Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Index

This chapter is to provide the reader with a list of warnings per chapter as well as a quick summary and to indicate which chapters are linked and the episode or season in which the chapter is situated. Trigger warnings are always listed in the chapter summary and notes at the beginning.of such chapters.

A = Apologies

Alec Hardy is bad at apologies. Ellie Miller is there to help.
Set around season 3.
No warnings apply

B = Breakfast (and Burned toast)

B is for breakfast, or for burning toast. For Alec Hardy these two are not mutually exclusive.
Set somewhere mid season 1.
No warnings apply

C =  Collapse (Part 1 of “Water”)

Alec has a panic attack. Ellie is there to help
Set somewhere between the end of season one and the middle of season two.
Warnings: Anxiety. Description of a panic attack

D = Dinner

Hardy and MIller have dinner. See my other work for the continuation.
Set in 1x02 and some weeks thereafter.
No warnings apply

E = Eyes

Sometimes he gives her a look so strange and conflicted, she can’t make anything of it. (This might be my favourite chapter so far!)
No warnings apply

F = Friends (and a Forehead kiss)

‘We’re not friends.’ He spit out the term as if it was an insult.
~~~
‘Miller? You’re my best friend, you know that right?’

Set mid-season 1 and runs to the end of season 2.
No warnings apply

G = Grapes

In which Miller catches the flu and Hardy brings her grapes.
Set after season 2.
No warnings apply

H = A Hand to Hold (Part 2 of “Water”)

Alec tries to face his demons on his own. Miller comes to the rescue. Sometimes all you need is someone to talk to or a hand to hold
Set after season 2.
Warnings: Explicit descriptions of panic attacks. Self destructive thoughts, which can be read as latent suicidal thoughts (though it is by no means intended as such).

I = In Case of Emergency

Hardy finds out that he is Miller's emergency contact.
Set somewhere between season 2 and 3.
No warnings apply

J = Jealousy (Part 1 of “XOXO”)

In which Hardy doesn't know anything about texting and Miller is confused about her feelings
Set after season 3.
No warnings apply

K = Kiss (Part 2 of “XOXO”)

They fight, they make up (sort of...).
Set after season 3.
No warnings apply

L = Liar

Hardy knows when she is lying. He always knows. (can be read as autistic!Hardy)
Set after season 1.
No warnings apply

M = Midnight conversations (Part 3 of “XOXO”)

A long overdue conversation.
Set after season 3.
No warnings apply

N = Need

A string of voicemail messages.
Set between season 2 and 3.
No warnings apply

O = Official

"I want to tell the kids."
Set after season 3.
No warnings apply

P = Presents

The picture for this year's Christmas card is taken. Ugly Christmas jumper mandatory.
Set after season 3.
No warnings apply

Q - Quiet

“I hate this,” Ellie whispers into the wind. “Is that wrong?”
Set in a non-canon universe after season 1, maybe 2
No warnings apply

R - The Road Home (I remember)

Companion piece to N - Need, Alec Hardy in therapy
Set between season 2 and 3
No warnings apply

S - Stay (Accidental Sleepover)

"Don't tell me I drunk-dialled my boss."
Set after season 3
No warnings apply

T - Tie

Ellie struggles to tie her tie. Hardy helps.
Set after season 3
No warnings apply

Chapter Text

DS Ellie Miller was the proud mother of two beautiful boys that she loved and cared for deeply. Since she got a new boss, however, it sometimes felt like she was raising a third.

It didn’t occur often at the Broadchurch Police Station that a large part of the team had to pull an all nighter at the office. Only under extreme circumstances were officers asked to stay. On this particular night they were working their way through an immense amount of files that had been pulled up on their suspect. The man in question was at the moment sleeping in a holding cell, but they were running out of time. If they didn’t dig up enough evidence, they would have to let him go in the morning.

It was around three in the morning and most officers were having a hard time keeping their eyes open when a clatter followed shriek of pain jolted everyone fully awake. 

Ellie jumped up from behind her desk to see Katie hopping on one foot, holding the other, and stumbling to keep her balance.

One moment the young woman’s face was contorted in pain. Then her eyes widened in shock. Ellie watched surprised as she started grabbing sheets of paper from the table and shoving them unceremoniously onto pile on the nearest chair. It became clear what had happened when the next sheets she picked up were soaked with a dark liquid.

‘No, no, no, no!’  Katie desperately tried to get as much of it off, but ended up smearing the ink in the process. One of the DC’s quickly came to her aid with a towel, but it was no use. The documents were unreadable.

‘DC Harford!’ A familiar irritated Scottish voice rumbled through the office. ‘Care to explain what the noise is about?’

All eyes turned to the DI. They watched silently as Hardy crossed the room. He briefly examined the mess and then looked at Katie.

‘What happened?’ he inquired.with a voice that was dangerously calm.

‘It was an accident.’ she stammered. ‘I didn’t see the mug, it wasn’t there before.’

‘An accident.’ Hardy repeated, raising an eyebrow. He picked up one of the dripping papers and held it up for everyone to see.

Katie nodded and took a step back when Hardy’s expression changed from irritated to furious.

‘This is not an accident.’ He slammed the sheet down on the desk. ‘This is a workplace, people. Clean desk policy. That includes your beverages. ’

Katie swallowed and guiltily took a step back, which drew Hardy’s attention back to her.

‘Clean up this mess and print these again.’ he ordered and then addressed the whole office. ‘Who of you idiots left their tea here?’

Looks were exchanged but nobody raised a hand.

‘You people are unbelievable.’ Hardy muttered, shaking his head. He shot one last disgusted look around the room before retreating to his office.

‘Wait, sir.’ Katie had crouched down and was reaching under a nearby desk. ‘Isn’t this yours?’

Hardy stared at the mug in her hand and frowned. Then he glanced over his shoulder to confirm that the tea he had made himself earlier was indeed not sitting on his desk. Confusion shot over his face briefly, but then the angry expression was back in place.

‘Don’t let it happen again.’ He turned sharply and slammed the door of his office shut.

‘Oh for fucks sake.’ Ellie slammed her paperwork down and stalked after him. Without bothering to knock she entered his office. 

Hardy scowled at her.from behind his desk. ‘What do you want?’ 

‘You.’ She pointed at him and then at the door. ‘Out. Now.’

‘Miller.’ He was about to protest but she silenced him with a stern look that she usually reserved for her children.

‘I said now.’ She crossed her arms and watched as he stood begrudgingly. She followed right behind him as he moved past her slowly, avoiding her gaze.

‘Why do you make me do this?’ he almost whined. ‘Can’t you just leave it?’

She ignored his question. Instead she cleared her throat loudly.and gave him a little shove so he was forced to step forward and was again the center of the attention.

He seemed to shrink under the glares that were sent his way and his eyes sought Ellie for help.

She looked back unrelentingly. ‘Go on then.’

He coughed awkwardly and stared at his shoes. ‘‘I ehm- Katie was right, I made that tea.’ he mumbled, gesturing weakly at the mug. ’I’m sorry.’

‘What was that?’

Hardy shifted uncomfortably and he looked like he wanted nothing more than run away and hide. He knew, however, that Ellie wouldn’t let him, so pushed through. This time his voice was clear as he directed his words to Katie. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Let me clean that up.’

Katie shook her head. ‘It’s OK, sir, I’ve got it.’

‘And?’ Ellie prompted, not letting him off the hook this easily.

He took a deep breath and swallowed the last of his pride. ‘And I’m sorry.’

Not a word was spoken, but the faces around him were perhaps a little bit friendlier than before. He looked back, relieved when Ellie nodded her approval. She stepped aside, permitting him to escape. 

He walked past her briskly and she followed, this time closing the door behind them.

‘Was that really so difficult?’ she asked.

Hardy groaned in response and let himself fall back into his chair. His face was flushed with embarrassment. ‘Why, Miller? Why do you make me do that?’

‘I’m helping.’

‘You make me look like a child.’ he retorted. ‘That’s not helping.’

‘Then don’t act like one and we won’t have to do this.’

He grunted. ‘You’re not my mother, Miller.’

‘You’re lucky I’m not.’

‘You’re insufferable.’

She shrugged, unimpressed. ‘And you’re a prick.’ 

Hardy rubbed his eyes, covering his face with his hands. His next words were mumbled almost inaudibly, but Ellie still heard them.

‘I hate you.’ 

‘No you don’t.’ She shook her head, almost laughing at how much he reminded her of a younger Tom. 

He lowered his hands so that his eyes found her and sighed. ‘No. I don’t.’

A small smile crept over her face. In the language of Alec Hardy that almost equaled a declaration of love. ‘Good. I’ll get back to work.’

Her hand was already at the door handle when he spoke again.

‘Miller, I really don’t hate you.’ he paused turning even more red and then tentatively added ‘I’m sorry I said that.’

She was still smiling proudly as she sat down at her desk. It seemed like they didn’t have to do this again anytime soon.

Chapter Text

It was early, way too early when Ellie Miller climbed the stairs to the Broadchurch Police Station. It was a Sunday and there were hours left before her workday started, yet here she was, driven out of bed by her own dreams.

The nightmares had started barely a week into the Danny Latimer case. It was always the same bloody sand that kept invading her sleep. Every time she woke up crying she cursed the moment she had seen the boy’s lifeless form  lying on the beach.

She had been lying awake for an hour, listening to Joe’s soft snoring when she couldn’t take it anymore. If this case wasn’t letting her sleep, she’d better work hard to solve it. So she got out of bed, dressed, planted a kiss on Fred’s forehead and left without waking anyone in the house.

The station was dark and empty when she arrived. She flicked on the lights and moved to her desk to turn on her computer when a voice behind her startled her.

‘Miller?’

She turned swiftly to see Alec Hardy standing in the opening of his office. He looked as surprised to see her as she was seeing him. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, nor his tie and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows. His hair looked exceptionally ruffled, like he had just come out of bed.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. He looked like he had stayed at the station all night and she suspected that that was a very realistic possibility that he had fallen asleep on his couch.

He shrugged. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Me neither.’ Ellie sighed, dropping her bag on the ground. She sagged down on her chair. and covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. ‘Bloody nightmares.’

Hardy approached her and nodded understandingly. He sat down on the edge of her desk, rubbing his eyes. She noticed the dark circles and red edges. He looked extremely tired.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ he dismissed her question, raising her suspicions that he hadn’t left at all. ‘Nightmares about Danny?’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t elaborate, just stared vaguely into the distance.

She noticed him shift uncomfortably, trying to come up with a response. It was obvious that he wasn’t sure what to do. 

‘Do you wanna ehm-’ he shrugged helplessly. ‘maybe talk about it?’

‘God, no.’ She had come here to distract herself, not to have a no doubt extremely awkward conversation about this with her boss.

‘Good.’  Some of the tension drained from his shoulders. 

‘Do you?’ 

‘No.’ he replied curtly.

They stared at each other, awfully aware of the awkwardness of the situation. Then Ellie shook her head and slowly got on her feet.

‘I need some air.’

She strolled across the bullpen and opened the door to the balcony. The morning air was cool on her skin as she stepped outside and it helped clear her head. The sky above her head was a clear blue and a few clouds eastwards coloured a bright orange, announcing the rising sun. Behind her she heard Hardy get up and for a moment she feared he would come up behind her with more questions, but he didn’t. The footsteps went in the opposite direction and vanished.

Ellie had only known her boss for barely two months, but she knew he suffered from nightmares himself. Hardy would never tell her, but she would notice the tired look on his face, the hunched shoulders and the unnecessarily sharp remarks send to anyone in his way. On those days he was likely to spend both early mornings and late evenings at the station. It secretly worried her that, as the case dragged on, she found him like that more frequently. But if she was honest, her own nightmares were getting worse as well. She suspected Hardy knew this too, but he mentioned it.

She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved about this or not. On the one hand, this was Alec Hardy, her boss who was generally rubbish at anything remotely social. He was the last person anyone would go to to share their feelings. On the other hand, sometimes the man seemed more than capable of handling these situations. Ellie knew he had a softer side, he just almost never choose to show it.

Ellie didn’t know how long she had been standing there when the smell of something burning shook her out of her musings. Just as she wanted to shout for her boss not to burn the bullpen down, she heard the footsteps return.

Hardy stepped outside, carrying a plate with something that might be recognized as toast and a steaming mug of tea. He wordlessly handed them to her before walking back inside. A few moments later the smell of burned toast increased and.he reappeared with a plate and mug of his own.

He looked little bit better, Ellie thought, now that his tie was back in place and his jacket covered most of his rumpled shirt. He seemed to have put some effort into fixing his hair too.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked, carefully keeping his distance and allowing her a way out if she’d rather be alone. As she shook her head he relaxed a little bit and stood next to her, leaning on the balcony.

Se put down her mug and eyed the contents of her plate suspiciously. She held one of the pieces close to her face to inspect the dark underside. Hardy observed her thorough inspection first with slight amusement, but when she started sniffing the bread he couldn’t keep quiet.

‘Are you always this picky with your food?’ he grumbled irritatedly.

‘I am when you prepare it.’ She pulled a face and tried to scratch off the darkest patch. An impossible task with only one free hand. ‘How do you manage to ruin something as simple as toast?’

Hardy groaned. ‘Just eat it, woman. If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it ages ago.’

This elicited a chuckle from her. ‘I suppose you would have.’

He grimaced and took a large bite from his own, even more burned, toast. Somewhat relieved he noticed that Miller decided that this meant it was safe to at least start nibbling on the crust. 

‘What is this anyway?’ she gestured between their plates. 

‘I made you breakfast.’ he stated as if it was obvious, which it was. 

She raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t even make me tea.’ 

‘Just for the record, I did make you tea.’

Ellie looked as if she wanted to say something but Hardy held up his hand.

‘MIller,’ he sighed. ‘Will you please just shut up and eat.’

They continued their breakfast in silence, chewing on the burned toast and looking out over the sleeping town. The sun was hanging low and cast large shadows over the roads. Not a single person was out, but it wouldn’t be long before the early residents would start their morning routines. It was peaceful to stand here in the morning breeze with the sun warming their faces. The only sounds came from the wind, the rolling waves and the screaming birds. 

Suddenly Ellie spoke, breaking the spell. ‘Why are you being nice to me? I don’t trust you when you’re being nice.’

‘I’m not.’ he replied. ‘I’m being nice to myself. Can’t have you getting on my nerves all day because you aren’t sufficiently nourished. ‘s The most important meal of the day.’

She snorted. ‘You always skip breakfast.’

He shrugged. ‘You don’t.’

Silently they sipped their tea. It was surprisingly peaceful to stand here in each other’s company, although neither of them would admit it to the other. They didn’t talk and that was fine, Ellie realised, it fitted their relationship. Maybe there would be a time in the future where he learned to trust her enough to open up, maybe he would have escaped this town long before then. Or maybe this was as it would always be. Either way, she knew that despite all the bickering and rudeness he did care for her, even if he couldn’t express it in words.

Hardy almost spilled his tea over his shirt when Miller suddenly elbowed him. He shot her a glare that disappeared when he saw her looking at him almost fondly

‘You know, it suits you, being nice for a change.’

He took another sip to avoid answering. Beneath them the first officers were climbing the stairs and Ellie waved at them enthusiastically. 

Hardy took this as his cue to tilt his head back and and quickly down the last of his tea. ‘OK, back to work, Miller.’

He took both their plates and walked all the way to the small kitchen to put them in the sink. He let the water run and gathered the dishes that were scattered all over the counter while the water heated up. Ellie watched the whole thing in surprise. First breakfast, now the dishes… He was really outdoing himself this morning. 

‘Sir, wait.’ she put the remainder of her tea at her desk and hurried after him. ‘I’ll do that.’

‘You don’t have to.’ 

She groaned in frustration. ‘Move, before I change my mind,’

He paused contemplating doing just that, but then stepped aside, leaving her to it.

‘Thank you.’

One or the DC’s that had just come in moved between them and opened the cupboard above her head. Reaching inside for a glass he whispered. ‘You’re too nice for him, Ellie.’ 

She chuckled, glancing at her boss who was walking away but could still definitely hear them. ‘Believe me, i'm just being nice to myself.’

Chapter Text

He had felt it happen. He had noticed the exact moment the unwanted memories broke through the barriers. It happened from time to time, mostly in his sleep. Sometimes a latent thought was enough to bring it all rushing back. Today, on the other hand, the confrontation had been quite direct.

Kids playing a loud game, laughter filled the air until it didn’t. An anxious cry. A splash. A moment of shocked silence before- “Help!’ 

The girl couldn’t have been older than seven. She couldn’t swim. How could anyone in this town not teach their kids how to swim?

Footsteps running. A man, one of the fathers maybe, tossed off his shoes and jacket and jumped in the water. 

He had been frozen to the spot while Miller had set off towards the commotion to see if she could help.

More splashing, desperate cries from both the girl and her friends. 

He had felt it building the remainder of the day, the emotions bulking up in the back of his mind, in the back of his throat, waiting for the moment he would break. That’s why he locked himself away in his office, closed the blinds and tried to distract himself with work until everyone had gone home.

Maybe it had been the wrong decision to lie down on the couch, but he was exhausted. In the end one moment of letting his guards down was all it took.

She could have drowned. I couldn’t save her.  

It was a mantra, repeating over and over while memories flashed before his eyes. Fresh memories mixed with old ones with only one constant factor.

Water. Water everywhere.

He raised from the couch, pacing the small distance between the door and the opposite wall. Counting his steps and willing his head to stop thinking.

The girl didn’t drown. She was saved. She is alive.

He tried to tell himself that, tried to convince himself it was fine, but it was pointless. The scenery shifted.

Water. Water all around him. Water pulling him under, the weight of the girl in his arms dragging him down. Water filling his nose, his ears, his mouth as he screamed.

Choking he grabbed his collar, trembling fingers fumbling with the button. He needed more air. He couldn’t drown in air. 

His heart hammered against his chest blood pounding in his ears blocking out every other noise. He tried to take a deep breath, tried steadying himself, but the tears pressed through, forcing heavy sobs to wreck his frame. Overall there was fear. A terrifying cold layer that covered everything. He wanted to flee, but he couldn’t move. 

Gasping between sobs he grabbed his head, trying to stop, to drown out the noise, the fear.

There’s no water. It’s not real. It’s not real.

Stars danced before his eyes and he reached blindly around for support. His hand connected with the wall and he slid down to the floor. He buried his head in his knees, hands clasping his head and felt the water rush over him. Rocking himself he cried and waited until it was all over. 

The light dimmed and a distorted voice came from above the surface. His name, he realized, and he clung on to the sound.  

---

Ellie had been the last one in the bullpen and was on her way out when she heard the body collapse against the wall. Dropping her bag she hurried towards the sound. Boosted by fear she bolted through the door to find her boss in the worst condition she had ever seen him in. Alec Hardy had reduced to a small shaking bundle of limbs. Wretched sobs rocked through his frame.

‘Hardy!’ Adrenaline coursed through her and she wondered briefly if she had to call an ambulance. She had seen Hardy go down once before during a chase and she had not forgotten that he had almost died on her that night. She stood over him, desperately trying to get his attention. ‘Hardy, look at me!’

He didn’t react, so Ellie lowered to her knees. She reached out and grabbed his shoulder. ‘Alec!’

The touch seemed to shake him out of his shell. He raised his head and two watery bloodshot eyes peered at her over his knees. Ellie quickly assessed the situation. He was breathing too fast and his eyes were wild unfocused, but this was different from his heart attack. She could notice the subtle difference between fear for his life and whatever terror was haunting him right now. Ellie had seen this look on people before and recognized the blind panic. It shouldn’t relieve her, but it did anyway. As long as his heart could keep up he would not die on her again.

‘Alec, look at me. It’s okay.’

‘It’s not!’ He trembled and a fresh flood of tears streamed over his face. ‘I-I-’

‘It will be.’ Ellie gripped his shoulder tighter. ‘You’re having a panic attack.’

‘I KNOW!’ He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands against his temples. The movement shook the hand from his shoulder. His breath came quicker now, each intake more shallow than the one before. 

‘Lean back, not forward.’ She instructed. ‘Open your lungs.’

He complied, moving his elbows outwards and tilting his head back.

‘Good. Breath out, as much as you can.’

It took a few moments, but Hardy managed to move away from the verge of hyperventilation. He was still shaking when he finally looked at her, voice trembling. ‘I- I- I can’t stop.’

‘It’s alright.’ Ellie put as much calm in her voice as she could muster while inside she was shaking as much as he was. ‘What can you see?’

‘Water.’ he shuddered and his breath hitched again. ‘I- I don’t-’

The water… Ellie had noticed Hardy’s fear of water before, but she hadn't thought it affected him to this extend. The girl they saw today must have triggered something. Mentally she scolded herself. Why didn’t I notice? Why didn’t I check on him when he locked himself away?

‘I mean right here.’ she clarified. ‘Come on, name five things that you can see.’

‘You.’

‘Good. What else?’ She snapped her fingers as his eyes slid out of focus. ‘Alec! Stay with me. What else can you see?’

‘The floor, your hand, my shoes.’ he summed up rapidly. ‘My desk.’

Ellie watched worriedly as he closed his eyes and another tear slid down his cheek. She raised her hand and gave his knee a gentle squeeze. 'Tell me four things you can touch.’

‘Your hand. My hair,’ He inhaled deeply and swallowed, steadying his voice. ‘The floor again and the wall.’

Hardy blinked, eyes looking for hers and Ellie nodded encouragingly. ‘You’re doing well. Now three things you can hear.’

‘Your voice. My voice. And ehm…’ he held his breath and listened. ‘I hear the clock ticking.’

He lowered his arms, fingers now digging into the fabric of his trousers. To Ellie’s relief the shaking had subsided almost completely. ‘Almost there. Two things you can smell.’

He breathed in deeply through his nose, scanning the air for a distinct scent. ‘I smell sweat.’ his face scrunched up in disgust. ‘And perfume.’

She smiled slightly at his expression. It was a good sign. ‘Last one. Name one thing you can taste.’ 

