Chapter Text
The wave of despair cresting over her, coupled with the cold knot of dread in her stomach, nearly crushed Lisa Swain.
“Here comes your ticket out of here.” Whispered words, a tight hug, a kiss to her temple.
Lisa startled awake, tears running down her face, despair weighing heavily on her shoulders as the knot in her stomach tightened. She glanced to her left; her fiancée, Becky, was sleeping soundly, completely unaware of Lisa's turmoil.
Lisa slipped from the bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom. She turned on the cold water and splashed water on her face in the darkened room. She didn't want to look in the mirror, didn't want to see the shadows under her eyes; didn't want to think too hard about why they were there.
It was her wedding day; the knot didn't loosen. She should be nervous, but excited, not filled with dread, right?
She shook her head and took several deep breaths. She loved Becky. Becky loved her. They had Betsy. They were happy. There was no reason not to get married.
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Lisa was almost hysterical; tears flowed down her face, despair crashed over her in a soul-crushing wave, a cold knot of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. Carla was leaving her. She was losing the love of her life.
Carla pulled her into a hug and kissed her temple. “Here comes your ticket out of here.” A hoarse whisper against the side of her head and the world tilted on its axis, Lisa stumbled, and her vision swam; memories assaulted her mind – repressed, forgotten, glossed over memories flickering faster than she could process them.
Strong arms guided her to the stairs. “Lisa! Lisa!”
The world righted itself and Lisa looked into the face hovering over her; the face of the woman she loved. A face that had concern etched in every part of it.
She grabbed Carla's wrist, steel in her spine. “Stay.”
“Lis …” Carla wavered, uncertain.
“Give me fifteen minutes to make this right, Carla, please,” Lisa wasn't ashamed at the pleading tone in her voice.
Carla looked dubious but nodded, stepping back as Lisa stood, arms crossed over her chest, waiting.
Lisa stood up and was completely clear-headed, finally finding her balance again; the first time since Rebecca Swain reappeared after four years. The realization hit her; that's how Rebecca always got her way – she simply didn't allow Lisa to think, to process, to gain balance. She'd forgotten, forgotten how Rebecca treated her.
Here comes your ticket out of here.
A long-forgotten phrase had pulled her out of the chaos that was Rebecca Swain.
She looked sadly at her daughter, placed a comforting hand on her arm as she passed her. “I'm so sorry, Bets.”
She moved past Rebecca without a word, into the foyer, reappearing a moment later, her movements quick, deliberate. Rebecca's hands were cuffed behind her back before anyone even realized what was happening.
“Rebecca Swain, I am arresting you on suspicion,” Lisa's voice was strong, steady, rising above Rebecca's shouted protests and Betsy's cries, “of misconduct in public office, fraud, theft, and ABH. "You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."
She led a struggling Rebecca to a chair and sat her down. When she turned back around, she caught Carla's eyes and saw the empathy, kindness, and understanding within them. She nodded, acknowledging that Carla knew what this was costing Lisa.
Betsy was gaping at her, tears streaming down her face as Lisa pulled out her phone.
“This is DS Swain. I've just made an arrest at my home at Six Coronation Street and need a car sent round to pick the suspect up. DC Green will need to interview. Thank you.” She hung up and dialed again. “Kit? Lisa. I've just arrested Rebecca Swain on suspicion of misconduct in public office, fraud, theft, and ABH. I've called the station to request transport but you'll need to take the case; I know you've been investigating. You may want to call Costello and give him a heads up, give the Guv a chance to get ahead of whatever she's got to say. At the very least, she faked her death. Which makes both of them complicit in the cover up of the murder of Tia Wardley. Maybe that family will finally get some closure.” She listened for a moment. “No, tomorrow is soon enough. Let her sit in a cell overnight.” Another pause. “Thanks, Kit.” She hung up and faced a tearful Betsy.
“Why? How could you? I'll never forgive you for this!” Betsy's voice was hoarse with tears; she turned and stormed up the stairs, the sound of her door slamming reverberating through the house a moment later.
Lisa smiled sadly. “I know. And I have to live with that.” She whispered to the space that her daughter had just occupied.
She turned to Carla who silently opened her arms to Lisa; she slid into them thankfully.
“How could you, Lis? How could you do this to me? To us? To Betsy? You should really think about this; I won't go quietly! I'll take you down with me.”
Lisa moved from Carla's arms and faced her wife. “Of course, you'll lie and try to take me down. That's what this has all been about. Not about Betsy. It was never about Betsy, was it? It was about making sure I wasn't happy. You were content to watch our lives through social media until suddenly I wasn't alone and miserable. Lonely and failing Betsy. You waited until news of my engagement reached you. That was your motive. My misery was always your motivation.” She sighed and shook her head.
