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Chapter Text

She'd made it about four chapters into the book. 

Sally Rooney wasn't exactly on her go-to list of novelists but she had a way of capturing people's messiness that Carla found compelling.

Perhaps that's why Roy had picked it out.

Apparently there were some German composer connections in the title that he'd thought added to the whole thing. Though she'd battled the fatigue to try and take in his explanation, in hindsight, it must've been around the start of her illness shortly after Christmas because all she'd managed to hold on to was that some fella with an Sch surname had been responsible for the music.

Or something to that effect anyway.

She'd not had much luck keeping herself occupied with it.

Ordinarily she would've got completely sucked into a book when she had such a chunk of time to work with it.

But her brain kept spinning with everything that seemed to be falling down around her, a pattern that was interrupted by her complaining organs at erratic intervals.

Factory. Infection. Kidney failure. Lisa. Betsy. Mason. 

Just quit the moaning and get on with it Connor

She was just about to make a third attempt at starting Chapter Five, when she heard the sound of hesitant footsteps tracking up the corridor.

Sitting up slightly, she soon spotted what looked to be a very edgy and anxious teenager pacing outside the door.

Carla was about to call out to her and put her out of her misery, but then, as if by telepathy, Betsy finally nudged open the door; a much more muted entrance than what was the norm for the teenager.

“Mind if I stay with you for a while?”

“Not at all, come in.”

Carla eyed her with concern, as she shuffled in, taking a seat in the chair next to her bed.

“Has Mum been in yet?”, she asked quietly.

Her voice sounded rough from overuse; so unlike the cheeky lightness that characterised her even on her moodiest days.

“She stopped by before work this morning.”

“Oh.”

The teenager sunk into her blue coat slightly at that answer, letting the zipped collar obscure her face, unsure of what to say next.

But then Carla continued.

“She did, however, call me about an hour ago.”

Betsy looked up then to find knowing green eyes observing her carefully, in spite of her obvious exhaustion.

“I know what happened, love.”

That was all it took for her to crumple in on herself, sobs ripping fresh gasps from her sore throat. The tears ran uncomfortably down her neck, smearing beneath her chin as they got trapped under the collar of her grey jumper.

The sight of Betsy's distress tugged at the brunette's heart and she adjusted herself as quickly as she could manage with the wires and tore back the sheets. Mentally thanking her past self for having the forethought to keep her leggings on before her next round of tests, she gradually eased out of the bed and crouched next to the hysterical teenager.

Suddenly, Betsy felt supportive arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried.

“I've got you”, she murmured. “I know it hurts and it's absolutely shit that this is how things have gone.”

The forcefulness of the assurance drew a teary laugh from Betsy, in spite of herself, allowing her a brief reprieve from her anguish.

“Yeah it is. Really fucking shit. And now I'm alone. Again.”

If Carla hadn't been on some stiff painkillers anyway, she would've felt those words like a gut punch.

She was fairly certain she had had the same thought verbatim in the not-so-distant past.

But she had to try and coax some sort of distraction out of her, if only to give the youngster a few minutes breathing room from the grief hanging across her shoulders like a lead curtain.

“Charming. I'm not even worth mentioning, am I?”

That earned her a raised eyebrow, as doleful brown eyes met hers.

Which, in the brunette's book, was still a sight better than the raw, grief-stricken expression she'd come in with.

Though not by much.

As Betsy started to compose herself again, she pulled back from Carla a little, looking away sheepishly.

“You shouldn't be out of bed when you're this ill.”

The unsteady lilt in her voice rang discordant with suppressed guilt.

One thing at a time

“Yeah well, it'd be wrong of me to stay over there in bed when you're this upset. As if I'm going to leave you to deal with this on your own.”

Betsy's eyes fluttered shut; a last-ditch attempt at shielding her vulnerability.

Mum did

The teenager sighed wearily.

“Maybe you should. I've already had one person I care about die on me today, I'm not going to be held responsible for a second.”

Eyes still streaming, she looked up at the woman in front of her.

“This is all my fault.”

Carla's lungs burned with acid as she felt the torrent of Betsy's turmoil second-hand.

This needed sorting.

Fast. 

Because by the time Lisa had mustered up a second to herself to even pick up on it, Betsy would already be too far gone in her own head to claw her way out of the self-loathing that the factory owner knew could and would suffocate her.

And that'd really pull the house down on top of them all.

Carla gently raised her free hand to smoothly clean away the mascara stains under her eyes, instinctively running it affectionately along her cheek as she did so.

She examined her critically, but not unkindly, mentally plotting her next move.

“Before you come out with any more dramatics like that, you go and clean yourself up a bit and then you can come back here and explain to me why you think any of this is your fault. I've no plans on dying tonight, so you can hand off that responsibility in any event to someone else. Preferably the scum responsible for what happened.”

Betsy didn't answer that, but Carla could see her tensing herself, still a bit uncomfortable with the enormity of the emotions swirling within her.

Lightly squeezing her shoulder, the factory owner got to her feet unsteadily. 

Which had Betsy automatically standing to reach out for her, seeking out that physical closeness again, as Carla felt her pressing her fisted hands against her back.

Hot breath misting against her neck, the brunette softly laid her head atop the teenager's, returning her embrace as best she could.

Her heart went out to her for the amount of loss she had to deal with this early in her life.

Despite the attitude and reckless behaviour, Carla couldn't help but admire the way Betsy had stubbornly held onto her sense of self.

She'd seen her fair share as an adult and it had led her to breaking point on more than one occasion.

Whatever else happened in the next few weeks, she vowed to herself that she wouldn't let that happen to Betsy.

Not on her watch.

Breaking out of her thoughts, she pressed a kiss to her head.

“Go on then. Before I fall over like the golden oldie I'm rapidly turning into. Don't ever turn fifty kiddo, it's nothing to write home about so far.” 

Reluctantly pulling back, Betsy offered her a weak smile.

“Oh and don't forget your latte on the way back.”

The brunette scrunched her nose then.

“Actually, on second thought, proceed with caution on that one. Pretty sure it was motor oil instead that was in Ryan's cup earlier.”

A snort followed that comment before Betsy finally said something.

“Yeah, for once, I'm not really feeling coffee anyway. Don't fancy staying awake for more than necessary today.”

Sitting down at the edge of the bed, Carla braced herself against it, easing her legs up onto it.

“In that case, I'll take a leaf out of your Mum's book and have a tea, if it's going. I'll leave it up to you whether you want one or not.”

Betsy's mouth dropped open in clear surprise at the reference to Becky, while her boss couldn't help the laugh that spilled out of her at her bewildered expression. 

The teenager grappled with how to even respond to all of that but in the end, settled on two words.

“Thank you.”

Carla smiled reassuringly, nodding her head in acknowledgement.

Watching her as she headed out, the factory owner repositioned herself back into bed and set about clearing some room along the near side of the sheets, leaving her book beneath a pillow for the moment. 

Just in case it was needed.

Chapter Text

A little while later, Betsy came back into the room, pale face bare, carrying two steaming compostable cups of tea.

“Thanks, love”, Carla said, taking one from her gratefully.

The teenager shrugged slightly, barely moving her shoulder with the effort.

She returned to her chair and the pair of them sat in a more comfortable silence, allowing the warmth of the tea to take effect.

Neither of them felt the need to break it just yet.

It had been a long day and they weren't likely to forget it in a hurry. 