He didn’t have to think about that one. ‘Salt.’ he said immediately. ‘Tears.’

‘Good.’ She examined him. His face was tear-stained, but his eyes were clear now. Although his breathing was still faster than normal he was no longer trembling. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better.’ He used the sleeve of his dress shirt to wipe his eyes and cheeks. Then he combed the hair from his forehead and looked at her with wonder. ‘How did you know all that?’ 

Ellie's face fell and she bit her lip. ‘Joe.’

'Oh.’ Hardy put the pieces together. ‘I didn’t mean to-’

‘No it’s fine.’ she cracked a smile. ‘Joe taught me when he was still a paramedic. These tricks come in handy from time to time.’

’They do.’ he agreed. 

She patted his shoulder and then raised to her feet. With a painful groan she bend and stretched her legs. At these moments she felt old. ‘Can you stand?’

Hardy accepted the hand that was offered to him and let himself be pulled to his feet. Ellie noticed that he had started to shiver lightly. Looking around the office she located his jacket on the couch.

‘Here, put this on. I’ll be right back.’ she tossed him his jacket and quickly made her way to the kitchen. When she returned, two glasses of water in her hands, Hardy was perched on the edge of his desk. He had wrapped himself in both the jacket and his coat and was rubbing his arms.

‘You should drink.’ She handed him a glass and waited patiently until he had finished it. When he declined the second one, she set both glasses down on the desk and shot her boss a warning look. ‘Just so you know, I’m not leaving before you drink that one too.’

He noted the underlying concern in her voice and nodded obediently. Despite the extra layers of clothing he was still shivering.

‘Are you okay?’

He huffed. Stupid question really. ‘I’m just cold ‘s all.’

‘That’s quite normal.’ Ellie watched as he wrapped his arms around himself again. ‘Do you wanna tell me what happened there?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘Tell me anyway?’ She tried to find his eyes to gauge how he was doing. He looked conflicted. After what felt like hours he spoke, softly and carefully choosing the words.

‘That child almost drowned.’ He swallowed heavily and continued. ‘I have dreams, about the water. It’s happened before. But never like this.’

Something shifted in his eyes, a flashback maybe. His voice faltered. ‘I wake up and I can’t- I can’t stop it.’

His breathing was speeding up again. Ellie saw fear cross his face and she knew he could easily relapse back into his previous state if she didn’t do something.

‘Hardy, stay with me.’ She grabbed his arm. ‘Look at me.’

He did, grabbing hold of her arm as well, shaking his head frantically as if to shake off whatever thoughts were intruding his mind.

‘Breathe.’

‘I am!’ He choked out desperately.

‘That’s not what I meant!’ Ellie groaned inwardly. Even when panicking this man was infuriating. ‘Deep breaths.’

‘I can’t!’

Ellie hesitated, only for a moment, before pulling Hardy forward and wrapping her arms tightly around his back. She felt his hands clutch at her shoulders as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to push her away of hold her closer. She breathed in deeply, a sharp contrast against the rapid rise and fall of his chest. 

‘Deep breaths.’ she told him. ‘You can do it.’

Whether it was the arms around him or the words or simply everything becoming too much, Hardy finally gave in. His head buried in her shoulder, stifling a sob. She felt the erratic hammering of his heart and the almost unnatural warmth he was radiating. Chest to chest they breathed, Ellie adapting her pace slowly to guide Hardy’s down. Her hand run up and down his back soothingly and she kept whispering small encouragements. She held him and he clung to her until eventually Hardy lifted his head.

Ellie put a little distance between them, but kept her hands on his waist, watching him intently. ‘Better?’

He nodded and let go of her completely to wipe his eyes. He took a step back and leaned heavily against his desk. He coughed awkwardly. ‘You continue to surprise me today, Miller.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Ellie straightened her blouse and noticed that the shoulder was wet from his tears. She shrugged, it didn’t bother her. She studied Hardy, whose gaze was now fixed on the ceiling. He looked ashamed and vulnerable, but no longer frightened. 

‘Here.’ She reached around for the second glass of water and pushed it into his hands.‘Drink and I won’t ask you to talk about it again.’

‘That would be better, yeah.’ He downed the water in one go. The empty glass was placed next to the first one. He rubbed his neck, still refusing to look at her. ‘Miller?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Thanks.’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘That helped. Both of it.’

‘You’re welcome.’ she repeated, smiling genuinely.

‘I’m eh-’He paused, frowned, eyes locked on the floor now. ‘It won’t happen again.’

Ellie shook her head, not sure whether it was appropriate to laugh at either his naivety or very transparent lie. ‘Well, if it does happen again I’ll gladly help you through it.’

He looked confused, but nodded anyway.

‘Alec?’

He flinched at the use of his name, but didn’t correct her. ‘Yes?’

‘You don’t have to explain anything to me.’ She said softly. ‘But it might help to tell me when something triggers you. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

Hardy opened his mouth to say something, but Ellie held up her hand.

‘Don’t tell me now. Try to tell me when it happens again’ The hand landed on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. ‘WIll you be okay if I go home?’

He nodded silently and watched her turn to leave.

‘We don’t have to talk about this.’ she turned in the doorway. ‘But if you need anything, or just want to talk, call me.’

‘I will.’

Even though Ellie knew that he most likely wouldn’t, having him say this was already a very good start.

Chapter Text

The first time Hardy and Miller had dinner together was when they had known each other for barely a week. Hardy, eyes flicking over his computer screen without having moved otherwise for the past few hours, hadn’t realised it was getting late when MIller had knocked on his door.

‘I’m getting dinner. Can I get you anything?’

It was quite astonishing really as much as it was annoying him. He couldn’t understand how this woman, despite the instant and obvious dislike, which she reminded him of multiple times a day, kept being… well, nice to him, if politely so. They argued, a lot. She told him off, made it clear on several occasions that she was only working with him because she had no other choice. Then later she would still make him tea and be utterly affronted when he didn’t reciprocate the gesture. And now she was asking this. She could have just left, let him take care of himself, but here she was, offering to get him dinner.

Miller made an impatient noise and he made a vague noncommittal gesture. 

This he instantly regretted when half an hour later Miller placed an all too familiar looking paper wrapped packet on his desk along with some napkins. 

‘I can’t eat that .’ 

She actually glared at him in disappointment. Heaving a big sigh he lowered himself on his chair and began unwrapping his meal.

‘It’s all there is. Eat or be hungry.’

With another sigh he started picking at his food. He could have just accepted her gesture for what it was, kind, unnecessarily so, without a fuss, but he was too annoyed. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that he felt the need to act so childishly. That what it was, he was acting out, rebelling against the things he couldn’t wrap his head around. It was exactly this behaviour that Miller called him out on.

‘No, it’s you who is not the right fit, swanning in here, taking promotions meant for other people. Not being able to accept a cup of coffee or a bloody bag of chips without a great big sigh.’

He simply stared at her, too irritated by her unceasing obsession with the whole “you took my job” nonsense to process the last sentence. 

Miller apologised, because of course she did. ‘Sorry.’ and after a short pause. ‘Sir.’

--

It wasn’t until many cups of tea, coffee and even on one particular morning a thermos later that her words, heated and unfiltered, caught up with him. When they did, Hardy finally realised that it should have been him apologising rather than MIller that night. 

Deep down he envied Miller, because it had seemed so easy when she said those words. 

Miller had apologised almost intuitively and had known how to do so genuinely. Now Hardy understood that was because it had been genuine. It was what she did time and time again.

Miller admitted her mistakes, she apologised when she was out of line, because in her world, it was simply the right thing to do. And, Hardy had realised rather belatedly, so was making tea and offering to bring someone dinner. It was not just a polite gesture, she was taking care of the people around her. All she expected in return was for others to accept her kindness and once in a while acknowledge their appreciation.

All Hardy had ever done was decline, protest and indeed sigh, a lot. Not even once had he made an effort to respond with at least a half-hearted thank you. Miller had been right to call him out on his behaviour and he should probably apologise. However, even just thinking about how he could do so was extremely uncomfortable and overwhelmed him with shame. Hardy didn’t know how to bring it up, so he didn’t and instead scolded himself in silence for not only being rude, but for being a coward as well.

--

One morning, several weeks into the Danny Latimer case, Miller let out a surprised yelp when Hardy exited the kitchen and thrusted a steaming mug into her hands with a grumbled  ‘Don’t mention it.’

She continued to stare at him bewilderedly, wondering if she should check on her boss to make sure he was OK, and almost burned her fingers on the hot ceramic. 

From that day on both of them always made two cups of tea instead of just one.

For 4 more chapters, go to THIS WORK

Chapter Text

It’s too early and still dark when Ellie follows the coastal path halfway up the cliffs. He is already there, in suit, tie and jacket, looking the other way, but clearly, definitely waiting for her. His arms are crossed, but the way his shoulders are turned back tells her that it’s for posture and not because he’s cold. Nevertheless she reaches into her bag and pushes a thermos at his chest. He takes the container of warm tea from her hands and spares her a quick glance. His eyes are cold and dark, brow furrowed and his lips form a thin line. 

She follows his gaze to the ravage below them and swallows as her stomach turns. It’s not a pretty sight. The kids, whose tangled limbs she is facing, are barely old enough to be driving the motorcycles that lie beside them. She looks back at Hardy and knows that they’re both thinking the same thing. My child is never driving one of those.

She aches to say something, to make it hurt less, but she knows this look. There’s a hardness in his gaze that she hasn’t seen many times before, though always when there were children involved. It’s better to stay quiet for now, let him process at his own pace. He will speak eventually. So Ellie waits patiently, silently sipping her own tea until Hardy turns away from the horrific scene.

‘Thanks, Miller.’ He says, awkwardly holding up the thermos as if that is the sole reason to thank her, before brushing past her to talk to the other officers.

---

Hardy is shit with emotions in general. He often gets confused or irritated and leaves Ellie to handle the situations where he gets lost. This leads people to think that Hardy’s own emotions are just as complicated. Most just label him sad, angry or rude - is that even an emotion?- and leave it at that. Ellie knows those people are wrong.

She likes to think she has him all figured out by now. She’s seen all his looks and all the signs. She can tell when he is upset, when he is angry or when he’s just tired. She knows when the nightmares have kept him up and nowadays one look is all it takes to determine whether he has slept in his own bed or on his office’s couch.

Ellie knows when the glance cast in her direction is a warning, an encouragement or a question. She knows when he wants her to talk and when he wants her to be silent. She can distinguish when he is cross with her and when he is cross with himself and treating her like shit because of it. She knows when he is genuinely sorry and also when he is bulshitting his way through an apology. The latter are mostly forced out of him by Ellie herself. 

---

The two boys turn out to be neighbours. Despite knowing better, they decide to split up. Better to have to be the bearer of bad news only once.

Whatever Hardy might say, Ellie don’t thinks this will ever get any easier. She gets attached too easily, is pulled in by the family, becomes part of their grief. It breaks her heart to inform the weeping parents that their son’s death might not be an accident. She knows the implications, knows that a police investigation will only add to the weight of an already tragic death. A single tear slips down her cheek and she misses the half hearted, scolding eye roll, misses his strong, anchoring presence next to her.

She feels a little better once she is outside. Having escaped the heavy atmosphere she feels like she can finally breathe again. Leaning against their car she watches as the door of the neighbours’ house opens and Hardy steps outside. He shakes the hand of a woman, presumably the mother, politely.

Behind the woman a small light-haired girl appears. Hardy crouches down and extends his hand to her as well. The girl, who can’t be much older than six, shimmies behind her mother’s protective leg. The woman laughs shakily though the tears and after an encouraging shove, the girl gingerly takes Hardy’s hand.

There’s a falter in his step as he walks over to her. Barely noticeable, but it’s there. His fists are clenched tightly and she notices that he is blinking more frequently than usual.

She holds up her hand. ‘Keys.’ 

It isn’t a question and he doesn’t object, drops the keys in her hand and without a word slides into the passenger's seat.

Ellie takes her time to circle the vehicle, allowing him a small window to compose himself, before she gets into the car.

Hardy’s eyes are fixed on a point far away that only he can see. His hands are grasping his knees. He flinches as Ellie reaches over and places a hand on his arm, but a few moments later some of the tension leaves and he breathes out shakily.

‘Just drive.’ he croaks. ‘Please.’

So she does.

---

The best part of figuring out Hardy is to be able to tell when he is happy. It doesn’t happen often, but once it does, the lines in his face soften. At these times Ellie knows she can tease him, make jokes. She tries everything to get him to smile. When he laughs, his eyes light up and warmth sparkles in them, pours from them and fills Ellie’s heart with joy. 

Against all expectations he turns out to be brilliant with children. Somehow the grumpiness seems to be reserved for adults only. He is incredibly patient, willing to answer all sorts of questions, even multiple times. He allows them to touch him, lets himself be pulled along by the hand when a kid wants to show him something. The children’s endless enthusiasm is contagious, even to Alec Hardy. They can make him laugh like he has momentarily forgotten the rest of the world. 

---

That afternoon Hardy drives them both to the school so she can pick up Tom. He waits in the car, spends the time making a few calls. She waits a few paces away, leaning against a street lantern, smiling at the unmistakable irritation in his muffled voice. She waves Tom over to their parking spot as soon as she spots him. The boy exchanges fist bumps with his friends and walks over, smiling brightly.

A sudden loud noise makes all heads turn to the street where a bright red motorcycle l spurts past them. Tom stares. Ellie glares and tries very hard not to yell any insults that will go unheard anyway.

'Did you see him?' Hardy has sticked his head out of the car window and tries to get a glimpse of the driver.

'Didn't get a good look. He was too fast.' She takes a deep breath and shrugs it off. It's most likely nothing. They're both on edge after this long day and are suddenly hyper aware of motorcycles.

Tom is still staring in awe at where the motorcycle has disappeared.

Ellie shakes her head and grabs her son by the shoulder, steering him towards the car.

'Mum!' He complains, trying to shake off her hand.

'Don't get any ideas.' She warns him.

‘I won’t.’ Tom quickly ducks and sprints away before she can grab him. 

‘Tom Miller!’ but her stern face doesn’t last as the boy turns, shooting a wary look in the direction of his friends and then laughs playfully. ‘Come on, sweetheart, Hardy and I need to get back to work.’

She expects Hardy to make another comment, but he remains silent. She shoots him a pointed look, only to find him staring back at her.

‘We do.’ He coughs awkwardly and turns his head, suddenly refusing to look at her. ‘Come on, Tom.’

---

She likes to think that, by now, she knows all his looks, the happy ones and the sad ones, but that’s not quite true. Sometimes he gives her a look so strange and conflicted, Ellie can’t make anything of it. She only ever sees this one directed at herself, intense, open and vulnerable. It’s in those instances where his eyes soften and become just a tad bit darker. She thinks she sees wonder, but also fear. There’s a lot of confusion too. The moments seem unguarded, like time has frozen around him, until he realises she’s caught him staring and he looks away. He manages to distract her every time, until she forgets it had even happened. He’s good at that too. 

---

Someone must have taken pity on them, Ellie decides, although she is not sure who and why. The chat history from the recovered phones reveals the plan for a nightly ride. The two boys were alone. A chat of the technician with one of the fathers quickly clarifies that the motorcycles had been tampered with by the boys themselves. That leaves the detectives without a motive and no sign of foul play. Maybe for once these deaths are just what they seem: horrific and tragic accidents as a consequence of extreme stupidity.

'It's not murder.'

'Not murder.'.Hardy agrees. He smiles sadly and closes the file.

They sit in silence, the clock ticking away the minutes, and neither of them wants to break it. 

An accident , Ellie thinks, give it a few years and it could have been Tom . She knows he’s thinking along the same lines, has been from the start.

‘Do you want me to bring you home?’

He checks his watch, -they still have a few hours on the clock- sighs, and shrugs.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ she stands and tosses him his jacket to make it clear that he doesn’t have a choice.

---

It’s on that same wretched day that she figures out the last part. The case of the crashed motorcycles hasn’t lasted even two full days, but both of them are exhausted. They don’t talk while Ellie drives. It’s better that way. She needs her full concentration to keep her eyes on the road.

When she pulls up in front of his house he remains seated next to her. She doesn’t question it, turns off the engine and sighs. She’s fighting to keep her eyes open. On the other hand, closing them for just a moment can’t hurt, right? Why does she feel so tired? If this had been a murder investigation- No she shouldn't think about that, shouldn't think that maybe, somehow that would have been easier than feeling so helplessly empty.

‘Miller?’

His voice pulls her out of the darkness that’s threatening to take her under. She blinks, focusing on his form. He looks worried, but, she suspects, so does she. He doesn’t ask if she’s okay, though. He knows she’s not. He’s just as far from okay as she is.

‘Good work.’ is what he says instead and she nods, although she doesn't feel like she has really accomplished anything.

‘Thank you, sir.’

His gaze leaves her, drawn to the house, where a door is being opened. Daisy steps outside, chatting happily into the phone that’s pressed against her ear. The girl notices the familiar car and raises a hand.

Ellie waves back, briefly wonders why Hardy does not, and that’s when she sees it. He stares at his daughter, brown eyes soft and ever so fondly. It’s the same look he’s given her, she realises, only without the confusion and- Oh...

‘Oh.’ The syllable falls from her lips before she can catch it and the moment is broken.

Hardy frowns at her. ‘What?’

‘You really love her.’ she blurts.

‘She’s my daughter, of course I bloody love her.’

‘Of course.’ she swallows, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. ‘It’s just the way you look at her. It shows.’

‘I know.’ He pauses and there is the confusion, a brief flicker of it, before he sends her that sad smile. ‘I know it does.’

Oh… It hits her a second too late and he’s already standing next to the car. 

‘Wait!’

He complies, bends over to prop his head back inside. ‘Get some sleep, Miller, you’re exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She wants to stop him, although she doesn’t know what she wants to say. The world seems very unreal, like she's watching a movie instead of living in it. Her head is swimming and not just from exhaustion. She opens her mouth, but he cuts her off before she gets her voice to work.

‘Drive safely.’

He closes the door and walks away, scratches the back of his neck, runs the same hand over his face. Ellie knows he will pinch the bridge of his nose next. He's confused, unsure, maybe even embarrassed. She watches as he pulls his daughter briefly into a hug and leads her inside. At the doorstep he turns and Ellie doesn’t have to be close to know what look is on his face, for the first time doesn’t have to wonder what it means.

She likes to think that maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t understand that one before, because he was still trying to figure it out for himself.

Chapter Text

Hardy had left. He had put on his coat, walked out of the bullpen and simply left without a word. For some officers their boss' weird behaviour was slightly annoying. Ellie, on the other hand, normally found it infuriating, because this obstructed her own work. It wasn't the first time he had pulled this stunt either. He always seemed to get away with it. When she had complained to Jenkinson, her chief had kindly told her to give the man some space. 'I can assure you that I wouldn’t allow it if it weren’t necessary.’

Oh, he would come back, surely, but it could take a few minutes or multiple hours. There was no way to tell.

Today is different. Hardy had not stomped by in his natural broodingly angry fashion, but had slipped out quietly, unnoticed by anyone but Ellie.

They're almost two months into the Danny Latimer case and she is tired, knows he must be too. When two hours have past awaiting his return, she grabs her coat and leaves the station.

It isn’t difficult to find him, A dark figure, sitting stiff, a motionless statue apart from his hair, which is tossed around by the wind. Wordlessly she lowers herself down next to him, adjusting her coat to shield her trousers from the cold muddy sand.

After a good two minutes, Hardy turns his head slightly and sighs.

'How did you find me?'

'I've seen you here before.'

'Ah…'

He stares at the sea again.

She clasps her arms around her legs and rests her chin on top of her knees. The waves roll over the sand, the water collapsing in on itself, rolling and crashing before being pulled back. 

'Why?'

The word is uttered so silently that it almost gets lost in the wind, but she catches it anyway. Ellie turns her head to watch him.

'You looked like you needed a friend.'

His fingers twitch, brow furrows. 'I don't have friends here, Miller.' 

Something in the distanced cold way he says it makes her want to hit him. 'Don't be ridiculous.'

'What?' He catches her pointed look. A wry smile introduces itself. 'You?'

She rolls her eyes at him and he turns back to the waves that are steadily creeping up to where their feet are perched in the sand.

‘We’re not friends .’ The term is spit out as if it were an insult.

It hurts. Admittedly more than she had expected, coming from him. Despite that, she can't really say that his reaction surprises her. Not anymore.

She waits, despite knowing better, to give him a chance to- to what exactly she doesn't know. She doesn't expect her boss to take his words back.

Indeed he doesn't seem intended to say or do anything else. His eyes stay fixed on the horizon, his mouth clamped shut to a thin line of lips.

Ellie gives up. 'Suit yourself, sir.'

She stands and wipes the sand from her clothes.

His fingers dig into his legs, but otherwise he remains motionless.

With a sigh Ellie sets off in the direction of the station.

Hardy stays, still as a statue, until the water spills over his shoes. Finally he scrambles to his feet and follows her, his soaked feet leaving a wet trail in her footsteps.

Ellie catches sight of him when he slumps back into his office. He looks pained, mumbles something that vaguely resembles ' 'm sorry, Miller.' and Ellie is surprised by how quickly she has forgiven him. 

