Chapter Text
The first time Holly found her dad passed out fully clothed in a bathtub, she had thought he was dead. She had dropped to her knees and put her ear to the soaked cloth covering his chest. At first the roar in her head from her own panicked heartbeat had left her unable to hear anything.
Then she had identified the steady thumps and she had collapsed onto the tiles from relief. A second later she had scrambled up again, convinced that she had misheard, or that it had stopped as soon as she pulled away.
"If I count fifteen heartbeats, then he'll be ok today. Fifteen is a good number, just like in CPR. Five times three and then he’s safe for sure", she had whispered comfortingly to herself, after several cycles of the same anxious thoughts.
Her dad had been alive, but that morning, three months after the fire, was when Holly realized that she had lost both her parents after all. She gave up on asking him for help with her homework, and expecting him to remember to pick her up from school, and waiting for him to make her dinner.
That day in late February, on the anniversary of her mom's birthday, Holly had felt more lonely than she had ever felt in her life. Now, loneliness was a familiar companion; a repeating pattern in the wallpaper of her life. Every morning for the last half year, Holly found her dad passed out somewhere, and even when he twitched in his sleep or made noises, her brain wouldn't let her focus on anything until she counted fifteen heartbeats.
Every so often, in the evenings, her dad would turn on the radio and take her hands and dance all silly, to make her laugh. He'd ask her how school was, and he'd tuck her into bed and tell her a stupid story like he used to. On those days, Holly would let herself hope that maybe in the morning, he'd be sober and awake, and he'd have a packed lunch ready for her, and he'd drive her to school and be her dad again.
Sometimes he'd even manage it for a day or two. It never lasted.
Six months after the fire, Holly's dad had gifted her a necklace that had belonged to her mother. It had survived the flames by the simple luck of being forgotten in the car the night they lost everything. He had apologized, tears brimming his eyes, and had promised her that he was going to do better.
He'd stayed sober for three weeks, and Holly didn't think he slept more than an hour a night the entire time. When she had begged him to go to a doctor, he had yelled at her for the first time in her life. The following morning, she had woken up to find him unconscious on the diving board outside.
She had nearly toppled them both into the waterless, cigarette-filled pool, when she climbed on top of him, to listen for the familiar rhythm that would reassure her he was alive for another day.
-
Three weeks after the Amelia case had finished up, her dad and Mr Healy had come home from a different case they had decided to take on together. Holly had cracked open her bedroom door and peeked out into the hallway. She had watched as her dad stumbled and tripped, with Mr Healy's strong arms around his waist holding him up.
Holly had closed the door and sobbed, blocking her ears with her pillow so that she wouldn't have to hear the front door close, as Mr Healy walked out of their lives forever.
But when she couldn't bear it anymore and got up to make sure her dad's heart was still beating, there Mr Healy had been, sitting on the couch with her dad's head in his lap. Holly had inched towards him, shaking like a leaf, and asked him if she could check on her dad.
Her dad was snoring audibly, but she had to count anyway. Mr Healy had smiled at her gently and stroked her hair, and Holly had felt treacherous hope tremble in her lungs, leaving no room for air.