Carla quietly checked her phone.

Nothing from Lisa just yet.

No doubt she was hot on the trail of the gruesome twosome that seemed to be the root cause of every evil the Swains had had to face in their lives.

If she'd not been stuck here and out of commission, she would've been doing the same thing on the sly.

Not be sitting twiddling her thumbs.

For the damage they'd done, they should count themselves lucky she wasn't in a position to make full use of the vengeful streak that had been stirred up in the last few weeks.

But now wasn't the time for all that anyway.

She had a traumatised and emotionally wounded teenager to settle before the scars had time to develop.

“Bets?”

The blonde looked up at her, emotionless.

“I'm not going to ask you the obvious and most stupid question that people always ask. Drives me mad, like it's actually going to do anything to change things.”

She paused for breath for a second, trying not to say too much and risk her losing her focus.

“But know that I'm here to listen to whatever you want to talk about. It can be what you were saying before, about how you think this is your fault- which, from where I'm sitting, isn't true, let the record show. Or it can be anything else you want, however you want to do this.”

She lightly tapped her hand against the bed.

“Can even just sit here in silence for a bit. Not like I weren't going to be doing that anyway. It's up to you, love.”

The teenager, who'd not moved a muscle since she'd started speaking, raised her cup to her lips and swiftly downed the rest of its contents in one gulp before leaving the now-empty container next to her. She slid her hands beneath her thighs, lifting her legs off the floor as she leaned against them, swaying forward the tiniest inch, brown eyes uneasily tracking across the lino floor.

When she finally did speak a few minutes later, Carla had to strain to hear her.

“I didn't get it before.”

Looking over at her, the brunette tried to glean some more information from her face. But it stayed impassive. Unusually so.

So she had to ask.

“Didn't get what before?”

Betsy looked up from the floor, blank gaze facing towards the window at the end of the room.

“How awful Mum must've felt, every day.”

Carla felt her heart clench, understanding immediately. 

Sure, that bit of awareness might help her and Lisa improve their relationship. In time. But the cost of it was far heavier than it had any right to be.

She didn't say anything in reply, sensing that Betsy needed to say more. 

“It's so unreal, I couldn't have had a nightmare like this. On the outside, I think I've managed to cry enough to clean all Mason's blood off Abi's hands- she found him, after it happened. But in here”-she pressed a hand shakily against her chest- “in here there's nothing. I'm completely numb. Like I'm here and I'm breathing and I know you're next to me but I couldn't tell you what I feel because I don't feel anything.”

The teenager blinked rapidly, glancing back down at the floor.

“I know that I loved him. A lot. And yeah, you and Mum might be thinking 'you're sixteen, you barely went out with him a wet week, like you'd even know the first thing about being in love with someone.' But I did. I do. I just can't feel it right now. Like it's locked away somewhere and I don't have it in me to find something to smash the glass and find it again. ‘Cause what good is it going to do right now? He can't do anything about it. He's gone and he's never going to hear me tell him that I love him again. I'm never going to see him mucking about in the precinct with Dylan. Or hear him telling rubbish, absolutely awful jokes that actually made me cry one time with how bad they were. Or go for coffee and argue with him about who paid for it- he insisted every time and I let him cause he'd smile in this really soft way that even though I preferred that he paid anyway, he didn't want it easy. Though maybe arguing with me was easier compared to what he grew up with. He'd such a rotten, rotten life. And in the end, he wanted his Mum and she wasn't there. I was. And I couldn't get her for him. Because he didn't know where she was. All he had were those two murderers and they'd been horrible to him since day one. I thought I could help, get him away from them, get them away from him. That's how the factory robbery happened. I was too stupid to realise how things would go, how dangerous they really were. They promised me they'd leave him alone for good, if they could get to the factory. I thought if I just did this thing, nobody else would have to get hurt. They'd be gone from his life. And I'd deal with the consequences after that, because I could handle it. That was my mistake. I never wanted him to get hurt again. I never wanted you to get hurt. I wasn't even going to go ahead with it but then I just couldn't handle you and Mum having done what you did, on the day that you did it and I couldn't think straight. No matter how angry I was, I'd never want anything like that to happen to you. Because I care about you. I cared about Mason. And I cared about my Mum.”

At that last sentence, Betsy's voice cracked, an older, familiar pain seeping out through it.

“Maybe I should stay away from people; not get close to them. People I care about only get hurt. All I've got left is you and Mum. And she's off after those bastards and knowing my luck, they'll get her first before she can do anything to stop them. I'm not good for anyone.”

Carla, who had been listening to each word with a growing sense of despair, silently wiped the tears off her face, not wanting to draw Betsy's attention to the extent to which her heart was breaking into smaller and smaller pieces at every new sentence out of the girl's mouth. 

“You're right.”

Betsy finally looked over at her, somewhat surprised that there wasn't an immediate rebuttal from her boss, as there usually would be upon hearing something like that.

“You completely get how your Mum feels now. Because it is exactly that attitude that has led her to this point; shutting you and me out because that grief hollowed her out so much that she fights to make it out of bed some days. Most days, I reckon, though she doesn't like to let on.”

Carla motioned for her to come over to the bed, too weakened to make a second attempt at wrestling her way out of it again. 

The teenager complied, stiffly getting off the seat and moved to perch at the end of the bed, as the brunette sat up and offered out a hand for her to take.

Which she did, after a moment's hesitation.

“How does she live like this?”

Carla smiled at her.

“Quite simple really; she's got you to come home to. That's how.”

Betsy looked unconvinced.

“Here's the thing, love: you can take that mindset away from this, but it's no way to live your life. It'd be a complete waste for one thing and you're a human being, mistakes come with the territory. Look at your mum. Flaming ‘eck, look at me! I'm a prime example! I've lost enough people in my life that if I ever packed it in with Underworld, I could probably work at Shuttleworth's with the amount of funerals I've had to put myself through over the years. But if there's anything I've had to learn the hard way, it's that staying away from people and thinking that's the way to protect them, it doesn't work. In fact, it's a one-way ticket to misery and loneliness, which is not a healthy combination.”

She squeezed her hand supportively.

“You've been on the other side of that since your Mum passed; Lisa has been living that way since then and it's done a lot of damage to you both. So you know better than to start going down the same road when it's never done anyone any good.”

Carla shuffled forward to curl an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug.

“I even did it to your Mum last week. I thought if I didn't tell her I was ill, then I could spare her getting hurt when I inevitably cark it with this kidney.”

Betsy glared at her then, which made the brunette wince as she realised what she'd said.

“Bad choice of words, I know, I know. Just goes to show, you can still put your foot in it as an adult. But hey, if I weren't sitting here cracking jokes about it, I wouldn't be much company at all.”

Let's not get too caught up in all that right now

“Anyway, didn't work of course. More fool Lisa for hedging her bets on me but well, it's a good job we love each other.”

She smoothed back a few pink hairs that had fallen loose from Betsy's ponytail.

“Good job we love you an’ all.”

We?

Betsy stared up at her, incredulous.

Then, she suddenly burst into tears, glass obliterated with one sentence.

She clung onto Carla, shaking violently against her as all of the grief and pain of the last few hours took their toll.

The factory owner wasn't finished though.

Feeling her own eyes welling at her cries, she pressed on.