~~~

They walk over the muddy sand in brooding silence. Hardy's clearly upset. Ellie is almost running in order to keep up with his long determined strides. The hands that are stuffed in his jacket are balled to fists. 

There are things she wants to say to him, questions burning in her mind, but she knows it's best to wait and let him start the conversation. Ellie suspects that his mind is racing as much as her own. Joe’s trial is putting a lot of pressure on the both of them, and today has been the hardest so far. They should have expected the line of questioning. She vaguely remembers Maggie’s warnings. But nothing had prepared her for the wild accusations being thrown at her without having a chance to defend herself. Without a chance to defend both of them. 

Hardy stops walking so suddenly that Ellie almost crashes into him.

'You shouldn't come with me to Sandbrook.'

'What?' She pants. 'Why not?'

'It will only jeopardize the trial.'

He resumes walking and Ellie hurries after him.

'What? Don't be ridiculous.'

'Have you not been paying attention, Miller? We might know better, but the audience found miss Bisschop's scenario quite believable.' His voice lowers. 'It's always the same with those bloody juries. They love sensation. Feed them a story, the juicier the better. Who cares about the truth when there’s a story to tell?'

'Hardy, wait!' Ellie can't keep up anymore. She leans forward on her knees, trying to catch her breath. To her relief Hardy returns to her side immediately.

'You should do more cardio.' He comments dryly.

She hits his arm in reply. 'Damn you and your long legs.'

Hardy rubs the spot, looking like he can’t decide whether to pout or to scold her..

Ellie sighs. 'Look, you're right. They might believe that we had an affair, but there is nothing we can do about that. Avoiding each other from now on will only raise suspicion. Me working on Sandbrook won't change a damn thing.'

'I just…' he shrugs. 'I don't want them to believe that.'

Ellie rolls her eyes. 'Yeah, duh… i’m not particularly happy with everybody thinking of us together either..'

'No, you don't understand. You-' He pauses and frowns. Then he shakes his head. 'Nevermind.'

Ellie has known him long enough to know that look. 'No, out with it. Tell me what I don’t understand.'

 'It’s not about us.' He points at the two of them and cringes when Ellie raises her eyebrows,  'I mean, not about me.' He sighs, shakes his head and starts over. 'You know I couldn’t care less what they think of me.'

Ellie nods. 'I know.'

'But I care what they say about you, Miller, you’re my friend and I don't want anyone to think that you-'

He gestures vaguely,

'That I had sex with you?' She grins mischievously.

'‘That you were having an affair.’ he finishes lamely..

She shrugs. 'Not sure if it can get any worse than sleeping with a killer.'

'Maybe not.' He agrees.

They slip into a comfortable silence, standing side by side, staring at the horizon. Ellie muses over Hardy’s words. In a way it’s sweet that he is trying to protect her, but she’s still going to Sandbrook. People talk, they always do. Ellie doesn’t care. He needs this case solved and she will be there to help him. A smile starts forming on her lips. 

'Stop grinning, Miller.'

'Friend? Really?' 

