A/N: As promised here is the next chapter. For those who got the update with this chapter – I posted another the day before, just in case you are confused ;) (which you might be anyway as it's been ages since I updated this story). Hope you enjoy. 6 more days before Series 3 starts!

Chapter 13 - Fixed

"Daisy? Darlin', wake up. The movie's over."

Her father's soft Scottish lilt wasn't stern enough to convince her to open her eyes. Quite on the contrary. It made her want to snuggle against his warm body and curl up into a ball like she used to as a child. He carefully freed his trapped arm from under her shoulders.

"Please, darlin', you have to wake up. We have to get you home," he insisted.

"Why can't I stay here?" she mumbled sleepily.

Sudden tension in his body pushed his bony elbow into her rib cage, ruining her comfortable spot at his side.

"You would want that? To stay over?"

The insecurity in his voice pained her. Guilt over her own actions this past year bubbled up while she watched him fidget with a spec of imaginary dust on his trousers.

"Not that I have a problem with you staying. It'd be nice. Don't have a room though. You could have my bed, I guess. Would need new sheets. And there aren't enough pillows. Would you want to stay for breakfast? I'm not sure if I have anything you'd like to eat," he babbled along nervously.

She sat up and stretched. "Dad, you're rambling," she asserted with a yawn.

"Sorry," he murmured, his ears turning red.

It surprised her how easily she made him feel embarrassed these days.

"I can take the sofa, Dad. You need your beauty sleep in a proper bed," she stated, unfazed by his fretting over the lack of extra sleeping accommodations.

His horrified expression made her laugh which promptly drove a lovely pink hue on his pale cheeks.

He dragged his hands down his face. "Maybe this is not a good idea," he muttered under his breath.

Distress and sadness warred on his features, leaving behind a deep furrow on his forehead and a pit of sorrow in Daisy's stomach. They still had a long way to go. She put her hand on his arm and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Dad, it's fine. I'll sleep wherever you want me to. I would love to stay. You could make breakfast tomorrow, and I'll make you tea, like we used to." She put all the encouragement she could into her words.

It was moments like this when she wondered what had happened to him in the year they hadn't spoken. Her heart ached when he retreated into his shell, shying away from doing normal things with her. He seemed overwhelmed and too scared by the task of human interaction, and all she wanted to do was hug him and tell him everything was okay.

He searched her face, suspicious like a wounded animal, and his eyes betrayed his disbelief. He must have found something to reassure him though, because his tight lips relaxed into a smile, turning him back into the father she remembered. He nodded as if to affirm to himself he'd made the right assessment, blinked a few times, and then looked her straight in the eye.

"I think I'd like that."

Daisy beamed. "Great. We need to let Mum know. Could you call her?"

His reaction wasn't what she would have expected. One would think she had asked him to jump into a snake pit. The color drained from his face and he squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa.

"Daisy, she's not going to like hearing it from me, you know," he argued hesitantly.

"Oh, come on, Dad. She's not that bad. She's got nothing against us spending time together," she countered.

He glared at her and then growled, "I'm not so sure about that."

He took a deep breath, and getting up, he sighed, "Fine. I'll call her."

His discomfort was obvious. Daisy couldn't help but think him cheating on her mother ultimately would always leave him ill-at-ease when he interacted with her.

"Why don't you wait here, all right?"

He stalked off to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar. It didn't take long until his raised voice echoed down the hallway. The temptation to eavesdrop was too big. Daisy tiptoed over and hid next to the cracked door. She peered inside the small kitchen, listening in to a conversation she wasn't meant to hear.

He was pacing up and down, one hand on his hip.

"... wasn't planned. It got late and she's tired." He rolled his eyes at her answer.

"No. She suggested it. I'm not putting any ideas in her head. I would never-"

She must have cut him off. Pressing his lips to a thin line, he fell silent and ceased to pace about.

"Tess, I can't drive her home. You know that."

He grabbed the back of a chair and kneaded the wood until his knuckles turned white. His overt exasperation with her mother made her regret she had asked him to call.

He shook his head. "No, it's not fixed. I've told you before. That's not how it works."

Daisy frowned. What did he mean by 'it's not fixed'? He couldn't possibly be talking about his heart condition. Wasn't the whole idea about getting the pacemaker that it would be taken care of? Nagging fear for her father's well-being fought with anger at him for hiding more secrets from her. He'd have to answer her later.

His head turned red in response to whatever it was her mother was throwing at him.

