Missing Scene: Christmas at Ellie's

This is a fun little extra which was suggested to me by the amazing Anna. After I wrote about Ellie's uncomfortable sofa in Convalescence, she had a funny idea for Christmas...I wanted to draw it, but I think that was a BIT beyond my capabilities. Oh well, hope you get a nice mental image anyway!

Recap: This is set after Convalescence, probably the first Christmas after the events of the story. I know it's almost May, but...I couldn't resist. This one's for you, Anna!

It isn't snowing, but it's bloody freezing outside.

Alec adjusts his coat and tries to burrow his face deeper into his scarf. The coastal breezes whip through the town of Broadchurch and despite his layers of protective clothing, seem to chill him right down to his bones. Even the short walk down the lane to Ellie's house is icy.

He'll never admit it out loud. He's Scottish, after all, and made of sterner stuff than these southerners. But privately he curses the winter winds coming in from the Channel.

He spots Mark and Beth Latimer peering at him from their front window. Mark is holding a bundle of blankets, and their daughter is no doubt snuggled deeply into them. He gives them a quick wave—being neighborly is just part of life here, and he's learning—and then turns up the drive toward Ellie's front door.

He hardly knocks before it's thrown open, and the noise from inside is startling after the silence around the rest of the town.

"Happy Christmas!" Ellie says, shouting over the ruckus Tom is making with his new drum-kit (thanks, Alec knows, to a windfall and some misplaced generosity on Lucy's part). Fred darts through the room behind her, thrilled with his boxy and brightly colored power-wheels…thing. Alec isn't sure what the proper word is for it, but it's clear that Fred loves it. As he steps into the room, reluctantly surrendering himself to the chaos, he spots Daisy seated on the couch. She looks beautiful in her red sweater, already so close to being a full-blown woman…it is stunning, because it can't have been sixteen years already, can it?

She smiles up at him. "You've been ages!"

"Market was packed. Ellie forgot to mention she was sending me on a fool's errand," he replies, moving toward the kitchen with his shopping bags.

"Are you saying you didn't get the pudding?" Ellie asks, swooping around him to grasp the bags and peek.

"'Course I got the Christmas pudding. One benefit of being a generally unpleasant arsehole is that people tend to get out of your way." His lips curl up ever so slightly into a satisfied smile. "Pudding, gravy and brandy all sorted out."

"Thank God!" Ellie is a blur of motion as unloads the bags. She can, finally, finish cooking Christmas dinner. Daisy gets off of the couch to help, stopping briefly by Alec's side.

"If I don't keep an eye on things, she's like to burn the house down," she whispers to him, and he grins as she makes him her conspirator.

"She never was much of a cook," he admits, and smiles at the sound of his daughter's laugher as she joins Ellie. He takes off his coat and hangs it by the door, pausing for a moment with his hand on the fabric. It was a gift from Ellie for his birthday, and he is glad that he is still in Broadchurch to use it after all. Very glad.

Then he turns and joins the boys in the sitting room, praising Tom's (frankly abysmal) drumming and jumping out of the way just in time to avoid a nasty collision between Fred's power wheels and his shins.

He finds himself feeling very cheerful about it all. Happy Christmas, indeed.

The five of them are all but useless after dinner and pudding. With Daisy's help, the turkey turned out just right, and Tom has finally stopped banging on his drums. Alec thinks they'd better stock up on some headache medicine and ear plugs, or else no one on either side of the lane is going to sleep any time soon.

He lets his long legs sprawl out in front of him, and his arm is draped casually over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against Ellie's shoulder. She looks utterly content, a satisfied mother having done another excellent job at creating a perfect holiday for her children. Daisy is smiling at them both, but when Alec glances her way she lets her gaze drift back down to her tablet, where a holiday movie is playing on the screen.

Then, suddenly, Ellie remembers something. "I've got one more gift for you," she says as she bounces up from the couch. Alec looks up at her, and her wide and mischievous smile immediately lets him know he should be a tiny bit worried about whatever this last surprise is.

She hands him a small parcel which she's had waiting above the fireplace. He takes it, and it's thin and soft in his big hands. Some sort of clothing? He tears the paper, giving her one last sideways look. She is positively beaming.

He unfolds the fabric and reveals a T-shirt. As he turns it toward himself, he spots the words "Worst Cop in Britain," emblazoned over the chest. He gapes at it for a second, completely unsure of how to respond…

And then he bursts out laughing.

"Is that what you think of me then?" he asks her, still chuckling.

"Well, the press doesn't always get it wrong." She pokes his chest. "You can't solve crime without me, after all."

He shakes his head at her in baffled affection, then pulls her close for a kiss.

"Mushy!" Tom protests, half-asleep, from the chair across from the couch.

He'll get used to it. These days Alec and Ellie are mushy a lot.

Ellie wakes up alone on Boxing Day, but she's not alarmed. She can smell breakfast and coffee. Alec usually gets up before her, and she takes a moment to stretch out before heading downstairs to join him. The kids won't be up yet, although it probably won't be much longer before Daisy is awake. She's very pleased that they're all together for the holiday under one roof.

She pads into the kitchen, smiling at Alec while moving instinctively for the coffee pot as he wishes her a good morning. It takes her a second glance in his direction to realize that he is, in fact, wearing his shirt.

"You've put it on!" She is laughing, her grin lighting up the whole kitchen.

"'Course I have. Free advertising," he retorts as he hands her a plate of eggs, toast and beans. Still laughing, she carries her plate out to the sitting room so she can put on the telly while she eats.

Her eyes move over to the couch and she stops in her tracks.

"Oi, Hardy! Did you put that there?" she demands, and Alec sticks his head out from the kitchen.

Taped the middle cushion of the couch is a sign which reads, "Worst Sofa in Britain."

Her only response is laughter as he ducks back into the kitchen before she can lob her toast at him.

"Wanker," she calls in his direction, but there's no denying the affection behind the word. She very deliberately sits just to the right of the handmade sign and digs into her breakfast. Christmas with Alec Hardy has been very happy after all.