The drive to the hospital was a blur.

One minute Leah was in the passenger seat of a flash Audi, staring out the window, and the next, she was following the DCI through the main entrance of a hospital. To make such a simple task worse, she had to hide her face from the clicks of cameras belonging to two insistent people from the press, because they clearly couldn't get enough of her story.

Safe, but glum with embarrassment, they were then met by a couple of officers. Familiar officers judging by how the DCI spoke with them and instructed them to deal with the issue outside.

When the minor setback was in the past, it was back to the two of them, and Leah, in her mostly silent presence, tried not to get lost with all the dizzying turns and the trek up the stairs. But, it was difficult when she saw nurses in different coloured uniforms with each ward they crossed, the waiting chairs, the constant signage, spare beds, wheelchairs and the definitive smell of cleaning products, because they were all keeping her eyes wandering around the place.

In short, hospitals were not designed to make visitors calm.

It made Leah nervous, exhibiting symptoms of clammy palms and a dry mouth, but it wasn't solely because of the setting, or that she was following a member of the police through a maze of double doors.

It was because she was seeing him.

She had been imagining the worst, wondering how long Steven had been awake and alone, and how many questions he'd asked but not received an answer too. And then she was doubting if her presence would even be something he would want, and if this whole agreement to see him was a huge mistake.

Her nerves didn't settle when she was stopped next to the last section of private rooms either, because behind a lady and two police officers, a little girl was swinging her legs over the edge of a chair with a teddy in her hands.

Leah couldn't look ahead, which meant she was left to stare at the glass pane, and from the acute reflection, the room had the outline of an occupied bed.

She couldn't see perfectly from the privacy tint, but she was so glad because it meant that Steven couldn't see her seizing up with an outrageous number of nerves.

"You can have about half an hour or so with him," DCI Parker explained, stealing her attention. "Do you want to go in first or bring Liv in with you?"

Leah felt like she'd swallowed her tongue, deciphering the expression in front of her.

"Um, I-I'll take her with me."

There was a nod, some activity passing the message along, but Leah was glued to the spot.

She was back to staring at the door with the silver looped handle, and rubbing the pads of her fingers underneath her sleeves. She was trying not to tune into the conversation that was happening just a few metres down the corridor, but a pattering of feet on the shiny floor was always going to turn her head.

Stumbling towards her was Liv and an overenthusiastic social worker reaching for her hand to keep her on her feet. It was the same lady that had been conversing with officers.

Leah didn't have a clue on a toddler's development- talking, walking, or cognitive functions, but if she could hazard a guess, she would expect this young one to be behind in all of those things, and that thought made her sympathise greatly.

Liv was whining to let go of the lady's hand that also had her teddy clutched tightly in, and as soon as she was free, she continued on her unstable mission.

Leah, in a daze, looked down when small hands wrapped around her leg.

"Up up," a small voice demanded, and it was followed by a dramatic tug on jeans and an irresistibly pleading pout.

Ignoring the social worker's insistence on saying please, Leah crouched down to reclaim her leg back. But as soon as she was at the correct height, she was met with a shy girl holding her teddy close to her face.

"Pwease?" Liv tried again, taking on board a word she must've been familiar with. Perhaps, one of the few she had been taught.

Leah didn't know the entire reason for her inability to speak, but she was fairly certain it was partly because she was looking at an innocent little girl who had been through too much for her age, and with no idea of how many people had been worried about her.

Holding out her hands, something she should have done straight away, Leah broke into a friendly smile.

"Come on then."

Fear of rejection gone, Leah could relax with Steven's child seemingly comfortable in her arms. Preoccupied with a teddy, but it was better than a dangerously wobbly frown that she had been met with just a second ago.

"She likes you," the social worker said. She was a fair bit older, and had one of those annoying voices that was perfect for working with children.

"Yeah," Leah chuckled nervously, silently begging for this woman's departure. She was standing way too close for comfort, and prodding the teddy bear. "I guess she does."

Thankfully, the awkward wait for goodbye came sooner rather than later.

"Any problems, I'll be out here."

"Thanks," Leah replied, appreciating the space when it returned.

Even Liv seemed happier, resting her head on a shoulder, and she pressed her teddy into her nose.

"Let's go see daddy," Leah whispered, reaching for the door.