"Really? You wanna talk about that now? I don't see how me not telling you about my heart condition when we were still married is in any way relevant to the current situation of me not being able to drive our daughter around."

Scathing sarcasm dripped from his words. He resumed pacing while listening to what she had to say. Daisy watched him work himself up and was close to taking the phone away from him. What held her back was the rare opportunity to witness firsthand what was going on between her parents.

Her father propped the phone under his ear and fumbled through his pockets, pulling out a packet with pills. He popped two out and washed them down with some water.

"Oh, so you don't appreciate my sarcasm? You know what I don't appreciate? Your inability to comprehend I'm not doing this to spite you but because I'm concerned about our daughter's safety," he shouted, picking up steam while circling the kitchen table.

"Once again, I can't drive a car because my arrhythmia is not well controlled enough yet. There is a real risk to have a random attack which could make me pass out while I'm driving. What is so difficult about that concept?"

He stopped abruptly to lean on the back of the chair again. His face had grown a shade paler, and his heaving breaths worried Daisy. He tugged on his tie and then dropped his hand to rub his chest.

"No, the bloody pacemaker doesn't fix it. Nothing can fix it," he spat, frustration and bitterness deepening his voice.

He slumped down on the chair he'd been holding onto. There was a moment of silence where he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he continued, his anger had dissipated, replaced by a quiet resignation.

"All it does, Tess, is to keep me alive when my heart goes to shit, nothing else. It's not a magic fix. It doesn't make the disease go away and it can't heal the damage done."

His shoulders caved in and whatever tension had kept him upright was leaving his body quickly. He rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his palms. Time ticked by, measured by his deep breaths. Eventually, he moved his hands up to rake his fingers through his shaggy hair, sniffing away the tears he'd been hiding.

Daisy leaned back against the wall, crying. She'd gotten it all wrong. He'd said he was fine now. That answer alone should have made her suspicious. She should have known better than to trust him to tell her the full truth. She scrubbed away her tears and peeked into the kitchen again.

He hadn't moved from where he sat crumpled in on himself. The phone pressed against his ear, he shook his head slowly. He squeezed his eyes shut and pleaded tiredly,

"Can't you pick her up if you are so dead set on not having her stay over?"

After listening for a moment, he added, "Fine. If that's what you want. I'll come with her though. I'm not putting her in a taxi all by herself."

He snorted at her response. "No, Tess. I don't have the money for it but I'll do it for her."

He rubbed his chest again and a twitch ran over his jaw. He seemed to struggle for air and then slumped forward a little, catching himself on the table. His eyes glazed over for a moment, then he jerked. Pain flickered over his ashen face.

Daisy covered her mouth to stifle a gasping cry. The memory of their meeting in the park was fresh in her mind. It scared her to see him like that. A fiery ball of anger at her mother heated her stomach. Why could she not give him a break?

"Sorry, what did you say?" he asked, still trying to catch his breath. Desperation chiseled deep lines onto his forehead and his eyes shone with now obvious tears.

"Tess, please be reasonable," he begged. "I'm trying very hard to do my part in supporting her. I can't work. It's not an excuse. I want to, but they won't clear me yet."

He fell silent again, listening to the voice on the other side. Suddenly his mouth gaped open and he looked utterly hurt. His voice was trembling when he replied, "I didn't think you could stoop that low, but I guess I was wrong. How could you even say that? After you've seen me in hospital? I nearly died because of this and you have the guts to accuse me of faking it so I can get out of paying child maintenance?"

Daisy was as shocked as her father. How could her mother say such a thing? Didn't matter if he had cheated on her and she had all right to be hurt and angry, but this accusation seemed rather cruel.

He rubbed his eyes and the ghostly dark circles around them, looking even paler now. She'd rarely seen him this worn out and it worried her.

"Please, Tess. I've had a really long day today, giving all the statements about the case. I'm exhausted and haven't been feeling well. Let's call it a day," he implored his former wife to show mercy.

Daisy couldn't stand it any longer. She barged into the kitchen, snatched the phone away from her dumbstruck father, and yelled at her mother.

"How can you be so mean?" Daisy didn't give her mother a chance to reply. Driven by a smoldering fury, she steamrollered ahead, "What's your problem with me staying here overnight? It's not like I'm moving in. You'd rather make him drag himself out in the middle of the night when he can barely keep himself upright. I'm telling you now, I'm not going. If you want me so badly, then come and get me."

She hung up the phone and tossed it on the table.

"Daisy...," he started, his eyes wide with amazement.

