Chapter Text
“Is he in?” Ellie heard herself ask. Having his daughter open the door threw Ellie for a loop, and she didn't exactly recover gracefully. It wasn't unusual to see that he was awake, what with him having chronic insomnia and PTSD, but she hadn't expected Daisy to answer the door.
Daisy gave her a frown, and Ellie almost hated herself for having to ask after that look, since she already knew that Hardy was having another bad night—one that was going to get a lot worse soon enough—but she had to get him.
“Another case?”
Ellie nodded. “It... I think it's important, or I wouldn't have bothered him this late, no matter what he says.”
Daisy snorted, stepping back from the door. “He always thinks they're more important. More than him, more than me.”
“Bad copper's habit,” Ellie agreed, though she got a smile from Daisy, who had more or less accepted her father's job after moving to be with him full time. Ellie thought she'd gotten the unpleasant task of being his keeper, but she hadn't ever asked or looked too close into it, since Hardy was even pricklier than before after being abducted.
It was nice she had Daisy on her side for keeping him in line or knowing what was going on with him, though, so Ellie made sure she didn't mess that up, ever.
“I don't suppose he made any tea while he was up?” Ellie asked, thinking she'd like some, though she'd prefer it if he'd made it and not Daisy. She rather liked the way he made tea, though she'd never told him, not in all the time that had passed since Joe's acquittal had basically forced him to stay in Broadchurch.
“Fresh pot on the stove,” Daisy answered with a bit of a smile that died when she added, “he's in the shower. It'll be a bit.”
Ellie tried not to grimace. Hardy didn't talk, not to anyone, about what happened to him or his nightmares, but she had enough of an idea what he'd gone through to know exactly why him being in the shower was not a good sign.
Especially knowing what she was taking him to, but she couldn't ask anyone else to do it. He was their DI, formally approved despite the trauma and the pacemaker, and she didn't know that even if there was someone else to ask that she would.
He was too damned good at what they did, and more than that, more even than the dedication that had almost gotten him killed in the past, was the fact that he, of anyone in their office, would probably have more understanding of what their victim was dealing with right now.
She poured herself a tea and waited. Daisy stayed with her, but neither of them spoke. They didn't have much to say, since they'd talked over everything earlier when Daisy came round to prompt her father to dinner—Ellie swore that man wouldn't eat if his daughter didn't insist on him joining her for meals—leaving them standing around the kitchen in an awkward silence. Ellie couldn't tell her about the case—and she wouldn't, knowing that Daisy might not let her father out of the house if she did.
Hardy came in, hair still wet and plastered to his forehead, in a t-shirt and shorts instead of his usual suit. He stopped, staring at her. “Miller.”
“Got a call,” she said. “I stopped by to get you.”
He grunted, turning to leave. She saw him pulling off his shirt as he walked and belatedly wondered if he was the sort of man who used boxers as his undergarments and she'd just seen way too much, though she forced those thoughts out of her head. She wasn't interested, and it wasn't like he'd shown much of anything. He was just being efficient about changing, doing it as he walked.
“You have a cup I can put some of this in for him?” Ellie asked, turning to Daisy and holding up the tea pot. “He'll want it later when he's more coherent.”
“Yeah,” Daisy said, going to the cupboard and pulling one down. She gave it to Ellie to fill, and then winced. “We're out of milk. I meant to stop by after school and get some.”
“No worries. He'll live,” Ellie said, though she knew Hardy preferred his tea with milk, even when he microwaved it. “Thanks, Daize.”
She nodded, stifling a yawn.
“You might want to get yourself back to bed. I have a feeling we won't be back for the rest of the night,” Ellie admitted, and Daisy frowned. “I can't tell you more than that, but this is important, so please, just get some rest. You know he worries about how you'll do in school if he keeps you up at night.”
Daisy rolled her eyes, but she nodded, waiting just long enough to say goodbye to her father with a quick kiss on the cheek before heading back to her own room.
Ellie gestured to the door. “Shall we, sir?”
“What have we got?” Hardy asked as soon as Miller got in the car. She'd lagged behind him, and he didn't know why, but it was irritating, since they were in a hurry and he didn't have keys for her vehicle. He could fix that, but then she'd get all annoyed with him. Again.
She pulled away from the house he shared with Daisy, driving a bit before she answered him. He frowned, not liking the silence. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good, not when she was delaying in telling him. “Miller.”
“It's... an assault,” she answered, almost choking on the words, her eyes darting to his in the rear view mirror. “A... sexual assault.”
He frowned. He hadn't thought that was common around here, even for it being a tourist trap. He thought back to the Latimer case, her words about a few busts for possession and drunk driving, that this sort of thing didn't happen here, according to her.
“This your first?”
She grimaced. “More or less. I've gone through the training, but we don't really have that around here. You've been here long enough to know what it's like.”
He shrugged. “Haven't really lived through the tourist season. Latimer case killed it once, trial a second time. And the third...”
She bit her lip, but he didn't finish, not needing to discuss the second time her husband was on trial or why. Hardy did not want to revisit that, though it explained her hesitancy and the way she kept looking at him—God, he hated that one. He saw it enough when he was sick, making him glad Tess and Daisy were far away from him at the worst of it—like he might break.
“Do we know any details yet?”
“No,” Miller answered. “I just got the word that a woman had come in to make a report. Bob was waiting with her. Soon as I knew, I turned round to get you.”
He didn't comment on how late she'd stayed at work or wherever it was she'd been, since he hadn't lasted long in his attempt to sleep. He almost missed his dreams of Pippa and drowning in the river. Now he had others that left him not in a cold sweat but in desperate need of a shower.
His skin still didn't feel right.
“Do you have an evidence sheet?”
“What?” Miller asked, looking over at him.
“Sexual assault, Miller. This woman is our evidence. We need to take her over to the... the whatsit, and we can't afford to lose anything that might be on her,” Hardy said, swallowing and refusing to think about how he might have been taken there himself had he not needed immediate hospital care.
“Right. Of course. Yes, there's some in the back,” Miller said. She shook her head. “It's my first case of this kind, not my first day of work.”
“I didn't say it was.”
She nodded, turning her attention back to the road. “Are you going to be able to do this?”
“Excuse me?”
“I just... it might be difficult for you,” she said, grimacing. “After what Joe did—”
“It's not the same thing,” Hardy said. It wasn't, and he refused to be treated like it was. “Don't fuss about me. You focus on the case, or I will pull you off. Are we clear?”
She glared at him. “You're doing it again, you know. Lashing out because you're defensive.”
He didn't respond, turning to face the window. This wasn't about him. It wasn't about Joe Miller. The woman, whoever she was, this was her case. He wasn't going to let anyone or anything get in the way of that.
Even if that meant taking himself off the case.