She stole a final glance where the DCI stood with a doctor, probably discussing Steven's condition, and then pushed on through with a deep breath to quiet down the pesky nerves.

She let the door click close behind her, so far avoiding the patient she now shared the space with. But when she was already too far in a loop of fearing the worst, she had to give in before her heart leaped out of her chest.

When Leah lifted her eyes, the sight not only broke her, but it didn't allow her to look away.

Steven was awake, lying in a classic hospital gown in a kitted out bed with his medical notes stuffed in a blue folder by his feet. Various stitches and bruising covered his face, and where there was a large dressing patch visible on his chest, an IV bag attached to a standing pole also had a smaller tube disappearing under the open collar of his gown.

A few monitors, measuring who knows what, were hooked up to him too.

But, in his heart-breaking state, it was so clearly Steven, and he was trying his best to sit up by adjusting the pillows behind him, and put on a smile for his new company.

"Is that my baby blue?"

Even his voice sounded painful, but Leah was determined to keep up the excitement of the reunion.

"Do you know who that is?" she asked the girl in her arms, gracing a smile.

Liv didn't respond, finger in her mouth, but she turned to look at the man lying in bed.

Leah took a couple steps nearer, watching Steven push his messy hair back, which also allowed her to take a closer note of all of the inflictions that littered his face.

It hurt. It hurt a lot, but despite it all, Steven was still breaking into a warm smile, held his hands out ready, and was just waiting to hold his little girl.

"I know I look a little bit bruised and battered but - My god, hi baby look at you! My gorgeous girl is all grown up!"

Leah couldn't deny him any longer, and she was bending her knees to allow Liv to settle her feet on the edge of the bed whilst gently supporting her back in the transfer.

Steven, with his hands secured around Liv's middle and guiding her to sit, winced.

"Forgot, not there."

"Other side?" Leah suggested, ghosting her hands to help, and not quite realising the full extent of his injuries.

He nodded stiffly and shuffled his daughter over to his right side, careful not to disturb the contraption attached to the top of his hand, and the finger clip monitoring his oxygen.

The action made him breathe deeply and put a visible strain in his movement, but Steven didn't seem to care about it.

"Is she-"

"She's fine," Leah finished for him. "Don't worry."

It may have been a white lie, but watching Steven's eyes light up for the first time was too precious to let fade. The spark had returned, and his battered smile, amongst the stitches on his nose, the black rings under his eyes and the stretch from the stitched laddered gash on his cheek, was simply beautiful.

A real smile that was probably the first in a very long time.

"It's so good to see you baby blue. Daddy missed you so much," Steven mumbled in overwhelming relief. He buried his face in a much longed hug that Liv was just as happy to be a part of like she knew.

Whilst he was distracted, Leah switched sides and pulled up one of the chairs by the window.

It was a nice room- well, not the block of apartments as a view, but there was a small television up high, an ensuite and a bedside. A second glance at that bedside showed it was occupied by a familiar locket, and a black notebook.

Leah wondered if it was the same one she had given back to him in the garden, but she felt Steven look up and catch her snooping session.

"The guys? Are they...?"

"They're okay. At the station, and not allowed to see you," she supplied, pushing her knees together, and then pressing her palms onto the chair underneath her thighs.

She watched him smile back at his daughter and press a kiss to her hair that would probably end up like his when it was grown out. A similar shade of dark brown veering black, but naturally straighter instead of his wavy layers and straggled curls as ends.

Leah had a sudden flash of recall, as she picked out smudges of resemblance between the duo.

"Oh, Joe wanted me to tell you he's glad you're okay and...I told you so."

"Of course he did," Steven muttered, tapping his fingers that were splayed around his daughter's waist. He was holding her steady, so her feet wouldn't give out on the bed in between his tickles of affection. "Your Uncle Joe is a right know-it-all, but daddy loves him very much."

Liv was making approving noises and then she pushed her teddy bear, which she still hadn't let go of, right into Steven's face.

"Who's this?" he enthused, tentatively removing a hand to peel the toy from his blackened eye.

"Ma 'inky!"

Steven pulled a shocked expression, looking between the bear and his daughter. He seemed to understand, or at least he had made a confident interpretation.