"No, don't say a word," she interjected. "I heard everything. You look awful and I'm taking you to bed now. No discussion," she announced and dragged him to his feet. He was wobblier than she would have thought, and they nearly fell over. She caught herself on the table and he managed to grab a chair.

"'M sorry, darlin'," he muttered.

"What are you sorry for? That you're ill and aren't doing well? That you had a hard day and are exhausted? That your ex-wife treated you like shit and it made you feel bad? I don't think any of those things are reasons to be sorry for," she argued poignantly.

He shook his head, mumbling something about using foul language, and straightened himself up. "No, Daisy. That's not it. I'm sorry you had to listen to this. There are many things we need to talk about, things I should have told you a long time ago." He smiled shyly and rubbed his eyes again.

"Dad, it's okay. I'm sorry I made you call her. I know do, but not now. You're obviously not in any shape to have another exhausting conversation. It's time to rest. I'm here, I'm not going away, I promise."

His moist eyes took her in silently. Right before his scrutinizing gaze became too much to bear, he pulled her into a tight hug. "I don't deserve you," he whispered into her hair.

"Horseshit, of course you do. You're my Dad," she said, her words muffled against his chest. "And if you dare ruining my favorite shirt because you're crying on it, I'm not going to make you tea in the morning ever again," she threatened meekly.

He placed a kiss on her hair and let her out of his arms. "What am I gonna say about that then?"

He pointed to the stains of her tears on his shirt. He grinned. She whacked him on the arm. "You're going to bed. You're getting too cheeky."

A brief argument about who was taking the bed later, Daisy tucked a blanket around her softly snoring father. He had won and was stretched out on the sofa bed, asleep within minutes after lying down. She felt for his pulse as Emily Abbott had taught her. The steady tap against her fingertips filled her with relief. The pacemaker was doing its job. She brushed his bangs out of his face and let her eyes wander over his body. He was still too skinny and tired all the time, but he looked lighter, less burdened than when she had met him again for the first time in over a year. She pecked a kiss on his forehead.

"Good night, Dad. I love you, always," she whispered into his ear. His lips curled up in his sleep, and Daisy smiled when she looked back at him while turning off the lights. They were going to be okay, even if it took a while. It was the last thing going through her mind before she fell asleep in his bed, surrounded by her father's comforting smell which reminded her of her childhood and feeling utterly safe and sound.

"Daisy? Darlin', wake up. Breakfast is ready."

She pulled the blanket over her face and squeezed her eyes shut. "Mum, I'm not getting up, it's too early," she mumbled drowsily and curled up in the warmth.

"I'm not your mother," a growly Scottish voice intruded into her foggy mind.

No, indeed, he wasn't her mother. It had been such a long time since she'd woken to the sound of her father's voice. The realization how much she'd missed it hit her hard, driving away any lingering sleepiness. She peeked out from under the blanket. There he was, looking down at her in all his usual grumpiness. A scowl creased up his forehead and he had his hands firmly planted on his hips. To her surprise, he wasn't wearing a suit but a pair of jeans and a checkered shirt.

Yawning, she stretched and pulled the blanket off her bare legs. Her father made a funny noise, and she remembered she wasn't wearing anything but her underpants and a tank top. Daisy caught a glimpse of his bright red face before he quickly turned around. He looked like he was going to faint, clearly mortified at the sight of his half-naked teenage daughter. She grinned and draped the blanket over her exposed body.

He cleared his voice. "I'm… I'll be in the kitchen. There's a towel in the bathroom."

He hurried out of the room, mumbling something about giving her privacy and marveling how grown up she was. She had no doubt the latter wasn't meant for her ears. She felt bad for him. He had missed the last year of her life where she had changed so much. So had he.

She took a quick shower, got dressed, and followed him into the kitchen. It was simple but lovely. He had made an effort to set the table properly, including a bouquet of beautiful peonies and snap dragons and small bowl with fresh scones. He must have gotten up early and gone out for those. He shot her a sideways glance and rubbed the back of his head.

"I wasn't sure if you still like the same things for breakfast, so I got stuff to choose from."

He smiled awkwardly, insecurity written all over his face. Yet again, Daisy felt a pang of sadness over how hard this seemed to be for him, something he used to do for her without any effort every day of her life. She stepped up to him and placed a shy kiss on his cheek. His eyes widened with surprise and a happy sparkle looked back at her.

"Dad, this is so nice. Thanks," she said, plopping down on a chair.