“That's the thing about the hard stuff; you've got to find a way, find someone who makes it easier for you to live with it, to be able to move beyond it. Your Mum and I managed to make it this far and we can lean on each other to help when things get bad. And that was probably true of you and Mason. You had him to love you while you've been working through your grief about Becky. And he had you to give him something good in his life. Having a tough upbringing like that, you don't feel like you're worth loving. But if you were to dwell on that all the time, you'd never live at all.”

Feeling Betsy's sobs intensify at her words, she gently pulled away from her to cradle her face between her hands.

“Listen to me, darling. It's because of you, Mason got to feel loved. He had a short life and it's cruel and unfair that it ended this way but at least he died having experienced that. He'd be much worse off if he'd never met you. He was lucky enough that, when everyone else around him thought the worst of him, he had someone he loved who saw the good parts of him. You gave him that and I can tell you as someone from a background not too far away from his, that means everything.”

The teenager shook her rapidly against her in denial, not yet able to say anything.

“It does. There are people out there living to old age that don't get to enjoy that privilege and he managed it with you, regardless of whatever row you had with him. It's the memories of hanging around in the caf, listening to his bad jokes, seeing him getting nervous meeting your Mum, going on dates; that's what'll help you when the grief settles. And in the meantime, you've got me and your Mum to help you carry it until you think you have it in you to feel that stuff again.”

The brunette wiped her face again for the second time that day.

“D'you think you can trust me on that much?”

After a beat or two, Betsy nodded slowly, ducking into her neck exhaustedly.

Carla let her go and kissed her head.

“I'm sorry you lost him, love. I really am.”

Chapter Text

It wasn't long before the teenager had started to nod off.

After their conversation, Carla had moved back against the pillows, feeling the painkillers starting to wear thin and her awkward position next to Betsy wasn't helping matters. She offered to let the weary teenager rest for a bit, having enough room and knowing she had another few hours before anyone came in. With a half-hearted protest, she gave in to her exhaustion and was currently curled up asleep against the brunette's side, her coat thrown haphazardly over the bed rail.

Carla looked down at her fondly.

She very clearly wasn't well, having allowed this wind-up artist make herself so at home in her life, letting her away with all sorts.

Then again, she never claimed to be well in the first place.

Her phone started vibrating.

It was Lisa.

Of course.

Probably panicking that she hadn't heard from either of them in a while.

Carla checked that Betsy was still asleep before answering her.

“Hiya.”

“Carla? Is Bets with you? Only she isn't answering and I tried her phone a few times an-”

“Lis, she's here. Spark out next to me. Probably had her phone off, I've not seen her with it out since she came in earlier.”

She could hear the detective's jagged exhale on the other end.

“Oh thank God! I had to dash out before and I was afraid she'd gone off somewhere on her own after I left. I didn't like leaving her with what's happened.”

“Well, technically she did. Was sitting here having a meditative moment to myself with my novel and then along came Trouble. Outside of visiting hours an’ all, they'll have me strung up when they see her in here.”

The slight pause was long enough to indicate that DS Swain was rolling her eyes at her flippancy.

“Some would argue that you already are strung up! Darling, those machines are no joke”, she deadpanned.

“Fair point, detective. Right then, what else is going on that's got you all mithered?”

“What?”

If Carla hadn't already heard the unsteadiness in her voice before, the defensive response tipped her off straight away.

“Come on, credit me at least with knowing you well enough by now that I can hear when you're clamming up on me. Are you alright, love?”

Lisa sighed.

“I'm going to park answering that properly because I can't afford to just yet. But…”

Carla waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts.

“I thought it was her.”

The brunette creased her brow in confusion.

“You what?”

“I was there when the call came in earlier. Kit had just told me he'd let the Radcliffes out and no sooner had I started chewing him out over it when we got a report of a stabbed teenager at the precinct. I didn't-”

Carla closed her eyes as she heard her girlfriend choking back a muffled sob in the background, putting two and two together.

“Oh God Lisa, you must've been terrified!”

“I was”, she rasped out behind clenched jaws. “I was losing it the whole way there until I had her in my arms and saw she was alright.”

She broke off, her voice still trembling.

“God, I've not been so relieved in my life. And then I felt like shit for being relieved. Betsy insisted on going in the ambulance and it was all I could do to keep her from seeing him afterwards. Christ, Carla, they carved that poor lad open. Their little brother. He was in an awful state. That's no way for an animal to end up, let alone a human being and a kid at that.” 

She could hear her sniffling faintly, no doubt trying to keep a lid on it as usual.

“He was in here just the other day with that evidence to put them away, desperate to help and I gave him short shrift. He knew what they were capable of and he risked his own skin for it anyway. After I pressured him. ‘Cause he knew what it'd mean for us to close that case. Have them facing justice for what they stole from us. And- and for what they've already attempted to steal from us.”

The implication hung heavily between them; Carla wasn't going to recover from this easily.

“Well, rest assured, I intend to see that that ‘attempted’ stays solely in bold print on their charge sheets while we go on living our lives.”

Warmed by her girlfriend's protectiveness, Carla nonetheless picked up on the telltale hint of blame running beneath Lisa's anger.

“Look, don't go taking this on yourself as well, love.” 

She looked down, eyeing the girl still conked out in the bed beside her.

“Besides, you might yet end up scrapping with Betsy for that privilege.” 

“What d'you mean?”

“Well, let's just say that if I hadn't already known she was your daughter, I would've clocked it a mile off after hearing what she had to say. Shutting down, feeling empty, not wanting to get close to anyone; ringing any bells here, am I?”

Lisa groaned.

“Jesus, that's not good.”

“Nope.” 

Neither of them said anything for a minute or two, letting it sink in.

“How is she now?”

“Hard to say really. I got her talking for a bit. Tried getting her to see how that wouldn't be the best way of handling things. Poor thing sobbed her heart out on me for a long while until she could barely stay upright. We're going to need to keep a close eye on her these next few days. She's in a bad way, Lis.”

“I know. I-”

Carla couldn't tell whether the detective had got cut off or just self-censored.

“What is it?”

She heard a soft hiccup.

That answers that

“I followed after to the hospital but I was too late. Managed to get in and I could tell from the sound of her wailing echoing down the corridor he was gone. Broke my heart to hear it. Carla, I'd sworn to myself I would never let anything else happen to make her cry like that. And now I've let her down all over again.”

Now she badly wished she was there with Lisa instead of being confined to this cage.

Even if it was to just shake her girlfriend out of her guilt spiral.

Or just cuddle her.

Never mind.

That was an argument she could have with herself the next time Lisa called in.

“Thank you for being with her, Carla. For stepping into where I should've been, if I were any good.”

“You know well where I stand on you and the working mum guilt thing. You're doing your best. Not like this kind of thing is an everyday occurrence ‘round here.”

She shook her head, then sighed remembering that Lisa couldn't see her.

“Don't know how much help I've been to her really. If anything, this is probably one thing that she could do with coming to you for. I mean, you've lived a version of it these past few years and she's seen how you cope with it- y'know how you worry all the time that you got too caught up in your grief over Becky? For better or worse, now she can empathise and is at a point where it might be helpful for both of you to finally clear the air somehow.”

Carla leaned further back against the pillow, eyes flickering over the ceiling tiles.

“Arguably, I'm as qualified as anyone to talk about playing roulette with trauma coping strategies, but this is more personal. Hear her out and remind her that it's alright to feel however she does but don't let her get swallowed up by it. She's a tough cookie Lis, she'll get through this. You both will.”