"As in the red ghost from Pacman Blinky or the three eyed fish Blinky from the Simpsons? My my, what have you been watching?"

Liv just bounced her feet and pointed to the teddy's face.

"Ah, the eye. Blinky- I see..." Steven handed back her bear before she fell into his chest trying to grab it.

He settled her down carefully so she was sitting, and so there was no longer a risk of knocking any of the delicate tubes and dressings.

He looked up in his happy daze.

"Did you know about this?"

Leah shook her head, amused at the warm sight. She had sat back in the chair, keeping a hint of a smile, but it slowly faded when she caught onto the fact Steven was still looking at her.

"You're hurt," he noted, something resembling a frown pinching his brow.

"Me?" Instinctively, Leah touched the area in which her own row of stitches were, and was grateful that her hair was hiding the majority of ear. "It's nothing."

Steven hesitated and adjusted his hand pressed on Liv's side. It was protective because she sat at the edge of his bed, but also loving because she had snuggled under his arm and was fiddling with the pink bow tie of her teddy.

"Can I...see?"

It was Leah's turn to twitch a frown, and a twisted stream of air escaped her mouth. It wasn't meant to be mocking, but she just didn't need his worry when he was in a much worse condition than she was.

"Please?" Steven added in objection.

A voice so soft with its intention made him too hard to resist, and the next thing she knew, Leah had dragged the chair as close as she could.

Her hair had fallen past her face looking down, and to tuck the locks back exposed the fresh bandage before she could play past it.

Steven's hand was on her face in an instant, the one that had been pressed against Liv, and he was lifting up his index finger so that the plastic clip didn't graze her ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, the side of his thumb lightly tracing the stitches. "I didn't mean to ignore you...and-"

Steven went quiet, briefly twitching his lip where the vertical cut had made a scab. It was probably irritating him.

His thumb paused on the subtle bumps of her stitches, pads of his fingers trailing down her neck where her hair grew from, and then his eyes flicked over to hers.

"I'm glad...you're here," he finished slowly, as if he was distracted.

Leah was distracted too, and hadn't looked away from his face.

She was studying every stitch, and every dark, aggressive shade of bruises that covered his skin. Took note of the stubble growth that he hadn't been able to shave around his mouth. How his eyes, which had black lines stemming from whatever damage had been caused to his nose, no longer looked so lost. Tired, but they had found remarkable purpose. And that every blink he gave her looked painful, just like every breath he drew into his recovering lungs.

She tried to say his name but she couldn't. Tell him to stop drowning her with unnecessary concern and focus on himself and his daughter, but her lips didn't convey the four consonants that were placed around the single repeated vowel that made up his name, because the eyes she was looking into were too inviting to spill words.

The heavy feelings that this man sent her, who proceeded to stretch out his palm on her cheek and subtly scratch his fingers on her neck again, were insufferable for Leah to manage. Her eyes fluttered closed on their own, shutting out the mix of warm browns that were too beautiful to be dedicated to her.

It was too much when his fingers moved again, shying further into the thickness of her hair behind her neck, which alone wrecked her with immense sadness, because it just felt so unforgivably nice.

So nice, that she started to cry.

It was a flood that she had been holding back, a miraculous dry patch that had been kept at bay for a few hours, but had returned and now escaped her in a bout of tight whimpers from her crushed chest.

"Leah? Hey, what's wrong? Did I- please don't cry."

Not only was it the first dialogue that had been shared between them in however long, but Steven's voice was so gentle, just like his palm that cupped her face, and if Leah didn't pull away soon, she would end up crying a river.

So, she did. She escaped his touch, hid her foggy vision, and propped her elbows on the edge of his bed. She laced her fingers together and knocked her thumbs onto the bridge of her nose and she was squeezing her eyes shut to stop the tears leaking down her cheeks.

Steven was fidgeting, whispering to Liv sweetly to get her to move a little, and then rapidly changing into a string of frustrated mumbles, clean from curses, with whatever he was trying to do.

Reach over to grab something. Sit more upright. Leah didn't know because she didn't want to open her eyes and be met with guilt. She already felt so congested with everything else in her life, and the stuffed crying that she kept as minimal as she could, was giving her another pounding headache.