She expected him to do the same, but instead he went to the counter to retrieve a small box. His back was turned toward her and he moved to make sure she saw what he was doing. Daisy watched him keenly while he took out one pill after the other.

"I know you eavesdropped on me talking to your mother last night," he began, hesitation ringing in his words. He stopped her protest with a wave of his hand. "Please, darlin', let me talk. You must have overheard what I told your mother about my heart problem. You've met my doctor and you've witnessed me being unwell."

Daisy crossed her arms. "So?" she asked defiantly.

His shoulders tensed. He still wasn't facing her. "I fear you might have misunderstood a few things and I don't want that. Not any more. I've been hiding this too long from you. You deserve better than being told half-truths and lies."

He turned around, holding out a handful of pills. He placed them carefully next to his plate. Daisy stared at the tiny mound. There were way too many. 'It's not fixed' - his words rang in her ears and her eyes stung. He sat down, pulling his chair closer to her.

"Daisy, look at me, please," he said gently. When she didn't, he reached over and wiped some tears from her cheeks. "I'm truly sorry, darlin', for never telling you about my heart condition."

"You got the pacemaker, but you told Mum it's not fixed. Whatever happened to 'no more broken heart'? Are you going to die?" she blurted out, unable to control her emotions any longer. This was so unfair. She wanted him back in her life.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No. Not today, not tomorrow. But I'm not going to lie to you. My heart is not healthy and it never will be again. It's okay right now, but we don't know for how long. The pacemaker is doing its job. It's going to keep me around for much longer than a lot of people probably would like."

She hit him and he flinched away from her. "Don't say that. Never ever make a joke about that ever again!" she shouted, losing whatever control she had. How could he be like that? Knowing there had been more than one occasion when he'd nearly died. She was trembling from all the pent-up anger at him and life, from the fear of losing him, and from the frustration about not being told the truth for so long.

He reluctantly touched her arm. "Darlin', please calm down. I'm fine."

"How can you even make such a statement?" She snatched a handful of pills and threw it at him. "What are those then? Candy?"

She jumped up and was about to storm out of the kitchen when he caught her wrist. She tried to wriggle free from his iron grip. He pulled her closer until his arms engulfed her. She fought him, but he only held onto her more tightly. He was going to die; the thought was pervasive and nothing else had room in her head. She wanted to run and hide so badly, but he didn't let her.

His soft voice soothed her like a child when he continued to explain, talking into her hair, "As I told your mother last night, it can't be fixed. But it can be made better. The medications help to control the arrhythmia and the heart failure. It's working for the heart failure and more or less for the arrhythmia. And the pacemaker does the rest. I'm still recovering but I haven't felt better in months. I'm not lying to you. I promise."

His sincerity struck the right chord with her. Her face was buried into his shirt, and with one ear on his chest, she listened to his steady heartbeat.

"It's so scary, Dad," she whispered.

"I know, darlin', I know," he sighed.

The tone of his words made her look up. He stared blankly ahead, fear gleaming in his hazel eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone. He let her go, a hand lingering on her shoulder. Scratching his eyebrow, his gaze trailed over the mess she had made with the pills. Embarrassment over her loss of control heated up her cheeks. She stooped down to pick them up.

"Let me help you with this," she said. While she collected one after the other, she asked him the name of the medication and what it was for, how many he needed to take, and when. By the time they had all found their way back to the table, heaped up in a neat pile, they were not as scary any more.

She made him sit down and put the kettle on. She rummaged through the cabinet of the small kitchen to search for decaf tea and the perfect cups. They both didn't say anything until she placed a steaming mug in front of him. He was crying silently.

"Dad?" She put her hand on his shoulder and he looked up, wiping clumsily at his tears.

"'M sorry, darlin'. It's just that…," he hesitated and dragged his hands down his face. "It's just that I thought I would never get to do this again." His voice broke.

It was her turn to wrap her arms around him. She stood in the kitchen, cradling her crying father against her chest. Rubbing his back, she reassured him everything would be all right and urged him not to be scared until he calmed.

He took in a deep breath and moved away from her. Despite all the tears, his face lit up with that smile which was so uniquely his. Crinkles budded around his puffy eyes, and suddenly she knew they were going to be all right. He was going to be all right. Even if it took some time, but he would be.

When Daisy left, after they had set off the fire alarm with burning toast and porridge like they used to, she squinted into the golden sun light. A broad grin took hold over her face, and forgetting about any possible witnesses, she skipped down the road like a little girl. She had her father back and nothing could take him away again.