She could hear the other woman's shallow breathing down the phone.

“What are you thinking?”

“Thinking about how incredibly lucky I am to have you. To have both of you.”

The brunette smiled.

“It's a two-way street, my love, and don't you forget it.”

“I'll take your word for it.”

“As well you should!”

Lisa hummed, the anxiety ebbing away steadily at her girlfriend's reassurance.

“Perhaps you're right.”

Carla's jaw dropped.

“Ehrm, she says with surprise in her voice for some reason? Of all the flamin’ cheek.”

That rumbled a soft laugh out of the detective.

“But you love it!”

The brunette sobered, thinking about all that had happened in the past few weeks.

“I do. I really do.”

Lisa noticed the change in tone and wasted no time in reciprocating the unspoken sentiment.

“And I love you. Very much, in case you still wondered.”

Heat flushed across Carla's cheeks at that statement, still reveling in the newness of their connection.

“Love you too. So get your gorgeous backside over here to us sharpish so I can make sure you don't forget it.” 

Betsy, who had slowly been stirring unbeknownst to them from her nap, pulled a face at that.

“Eugh that is rank! Clearly you forgot the grieving teenager in the room then. Please, not in front of my salad, Carla. “

“Oh here we go. You almost lasted long enough for me to dream of trying, at least. What are you on about, Betsy? There isn't any flipping salad in here.”

"What? It's not actual salad, you boomer."

"We've been through this Bets-"

But before the bickering pair in the hospital could continue, they were halted in their tracks by peals of raucous laughter echoing down the phone.

Bemused, they shared a knowing look between them.

“Take it you heard all that then, Lis?”

Still spluttering slightly, Lisa finally choked out a response.

“Best thing I've heard all day.”

Betsy offered a derisive snort.

“That's a pretty low bar, Mum.”

“In that case, it can only improve from here then. I'll head over for you in a bit.”

Satisfied with that, the teenager shuffled tiredly in place and settled back to sleep, swinging an arm across Carla's lap.

Smiling, the brunette ran a hand in a soothing caress across her head.

“We'll be here waiting.”

Chapter Text

Upon entering the room, Lisa's heart tumbled aimlessly out of her chest and flopped onto the floor in one fell swoop.

She came to a standstill, absorbing the scene in front of her.

Her girlfriend and her daughter were snuggled up together in bed, fast asleep.

Betsy was curled into the foetal position, hands clutching at Carla's hospital gown in an impressive vice-grip.

For her part, the factory-owner had both arms wound around the teenager, cradling her protectively, brow furrowed.

The blonde felt her eyes watering for the nth time that day.

She didn't think she would have this again.

Not after Becky.

The detective had resigned herself to years of increasingly fractured, brittle exchanges with her daughter until she was old enough to leave, loosening their ties until she was left to her own devices.

Still did, to a large extent.

But now, she wasn't alone anymore.

Furthermore, it looked as though Betsy had managed to find a mediating presence who looked out for them both.

Loath to disturb them and rouse her daughter from a peace that would likely elude her in the next few weeks, she collected herself and rounded the bed to wake her girlfriend.

“Carla?”

Lisa lightly squeezed her arm, caressing it gently.

After a minute or two, the brunette stirred, clamping a hand over her eyes.

“Mmmph-oh. Hey you.”

“Hi.”

A still-disoriented Carla went to reach back for her hand but quickly realised she was trapped.

By a slumbering sixteen-year-old no less.

She felt her cheeks colouring as she become more and more lucid. 

The adoring, knowing smirk plastered across Lisa's face did nothing to temper it.

“Take it you've come for this one then?”, she murmured quietly, mindful of the teenager beside her.

“You're bang on, Ms Connor. Though from where I'm standing, she looks fairly at home there with you.”

Flustered, Carla rushed to explain herself.

“Lis, look, she's had a day of it, she was exhausted. I know she shouldn't even be in here with me but I just couldn't leave her sitting in her misery like that.”

The detective stopped her from saying anymore with a placating hand.

“Carla, you don't have to justify anything to me.”

She smiled bashfully at her with an affection that seemed to flow the whole way up her body, from her sturdy work-issued boots to the endearingly-frenzied locks of blonde hair that fanned around her face after her day.

Carla had been in a lot of relationships in her time, and dealt with a lot of people who, whether they were honest in declaring it or not, claimed to love her.

Not one had ever looked at her the way Lisa was looking at her now.

The intensity of it stole the oxygen out of her lungs, enfolding her in a brief microcosm of the universe where there was nothing but her and Lisa. 

Blinking rapidly in an effort to mask the monumental shift that her brain had just processed, Carla looked back down at the bed's other occupant, a wistful smile painting itself effortlessly across her features.

“Seems a shame to wake her.”

Lisa smothered a laugh behind her hand.

“You'd think that, looking at her now. But she's a demon to share a bed with usually. Elbows and legs flailing around enough to put you flying right out of it.”

She dropped her hands into her coat pockets, reappraising the pair in front of her.

“Don't know how you managed it, but she obviously trusts you a lot.”

She turned on one heel, spinning idly in place.

“Actually, that's not true. In fact, I know exactly how you managed it.”

“Oh you do, do you?”

“Mmhmm.”

The detective ambled forward, reminiscent of a lynx stalking its prey, until she got close enough to brush her nose against Carla's, locking onto her with a smouldering gaze.

The brunette faced up at her expectantly.

“What's your theory then, DS Swain?”

Lisa looked at her square in the eye and answered, straight-faced:

“Hypnosis.”

Carla's jaw dropped open in astonished disbelief.

“You sly little-”

Unfortunately, she didn't get to finish her complaint because it was promptly swallowed by a giggling Lisa, who claimed her open mouth in a needy kiss.

It went some way to cooling the brunette's outrage, but she had to put a stop to it before they went too far.

“Alright darling, take it easy, will you! Before you wake your daughter up.”

That was followed by a long-suffering groan that was decidedly not uttered out of her insatiable girlfriend's mouth.

“Too late for that, boss.”

Betsy slid back from where she'd been nestled into her, pulling her hands back. 

But she didn't move away entirely.

“Soo, I'm gonna need someone to find me a bottle of bleach. Or just any corrosive, really. Shouldn't be that difficult to find in a hospital.”

Struggling to bite back her mirth, Lisa tore herself reluctantly away from her girlfriend to settle at the end of the bed.

“Yeah ‘cause you seeing us together is the most traumatic thing we've had to deal with today”, she quipped with wry amusement.

Eyes flashing, the factory owner threw a warning look in her direction, having already borne witness to the extent of that trauma.

Much to her surprise however, the teenager took it in her stride.

“Mother, I might actually never recover from this, it was horrific.”

She slowly sat up, awkwardly leaning back against the bed rail to face them both.

“Could do with compensation for the damage.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, glancing briefly at Carla in reassurance for her earlier worry.

It was some relief to them to hear her sounding more like herself.

For now, anyway.

The detective sighed melodramatically.

“What do you want?”

“Chocolate.”

Making use of their recent investment in a phone banking app- she just couldn't trust the teenager with her card these days- she sent her some money.

“Check your phone and use that.”

Offering a less-convincing grin than usual, Betsy picked up her coat and dug around in her pocket for her phone, switching it on.

The first thing that greeted her on its restart was a photo of her and Mason taken at Christmas.