"Argh, this stupid-"

Streams rolled down her cheeks, her muffled cries shook her shoulders, but Steven was peeling her wrist away, forcing her to unlace her hands, and forcing her to lift her head to refocus on the injuries that hurt her to see.

He was out of breath and looked in even more pain, disrupted the top of his gown so it was messy and showed more of the dressing, but his adventures before providing a physical touch had been to remove the clip from his finger, because there was nothing plastic prodding her wrist.

Bottom lip protruding above a quivering chin, Leah let her hands rest on the bed next to Liv's legs.

"Tell me?" Steven urged gently, covering every inch of her face with the distress that escaped in his voice. "Please, I-I don't want to see you cry."

Leah was almost grateful that two figures out of the corner of her eye allowed her to glance away from his increasing worry. It made her throat cease seeing the imprint of 'police' on their turned backs, but their presence was the distracting stimulus she needed.

She looked back to Liv first who was snuggled into her father's side with an expression that lacked understanding of the emotions, and then found her wobbly voice.

"Have y-you been told anything...by them?" she asked, in reference to the two officers that now stood outside.

Steven just shook his head.

"I-I think they will, after I'm gone but that's not the point- well, it is the point-"

"Leah," he interrupted, stopping the words that had started to tumble out in quick succession.

She was aware that his fingers still ghosted somewhere near her wrist, but Leah did not expect the graceful fumbling to hold her hand.

"The suspense is hurting me...literally," he said, teasing a pained smile.

He was right. The electric heart monitor had picked up from a normal resting rate. Not scarily high, but the last thing Leah needed was to cause him more strain because she was unable to formulate a sane sentence.

"I just- I don't want you to say sorry, b-because it's not your fault," she confessed, and without thinking, she lightly pressed her curled fingers to the side of his knuckles. It was like a reflex to do so, and although it was barely susceptible, she knew he felt it.

Steven was nodding supportively, agreeing indefinitely.

"I won't say sorry."

Leah was unconvinced by his brightened tone.

"Promise?"

"Promise," he echoed.

"Pwomise!" Liv chimed happily, making her presence known. She looked up from her teddy bear at Leah, and then tilted her chin up at her father.

Steven smiled and rubbed his other hand that was resting on Liv's tummy like he was so proud to have his daughter sitting beside him, at long long last.

"You were saying?"

Leah would have answered the hopeful tone, but the brush of his thumb on her knuckles panicked her, and she withdrew from whatever had been building.

She really had been very close to him.

"My parents picked me up earlier this morning," she recalled bleakly, trying not to look at the disappointment that filled Steven's eyes. She watched his hand return to Liv's side. "And I um...I tried telling them everything, but I...couldn't."

She was struggling with words again. They were haphazard and tense and she found herself staring at a spot on the floor under the bed and frowning over the things she knew. Like how she had been ridiculously worried about Steven, and that she had felt sick with nerves just walking through the hospital corridor.

"So, instead I had to listen to the news that my grandpa is unlikely to wake up from ICU which makes his arrest meaningless, and that my brother died before I could even say goodbye," she continued, the information she shared selecting itself.

Bland and emotionless.

"God, Leah. I-I'm so sorry."

She looked up and blanked a disapproving roll of her head onto her shoulder that stretched out her neck, because it really fucking hurt to hear an apology, especially from him when he was already dealing with enough.

"Right...you said- I'm sorry for saying sorry."

Leah slumped back into her chair, closing her eyes under a distorted frown, and wasn't quite sure if she was about to cry.

It was too much, again.

"Shall I...stop talking?" Steven offered quietly, probably trying to ease the silence.

"No, it's-" She stopped her sharp conflicts, and opened her eyes. She knew her face was all twisted, and that it told him it was too difficult to express how she felt in words. "Can we just talk about you? Instead?"

Steven was trying to read her, and Leah didn't like it. She also didn't like how her fingers twitched in her lap remembering the bumps and calming lines of his palm as it held her own.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, drawing out the scratch in her voice.

Steven was hesitant, but gave in with a sigh, and rested his head back on the pillows.

"Better than I did," he answered, but the pause that followed was full of pondering. "Sort of...eh, not really."

"Are you on...pain relief?"

He tried a half-hearted chuckle, but his left palm flew to his chest and the humour contorted into silent pain.