'Shut up.' 

~~~

They are sitting on what Ellie silently has started referring to as “their” bench. It’s late and they’re alone. Joe is gone. Sandbrook is closed. There’s nothing more to do. Everything’s been said. It;s a strange sensation, not having to think about winning a trial or a solving a murder. They just sit and let it all sink in.

Ellie is sitting up straight, arms crossed over her chest. She shivers lightly despite her oversized orange coat. Hardy is quite the opposite image, slouching against the backrest with his hands folded in his lap. He has taken off his tie and looks almost casual.

‘Miller?’

‘Hmm?’ she hums.

‘You’re my best friend, you know that, right?’

She turns in her seat, trying to gauge him. ‘I do. What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’

‘No.’ she eyes him suspiciously. ‘What makes you say this?’

He shrugs, turning his head to look at the sea.

Suddenly Ellie understands. ‘You’re leaving, aren’t you?’

He looks pained, but doesn’t answer. 

The gravity of the statement is momentarily overwhelming, but she pushes it back to the edge of her mind. ‘I don’t want to do this now.’

She stands, intended on leaving, but Hardy grabs her wrist and gently pulls her back. 

‘I’m sorry.’ he offers weakly.

‘Don’t.’

Don’t be sorry.

Don’t leave.

He holds her gaze for another moment before dropping her hand. ‘I have to.’

‘I said I don’t want to do this now.’

Hardy rises from his seat, stepping closer. ‘I know.’

‘You can’t leave, Alec.’ Her eyes shine bright with tears that she is holding back. ‘I can’t lose another friend.’

‘I know.’ He reaches for her, but she pulls away.

‘Don’t.’

He watches her walk away.

He tries again anyway, holding his arms open in an invitation. This time Ellie gives in and buries her head in his shoulder. He rubs soothing circles on her back as she cries, whispering softly in her ear. ‘It’s okay. It will be okay.’

‘Promise me you’ll come back.’

He pulls back and pushes a strand of hair from her eyes.

‘Promise me.’ she repeats. ‘Please.’

He swallows, knows it’s probably a mistake, because there is no way he can guarantee something like this, but he nods anyway. ‘I promise.’

Ellie smiles through the tears and it breaks his heart. He pulls her closer and presses his lips against her forehead.

‘I promise.’ he says again.

And again.

And again. 

Until he starts believing it himself.

Chapter Text

It was commonly known that the flu season has its peaks in December and February. It shouldn’t have surprised anyone that this year was no different. A few weeks into the new year people around the station had started to develop symptoms of a cold. The amount of coughing, sneezing, red noses and watery eyes had increased exponentially as the virus spread amongst the officers.

Hardy didn’t really take notice of the absences of his co-workers. So long as the people he worked with on a daily basis were available, everything was fine. It wasn’t until one Tuesday morning that DS Miller called in sick, that he started to become aware of how empty the police station was.

The first day everything had been fine. Hardy had even secretly celebrated the occasion. A day without distractions was just what he needed to get rid of all the residual paperwork. It wasn’t that he didn’t like having Miller around, but having her barge into his office multiple times a day did not exactly contribute to reducing the pile of files on his desk.

Out of habit Hardy had started Wednesday morning by making himself and Miller tea. Hours later the cold beverage was still standing on her desk untouched. He felt like the mug was mocking him for his foolishness and, after throwing out the tea, he hid the offending item in the drawer under his desk. He would not make that mistake again.

On the third day Hardy found he couldn’t concentrate. The station was abnormally silent and for some reason it was bothering him. Normally he found the early or late hours, when everyone else had gone home, to provide an optimal working environment. Although, he suspected, even those lonely hours were easier to spend with Miller typing away at her computer, scribbling on her notepad or nagging at him about whatever was on her mind. It wasn’t that he missed her, he mused to himself, he was just annoyingly aware of her absence.

He spent half an hour in a staring contest with his phone deliberating whether or not it was appropriate to call her. In the end he opted for a text.
- I started a new case without you. When will you be back?
It didn’t take long for her to reply.
- After the weekend. Don’t want to infect anyone.
That meant he had at least three more days before she would be here to bother him again. A year ago this news would have cheered him up, but now the emptiness reigning the station seemed to spread and take residence in his chest.
- Is it that bad?
He kept staring at the screen, waiting for an answer that didn’t come right away. He wasn’t worried, Hardy told himself, not really. He was just being polite.
Finally the phone buzzed.
- Don’t worry. I’ll live. 

On Friday Hardy decided that if he couldn’t get his work done behind his desk, he might just as well not get his work done elsewhere. He took his coat and ventured out of the station, hoping that maybe a walk would clear his mind. He had intended to take the coastal path, but he didn’t get much farther than the pier. His mind kept wandering back to Miller. What would she do when he was the one catching the flu?

The only time two times Hardy had been called in sick, he had been in the hospital for his heart. And he had been stubborn enough not to let it last longer than one day. On both these occasions Miller had been there too, he realised. The first time she had presented him with a bag of grapes, the second time with a punch. Both times he had received a scolding for being reckless and not telling her anything. He supposed he did deserve that.

Even if he would simply catch the flu, he would likely find Miller next to his bed giving him an earful about not taking care of himself. There would likely be some angry tea making involved, as well as force feeding him something healthy and rich in vitamins.

This particular image gave him an idea and Hardy changed direction, leaving the dirty sand in favour of the town's grocery store.

~~~

Once he was standing at Miller’s doorstep, doubt started to overcome him. Maybe this wasn’t such a good plan after all. Maybe he was making a huge mistake. She would definitely think it was weird. Why did these doubts always start after he had already rang the doorbell? Hardy silently counted to fifteen, praying that Miller was asleep and wouldn’t answer the door and he could still go back and pretend this hadn’t happened. To his immense relief not a sound was heard from inside.

Hardy had barely taken three steps away from the porch when a loud sneeze came from behind him.

Startled, his heart pounding loudly, he faced the open door. ‘Miller?’

‘What are you doing here?’

Miller was standing in the doorway, eying him wearily, if a bit unfocused. She was wearing sweatpants, a hideous pair of grey woolen socks and a pullover. To top it all off a blanket was draped over her head and shoulders.

‘You look very…’ he gestured uncertainly. ‘Comfy?’

‘I’m freezing.’ She pulled on the blanket, wrapping it closer around herself. ‘Aren’t you?’

Hardy looked down at his coat and jacket that were both open, leaving his chest covered by only two layers. He shrugged. ‘No.’

‘Well, I am, so I’m gonna close the door. If you want to come in, now’s the time.’ She stepped back to allow him passage and shut the door behind them.

‘If you want tea, I- hold on.’ She sneezed three times in rapid succession. ‘I can put the kettle on’

‘Why don’t you sit down and let me do it.’ he suggested quickly. It would give him a moment to compose himself and have the benefit that she wouldn’t accidentally sneeze in his tea.

The incredulous expression at “Alec Hardy spontaneously offering to make tea” dissipated as she sneezed another two times. ‘Fine. Don’t touch anything else.’

A few minutes later he found her bundled up on her couch. The blanket was now functioning to warm her feet and lower legs. He handed her the tea and put down a second mug for himself. Then he reached inside his jacket pocket and, after a moment of hesitation, dropped a plastic bag on the coffee table. It was clear that he didn’t want to give it any further attention and of course this in itself piqued Miller’s curiosity.

In a desperate attempt to cover up his embarrassment and pry her attention away from the bag, Hardy sat down and coughed awkwardly. ‘So, how are you doing?’

‘As you can see. It’s getting better, but I’m cold.’ Ellie answered, her eyes not leaving the presented bag. ‘Why are you here? Are you okay?’

He nipped at his tea, buying himself time to decide which would be the least uncomfortable way to answer without lying. After some consideration he opted for ‘The station is very silent.’ Which was the truth. 

‘Aww.’ She grinned. ‘Did you miss me?’

‘Nah, I can manage on my own.’ He replied. Which was only a half-truth, considering that he hadn’t gotten anything done the day before.

Ellie grinned at him sceptically. ‘Something tells me that’s not completely true.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Why’d you think that?’

‘You’re here, aren’t you?’ she pointed out.

‘I am.’ he admitted reluctantly.

‘So, what’s this?’ Ellie pointed at the coffee table, trying hard to hide a smile as Hardy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

‘ ’s For you.’ 

‘Is this what I think it is?’ she put down her mug in favour of grabbling at the plastic. ‘Did you really bring me grapes?’

‘Figured that’s what you people do.’ Hardy stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, suddenly looking embarrassed. The fact that Miller was watching him with an expression of great amusement did not boost his confidence. ‘Is that bad?’

‘No.’ Ellie laughed. ‘I mean, yes that’s what we do. It’s just-’

He was slightly relieved, but still confused. ‘Just what?’ 

‘You.’ She grinned, opening the bag and picked at the green fruits. ‘Is this you trying to be supportive boss again?’

He mumbled something inaudible.

‘Hmm?’ She inquired, popping one of the grapes in her mouth. She munched on it and delight spread over her face.  ‘Oh, they’re very tasty, want one?’

‘I don’t-’ he started to object, but she didn’t want to hear it.

‘Bloody hell, sir, just take one.’

He sighed and picked one from the bag she held up for him. After inspecting the little fruit thoroughly he took a small bite. A sweet and sour taste with a bitter edge filled his mouth. Miller was right, it was tasty. His own delight must have shown on his face, because MIller was looking rather triumphantly.

‘Told you so.’ She offered him the bag and was visibly pleased that Hardy didn’t protest before politely taking another one. ‘So, what were you saying?’

He quickly swallowed his second grape, coughing a little as the sourness stung in his throat.

‘I said I’m not here as your boss.’

‘So what then?’ Ellie looked at him mischievously. ‘Is this you being supportive friend?’

‘Don’t be daft, Miller, I don’t do that.’

‘Don’t do what?’ she inquired cheekily. ‘Being nice to people?’

He managed to look both affronted and defiant at the same time and Ellie started laughing.  

He groaned. ‘See, this is why I don’t need to be nice to you. You’re already back to being your annoying self.’

‘Never stopped.’ she assured him, then sneezed again and grinned. ’Admit it. You were so worried about me.’

‘I was not.’

‘Pretty sure you were.’

‘That’s it. I’m going.’ Hardy raised from the chair, effectively hiding his flushed face. ‘Gotta enjoy my last few hours working without you.’

She was shaking with laughter by the time he reached the door. He turned one last time and saw that apparently to her this was so funny that even a few tears were streaming down her face. Sometimes this woman remained a mystery to him.

‘What?’ He asked. 

‘You brought grapes.’

He shook his head amusedly. ‘Don’t choke on the seeds. Miller.’ 

The next burst of laughter followed him down the hallway and he was grinning now too. Of course the grapes were seedless.

Chapter Text

!Trigger warnings! This is 2100 words of lockdown-induced anxiety. Explicit descriptions of panic attacks. There's a brief selfdestructive contemplation, which is not intended as a suicidal thought, but I do realise that it can be interpreted that way.
Description of the used techniques in the endnote.

With determined strides Alec Hardy walked along the docks. For anyone watching him, he would appear confident, though irritated as always, and completely in control. Upon closer inspection, however, one could notice the hard line drawn between his eyebrows, the slight falter in his step and the continuous twitching of his right thumb. But no-one would notice, because Hardy had made sure that this morning he would be alone.

There was no police tape, no police car left on the sidewalk with the lights still on, no blaring portophones and no Dirty Brian, or anyone from SOCO for that matter, waiting for him in one of those white spacesuits he found so appalling. He hadn’t even brought Miller. 

He had almost reached the end of the pier as his composure started wavering. His legs felt heavier with every step, slowing him down while his traitorous heart sped up. At the very last wooden plank he stopped and stood there, clutching a pillar until his knuckles had turned white. Then, with immense willpower, he took a deep breath and looked down.

The call had come in early that morning, before Hardy had even been in the office. The owner of one of the boats had reported a break-in. Nothing that couldn’t be settled with the insurance company, the man had said, but it would be appreciated if someone could take a look.

At first Hardy had dismissed it as a poor attempt at insurance fraud, which was below his payroll and more suitable for the colleagues downstairs anyway. At second thought, upon seeing a picture of the boat, he had decided that maybe it was worth a visit.

The boat itself wasn’t special. It just happened to have docked near the place where only a few months ago a girl had nearly drowned.

Months had passed since Miller had found him on the floor of his office.. It should have been enough. The nightmares had become less frequent, and were decreasing in intensity. He still woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in his own sweat, biting his knuckles to keep himself from screaming and scaring the hell out of his daughter, but it had become easier to calm down. He was coping in a more or less healthy way and he had Miller to thank for it.

A few days after the incident she had wordlessly slipped him a piece of paper on which she had listed all the grounding techniques that she knew. At the bottom she had reminded him of his promise. “If these don’t work you call me. ANY time.” He never called.

True to his word he had tried. He had picked up the phone and one or two times he had even gone one step further, scrolling through the contacts, thumb hovering above her name. He could never bring himself to press down. Not while he felt like he could manage on his own and the guilt of waking her was too much.

That was the thing about panic attacks. The point of no return was marked by the rational self being taken out of the equation. He saw no point in asking for help until it had gotten so bad that he couldn’t ask for help anymore.

And now here he was, at the very place that had sent him spiraling into his anxieties. It was different, he told himself, because he was here by his own choice. He had chosen to come here, to face his fears and bring an end to the images haunting his dreams. That's why he had to do this alone. He just had to be brave. 

Standing on the edge, however, bravery was the last thing on his mind. Bravery was what one felt before going into battle. His fight had started when he set foot on the docks and the unwanted images threatened to fill his mind. This time he had been prepared.

Veritas, Hopian, Forta, Fortuna

His thumb twitched, restless energy trying to escape, while he gathered the courage to finally look his enemy in the eye. 

Fidelis, Honora, Joyeu.

He breathed in deeply, feeling the distinct sting of salt. He swallowed, concentrating on keeping his breathing in check. He could do this.

Veritas, Hopian, Forta, Fortuna, Fidelis, Honora, Joyeu.

The names were a mantra, a repeating cycle. Old names from another lifetime. A line of ink in a children's book that had been read so many times that the cover had come off.

Truth, hope, strength, luck

It had been one of Miller’s ideas, a technique to divert his mind from whatever image it was pushing into his head, something to fully focus on,

Loyalty, honor, joy

In through the nose, out through the mouth. 

Truth, hope, strength

He opened his eyes, meeting the waves curling around the pillars below him.

Luck, loyalty, honor, joy

The water was a dark muddy brown, making it impossible to tell how deep one could sink.

Laughter filling the air, children screaming in joy. An anxious cry. 

He shook his head to fight off the memory.

Veritas, truth. The truth. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

A splash. 'Help!’  Legs turned to stone.

The truth is that I couldn’t save her. I would have let her drown. That’s the truth.

More splashing, desperate cries from both the girl and her friends. 

It was okay, he had expected this. The flashbacks were part of the process. He just had to push through and everything would be fine. He knew what would come next.

Water. Water everywhere.

He was standing on dry land, he could swim, it was just a memory, it would pass.

Water soaking his clothing, pulling him down, A dead weight in his arms, gravity dragging him away from the surface. Water closing above him, shielding him from the world.

He couldn’t breathe. The air seemed too thick to pass though his clenched throat. A weight pressed on his chest. A choking sound escaped him as he doubled over, his back wanting to curl and arch at the same time, unable to escape the tension either way. Seagulls passed overhead and their screams vanished in the blurry stream of water and the rapid pounding of his own heart. 

Suddenly he was overcome with the urge to jump. There was a need, an unnatural desire to feel the water close around him as he sank. He needed to feel the reality of it all, feel something that did not only exist in his head. He bent his knees, ready to take the leap.

Rough hands clawed at jacket, pulling him back.

‘Christ, Alec!’

They stumbled backwards and he struggled to regain his footing. The fog that had been clouding his mind had cleared a little, the pressure around his throat moved to his chest and he gasped, filling his lungs with salt air. Air, not water.

‘You idiot! What were you thinking?’ Miller was shouting at him, anger nearly masking the fear and panic that blended into the words. Her voice rang painfully in his ears and for a moment he thought she was gonna hit him. He closed his eyes, waiting, but all he saw was water. He could feel it, hear it, all around him.

‘Look at me.’ Miller must have seen the change, because now the panic was replaced with worry.

He shook his head.

‘Goddamnit, Alec!’ she swore, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him firmly. ‘Open your eyes and look at me!’

He forced himself to comply, meeting the familiar dark brown eyes.

‘This place is a trigger.’ She said shortly. ‘We should go.’

‘No!’ he yanked his hand away, immediately regretting his outburst as hurt flashed over Miller’s face. ‘I need-’ his voice broke and against all laws of nature more tears forced themself from his eyes as reality caught up. He had wanted to jump, wanted to feel. How could he want that, when he still- when the water-

'Breathe.' Miller’s voice broke through his thoughts. 'It's okay. I'm right here.'

The hand on his shoulder tightened as she stepped closer. Fingers touched the back of his neck, guiding him closer until he gave in and buried his head in her shoulder. 

His body shook, every convulsion a wave of anger, fear, sadness, too big to process. It was blind panic, but on a different level, where he was no longer just scared, but overwhelmingly sad. 

A soft hand reached down, tracing over his wrist, gently preening his clenched fist apart. Her palm slid into his and he grabbed her hand like it was a lifeline. 

He breathed in, nose filling with her scent, as she inhaled and he felt her chest expand against his before separating in an exhale.

'Alec, use your techniques.’ She squeezed his hand, the other still rubbing his shoulder. ‘You can do this.’

He struggled, grasping for words that were so close, but just out of reach. His head was warm, fuzzy and felt too heavy. If only he could find the first word, the truth that-

‘V-veritas.’

The word came out in a stutter that shocked the both of them. He had never meant to speak aloud. He stiffened and felt Miller pull back.

‘Truth?’

For a moment she looked confused and shame welled up in his chest, but before it could spread, she recovered.