Oh yeah.

That's why she'd turned it off.

Faltering at the reminder, she hurriedly pulled on her coat and scrambled off the bed, sparking the concern of the two women next to her.

“I-I'm going to sit outside for a bit”, she stuttered shakily. “Thanks for this.”

As she opened the door, she paused and turned back to look at Carla.

“Um, thanks for… well, for earlier. It helped.”

Not wanting to add to her discomfort, the brunette merely nodded her head with a tight smile of acknowledgement.

They watched her leave, faces etched with matching expressions of worry.

Turning her attention back to her girlfriend, Lisa stood from where she'd been sitting, settling into the chair next to the bed where Betsy had been earlier.

“You're right about keeping an eye on her.”

Carla didn't say anything.

“She's been through a lot. Too much.”

She flicked her ponytail away from her face with mild irritation, as though it was responsible for all of her woes.

Rubbing at her face, she suddenly sat bolt upright in realisation.

“God, I'm terrible. You were supposed to hear back from the nephrologist today, weren't you? What’ve they said? Do they have any inkling on whether or not the damage is permanent?”

Carla decided then to keep schtum.

She had, in fact, gotten confirmation that she was in dire straits and in need of a transplant.

But she just couldn't put that on Lisa today.

She already thought she'd lost her kid for a while there; finding out there was a strong possibility of losing another partner would be too much for anyone to take at once.

“Nothing ‘til tomorrow, love.”

The blonde exhaled unsteadily.

“Wish they could just figure it out so we can do something to help.”

“These things take time, Lis. Hopefully, it's fixable and I'll be back home soon.” 

Staring out the window, the detective hummed in agreement.

It has to be, she thought.

She couldn't lose Carla.

Not now. Not ever.

Without realising it, she'd inadvertently aired that last thought aloud, the volume just barely loud enough for Carla to pick up.

It will be if I have any say in it

Decision made, she inched forward in bed, snapping Lisa out of her thoughts at the movement.

“Carla, what are you doing?”, the detective asked uncertainly, watching as the brunette worked at divesting herself of the covers as best as she could manage in her state.

She moved to help her but an arm shot out to wave her off.

“No, let me sort this.”

“O-okay?”

Finally free, -bloody thing was useless at its actual purpose- she got to her feet and turned towards her girlfriend, who was looking at her with increasing unease.

“I'll run the risk of repeating myself and ask again; what are you doing? It can't be good for you to be shunting all that around.” 

The brunette stepped into her space, putting her hands on her leather-clad arms.

“I'm doing what I've needed to do since you first called me earlier on: holding you.”

Lisa's expression turned impossibly soft, her bottom lip trembling.

“Come 'ere, darling.”

With that gentle command, the ever-stoic detective broke.

She sank into Carla's arms, feeling the other woman press her head carefully against her chest, minutely swaying them both. 

Gripping onto her shoulders desperately, Lisa let go of everything she'd been carrying.

Safe for now in the knowledge that she had someone she loved to look after it for her.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since Mason's stabbing and between that and news of Carla needing a transplant, Lisa could feel herself being tugged harriedly from pillar to post, trying valiantly to keep tabs on her family.

Betsy hadn't wanted to venture out much, preferring to retreat into the solitude of her bedroom. 

Carla had already passed it on to Sarah that Betsy would probably be off work for the next while and to let her know if she put in an appearance at the factory: knowing the teenager thus far, she expected it wouldn't be too long before she needed a distraction. 

If she could find it in an odd shift instead of a vodka bottle, all the better.

In the meantime, the teenager had been keeping to herself, locking out the world around her: something that had Lisa growing more and more worried by the day.

Eventually, the worry overrode her patience at long last and she decided they should head out for a meal, as a way of reintroducing some low-stakes interaction again. 

As it turned out, dinner had been a fairly subdued affair. Lisa had hoped that by heading out of the house that she could give Betsy a chance to reclaim some distance in her head from what had happened. 

But since she'd dashed off out of the hospital room, it seemed as though a light switch had been flicked off and the usual exuberance that always burst out through her daughter beneath her snark had been mercilessly quenched.

Lisa knew what grief looked like on her daughter and it would only be a matter of time before the fireworks kicked off. 

One plate still half-full, they headed for home. Or back to Carla's anyway- they hadn't had the chance to have that discussion just yet.

“You didn't eat much, darling.”

Brown eyes stayed tracking the movement of the evening traffic going past.

“Wasn't hungry.”

“Right.”

Lisa risked a glance over at her.

“Was it the food or was it just from everything?”

Rolling her eyes, the teenager turned towards her slightly, crossing her legs in the passenger seat.

“What do you think, Mother? You're the detective.”

“Hey, there's no need to be like that, I was only asking!”

That spark of fire seemed to reignite as the pressure cooker of Betsy's grief transformed into a volatile blaze, catching her mother off guard with the suddenness of it.

“Well don't, alright! I don't need you hovering like I'm a little kid, I'm fine!”

Lisa worked her jaw in lieu of a response to that, knowing that the last thing they needed was for her to let her own hurt feelings loose into the mix.

“You and I both know that you're not, so don't fob me off when I express my concern about that.”

Betsy scoffed derisively.

“Yeah, not like I spent ages expressing my own concern about you still going into work after Mum dying and you turned fobbing someone off into an art form in the process.”

She twisted to plant her feet on the dash, turning back to face out the passenger window once more, eyes suddenly watering.

“But like always, DS Swain knows best. ‘Course it wouldn't matter when it's only me,‘cause I'm just some stupid kid who only knows how to make a mess of things.”

The tension of Betsy's initial outburst soured into a cloud of guilt and self-recrimination that Lisa recognised all too well.

Except she had never expected it from her own daughter and the ease with which she aired it told her that they still hadn't even scratched the surface of mending their fraught relationship.

Not if Betsy was going around wearing an ill-placed sense of inadequacy as comfortably as her grey hoodie.

Coming up to the exit for Weatherfield, Lisa took it and pulled off the motorway, turning off into a small car park off a nearby pub.

Quiet enough for its purpose.

“What're we doing here?”

The detective pulled up her handbrake and braced herself against the seat.

“We're going to talk about everything you've been keeping locked up in that head of yours because it's eating you alive and it's not right. You can't move forward until you do. Starting with wherever you got this idea that you're only ‘some stupid kid who only knows how to make a mess of things’ from.”

Silence.

Lisa unbuckled her belt and reached across to rest a gentle hand on Betsy's arm.

“I don't always know what's best, darling. And it's not as though I don't have a good idea of what the problem is this time, but I don't know how to help you without knowing exactly what you're dealing with. However, I do know, unfortunately, what this particular shade of grief feels like and I still feel it. Every single day. Which is why I worry about you and always will; little kid or full-grown adult. You're my daughter and I love the bones of you. If I could take all this pain away from you right this second, I would. Except all I can do is tell you that I'm here for you to talk to. Because grieving someone you love has an awful way of isolating you; putting a wall between you and the people who care about you. By the time you think you feel ready to even acknowledge them again, you discover that you've completely closed off, with no easy way of getting out. I've seen you start building that wall over the last few days and I won't let that be the thing that pulls you away from me. Not after everything we've been through.”

Lisa stopped to clear the lump in her throat.

“It's bad enough that you lost him without all of us losing you too because of it.”

Betsy clenched her jaw, shaking her head bitterly.