“I love you! I love Betsy! I came back for the two of you, to see her on her eighteenth birthday!” Rebecca protested – a little too loudly.
“Really?” Lisa nodded. “You claim it wasn't safe; claim it's still not safe yet here you are. Walking around Weatherfield in broad daylight like you own the place. You claim you're in trouble with dangerous people, think you're being followed – so you bring that danger to our door? Where your daughter lives?”
Rebecca started to say something but Lisa wasn't finished.
“You knew,” her voice was strong but soft with certainty, “you knew that you were going to die that night,” she used air quotes around to die, “and yet you picked an argument with me. Made sure we had a row that night. Slammed out the house, chucked your phone in your locker, and went out to be “killed”. Instead of kissing me and leaving me with an I love you and I'll see you later. You made sure that our last words were cutting and cold. You knew.” She leveled a steely gaze at her wife. “You made sure you left in a way that would leave me feeling guilty. You wanted me to spend the rest of my life blaming myself. Wanted to make sure I sat home, alone, every night, the guilt eating at me. Hoping, maybe, that I'd drink myself to death or possibly be crushed under the guilt and take my own life?
“I wasn't supposed to move on, find love, be happy. You claim you came back for Betsy but where were you for birthdays fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen? Where were you when the boy your daughter loved was murdered trying to help me find out what happened to you? Where were you when your daughter got shot?
“What was so important about her eighteenth birthday that you came out of hiding despite still being in desperate trouble?” Lisa's questions were sharp, cutting.
She turned to Carla. “Carla, if she does manage …”
Carla cut her off. “You don't even have to ask, of course I'll watch after Betsy. I told you, she feels like she's mine.” She pulled out her phone.
“She's NOT!” Rebecca gained her feet, comically lunging at the two women, stumbling and falling to her knees. “She's MY daughter! This is MY FAMILY! NOT YOURS!” Rebecca screamed from the floor.
“Yes, I am,” Betsy's soft voice came from the landing as she walked down the stairs. She looked from her mother and Carla to Rebecca, eyes rimmed red, the hurt floating there. “I'm just as much hers as I am yours. More, maybe.” She reached the bottom of the stairs and stood in front of Rebecca, looking down at her. “I think I'd like to hear the answers to mum's questions. Why now? I needed you and you left us. Mason,” tears sprung to her eyes and Lisa moved behind her, placing her hands on Betsy's shoulders.
Carla's voice filled the silence. “Alya? It's Carla Connor. Can you come round to Number Six? Lisa may be in a bit of legal bother.”
“Betsy, I had nothing to do with …” Rebecca's voice was soft, wheedling; the manipulation attempt obvious now that Lisa knew what to look for, what to listen for.
Betsy cut her off, voice sharp. “But you did, didn't you? If you hadn't faked your death, Mason wouldn't have brought mum the evidence of his brothers' involvement and they wouldn't have killed him. So, yeah, you did. I loved him.” She wiped away the tears slipping down her face. “And he loved me enough to risk his life to help me get closure; to help mum.” She shook her head, her body starting to tremble beneath Lisa's hands. “Mum was right, wasn't she? It was all about mum. She's finally happy and you couldn't have that.” She shook her head.
“I remember, you know? The way you used to tell me ways to annoy her. How you'd do things she'd asked you not to; let me do things, have things, after she'd told me no. After you left, I used everything you showed me to hurt her. I blamed her for everything. And you know what she never did? Left. She stayed. She forgave me. She was soft on me when she shouldn't have been. It was only because of Carla taking over as “bad cop” that I didn't completely run wild.
“Carla has been there for me. Completely supporting me, protecting me, teaching me. Carla helped us heal as a family.”
“Oh, Saint Carla, is it? She's not your mum, I am. I carried you, gave birth to you, loved you, raised you …” Rebecca spat from her knees.
“Until you didn't. And I'm wondering if you ever did or,” she choked back a strangled sob, “if I was just another way to control mum.” Betsy turned into Lisa's arms and buried her face in Lisa's neck, sobbing her pain.
Lisa held her daughter close, eyes flicking to the ceiling, trying to stop her own tears.
The bell rang.
Lisa gently pulled Betsy away. “I need to get that, darling,” she told her quietly, handing Betsy to Carla who didn't hesitate to wrap her up tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of Betsy's head.
Rebecca glared daggers at Lisa as she walked to the door and let the police constables in. She nodded in Rebecca's direction and the PCs pulled her to her feet.
“She's been cautioned,” Lisa told them, “so be aware of anything she says. Leave my cuffs on my desk, yeah?”
The constables nodded and led Rebecca out of Number Six, protesting her innocence and screaming that Lisa would regret this.
Lisa stared at the closed door for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning back to her girls.
“Right. I'll put the kettle on, shall I?” She ignored their looks of concern and headed into the kitchen.