‘Your list.’ she smiled encouragingly. ’Go on.’

Truth, hope, strength, water, water all around- no!’

‘Hopian.’ he breathed.

‘Hope.’ Miller answered with another squeeze.

‘Forta.’ now that he started talking it was easier to let the other names roll off his tongue. ‘Fortuna, Fidelis, Honora, Joyeu.’

He took a breath and repeated the string, faster this time, focusing on the words, the meaning behind them, until little by little the crushing sadness loosened its grip on him. 

Miller waited patiently, rubbing soothing patterns on the back of his hand while he whispered. As he paused to breath or swallow, she spoke softly, telling him that he was doing good, that everything was okay, that he should take his time.

Eventually he felt the last traces of panic subside and he closed his mouth, lifting his gaze to Miller’s. 

The worry was still evident in the weak smile that she gave him. ‘Ready to go?’

She waited for him to lead the way, but it wasn’t before they reached the street that she took her hand from his and wiped the sweat on her trousers.

‘Miller, wait.’ he stopped her before she could cross the street to the station. They hadn’t spoken a word while walking and if they went back into the office now, he would never want to speak of this again.

She turned and looked up at him expectantly.
‘Thank you.’ was all he could manage. 

‘You’re welcome.’ She replied. Then she frowned. ’Why did you go there alone?’ 

‘I had to.’ he looked at her pleadingly, willing her to understand what he could not put into words.

‘You didn’t tell anyone where you went.’ She could no longer hide the accusation behind the words. ‘Was it out of pride? To prove that you’re strong enough to fix yourself?’

He kept silent, averting his gaze. She was right to be angry with him and there was no way he could defend himself.’

‘I-’ She bit her lip, hesitating. ‘For a moment I thought-’ But then she shook her head. ‘Nevermind’

‘I’m sorry.’ He offered.

He was. He didn’t know what else to say. Nothing he could say would change what had happened. 

‘You scared me.’ Her hand had closed around his again, pulling him closer. ‘Never do that to me again.’

He shrugged helplessly. ‘I can’t promise that.’’

‘I’m not asking you to promise.’ she countered. ‘I’m telling you to try. Don’t you understand? You don’t have to do these things alone. You don't even have to- to-' she paused, searching for words. 'To have a panic attack every time, because you're too stubborn to ask for help.'

She knew. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore and yet-. 'How did you-'

'Oh, for god's sake, Hardy. I'm not an idiot.'

He shook his head. 'You never mentioned it.'

'You never called.'

The hurt seeping into her voice sent a pang of guilt through his chest. He swallowed and murmured weakly. 'I couldn't.'

Miller remained silent for so long that he began to feel uncomfortable. Suddenly he was painfully aware of the hand that was still wrapped around his.

At last she sighed loudly. 'You might not believe it, but really  sometimes all you need is someone to talk to or…'

‘Or…?’ he inquired.

But she sent him a sad smile and shook her head. ‘Nevermind. You wouldn’t understand.’

He watched as she crossed the street, leaving him on the other side of the road. His fingers tingled where she had squeezed his hand before she let go.

Oh…

Sometimes all you need is a hand to hold.

Chapter Text

The room looks just like he remembers. Everything is painted in a shade of white, from the floor to the walls to the radiators below the open curtains that sway gently in the morning breeze. One of the windows is ajar, letting in the noises of traffic approaching rush hour, the outside world mingling with the stern voices and beeping machines that float through the hallway. If he closes his eyes, it’s almost enough to forget where he is.

He’s perched on the edge of his seat, leaning on his knees and watches the woman lying in the hospital bed beside him. Ellie Miller isn’t attached to one of those scary looking monitors like he was. There are no wires or tubes attached to her, no steady beeping heartbeat echoing through the room. She’s just lying there, sleeping like nothing has happened. He knows better. Something did happen.

The doctors have told him that he shouldn’t worry, that she is going to be fine, that there are only minor injuries. They keep telling him that she has been very lucky. He keeps telling them to shut up, because if she had truly been lucky, she wouldn’t have been hurt at all.

‘Sir?’

Her voice is a harsh and fragile whisper, filled with pain and sleep, that has him on his feet and by her side in an instant. He finds her eyes, relieved to find them sharp and focused.

‘Miller.’ he greets her.

She blinks at him slowly. ‘What are you doing here? Where are we?'

'Hospital.' He answers briefly. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Ehm.’ She wriggles a bit under the covers, assessing her own lims no doubt, and winces in pain.  ‘Like I got hit by a truck.’ she concludes.

'I'd figure.' He couldn't help but feel the small tug on his lip.

Her eyes widen. ‘Did I get hit by a truck?’

‘A car.’ he corrects her.

‘Ah...’ she looks around, taking in the room. Finally her eyes return to him. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are.’ He retorts. ‘Didn’t think to inform me about being your emergency contact?’

She huffs and then winces in pain. ‘Did you really expect it to be Joe?’

‘You have a sister!’

She has the decency to look at least a little bit ashamed. ‘Lucy and I are not exactly on speaking terms.’ Her eyes lift briefly and drop to her hands that are folded on top of the ugly green blanked. ‘I guess I just thought you were the most convenient choice.’

He stares at her, puzzled.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, you’re right, it’s convenient.’ he sighs. ‘But you really should have told me.’

She’s watching him intently and he can see a hundred questions pop up in her mind. He has surprised her somehow, but he can’t figure out why. He decides to ignore it for now.

‘Do you remember what happened last night?’ 

Miller grimaced and gestured at her body. 'Evidently I got hit by a car.'

'Tell me what else you remember.' Hardy takes a step back and leans against the wall. Miller seems to take it all very calmly, but he can tell that fear is bubbling underneath the surface.

‘I was driving home late.’ Miller’s face contorts in concentration. ‘I don’t remember coming home.’

‘That’s because you didn’t.’ 

'I didn't…' She looks lost in thought for a moment and then 'Oh god, Fred! Where is he? Is he okay?'

'He's with Lucy.' He quickly reassures her.

'Good. Okay.' She breathes in deeply, calming down a little. 'What happened?'

'Apparently you got into a fight.' He raises his eyebrow. 'Still doesn't ring a bell?'

She shakes her head.

'A witness saw you arguing in the middle of the road. You were pushed, lost your balance. There was another car-'  He stops suddenly and shakes his head. 'It was an accident.'

Miller watches him intently, trying to make sense of his explanation. After a few minutes she gives up and shrugs. 'I don't remember anything. Not yet anyway.'

‘I’m not surprised.’ he says dryly. 'Short-term memory loss is a common side-effect of taking a blow to the head.' 

She chuckles and he smiles, relieved that she seems to be taking it all well. A comfortable silence settles over them. Hardy watches as Miller folds back the cover and takes inventory of her injuries. The doctors hadn’t lied when they said she had been very lucky. A large bandage covers her side where the skin had been grazed by the asphalt, but at least she hadn’t broken any bones.

‘Can you eh-’ Reluctantly she gestures at the covers that she kicked away. Upon his raised eyebrows she pats the bandages. ‘I probably shouldn’t pot too much strain on this.’

Of course she is right. He pushes himself from the wall and straightens. The cover is roughly pushed aside as he draws the thin white sheet that goes underneath it up to her shoulder. Then he spreads the heavier cover over it and folds the sheet over the cover’s edge. Miller’s eyes never leave him while he works. It almost feels like she’s a child that’s being tucked into her bed.

‘Is yours still Tess?’ The question tumbles out unfiltered, taking them both by surprise.

He freezes at the sound of her name. It takes him a moment to connect her question with the unprovided context. He shoots her a conflicted look, because Tess is in fact still listed as his emergency contact and it hasn’t bothered him before, but suddenly he isn’t sure why. So he answers her question with the only logical explanation he can find. ‘She’s Daisy’s mother.’

She doesn’t respond and he doesn’t elaborate. The silence that fills the room is no longer comfortable.

Ellie tries to turn to her side to get a better look at him, wincing slightly as this puts pressure on her side. She reaches out and lightly touches his arm to get his attention.

‘Thank you.’

‘What?’ he focuses on her.

‘For staying here.’

‘Yeah.’ He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling self conscious. ‘Of course.’

…

When Ellie wakes later that afternoon Hardy is at her side again. He has changed into a suit and looks somewhat better than before. In his hands he is holding a case file which she recognises from the day before. He is staring at it blankly,  lost in thoughts.

‘Hey.’ she calls softly.

His head shoots up and he puts the file down. In two long strides he is back at her side, this time sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better.’ she represses a yawn. ‘Tired.’

He grimaces. ‘That’s probably the drugs they gave you.’

‘Hmm, I bet.’ She points at the chair where he has dropped the papers. ‘What are you working on?’

She had expected Hardy to reach over and show them to her, but instead he remaines seated, staring at her intently.

‘I’ve been thinking…’ he starts, then stops and studies the wall behind her.

‘Really?’ she pokes his arm playfully as he doesn't continue. ‘What about?’

Hardy pushes her arm away gently, and fixes her with his gaze, willing her with his eyes to take whatever he is gonna say seriously.

‘I’m sorry.’ she quickly apologises. ‘No more jokes.’

His gaze doesn’t leave her as he stands and reaches not for the papers, but for his coat. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

Ellie has to bite her lip not to say I’m always right , while she watches Hardy retrieve his phone.

Sitting down again he hands it to her. 'Look.' 

She stares at the device, unsure about the meaning of this. Turning it around in her hand doesn’t provide her any more clues of what he’s going on about

Hardy is watching her expectantly and seemingly a bit self conscious. She notices his fingers fumbling with the end of his tie. When it takes too long without any reaction for her side he hesitantly asks ‘Is this okay?’. 

She looks at him apologetically ‘I’m not following.’ She tries to hand him back his phone, but Hardy shakes his head. He reaches over and pushes the home button.

‘Look.’ he repeats and then presses the emergency dial. The screen shows her 2 options.

'What is this?'

Hardy rubs his eyes and groans in frustration. ‘This is me asking. Something you forgot to do.’

'That wasn't on purpose!' She objects. 'I just didn't think it'd be such an issue.'

'For god's sake Miller, stop making it such a big issue. Just say yes or no.'

'You're making this an issue!' Her finger is poking at his chest in what might have once been a threatening gesture, but her tone is light and bordering on playfulness.  'I mean, it's not a marriage proposal.'

She knows she has gone too far as she sees the brief flash of hurt cross his face and she instantly regrets making that last comment. She didn't mean to hurt him.

'Hardy-'

'Forget it.' He snatches the phone from her fingers and leaps from the bed. 'This was a stupid idea.'

‘Wait, I’m sorry.’ she catches his sleeve between her thumb and forefinger and tugs gently to hold him back. ‘What I meant was yes.’

He turns. ‘What?’ 

‘Yes, Hardy, I will be your emergency contact.’ she states as formally as she can manage.

He narrows his eyes. Eventually he seems to come to the conclusion that she isn't playing jokes on him. 'Thank you.' 

'You're welcome.'  She smiles warmly, before breaking into a grin as she adds ‘But don’t expect me to come running for you for at least another week.’

‘Great.’ He snorts. ‘If anything happens I’ll ask them to put my bed next to yours.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ she grins.

‘On second thought, I’ll have to be very careful until you’re out of here.’

Chapter Text

‘Miller!’  Hardy’s voice boomed from his office. ‘I could use your help here.’

It was a Sunday morning and both of them were at their respective desks, following up on a lead on a series of thefts. Two suspects had been taken into custody and Hardy had confiscated their phones. Currently he was going through the files stored on them while Ellie cross referenced locational data with cctv images. She had been staring blindly at a dark and mostly empty street when Hardy called her.

Ellie got up and wandered into the little office while rubbing the tiredness from her sore eyes. Sitting down at his desk she had to stifle a yawn before asking ‘Found anything?’ 

‘ ‘S this text. I don’t get it.’ He explained. ‘It ends with ex oh ex oh...  What does that mean? Who signs a text with that?’

She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes again, trying to decide whether she should be surprised or not about the gap in Hardy’s common knowledge. ‘It’s just…’ she shrugged. How was she gonna explain the meaning of hugs and kisses to him? If she had to guess, her boss wouldn’t even understand what signing an x meant.

‘You’ve seen it before?’ He looked interested now, so she decided to go with that.

‘Of course I have.’ she nodded. ‘It’s very commonly used between friends.’

‘What kind of friends?’

She thought about it. ‘Good friends I guess. Me and Beth used it for a while.’

It hurt a little to say this out loud. Even though she and Beth were back to being friends, some things would never come back. The past had altered their friendship in an unrepairable way and this was one of the little things that reminded her that things would never go back to the way they were.

‘So it’s just slang?’ Hardy ventured. ‘Just a friendly way of greeting and nothing else?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ she replied distractedly. ‘Wouldn’t it be faster if you let me go through the chat history?’

‘No need. I finished that hours ago.’ 

‘Oh.’ She blinked in surprise. ‘Then what’s this about?’

‘Take a look at this.’ He shoved his phone under her nose. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Ellie blinked and moved her head back, putting some distance between her eyes and the screen so that she could actually read the text. It consisted of only four words.

- See you tomorrow! xoxo

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Hardy hadn’t been fussing over a case file, but over his own phone. Well, that certainly changed things.

Ellie quickly checked who had sent it. The contact had been labelled “D”. A funny feeling bubbled up in her stomach. It was cold and empty at the same time, but mostly it was itchy and plainly unpleasant. Ellie couldn’t quite place it.

She coughed, regaining some of her composure. ‘What’s this then?’

‘A text.’ he said impatiently, clearly bothered that she seemed so slow on the uptake. He had taken off his glasses and was twirling them around in his fingers while looking at her expectantly.

Ellie coughed again, feeling her the tips of her ears glow. ‘It seems.’ she said slowly. ‘Like someone is looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.’

‘Hmm.’ he stared at the screen until it turned black and seemed to consider this.

Ellie had expected him to look a bit happier about this, but the lines between his brows had deepened. He gave the impression that he was solving an extremely complex mathematical problem. She chuckled inwardly. In Hardy’s case maybe the maths would have been easier to navigate than the social aspects of his life.

‘Would it be weird if I used it in a reply?’

‘What?’ His eyes were looking at her helplessly. She quickly recovered and shook her head. ‘No, I suppose not.’

Ellie stared at his hands as Hardy thumbed a quick message for the mystery texter. She wondered who it could have been. Hardy had gone on at least one cheeky date, a few weeks back, but she hadn’t gotten the impression that it had been a success. She giggled at the memory of his shocked and bewildered expression as she had bumped into him afterwards. 

Hardy shot her a distracted glare.‘ Don’t you have work to do, Miller?’

‘I was-’ she started defensively, but he cut her off.

‘Quit the daydreaming. Out.’ he waved her towards the door. ‘Out. This case isn’t gonna solve itself.’

As it turned out it wouldn’t be Ellie who solved this case either. At least not today. She tried, she had really tried to focus on the casefiles in front of her, but her attention kept wavering. 

The odd feeling in her stomach had been growing more persistent until she could no longer ignore its presence. Her skin itched and she felt vaguely vacant. 

She kept mulling over the strange text, couldn’t stop wondering what it had to mean. Had it come from the same woman from that date? Or maybe he had met someone else afterwards? Or maybe even before his daughter had set up that dating profile…

There was no way Ellie could do her work like this. She had to figure out what was going on with Hardy first.

Her first attempt at unraveling the mystery text came a few hours later when Hardy was making a late lunch for himself.

‘So…’ Ellie drawled, circling him in the small kitchen not much unlike a predator stalks its prey. ‘What’s happening tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow?’ Hardy raised an eyebrow at her.

‘The text.’ she clarified, then added pointedly. ‘Your date.’

‘Oh, that’s not a date.’ He waved dismissively. ‘I promised to make pasta. Her favourite.’

She processed this new piece of information. Hardy was cooking for his date, but still he didn’t seem overly enthusiastic about the whole thing. Or maybe, the voice in the back of Ellie’s head supplied helpfully, he just doesn’t want to discuss his dating life with his colleague. However, before she could ask further questions, the microwave pinged.

