right. "Alec, please. I love you."
And there it is. Three words he always wanted to hear.
Any other time, and those words would have been pushed away; forgotten, even. They would have seemed to be nothing but random spurts of a sentence that meant nothing. But not now. Now, it meant everything in the world, and Alec Hardy would forever be grateful for it.
I love you back, too.
"Alec?"
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She hears a loud garble on the other end, and what sounds like painful wheezing.
Shaking her head violently, she rushes from the parking lot back into the station.
Alec Hardy, if you bloody die on me...