"Yes, but because of my little problem, the dose does nothing so they're just pumping me full of methadone."

Leah was quiet. Steven wasn't even looking at her anymore. His voice was drained from enthusiasm. His body language was tired. The energy he had summoned at the start, had completely disappeared.

"Something like six weeks to eight weeks recovery for this-" Steven gestured loosely to his chest, "Which means lots of bedrest and no strenuous vocal activity."

There was second hand exhaustion from listening to him; Leah could feel it. Her nose was still stuffed, tears threatened, and something bad was going to happen because she could just feel it.

Liv was getting fidgety and tried to stand up. She was holding onto Steven's closest leg to spin herself around, grasping onto his gown to keep her balance, but she made one wrong move with her hand, and pushed too hard on a bruised chest.

Steven inhaled sharply through his teeth, snapping his head up. His hands gripped Liv's waist and peeled her away so she fell back onto his good leg. He was still considerate when he moved her, but the way he jumped up and lost his composure for a simple second, was the bad mistake that had been lurking in the shadows.

"Careful baby, that's sore."

Leah, who had been unable to move, watched in horror the regret that washed over Steven's bruised face as soon as the catastrophe started.

"No no no, I'm sorry I-I didn't mean to raise my voice," he retraced quickly, desperately trying to make amends with a cuddle. "Shh Liv, please, please don't cry. Daddy's sorry."

It was ear piercing, listening to the shrills of cries that echoed around them. Steven patted his daughter's back, trying his best to hug the noise away, but Liv was kicking her legs at him, kneeing him in all the wrong places, and forcing him to bite his scabbed lip to stay quiet.

Leah had to make herself intervene.

"Steven, let me-"

The brisk knock at the door stopped her in her tracks, and it was the sign that her minutes were up and had shamefully ended in the worst possible way.

DCI Parker walked in, all professional in her work attire. Her attention, along with the social worker who had appeared in the blink of an eye, skipped past her, and landed, understandably, on Liv screaming her lungs out.

Leah stumbled out of the way, hitting the chair at an angle with the back of her leg, and Liv was rescued and reclaimed into the arms of experience that followed with a ridiculous rollercoaster of soothing words.

And the hardest part of it all, there was no fight against it.

Steven was too weak to say, or do anything, and Leah, who had been numbed motionless, just stood and watched everything unfold before her.

When the heart-breaking cries faded away, DCI Parker surprisingly didn't take over the situation. Instead, she held up two fingers to indicate two more minutes and Leah, appreciatively, gave a small nod of acknowledgement and watched the door close again.

"I made her cry," Steven whimpered, when they were alone. His voice was thick with tears. "I made my own daughter cry."

"No you didn't."

"She hates m-me."

Disagreeing strongly, Leah perched on the edge of his bed. It broke a piece of her heart to look at the large hands with a few bruised knuckles covering his face to hide the streams of tears.

She hovered her own out of sympathy, but was caught deciding where she could rest it without causing him further discomfort. Delicately, she touched his leg in a vague hope it would help.

"She's probably just tired and hungry. It's a lot for a little girl to take in."

Steven didn't move. He didn't look at her. He hadn't really looked at her the same since she had pushed him away. Since she had pushed his comfort away, selfishly, and now she was getting a taste of her own bitter medicine.

Steven was crying underneath his hands, and it was unbearable. His chest jumped pitifully and her hand that rested on his leg was doing nothing.

There was nothing she could do.

"I'll...see you soon," Leah said tensely, in the awkward silence that not even the beeping machine could save.

She stood up, and walked with her head down towards the door. She looked back one last time with her hand braced over the handle, but there was nothing waiting for her. No man that wanted to see her anymore.

Her heart dropped to her stomach, and forced a sickly swallow.

The cool air of the corridor was not as welcoming as she wanted it to be, and the sympathising expression of the awaiting woman just riddled her with more guilt.

"Your mother is waiting for you by the main entrance," DCI Parker said, when the door was closed.

"Thanks," Leah mumbled through a strained sigh, but she was beyond the definition of upset to care what anyone had done for her.

It was kind to call her mum, but she needed some space, and there was no way she could provide the missing link that her parents wanted to so desperately hear. Not after that.

Leah needed all the strength she could get to say goodbye, and she had about seventy hours to find it.

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