Ellie watched in both fascination and disgust as Hardy swiftly turned and retrieved a plate with an overcooked piece of bread. He stared at the steam rising from it and then sniffed it, then poked a finger at the soppy substance and scrunched his nose. She wondered if he was really gonna eat that.

The question was answered as Hardy reached in the sink and rinsed the knife that he had found there, before opening the jar of peanut butter.

‘That’s disgusting.’ she commented. ‘How can you put that in your mouth willingly?’

He ignored the question and started prodding experimantally at the peanut butter. ‘Do you need something, Miller?’

Being grossed out by his lunch had distracted her from her objective. Ellie couldn’t think of a single question that would provide her with more information. Not while his food was in front of her. So she gave up and left Hardy to his lunch.

She tried it a second time when she was getting ready to go home. Hardy was still immersed in the files on his computer screen when she knocked on the doorframe.

‘Day’s over.’ she announced. ‘Time to go home. Pack up your stuff.’

Hardy glanced at the clock and then back at his screen. ‘Alright.’ he sighed. ‘I’m stuck anyway.’

To Ellie this was a welcome victory. It didn’t happen often that he would come with her willingly. She was watching him finish up his work when she got an idea.

‘You never told me about your cheeky date.’

Her comment made him stiffen and sit up slowly. ‘My date?’

‘Yeah, you know. Dates.’ she said pointedly. ‘You. Going out. With women.’

‘One date, it was one date, Miller!’ Hardy groaned. His cheeks had turned a light shade of pink. ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

‘Are you sure?’ 

‘Why are you suddenly so interested in my dating life?’ He squinted at her suspiciously.

‘You’re my friend. It’s a natural curiosity.’ 

‘No this is different. Before today you’ve never asked me about it.’

He was right. She hadn’t. She had only teased him about it when she’d bumped into him right after, but she hadn’t mentioned it again. Partially because she wasn’t sure how to approach the subject and partially because she wasn’t sure she actually wanted to know. Maybe she had gone too far. She was behaving like an idiot. A small amount of guilt manifested itself in the confusing cold bubbling of emotions that was already present. Her shoulders slouched and her gaze dropped in defeat.

‘It’s that text you showed me.’ she mumbled. ‘i just-’

She shrugged, not sure how to put it into words.

‘That text? What does that have to do with this? I already told you, it’s not-  Wait.’ he stopped mid-track as his brain provided him with the answer. ‘Are you jealous?’

‘What, me?’ she feigned ignorance, failing miserably at sounding even the least convincing. ‘What should I be jealous of?’

It was a defence mechanism, trying to deny the truth that he had figured out before she had.  That the empty feeling that had followed her all day could only mean one thing. She, Ellie Miller, was jealous. 

It was almost cute, the way Hardy’s gaze dropped and his expression changed from victorious annoyance to confused rejection. Ellie could see the doubt creep in, but it was too late to take her words back. The worst was the hurt that seeped through, even though he was clearly trying not to show it.

‘Well, I don’t know!’ He spit out at last. ‘How would I know?’

And with that he pushed past her and left.

Chapter Text

Time froze for a second that stretched to contain minutes upon minutes and only two single heartbeats that rang in Ellie’s ears along with the echo of her voice.

What should I be jealous of?

Six words was all it had taken for him to break and run. She had managed to hurt him in a way that was almost impossible to fix. She could just as well have told him he was worthless. 

A shiver started at her hairline, travelling down her spine, rocking her frame in a hard tremor. She had made a huge mistake and she had no idea how she was going to correct it.

A door slammed shut.

Time unfroze and flowed freely once again

One second.

Two seconds.

Three, four, five seconds before she moved.

Ellie ran.

She crossed the bullpen, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste to push the door open and bolt into the hallway.

‘Hardy, wait!’

By some miracle he had not yet reached the stairs.

‘Wait! I’m sorry!’

The thunderous look he shot her stopped her dead in her tracks. 

‘Wait.’ she stepped forward, adding a softer ‘Alec, please let me explain.’

‘Oh, there’s no need for that.’ He snapped at her. ‘You were very clear.’

He turned away, his heavy footsteps resuming their path to the stairs. Ellie felt her chance slip through her fingers and panicked.

‘Wait!’ she called after him. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. Hardy, I’m sorry!’

Two more steps until the stairs and he wasn’t paying her any attention.

‘You were right!’

He halted 

She took another tentative step. ‘I think, you’re right. About being jealous, I mean.’

‘You think?’ His eyebrows disappeared behind the fringe that dangled over his forehead and his eyes grew even wider. 

‘I was- I’m- ‘ She groaned, rubbing her forehead. The urge to turn around and run the other way grew stronger as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense.’She averted her eyes. ‘You have a date. And I felt-’

‘How many times, Miller?’ he snapped impatiently. ‘It’s not a date.’

Ellie ignored him. ‘I don’t know why, it’s just a date, but I suppose I felt…’

‘God’s sake, Miller! You’re not listening to me!’ he was shouting now and he looked like he was barely containing himself not to throttle her. ‘There. Is. No. Date!’

‘Then what-’

‘You’re a bloody detective!’ he interrupted her. ‘Figure it out!’

Her brain capacity seemed to be reduced to a bare minimum as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. After what felt like an eternity the creaking radars in her head finally came to a halt, providing her with the answer. Ellie felt shame color her face up to the roots of her hair. 

‘Daisy.’ The name of his daughter was no more than a whisper, but Hardy had caught it anyway and nodded.

‘Finally!’

Something in Hardy’s tone made the shame disappear and be replaced by a sudden wave of anger. In three steps Ellie had caught up with him and her balled fist collided with his upper arm, delivering a firm punch. She tried not to delight in the way he cowarded away and gripped his arm, yelping more in surprise than in pain.

‘You’re such an idiot.’ she hissed, underlining her statement with a shove to his other arm. 

‘Excuse me?’

She crossed her arms to refrain from hitting him again. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘You didn’t ask!’

‘You let me think-’ She faltered and shook her head. ‘The whole time I thought-’

‘Thought what?’ he demanded.

‘That you-’ she stabbed a finger at him accusingly. ‘You... I was so confused and all- all for nothing!’

‘Stop speaking in riddles, Miller.’

‘You’re a bloody detective!’ The finger jabbed at his forehead as she threw his words back at him. ‘Figure it out!’

Hardy groaned, aggressively pushing her finger away from his face. ‘For god’s sake, woman! You’re not making-’’

Ellie's feet moved almost on their own accord and before she had time to think it through, she was pressing herself against Hardy’s chest. One hand pulled at his hip while the other cupped the back of his neck, dragging him down and effectively silencing him.

There were no sparks, no fireworks, no warmth exploding in her belly when she pressed her mouth firmly to his, just a forceful touch channeling all her anger and frustrations towards both him and herself. 

The first thing she immediately noticed was that his face was wet and warm and rough and his lips cracked and ungiving. She stayed still for a moment, moving with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His heartbeat hammered against her own, both elevated, a rapid thundering rhythm that went straight to her head, making her dizzy, leaving no room for other thoughts.

His hand came up between them, clawing at her shoulder, twitching and pressing lightly as if debating whether to push or pull. A soft wounded noise came from the back of his throat.

And then he was kissing her back.

His lips moved and he was fighting her, pushing and pulling and forcing her to take a step back, buckling under the sheer intensity. Hardy groaned as he pulled on her bottom lip and it was this that sent the first bolt of sizzling sparks down to her core and made her knees go weak.

With a jerk Ellie broke them apart and shoved him away, sending him stumbling backwards. From a safe distance she stared at her boss, chest heaving with the effort to catch her breath. Hardy was coughing, gasping for air himself, fingers flying up to fix and straighten his tie. He was looking everywhere but at her.

For some miraculous reason Ellie was the first to recover enough to find her voice. ‘Make enough sense?’

‘What,’ he panted. ‘In the bloody hell was that?’

Ellie eyed him incredulously for a moment and then a nervous laugh burst from her. ‘I honestly can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.’

Slowly his gaze lifted from the floor and he shot her a tight grimace. ‘I get that a lot.’

She snickered, she couldn’t help it. Her feelings were a confusing mess. The jealousy she had been feeling all afternoon (because she couldn’t very well deny that now, could she?) had been replaced by angry humiliation that was interfering with the giddy sensation sterning from the kiss. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was screaming at her that this was the perfect time to start panicking because she couldn't possibly just have done that . Ellie blocked it out. All she really wanted right now was go home, sleep and pretend this whole day was just a dream that never happened. A look at Hardy told her that he wasn’t doing much better.

The air between them seemed charged, sparkling with tension that still hung there, thick and unresolved. Neither of them seemed overly eager to address the proverbial elephant that seemed to suck up all the oxygen in the hallway. 

In the end it was Hardy who broke the silence.

‘I’m still angry.’ he told Ellie’s right foot.

Ellie shrugged at the ceiling. ‘Me too.’

‘Good.’ he nodded.

‘Good.’ she repeated slowly.

‘We should probably…’ Hardy gestured towards the stairs. ‘You know.’

‘Go home.’ she finished for him.

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay.’

‘Good.’

Neither of them moved. 

‘Miller,’ Hardy started. His voice was soft, but his tone was more serious and Ellie heard the doubt creeping in. There was a question in there too, unspoken. What now?

She knew instinctively that whatever he was about to ask, she couldn’t, just couldn’t possibly bring herself to deal with this right now or she would start panicking.

‘Will we be okay tomorrow?’ she asked, cutting him off.

He blinked and frowned. After a few seconds he seemed to understand what she was asking and he nodded slowly. 

‘Thank you.’ She managed to twist her lips into a small smile, before she brushed past him. ‘Good night, sir.’

She was halfway down the stairs when he called after her. 

‘Good night, Miller.’

They would talk. Later. When they had both had time to process.

For now they would be okay.

Chapter Text

Hardy doesn’t like it when things get emotional. He seems easily overwhelmed, lost in the push and pull of anger, hurt, regret and loss. It’s difficult even for the best detectives to discern the emotions in one’s voice, eyes and body language, tell what’s real and what’s for show. He seems to notice everything at once. Raw, unfiltered, often contradictory, information crashes over him. He’s told her once that figuring people out is like solving a jigsaw puzzle. Only there are two puzzles, both incomplete, scrambled together and the pieces are placed upside down. His brain works fast, analyzing every piece of information within moments, without him consciously doing so.

‘How do you do that?’ Ellie asks one day. ‘I felt that something was off, but you clearly knew that long before I did.’

Hardy scoffs at that. ‘It’s not a feeling, Miller. It’s your brain drawing conclusions based on the analysed information. It doesn’t fit.’

‘I feel it.’ she disagrees. ‘I feel uneasy. Tense.’

‘You can’t feel the atmosphere or sense lies, Miller. You noticed he was contradicting himself. He tensed up when he realised, so did you.’

‘Is that what it’s like to be in your head?’ she wonders. ‘Just cold analysis?’

‘Isn’t it in yours?’

It comes in handy in the interrogation room, helps him to steer the questions in the right direction. He’s fully focused, eyes darting over their suspect's body, taking everything in while the other talks. Then he retracts, averting his eyes to the table, to plan the next move, to formulate his next question. He realises quickly when things do not connect and she can see it in his eyes when the pieces tossed at him don’t fit. Liar. They say.

It’s on the morning of her wedding anniversary, the first one since Joe’s no longer a part of her family, that she finds him watching her intently with that same accusing look.

‘Stop staring.’ she says.

‘Then stop bloody smiling.’ he retorts.

Her face falls, discarding the smile she wasn’t even aware she had put on.

‘That’s better.’ he murmurs and it’s enough to make her snap.

‘How exactly is this better?’ she yells at him, surprised by the volume she is capable of. His answer manages to surprise her even more.

‘It’s less confusing.’

‘Less confusing?!’

He slumps in his chair. ‘See. This is clear, you’re upset. Why would you smile? It’s like you’re lying, but with your face.’

‘I don’t lie to you.’

‘But that’s the point. Don’t you see it?’ he sighs. ‘Everybody lies.’

‘No, I don’t. Not by normal standards anyway.’ She shakes her head. ‘I see why you don’t trust anyone.’ 

.

The way Hardy processes information is similar to that of a computer. He has an incredible ability of remembering the tiny details other people never even consciously noticed, like colours of clothing, numbers and time. He connects memories to memories, associating so fast that it’s impossible to keep up. Sometimes his memory is so freakishly accurate that he can recite parts of conversations held months ago. He doesn’t know why he can remember exactly that part, he just knows he does. The only information that is always filtered out is names. Ellie sometimes wonders if Hardy remembers her first name at all. 

One day Hardy is on his way out when he suddenly turns, a thoughtful expression on his face.

‘Miller?’

‘Hmm?’ She barely looks up from her work.

‘What are you still doing here?’

‘It’s not even 3 yet...’ she answers, confused by the question. ‘And I’ve got reports to finish.’

‘Isn’t it your son’s… what’s he called again?’ He thinks, then tries ‘Tom’s birthday?’

‘Yes…’ She squints her eyes at him suspiciously. ‘How do you know that?’

‘You told me a few weeks ago.’ He changes his voice into a very bad imitation of hers. ‘His birthday’s coming up next month, exactly next month. Do you think I could get the afternoon off?’ 

‘I do not sound like that!’ she protests. ‘Did I really say that?’

‘Exactly one month ago.’ Hardy nods. ‘And before you say anything else, I did get you the afternoon off.’ 

‘Oh…’ She had completely forgotten about that. ‘I suppose I’ll go home then.’

It must be a curse, Ellie sometimes thinks, to remember so clearly what others have long forgotten. She suspects it’s one of the factors that induce his anxiety, the details that keep coming back to him. She wonders if he can shut it off, if that’s actually possible.

When she asks him about this one day, he just laughs at her, a cynical almost wistful snort, and tells her cryptically that the reward is not worth the risks.

. 

He finds her later, when she's picking at her lunch, sitting on the steps in front of the station. Silently he presses a coffee into her hand before lowering himself down next to her. He clasps his hands together in front of him, forearms leaning on his thighs that are spread just wide enough that their knees bump together. 

She murmurs a thanks and shifts to the left to put a little more distance between them, breaking contact completely. Hardy either doesn’t take notice of this at all or it doesn’t bother him.

‘Are you okay?’

She shrugs noncommittally. ‘As well as can be expected, I guess.’

He hums thoughtfully in acknowledgement. After a brief silence he says ‘You know, it’s normal to feel a little… off on a day like this.’

By now it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that Hardy knows. What he lacks in the name-department he makes up for with an unnervingly good memory for dates. He’s probably read it somewhere back when he was investigating Joe. Or, more likely, he saved that bit of information when he was helping her file for divorce. She feels violated somehow, knowing that he has this knowledge and can use it against her.

Suddenly she’s lost the last of her appetite. She closes the container with leftovers and puts it aside. 

‘Listen, Miller.’ he starts, turning his head to look at her. ‘I was out of line.’

She stares at him numbly, expectantly. ‘Yes.’ she agrees when nothing follows. ‘You were. Well noticed.’ 

‘I’m…’ Hardy fidgets, knee bumping against hers again and this time he does notice because he pulls away immediately as if burned by the touch. ‘I’m trying to apologize here.’

'Try better.’ she says coldly. ' ’cause this is not an apology.’

‘I’m sorry.’ It’s out in a breath, a wisp of air small enough that she almost missed it.

‘What was that?’

‘Miller, I’m sorry.’ the words are strong now, forced out. ‘I apologise, I was out of line. I...’

He frowns and appears to be racking his mind for the right way to voice his thoughts. ‘I shouldn’t have implied that you would knowingly lie to me.’ is what he finally settles on. And then much, much softer. ‘I know you don’t.’

Her grip has tightened around the carton cup, which begins to deform around the edges. She puts it down quickly before she manages to spill the hot liquid over herself.

‘Thank you.’

.

Outside of the interrogation room his abilities are less helpful. Sometimes he doesn’t understand what people want from him and instead of responding just stares at them sceptically. Often he doesn’t know how exactly he is supposed to react. She can tell by the barely noticeable hunch in his shoulders and the twitch of his fingers. He chooses a direction, ventures into it and then turns. She anticipates and catches his eyes to steer him to the right track. 