“Oh, so this is all Mason's fault then, is it? I knew you didn't like him but that's pretty below the belt for you to go blaming him for dying!”

Lisa recoiled as if she'd been slapped, unable to check her fury at the insinuation.

“No! That is not what I said, don't you go twisting my words-”

But Betsy couldn't hold back either.

“Pretty convenient for you to have him snuff it before he could go dragging me down with him, eh? Well y’know something, you didn't know him. Barely anybody did ‘cause they wouldn't give him even half a chance. And okay, yeah, he made mistakes but in all honesty, it's not like he had much of anyone worth looking to in his life to show him otherwise. Unless you count those two murderous creeps and to be honest, if I never saw the sight of them again, it'd be too soon.”

That makes two of us

Dropping her feet back to the floor of the car, Betsy sat upright and sharply pulled back to face her mother, shrugging her hand off in the process.

“But he loved me, mum. He did. In spite of all the shit life had chucked at him, he was actually a decent lad. Yet nobody else is bothered that he's gone except for me. And maybe Dylan. But that's not the same thing. So I'm the one that's left to carry all this for him, on my own.”

Sniffling as the anger melted away to leave the despair behind, Betsy just stared up at the roof, feeling the glut of suppressed grief starting to rain down on top of her.

“I keep dreaming about him. Sitting in the precinct, asking me for coffee to apologise for not telling me about his new job sooner. All while he's bleeding out in front of me. I'm the one that should've apologised, I was cruel to him. Selfish. Just thinking he was going to dump me and run off to Germany when I never let him even try to explain. He might've stayed, if I'd asked him.”

She closed her eyes, wiping at her cheeks.

“Not like it matters now anyway. But I-I can't get his face out of my head when I'm awake either. Only it's what he looked like as he was dying in the ambulance. He was terrified. The fear on his face made me feel sick. He knew what was happening and he could feel it and I just had to stand there and watch it happen.”

Lisa tilted her head back against the seat, in an attempt at keeping her own tears at bay, as the memories of that day washed over her.

“It was a terrible thing to happen and I'm sorry that you had to see it. See him in that state.”

Betsy folded forward onto her forearms, her small body pulled in two, and sobbed heavily into her sleeves.

Lisa waited, giving her some time to take the edge off, before continuing.

“He was a decent lad. Had a few false starts but I think you did him good. And I do know that he cared a lot for you. He helped with your Mum's case when he didn't have to. Not many others would've gone to the lengths he did in his shoes and I admire him for it. I didn't trust him at first and I didn't think he was good enough for you.”

She reached over to untuck her daughter's hair from where it was tangling against her neck, smoothing the pastel-coloured strands softly.

“‘Spose in the end, I had to take my own advice and not let my assumptions about his past cloud my judgement of him. And I regret that I did, but I won't apologise for looking out for you. It might not have seemed like it but that's what I was doing at the time.”

Chest still heaving, the teenager lifted her head slightly, tears dripping still from her reddened nose. 

“Is that why you wouldn't let me see him. After, I mean?”

Lisa sighed.

“Yeah, it was. You didn't need that to be your last memory of him.”

Betsy let out a wet snort.

“What, cause seeing him bleeding out on a gurney was so much better?”

“Bets, I've seen too many dead bodies on the job and believe me, that's all you would've seen when you went in. A dead body. Not Mason”, she assured her firmly.

However, Betsy wasn't placated.

“I literally watched him die already! I think I could handle it.”

“Exactly, you watched him die. And if I had any way of keeping you from that, I would've used it. There are some things you cannot unsee.”

The teenager shook her head.

“No, you don't understand! You didn't see Mu-”

Lisa's face immediately drained of colour, though no other indicator of her hurt showed. 

You didn't see Mum die right in front of you

“That wasn't- I, I didn't mean”, she faltered, realising the weight of what she had almost thrown back at her.

“No, I didn't see Becky get killed. I was supposedly spared that trauma. Except instead, I've had years of nightmares imagining every possible method and means of how she'd been killed. Even lived some of them. And that uncertainty, that dereliction of duty will haunt me for the rest of my life. So no, I suppose I wouldn't understand how you feel Betsy.”

Except I do

“Thing is though, I actually did see it afterwards on some recovered footage from the office building next door to the museum. And-”, she broke off, feeling her emotions starting to get the better of her.

“Mum, you dont have to-”

“No, I do. Because we've never talked about this and we should've. I should've been more open with you, so you felt supported. But Bets, having to go in and identify her, see what was left of her and then finally watching what exactly happened to cause that, I couldn't handle it. I still can't. That's a burden I could never put on you.”

She rubbed at her face in a vain effort to clear the tracks off her cheeks.

“She wasn't my…our Becky anymore then. She was just this… empty shell that was person-like, but not her. No sign of those mischievous brown eyes peeking out at me. It's up there as one of the worst experiences of my life. It made it so much harder to handle what had happened because I could only see her like that for months afterwards. Not as the gorgeous person she really was.”

A couple of things suddenly started to click into place for Betsy with that revelation.

“Is that why you put away all the family photos afterwards? ‘Cause you kept seeing her that way in your head?”

Lisa nodded.

“I had no idea. Thought you just didn't care, decided she wasn't worth thinking about anymore. I was so upset with you for that.”

Her mother flicked an unimpressed glance her way.

“I remember. And so did the builders who had to fix the gaping hole you left in the wall.”

“I said I was sorry!”

She looked down at her lap, fidgeting with her cuffs. 

“I'm even sorrier now that I know why you did it. You never said anything.”

Lisa shrugged at her helplessly.

“You were thirteen. What was I supposed to tell you? ‘Oh sorry love, I actually can't look at your Mum's face around the house anymore without having nightmares about her corpse, mind if I take these down?’ You would've wanted to know why and I couldn't explain it to you then, even if I wanted to.” 

The detective huffed out a pained laugh.

“Always needed to have all the answers, eh ‘PC B’.”

Betsy softened at the nickname. 

It had been a very long time since she'd heard it. 

“She used to call me that whenever she had to pick me up in the squad car.”

Her mother smiled at the memory.

“Yeah, and because you never stopped asking questions.”

Betsy stilled, deciding to share something she'd never thought she'd admit to her.

“I thought it was so cool being a police officer. Even thought about being one. For a while anyway.”

Lisa stared at her in surprise.

“You're joking? Bets, you've never stopped complaining about my job since you were old enough to understand what it was.”

“So? You were barely at home that much and how was I supposed to feel about it when I knew that you being a copper was the reason I didn't get to see you as much as I wanted. Or be able to spend time with you and Mum together instead of having to go between you both all the time.”

“I didn't know you felt that way.”

She paused. 

No.

That wasn't right.

She did have some idea; how could she not when she had kicked off about it to her and Becky on a semi-regular basis?

She just didn't realise how far that annoyance went, how deeply it had impacted her daughter.

“You were both out there helping people. Saving lives and all that. Why should you be wasting time with me when you could be doing that instead? I looked up to you both. In fact-”

She looked over at her mother shyly, feeling more vulnerable than she had at any point earlier in the conversation.

“In fact, I'd asked Mum about it. A few days before. That Careers Day was on in school and it got me thinking, so I asked her what she thought.”

Floored, Lisa could only ask, “What did she say?”

Betsy offered a small smile in response.

“She warned me off a bit. Said being a real-life PC involved a bit more than just whizzing around with the blues and twos on. And then I told her that actually… I'd actually been thinking about what you do as a detective and thought maybe that might be a better option for me.”

She chuckled in spite of herself at the memory.

“Said she was devastated that I'd pick the suits in CID over a uniform but that she could see the appeal- she was always mad about you in your work gear, it was embarrassing- and that she thought I could be really good at it, what with the attention to detail that'd carry over from me working with textiles and all that and then personality-wise. Especially when I had you as a built-in mentor at home.”

Closing her eyes, she exhaled heavily.

“Obviously that idea went straight out the window after she died. I couldn't stand it; how she'd not been able to stay safe, how you actively seemed to be doing anything but be safe and started taking more risks with even more dangerous criminals than she had to deal with on a daily basis.”

Betsy looked up at her mother, who had been staring at her, silently, in complete bewilderment, eyes streaming.

She had to try to get through to her now, while they both had their walls down.

“I still really hate that you're doing that job. Because alright, you're supposed to protect people and that's great. But you're just another copper in a line that gets thrown out with yesterday's left-overs when something goes wrong. And I don't want you anywhere near that line, or anybody else that we care about. I can't trust that someone else is going to stand up and take a bullet or a bomb for you and you care too much about what would happen to them to even let them do it.”

“Betsy-”

“Look what happened with Mason, with Carla, with you! It's so dangerous and I get that someone has to fix it, I even thought I'd someday be one of those people that does. It just doesn't need to be you. I can't go through this again, Mum. I can't have another person I care about die on me again. I can't do it Mum, I-I can't-”

Lisa got out of the car, shutting the door and quickly rounded it to open the passenger door and immediately tugged a distraught Betsy into her arms. 

In her exhausted state, the teenager could barely stay upright and pitched forward into her, sending them both flying back the short distance onto the gravel pavement. 

Ignoring the fresh rips grazing her palms from the rough surface, Lisa righted them gently, pulling Betsy onto her lap and holding her against her, as she felt two arms winding tight around her shoulders, pressing her face into her neck as they broke down. 

Finally mourning their losses together instead of alone.

Chapter Text

Something shifted between mother and daughter after their emotional conversation in the pub carpark. 

Perhaps it was the dam finally breaking on the three years’ worth of grief that had been fissuring their relationship in stealthy strides.

Or, having finally reached a kind of mutual understanding of each other's pain, a soft, unsteady trust had begun to build between them.

One that was cultivated by Lisa's steadfast determination to support Betsy through the funeral and its aftermath.

Betsy was still chippy with Lisa. And DS Swain was still slow to clock off in the evenings.

But the atmosphere between them had thawed into something less abrasive and gradually resembled something a few quips short of comfortable banter.

Baby steps.

Of course, things had also changed with the knowledge of Carla's deteriorating health.

Just that morning, she had told them that, in spite of her reluctant acceptance of a kidney donated by her jailbird brother, the cost of it was something that she could ill-afford.

News that didn't sit well with any of them, as it happened.

The entire journey back from the hospital, Betsy found herself wracking her brains to think of a solution.

Her Mum was doing the same, of course.

But the sharp fear that briefly coated those jade eyes with a glossed sheen didn't go unnoticed by the teenager.

She couldn't take another loss again.

Neither of them could, for that matter.

Once they got into the flat, Betsy hurried over to put the kettle on, anxious to talk to her mother about their situation.

Because it was theirs now. 

Carla was part of them.

“So, what happens now with this transplant thing?”

Lisa, tiredly divesting herself of her leather coat, discarded it on the back of the chair, running a hand unsteady though the end of her ponytail, as she moved around the lounge with no shortage of unease.

“I don't know, love. I mean, Carla said she can manage the money somehow, but I really don't see how, not without selling up either here or the factory. Maybe there's a way of getting a top-up on her mortgage or something like that, but I don't know.”

She shrugged off her words in dismissal.

“I mean, we'd barely got around to talking about that sort of stuff just yet. And assuming all goes well, she'd be off work for ages and that doesn't lend itself to favourable circumstances for a loan.”

The blonde paused to brace herself against the back of the sofa, flitting over her own financial circumstances in her mind.

She'd been careful over the years.

Especially now, what with it just being her and Betsy, she'd been cautious in making sure that her wages went the distance without it having too much of an effect on Betsy.

As it was, she still had her widow's entitlements for Becky under the PPS.

That had been originally earmarked for university for Betsy. Herself and Becky had talked about it hypothetically, when the new regulations came in a few years ago. 

Perhaps if she-

“Hello, Earth to Swain?!”

Lisa jerked out of her thoughts at the interruption of her daughter, who had been trying to get her attention for the past five minutes.

“What, sorry?”

Betsy rolled her eyes.

“I was asking if you wanted a brew.”

She softened in relief.

“Oh right, sorry Bets. That'd be nice, ta.”

Pouring out a second mug and leaving it to cool on the counter, the teenager looked back over at her mother, observing the tightness in her shoulders, forehead furrowed with worry.

“Mum?”

“Yes, darling?”

She shuffled over to her timidly, still second-guessing her instincts of showing affection.

“Do you want a hug?”

Eyes watering a little, Lisa huffed out a fond laugh. 

“Sure.”

Narrow arms wound their way across her broad shoulders, as she sank into the comfort offered, cataloguing it in her memory.

“Thank you.”

They'd been a bit more tactile since that day they'd opened up to each other. Especially since Betsy had expressed how much she missed that part of her relationship with Becky.

It had broken Lisa's heart to hear her tell her of the times her daughter found herself halfway to her room some nights, only to stop herself when she realised that her mother wasn't likely to wake up after a heavy shift and was reluctant to disturb her if she had an early one the next day.

Eventually, she'd stopped looking for that contact altogether when they spent so little time together without friction.

Ever since, Lisa had made a point of checking in with her at least once every day, making sure that whatever disagreements they were having were parked for at least an hour, so that she and Betsy could work on building up that part of their relationship again.

The detective placed a quick kiss atop her blonde head, before pulling back to give Betsy a once over.

She'd noticed her distraction since they'd left the hospital.

Something was churning away in her mind.

“Are you doing alright, love? I know this is a lot after everything that's been going on lately.”

The teenager shrugged the rest of the way out of her embrace, heading back to grab their mugs.

“I'm fine. Just been thinking.”

Lisa couldn't help herself.

“Oof, don't hurt yourself then.”

Betsy huffed dramatically, rolling her eyes. But the slight upturn of her lips, twitching, betrayed her amusement.

“Ha ha, Mother. You're hilarious.”

She grinned back at her.

“I know. I'm here all night, as it happens.”

Shuffling back over to the sofa, the youngster handed one mug to her mum, before throwing herself carelessly onto it, somehow miraculously avoiding spilling her tea as she did so.

“Careful with that!”

“It's fine! I've literally half it drank anyway, don't burst a blood vessel over it.”

Lisa decided to join her, sinking into the opposite corner, sipping quietly at the contents of her mug.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments; letting the silence of the flat envelop them after the chaos of the hospital ward earlier in the day.

Eventually, Lisa's curiosity got the better of her.

“Go on then, what were you thinking about?”

Betsy went to say something, but stopped short, her nose crinkling with uncertainty.

“Forget it, it's a stupid idea.”

Lisa shook her head at her in soft admonishment.

“I'm not going to be able to judge that for certain if I don't know what it is.”