He uses tricks to get around his confusion. A huge part is based on filtering out possibilities based on previous experiences. He doesn’t really have to think about that, it happens automatically, he explained, but he can retrace the steps leading to the conclusion if needed. He also copies the people around him.

He knows this.

‘That’s the first and most important step.’ he tells her. ‘To know what you don’t know.’

But that doesn’t mean he always gets it right.

She knows when he is being rude just for the sake of it and when he is genuinely unaware of what he’s doing. Sometimes he seems to forget the existence of manners altogether and waltzes over the people he’s talking to, judgingly, accusingly, measuring them against the rules that apply in his version of the world. Once he stops talking, Ellie takes over and makes a mental note to scold her boss later. 

.

She feels him move beside her, his arm hovering over her back hesitantly. She doesn’t know if she wants him to put it down. It’s a conflicted feeling, longing for comfort, but not wanting to be touched. When he pulls his arm away both relief and regret wash over her. 

‘I’m not sure what to do, Miller.’ is his murmured confession. ‘If there’s anything...?’

Do you want a... hug?

The memory echoes in her mind. 

What? no!

No.

What’s the matter with you?
She remembers her own pain, the rage. Ellie can still see the rejection and embarrassment in his eyes for suggesting something so unlike him, because he must have thought she had needed it and had gotten it dead-wrong. 

I want to help.

Hug it out?

People do that.

Well, not you.

She had felt justified for reacting that way, hadn’t even once questioned herself. But clearly he had.

It’s why he hesitates now, she realises, it’s why he’s asking again, because Hardy knows now that he doesn’t know what she needs. And that’s the problem, because neither does Ellie.

She shrugs again, because that seems the only answer that seems both easy and appropriate. She turns her head and finds him staring at her quizzically and with so much concern that she feels vulnerable. Oddly enough it’s this that tips the scales in the fight of her emotions. The regret wins. The relief buckles, bends and falls, tearing her walls down and her composure shatters as the first of many tears hammer through the barriers and blurr her vision. 

Hardy knows, because the lines in his face darken and there is that signature look again, only this time somehow it’s different. Liar it still says, but in a softer tone. It’s not an accusation, it’s a glimpse of sadness and a plea for honesty. Please don’t withhold the truth.  

‘Shut up.’ she tells him, even though he hasn’t said any of this out loud. ‘Just give me that damn hug.’

He opens his arm for her and she shuffles closer to lean into his side. The angle is weird and far from optimal, but she doesn’t care. Her head rests in the crook of his neck and moves with the rise and fall of his chest. Her hands are clasped firmly between her legs. One of Hardy’s hands applies a light pressure on her knee, the other is rubbing up and down her side. She cries without making a sound, without even moving. He doesn’t speak, simply holds her while she soaks his shirt with tears and probably leaves stains of mascara. 

Hardy hums softly, tilts his head to lightly press his cheek to her hair. She supposes this is his way of saying that it’s okay. 

‘I’m sorry.’ she mumbles into his chest. ‘For this, for last time-’

‘Miller, don’t.’ he interrupts her kindly. ‘I know. It’s okay.’

She wants to believe that, really does, but the word flares up in her, because it’s really not okay, none of it is. It’s right there, on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it. Because even though it might not be her truth, she knows that Alec Hardy is not a liar.

Chapter Text

They were not okay.

Three days had passed since their fight in the hallway and they still hadn't spoken a word about it.

The first day had been the worst, all awkward silences and tightlipped responses.

The second day had been only moderately better as they had both tried to avoid each other. It had been like they were doing a complicated dance around each other and Ellie hadn’t gotten any work done at all while she could feel her boss's presence from across the room.

And then, on the evening of the third day, it almost happened again.

‘Did you give me tomorrow morning off?’

Hardy looked up from his computer screen as Ellie barged into his office, seemingly unimpressed by  the thunderous look she was sporting. 

‘I did.’ he said cautiously.

‘Why?’ came the angry demand.

Hardy took off his glasses, placing them carefully on his desk before pushing himself to his feet. In two strides he had circled the desk and was staring down on his DS, arms crossed.

‘You already spent a good part of last night here. You look dead on your feet.’ he summed up, looking at her pointedly. ‘It’s eight in the evening and you haven’t eaten anything since lunch.’

‘Are you keeping tabs on me?’

He straightened his shoulders as she took a small step forward and into his personal space. Truth be told he had been watching his DS for the better part of the day. Not to keep tabs on her, but because she intrigued him. Or rather, her actions from a few days ago did.

The memories wouldn’t leave him alone. Hardy had replayed the scene over and over in his head, but it wouldn’t start making any sense. It had been days and his mind was still trying to come up with a sensible explanation for what had happened. The rush of adrenaline that coursed through him every time he thought about how those lips had felt on his own wasn’t helping either. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but it just felt... wrong, because this was Miller and he hadn’t- had never even considered kissing her to be a possibility. Now that it had turned out to be a very realistic one, Hardy didn’t know how he felt about it.

They would have to talk about it eventually, but in the meantime Alec Hardy just had no clue what he was supposed to do or how he should act around his DS. So, when he had noticed that Ellie was actively avoiding him, he had settled on keeping an eye on her from a distance and waiting for Ellie to take the first step. He had thought giving her the morning off would allow her some much needed time away from him, but that was turning out to have been a mistake.

‘Just looking out for you.’ he responded softly, trying not to sound apologetic.

‘I don’t need you to.’ Ellie shook her head fiercely, still glaring daggers at him. ‘You should have asked.’

‘Fine.’ he shrugged. ‘Will you take tomorrow morning off?’

‘No!’

‘Miller...’

Hardy hadn’t realised he had taken a step back before his heel connected with the file cabinet and sent the metal rattling. Ellie took another step closer and now his back was against the solid metal too and he had to tilt his head down to meet her eyes.

She was still glaring at him and it was reminding him of how she had looked at him that night before she had pressed-

He cut off that train of thought and swallowed thickly. Heat surged through him and he felt it creep up his neck to his face. Fog clouded his mind, cutting off all coherency in his thoughts. The effect was dizzying.

Without him wanting to, his eyes flicked down to her lips and he heard her breath hitch. As he looked up, he saw her eyes mirror his motion.

He swallowed again, suddenly uncertain. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. He wasn’t sure he didn't like it either.

Ellie’s eyes lingered on his Adam's apple for a moment before they widened in realisation  and she stepped back quickly.

Gratefully Hardy darted out of the way, escaping to the couch. He grabbed some of the documents lying around and put them in front of his face to hide the blush that was steadily creeping up his neck. The letters danced before his eyes, just out of focus. His glasses were still lying forgotten on the desk. Over the edge of the paper he could see Ellie take a few deep breaths, trying to compose herself. His own mind was racing. Had she been about to kiss him again? Would he have wanted her to? Would he have liked it?

He was still staring at her, eyes darting over her form, searching for something, a clue as to what she was thinking, when suddenly Ellie turned and her gaze met his. Her expression was passive and guarded and Hardy tried very hard to push his emotions away and not look at her scared or angry, or, god help, longingly . 

‘Stop looking at me like that.' Ellie's harsh voice interrupted his inner turmoil. 'I’m not kissing you again.’

‘I know.’ he said quietly, feeling embarrassment flush his face even redder, but also feeling a hint of irritation. He didn’t feel like this was entirely his fault. 

Ellie sent him a glare and crossed her arms defensively. ’We’re not talking about it either.’

‘Okay.’ 

‘This never happened.’

‘Yes, okay!’ he snapped. ‘I get it, Miller. Can we focus on the case now?’

He slammed the documents onto the coffee table with more force than necessary and reached for the tea that had been standing on the corner for some undefined period of time. Taking the mug between two hands he blew on the liquid before taking an angry sip. Immediately he spat the cold tea back into the mug and looked at it disgustedly. Cursing himself for his stupidity he put it down before turning back to Ellie. 

‘Unless you'd rather go home?’

Ellie stared at him blankly. 

‘Or are we finally having that conversation?’ he inquired, looking up at her expectantly.

Without another word Ellie sent him a last devastating glare and stomped out of the office. When he made his way to the kitchen for a fresh mug of tea, Ellie was nowhere to be found.

Ellie was scared.

She knew that was the main reason she had all but bolted from Hardy’s office when he had brought up the talk they still had yet to have.

She knew this was why she had gone home, had made herself dinner and had gone straight to bed.

She also knew that she couldn’t put off talking about what happened forever. Especially not now that it had almost happened again.

God, what had she been thinking?

The answer of course was that she hadn’t been thinking. She blamed her actions on being the result of overthinking the fact that she had kissed Alec Hardy. Not that that was an excuse. And now she couldn't stop thinking about that either.

She had been tossing and turning for hours when she couldn't take it anymore.

Extending her arm over her head she scrambled for her phone. Rolling over she pulled it from the charging cable and unlocked the screen, opening a new text message. Then her fingers paused, thumbs hovering over the screen. What was she supposed to say?

How did one start such a difficult conversation?

In the end she settled on a simple

01:26 E- Are you awake?

Closing her eyes she curled up and tucked the phone against her chest. Trying not to get her hopes up was destined to fail and a nervous feeling was tensing up her back.

She almost had a heart attack when the phone vibrated. With a thundering heart and trembling fingers she opened the message.

01:30 A- Yes.

She waited, but nothing else came. Well, she supposed at least this was a clear answer to her question. She wasn't sure what kind of response she had been expecting. She supposed she had hoped it to be something a bit more… elaborate.

This gave her no opening. Not that she really knew what she wanted to say anyway. Taking a shaky breath she decided that now that she had found the courage to take the first step, she might as well push through.

01:33 E- Did I wake you?

This time it only took a minute before the reply came.

01:34 A- No, I was still awake.

01:35 E- Me too.

01:38 E- Why are we so bad at this? 

Ellie stared at the screen, waiting for a reply that didn't come. She watched the minutes tick by, but nothing happened. Hardy had probably fallen asleep, she realised with a heavy heart. She should follow his example and get a few hours in before morning. Hopefully they'd both have forgotten about this by then.

She was scrambling blindly for the end of the charging cable when her phone started vibrating again. The screen lit up, showing the caller id.

Ellie's heart leapt and settled in her throat, thumping insistently in a too fast rhythm. Trembling she pressed the green icon and put her phone to her ear, holding her breath.

'Miller?'

Hardy's voice crackled through the tiny speakers.

'Yeah.' she answered quietly. 'Hey.'

' Hey. '

It was silent for a moment apart from the soft rustle of Hardy's breathing that the microphone picked up.

' You couldn't sleep either? '

'No.'

She breathed shallowly through her clenched throat. 'Are you in bed?'

There was a pause.

'No, wait, don't answer that.' She felt herself blush. 'Nevermind.'

Hardy's soft chuckle filles her ears.

' It’s okay. ' He said, tone light and amused. ' I'm in bed. Just don't ask me what I'm wearing. '

That was such a ridiculous un-Hardy like thing to say that Ellie couldn't help but snicker. 'Somehow I figured that isn't what you called me for.'

A huffed laugh crackled against her ear and she smiled.

' It wasn't my intention, no. '

Their laughter died out quickly and was once again replaced by silence. It was less heavily laden than before. Ellie listened to Hardy's soft breathing, knowing that he could hear hers too. It was strangely intimate, lying under the covers in her dark room, clinging to the phone that connected them with each other. She could just picture Hardy lying in his own bed, wearing a grey t-shirt, hair tousled and holding his phone to his ear.

' Miller? '

Her breath hitched. 'Yeah?'

' Are we gonna talk about what happened? '

She swallowed, feeling the nerves rise and clench around her throat. ‘I don’t know.’

More rustling noises. Ellie could just picture Hardy rubbing his eyes tiredly.

' I don't mean about today, I mean about back when… you know. ' he finished awkwardly.

Back when she had ambushed her boss in the hallway. Back when she had KISSED Alec Hardy. Who was her boss. Who also happened to be her best friend.

Panic threatened to rise and Ellie willed it down, pushing away the flashes of memories and focusing on her breathing instead. This was exactly why she had avoided this conversation. Every time her thoughts went in that direction, the panic threatened to overthrow her. She knew they had to talk eventually. Maybe now was as good a time as any. If only she knew how.

‘I don’t know what to say.’ she admitted quietly. 

‘ I could start? ’

She nodded, realising quickly that Hardy couldn’t see that. ‘Yeah, okay.’

She lay unmoving, clutching the phone to her ear like it was a lifeline. Her eyes trailed over the dark walls and the faint shadows of the tree leaves outside her window that danced over the wallpaper. In the distance she could hear a car engine. If she focused she would be able to hear the sea, but right now her full attention was on the voice on the other end of the line.

‘ I- ’ There was a long pause. ‘ I didn’t realise- not really. ’

Ellie could hear him swallow. She stayed silent, not daring to make a sound.

‘ Not before you started asking about that date and mentioned that text. ’ He took a deep breath and rambled on. ‘ I should have seen it, maybe, but I didn’t and then- I didn’t- I don’t understand why. And I should have just told you that you were being ridiculous because it was just me and Dais, has been just the two of us for years now. That date she set me up with was awful. ’

Ellie closed her eyes, still not saying anything. Hardy didn’t sound like he had finished his monologue.

‘ But then you said- ’ His voice sounded strained. ‘ And it hurt. I didn’t understand because it shouldn’t hurt. Not that much. ’

Hardy’s confession sent a jab of pain through Ellie’s chest, because she understood that feeling.

‘That whole day I was so confused.’ Ellie whispered back. ‘And scared too.’

There was a certain irony here that made her choke on a watery laugh. ‘Because the idea of you having another cheeky date shouldn’t hurt.’

Another silence that stretched into a full minute before Hardy tentatively asked: ‘ Is that why you kissed me? ’

Ellie inhaled sharply. The words brought back the memory she had been trying to push to the far corners of her mind and never revisit. Her lips tingled with the ghost of the touch.

‘I don’t know.’ she replied honestly. 'Is that why you kissed me back?'

Hardy stayed silent. She didn't blame him. It was easier to talk like this, without having to look at each other. Comparing this to their interaction during the last days it was like comparing night and day. Yet that still didn’t mean it was possible to put everything into words.

‘Hardy?’ Ellie waited for the soft hum that indicated he was listening. ‘I was angry and confused. I blamed you for not understanding something that I couldn’t figure out myself, that’s not fair. I’m sorry.’

‘ I’m sorry too. ’ Hardy replied softly. ‘ I should have just told you the text was Daisy’s when I realised it was bothering you so much. ’

‘Yeah, well…I guess we're both idiots.’ Ellie sighed. She felt a little bit lighter now that they had both spoken this out. ‘I don’t want us to be angry at each other anymore.’

‘ Neither do I. ’

‘So… Are we good?’

Another pause. A soft crackling and movement of sheets that indicated that Hardy was turning over.

‘ Just… just one more thing. ’

Ellie waited, feeling her heart pound in her ears dizzyingly. She braced herself for what she knew was coming. 

‘ Do you regret it? ’

There was no mistaking what he was referring to. Still Ellie hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to answer, but because she didn’t know the answer. 

‘No.’ she said finally. ‘I regret how it happened, not that it happened.’ 

‘ Okay. ’

‘What about you?’

‘ Your description is surprisingly accurate. ’

Ellie chuckled lightly, but her smile fell immediately at Hardy’s next question.

‘ So… what does this mean? ’ The insecurity in his voice was evident, even more so as he rambled on. ‘ I mean, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just that- I keep thinking about it and it’s not making any sense and I don’t know how to feel or what to do. ’

Ellie thought for a moment. It wasn’t like she had all the answers, confused as she was about her own feelings regarding the kiss.

‘What we have, you and I, it’s- I don’t know what it is I feel for you.’ she said slowly. ‘It’s all rather confusing.'

‘ It’s complicated. ’ Hardy agreed quietly. 

'I care about you a lot, you know.'  She swallowed, suddenly feeling tears prickling behind her eyes. 'But I don't know if this means I want this to be something more or- I can't even tell if I want to kiss you again.'