The teenager sighed heavily, leaned forward to place her mug on the coffee table, and retreated further back into the sofa, pulling her knees up in front of her, loosely clasping her hands across them, as she considered her thoughts carefully.

“Is there any way we can help Carla get the money for the transplant? I mean, realistically, she'd said there's a wait for donors anyway and when Rob is right there, it makes more sense to go for that. Even if he is messed up.”

She looked away.

“Actually, maybe because he's messed up.”

Lisa gave her a sharp look.

“Bets, it doesn't work like that.”

Which earned her another eye roll.

“I know, I know, he's serving time so that's the justice deemed reasonable by the court, I've heard you and Mum banging on about it loads of times. But like also, he went off and just murdered some woman. Seems fairly reasonable he should get his own life expectancy chopped up a bit. Besides, Carla is his sister, she's family.”

Lisa bit her lip, not wanting to show her own private agreement with the idea.

He really was the best hope they had for getting Carla a kidney.

God help them.

And she knew from her own surface-level digging that his behavioral records from Highfield seemed squeakier than squeaky clean. 

She made a mental note to follow it up when she got the chance- it'd be a mistake to trust blindly when it came to his sort.

Verification was the way to go on this one.

“I've been wondering about that myself.”

She paused then to clarify.

“About how best we can help, I mean. And honestly, I'm not sure if I have nearly enough saved up to help cover the cost of it. I even looked into the possibility of a promotion.”

Seeing Betsy about to tear into her for the idea, she put out an arm to stall her ire.

“Purely for the sake of seeing what benefit it'd be financially to help pay towards it. Not as a long-term thing.”

That knocked the wind out of her sails somewhat, leading Lisa to reach over to take one of her hands.

“I was listening when you talked about how you feel about my job. While I've no plans on giving it up, I'm not going glory hunting just for the sake of it either. Moving up the ranks again would mean more hours and I think it'd serve everyone better if I didn't start piling those up too often. And if it came to that, I'd talk to you first before I'd do anything.”

Recalling her most recent discussion with Costello on it, she slumped into the sofa somewhat defeatedly, while gently squeezing Betsy's hand with reassurance.

“It came to nothing, anyway. It'd be harder for me to take a step back down the line and neither I nor Carla have the kind of time needed to speed through the necessary modules to apply for an inspector's post. Not to mention how messy everything has been lately. It’s a non-starter.”

Betsy edged closer to her, to take hold of her arm as she finally voiced her suggestion.

“What about the money Mum left me?”

Taken aback, Lisa stared at her.

“What about it?”

“What if I drew that down and gave it to Carla? It's surely enough to cover at least half the costs, so it could make it easier to find the rest of it between whatever she's got herself.”

Lisa was gobsmacked.

This was a million miles away from what she could've envisaged after the scene Betsy put on at the Rovers when she first got wind of the pair of them seeing each other.

Part of her was shocked, certainly.

But another, larger part of her was warmed and heartened by the generosity behind the offer, particularly when she'd seen plenty of examples of the more self-serving and unthinking sides of Betsy's character in action over the last few months.

It just went to show how far Carla had drawn herself into their family.

No longer would it be just the two of them anymore: she'd known as much from seeing Carla and Betsy together in the hospital ages back.

She was elated to know that she wasn't alone in wanting that change for their future.

But she had to put the kibosh on this idea, for Betsy's sake.

“Bets, that's a lot of money. I mean, you thought this surgery was the price of a house, for heaven's sake. Fifty grand would barely get you a half-decent deposit on one these days. You'd be setting yourself back a lot for when you'd want your independence in the future. I can't support that.”

She nudged at her shoulder playfully.

“I'm under no illusions that you'd want to be stuck with your old Mum for the rest of your days.”

Betsy smirked.

“Well, you're not all that bad. I'm sure I'd manage somehow. Though you'd probably cramp my style a bit. Or just turf me out at some point after a row.”

“Hm, that is certainly one plausible outcome”, she pondered with amusement, earning her a whack on the arm from the outraged teenager for her antics.

However, she quickly regained control of the conversation, as she sought to reason with her.

“But anyway, you're forgetting that Carla probably wouldn't accept that from you, not just off the bat. She's grafted hard to get what she has, done nothing else all her life. I could see her not taking it out of stubbornness alone, not to mention that it'd leave you high and dry. I'm going to have to say no. Besides, I wouldn't be comfortable with it and I have to sign off on that withdrawal too. There's no knowing what could happen in the future.”

“Exactly. There's no knowing what could happen. But if Carla doesn't get this transplant, then she's not got much of a future, has she?”

Betsy pulled back, curling into herself.

“Where does that leave us, if she doesn't make it?”

“Bets-”

“You're not the only one that cares about her! She's good to me, even when I'm a cow to her, she listens and even if I don't like how she goes about it sometimes, she looks out for me and goes out of her way to help me. And it's not just ‘cause you two are together.”

Then she blushed as she realised how open she'd been about how she felt.

“Well, I don't think that's just it anyway, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.”

Lisa felt a smile tugging at her lips at her earnestness.

“No, darling, I don't think you are. She cares about you too. A lot. I don't even think we'd be able to have this conversation if we hadn't had her sticking her oar in every so often, getting us to work on our relationship. We owe her a lot.”

“Exactly. So it's worth it, to use the money for this.”

Betsy looked up at her, beseechingly, the vulnerability of the discussion making her look younger than her sixteen years.

“You can't put a price on family.”

Lisa smiled, feeling her eyes well up at the heartfelt pronouncement.

“Indeed you can't”, she said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in for a cuddle.

“At least let me ask her about it?”

Lisa considered the proposition carefully.

It would help.

It'd be more than she had to personally offer to the cause. But putting those two together would make a significant dent in the total outlay.

There just had to be a better way of approaching it, a means of making it seem fair for everyone all round.

Suddenly, it came to her.

“Right then, if you're sure you're set on this, how about we suggest a loan of it? That way Carla gets the money and will be more likely to accept it, while you also get it back over time when she's able to pay you back. Because if I know anything about her, she'll want to do things her way.”

She looked down proudly at her daughter.

“Good job she's met her match on that front.”

Betsy beamed back at her.

“Now you've got two of us to argue with.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow.

“Erm, I thought we were aiming to avoid doing that all the time?”

“Come on, you love it really.”

Lisa brought a hand to her forehead, sighing wearily.

“I'm not sure I recall ever saying anything like that.”

“But banter is different, Mother dearest, obvs.Besides, it's too late to go chucking her off now, you're stuck with us both.”

That us did have a nice ring to it, she had to admit.

Lisa watched, her eyes sparkling as she felt an overwhelming fondness wash over her.

“Think I'd already gathered that much, love.”

Fizzing with excitement at being in a position to actually help for once, Betsy quickly got to her feet, half-dragging Lisa up with her as she did so.

“Come on, we have to go and tell Carla before she does something ridiculous like go off ringing a loan shark or summat! And we might just make it in time to the bank if we're sharp enough about it.”

“Whoa, slow down Bets, there's not enough time to-”

“Yes there is! Visiting hours are still open for another twenty minutes yet. Shift your boots, grab your coat and let's get a move on. Honestly, I pay more attention to the important stuff than you do sometimes.”

Shaking her head at the teenager's exuberance, Lisa couldn't hold back her laughter. 

Perhaps things were going to be alright after all.