And she had thought about kissing Hardy. A lot. 

‘ I don’t know if I want you to either. ’ Hardy paused. ‘ But, Miller, I do know that you’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose that over this. ’ 

‘Me neither.’ she breathed softly. 

‘ Maybe- ’ He cleared his throat. ‘ Maybe I could take you on a proper date sometime. Give us a chance to figure things out together? ’

A warm feeling spread though Ellie’s chest, soft and light and comfortable. ‘Yeah.’ she smiled. ‘I would like that.’

‘ Okay, good. ’ she could hear the relief. ‘ That’s good. ’

‘Good.’ Ellie repeated.

For a few moments they lay together in companionable silence. Then Hardy yawned.

‘ We should probably try to get some sleep. ’

‘Probably.’ Ellie agreed reluctantly. Then she chuckled as she remembered something. ‘Unless you want to tell me what you’re wearing?’

‘ Just a t-shirt and- Wait, why? ’ Hardy’s confused answer was followed by a groan as he realised that she was joking. ‘ Oh... ’

‘Oh, I wish I could see your face!’ Ellie was laughing out loud. Turning her head she tried to muffle her giggles in her pillow so that she wouldn’t wake her sons. 

Hardy snorted, but it was clear that he was amused too. ‘ Good night, Miller.’

‘Good night, Hardy’

For a moment longer they listened to each other's chuckles and then, with a soft click, the connection was broken. Ellie rolled over and plugged her phone in the charger, before curling up again. WIthin minutes she was fast asleep, feeling reassured that they would figure it out. Together.

Chapter Text

“Two years I don’t hear anything. No texts or emails or calls.”

“I lost my phone.”

“No, you didn’t.”

…

“I’m not good at that sort of stuff.”

“What, people? Human relationships?”

Broadchurch 3x03

“You’ve reached Alec Hardy. I can’t answer the phone right now. Leave a message after the tone.”

…

“It’s me. Just checking in since I haven’t heard from you in two weeks and you’re not replying to any of my texts. Not to say you’re obliged to, of course… I guess we never talked about staying in contact. I just hoped you’d have the common decency to give me a sign of life...  Anyway. I was just wondering if you’re okay. So… Yeah… Give me a call?”

~~~

“Hey, it’s me. It’s been two months and still no word from you. I’m starting to seriously consider filing a missing persons report. Life’s almost back to normal here. Joe hasn’t been anywhere near Broadchurch. Paul says he knows where he is and that he has people keeping an eye on him. It’s good to know that I never have to see that bastard again. Tom's coming home next week and I’m applying for my old job. You’re no longer here to steal it from me, so… Like I said, almost back to normal. … I hope you’re okay. Not that I’m worried… Just… Give me a call?”

~~~

“It’s me. Again. Starting to wonder if you’re still alive. Nobody seems to know where you’ve gone or where you are. Bet you’re very proud of how well you’ve covered your tracks. I should have filed that report six months ago. Seriously, what is so hard about sending me a sign of life? One bloody text message, Hardy, that’s all I’m asking for. Stop being such a self absorbed arse for a minute and let me know you’re-... You know what, nevermind.”

~~~

“Goddammit Alec! Yes, I’m calling you Alec, hoping you understand how furious I am. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep all week and it’s all your fault. Fred has this new phase where keeps asking for you. He misses his ‘uncle Alec’. No-one can put him to bed; not me, not Tom, not my dad, who by the way has been spending more and more time here since-. Anyway, he blames you as well, keeps asking where you’ve gone off to. Called you a knob, among other things. Which you are.”

~~~

“I know you were in Sandbrook last week. You wanna know how I know? Tess gave me a call to ask me about your whereabouts. She seemed convinced I would know where you are. Imagine my surprise when it turns out you’re alive and your phone is working. What the actual fuck, Hardy? What is going on? Where have you been? Why won’t you talk to me? Shit! … … Oh, no, Fred! We don’t say those words. Those are bad words! … Why is this thing still on?!”

...

“So, Fred’s learned a new word today. He keeps saying ‘shit’ all the time and I fully blame you! If you won’t talk to me, fine, but for fuck’s sake, Hardy, give the mother of your daughter a call. Knob.” 

~~~

“ … … They offered me a promotion today. You know, the one you took… DI Miller… And I turned it down. … Dad’s pissed, of course… I just- I don’t feel ready for this. it feels wrong. I’m not-... Shit, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. It’s not like you’re even talking to me. … Everything’s different without you here. I’m different without you. … I never thought I would miss you, but I hate that you’re not here.”

~~~

“Goddammit Hardy, it’s been a year! A bloody year! I don’t know why I’m still trying to get ahold of you. I don’t miss you and I don’t need you, so don’t let this go to your head. There’s a new DI and he is good at his job, has far better social skills too. He actually knows how to behave like a human being and doesn’t constantly tell me not to trust people. …  Not that he needs to, because I don’t. Not anymore. …  Everyone tries so hard to pretend things are normal, but the truth is they’re not. Everything’s different now and I don’t know-... I don’t know if I still fit. I feel like I’m losing myself. I-... You know what, forget it. This was a mistake.”

~~~

“You were right. And, God, I hoped you were wrong, but you weren’t. In the end we’re all alone. … Shit, I’m not crying. I’m not! … I’m so bloody angry at you. For leaving like that, for not talking to me. I needed you and you didn’t just leave, you disappeared from my life. Do you know how that made me feel? … When we were working on Sandbrook you told me you couldn’t do it on your own. You needed me. … I can’t do this on my own, Hardy. … I need you. Please, please call me back.”

~~~

…

~~~

…

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Ellie Miller. Leave a message after the tone.”

…

…

Chapter Text

It’s an early spring morning. The sun has just risen above the horizon, grazing the earth with the first warmth of the day and a cool morning breeze carries the smell of grass and dew into the small town. The soft rolling and crashing of the waves filters through an open bedroom window, accompanied by the occasional shriek of a seagull. Rays of sunlight bathe the room in a bright orange glow. In the first morning light Ellie Miller stretches out languidly and snuggles up under the warm covers, letting her body sink back into the mattress. Next to her, Alec Hardy snores lightly in his sleep.

He is clutching the corner of the covers to his chest, but otherwise is completely relaxed. Ellie watches the soft light play over his features and takes him in; the tousled hair, strands sticking to his forehead, his jaw slack and the creases around his eyes that are less prominent in his sleep. Freckles are scattered over his cheeks, highlighted in the light of dawn and Ellie marvels at how much younger he looks like this. It’s a rare sight, to find him captured in a moment of worryless relaxation and the unexpected beauty of it makes a warm tingle spread through Ellie’s chest. 

It isn’t the first time she wakes up in his bed, having hogged most of the covers overnight, nor is it the second, or the third. It’s an occurrence that has been happening more and more frequently over the past month, but she rarely wakes up before he does. 

Turning over slowly, careful not to disturb his slumber, Ellie glances at the alarm clock. It’s still early. She can afford to lie in for a few minutes longer before she has to get up and go home. A small pang of guilt plagues her every time she is reminded that their newfound relationship is still a secret. It’s better like this, they decided. It would do no good to tell anyone before they have even figured it out for themselves.

'Ellie?'

A hand touches her arm and Alec looks at her sleepily though half-lidded eyes.

'Sorry.' She whispers, smiling down at him. 'Didn’t mean to wake you.'

' ‘S okay.' He yawns and stretches his arms over his head. 'D’you need to get up?'

'We have a few more minutes.'

She lowers herself back onto the pillow and Alec turns onto his side, mirroring her. The movement causes his hair to fall over his eyes and Ellie reaches out to brush it from his face. The warm feeling bubbles in her stomach as he closes his eyes at the contact. Unable to resist, she trails her fingers over his cheek.

Alec murmurs softly and catches her hand, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm and wrist. Their fingers lace together and both of them watch as their hands rest on the bed sheets between them. 

It’s still new, all of this, but seeing Alec’s relaxed expression is already comforting and familiar. Ellie sometimes wonders how she could have gone without seeing him like this for so long.

'This is nice.' She finds the words leaving her mouth as she thinks them and embarrassment starts to flow through her, but Alec is smiling at her, open and warm and beautiful, and he nods.

'Yeah.'

She feels warm and content, even more so than when she falls asleep in his arms. More than when he kisses her and the world narrows down to the fire he lights in her belly. More than when their bodies are pressed together, moving in perfect unison, until she shatters and he catches her and picks up the pieces.

His bedroom in the first morning light is a place of vulnerability. Desire and fear are trapped in the night, the raw edges of their emotions dissipated in the wake of dawn. What’s left is them. Pure and simple.

A strange sense of longing courses through her at the thought of having to leave his bed, this safe space they have created. She wants this, Ellie realises. She wants to wake up to this, to him, to this feeling of finally belonging again, every morning. She doesn’t want to go home and pretend none of this happened.

'Alec?'

He smiles at the use of his name and it still makes her heart flutter every time he allows her this. She lets her fingers uncurl from his and trail up his arm, following the pattern towards the hem of his grey t-shirt and back down with her eyes. 

Patiently he waits for her to speak, caressing her upper arm in return.

‘I want to tell the kids.’

Suddenly she’s nervous, anxious for his reaction. They haven’t talked about the exact nature of this relationship, haven’t discussed what to call this state they find themself in.

Alec frowns, but it’s a thoughtful expression. One that Ellie is familiar enough with to know that he needs a moment to gather and formulate his thoughts. The hand on her arm has stilled, but Alec’s thumb is still drawing circles on her skin.

‘What do you want to say to them?’ He asks eventually.

She shrugs a little. ‘They already know we’re friends. Fred adores you. Tom knows we’ve been on at least one date. ’ An embarrassed laugh escapes her. ‘He knows I didn’t come home that time. He’s not stupid…’

Alec chuckles. ‘So your son knows that you passed out on my sofa halfway through the movie you tricked me into seeing?’

Ellie laughs at the memory and shakes her head. ‘You know that’s not what I meant. He thinks we’re… You know.’ She coughs, gesturing between them. 

‘Well, he’s not wrong,’ Alec muses,  ‘We are sleeping together.’ 

Ellie feels herself blushing and tries to glare at him. The mention of that part of this relationship does funny things to her lower belly. 

He grins at her knowingly, the lines around his eyes crinkling in amusement, before adding; ‘In the most literal sense anyway.’

She grins sheepishly, feeling the blush creep further up her neck.

Alec grins back, clearly not bothered by this at all, and amends; ‘At least most of the time.’

He catches her wrist before she can land a halfhearted punch on his chest and gently lays her hand over his heart. It beats strongly at a slightly elevated pace. Her fingers can feel the ridged scar tissue beneath his shirt.

Then he rolls over, letting go of her hand and his expression becomes thoughtful again as he stares at the ceiling. ‘If we tell the kids,’  he starts slowly. ‘What does that mean for us?’

There’s a lot not being said with these words. At least three unspoken questions hang in the air, but this time Ellie finds that she’s not afraid to address them.

‘We would be…’ She hesitates, trying to find the right words. ‘In a relationship.’

‘Aren’t we already?’

If any other person would have asked this question, Ellie would have been hurt, but Alec sounds merely curious. She knows it’s genuine and that he honestly doesn’t know what her answer would be.

‘We’re best friends.’ she begins, holding her finger up at the protesting sound he makes. ‘I like you. I like spending time with you. I like forcing you to watch “inside out” and falling asleep on your sofa halfway through and I like waking up next to you in the morning regardless of whatever kind of sleeping we did the night before.’ 

She pauses to take a deep breat h and take a moment to process what she has just confessed to. Alec is looking at her, eyes full of confused adoration and it strengthens her to continue.

‘What I mean is, you’re right, this is a relationship.’  She touches his face, smiling at his hopeful expression. ‘But I don’t want to keep doing this in secret. I want to try this. For real. With you.’

For a moment it’s silent as a range of emotions pass over Alec's face. Confusion, shock, adoration, regret, pain, pride, happiness, wonder everything is there. Then he leans over and kisses her softly.

‘I want that too.’ he murmurs.

She presses him back into the pillow and he pulls her with him, hugging her tightly to his chest. Their legs tangle together as Ellie wriggles herself into a more comfortable position, her head resting over his heart, hand curled around his ribs. HIs chuckle reverberates through her and she can’t help smiling like an idiot as he presses his lips to her hair and tugs her even closer. 

Outside their bedroom the town slowly starts to wake, but Ellie closes her eyes and lets herself drift. They still have a few more minutes. And after that, all the time in the world.

Chapter Text

It was no secret that Alec Hardy wasn’t the person to enjoy the holiday season. He didn’t enjoy the festivities and couldn’t see the beauty of the tree and lights that lightened up the office. Christmas songs playing on the radio annoyed him endlessly and more than once he had thrown a fit over finding glitters in his coffee. One could go as far as to say he hated Christmas.

It was therefore no surprise that on this particular morning, Hardy’s already foul mood worsened when he stepped into the office and was greeted by the woman at the reception wearing a green Christmas jumper and a hairband with antlers. On his way up, he crossed paths with Dirty Brian in an equally ugly red sweater with reindeer. In the bullpen he had to stop and take a moment to collect himself.

There was one uniformed officer. All the other officers in the room were wearing Christmas jumpers, all in various degrees of appropriateness and in shades of red, green and blue. Some even had lights in their jumpers.

'Sir, where’s your jumper?' DC Katie Harford, sporting a red jumper with a flickering Christmas tree, stepped out of the kitchen block holding two mugs of tea. She looked Hardy over with a mildly worried glance. 'Didn’t you get the memo?'

Hardy groaned inwardly. The memo, as Miller had called it, had arrived in his email as an evite a week before. Apparently while he was gone, it had become a tradition to make a Christmas card with the team in Christmas jumpers. They had set a date that the photographer would come by and wearing an ugly Christmas jumper was mandatory.

Hardy had discarded the invitation immediately, deciding that this went too far and was probably not meant for him anyway. He had also blatantly ignored Miller’s advice that it would be good for the team spirit and an easy way to improve his relationship with his co-workers.

'Don’t be such a child.' she had told him. 'Wear the jumper.'

'I’m your boss, you don’t tell me what to do.' Had been his snappy reply.

'You’re their boss as well, Hardy.' Miller had snapped back. 'It can’t hurt to show a little solidarity to the people you work with on a daily basis.'

'Oh, he got the memo.' Miller entered the bullpen behind him and was shaking her head when she noticed his suit. The antlers on her head had little bells that jingled with the movement. She didn’t even look disappointed, just mildly annoyed and a little bit pleased.

'Stop staring, you lot.' She reprimanded her colleagues, who were indeed staring at their boss. Upon seeing that most of them turned back to work, she addressed Hardy. 'Can we speak in your office?'

Fully expecting to be scolded for forgetting the date, or in his case simply not caring at all, he headed into his office. Miller followed him closely and shut the door. 

'Don’t start.' He told her while he sat down behind his desk. 'I told you before, I’m not doing it.'

'Maybe this will change your mind.' Miller reached into the large bag she was still carrying and pulled out a large, formless package in decorative wrapping paper. With a theatrical gesture she placed it in front of her boss.

'What’s this?' He eyed the package suspiciously.

Miller smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. 'Consider it an early Christmas present.' 

Frowning, Hardy prodded the package with a finger and then glared at Miller. 'No.'

'You haven’t even opened it,' she protested.

'I’m not going to.' Hardy pushed the unopened gift to the side dismissively and reached for the button to turn on his computer. 'Get back to work.'

He waited for the computer to boot up, but Miller was not leaving. She was still standing in his office, arms now crossed and her lips a thin line. Suddenly she stepped up to him and slammed her hands on the desk. The fake antlers jingled cheerily as she leaned forward.

'You know,' she said almost conversationally. 'I spent an entire afternoon picking this gift for you personally, because I find it important. And I did it even though I knew you would probably be a dick about it, because I care for you.' She sent him a withering look and Hardy felt himself shrink back in his chair under the heat. 'But even for your standards, you’re being exceptionally rude.'

With another cheery jingle, Miller straightened and Hardy could only watch, unmoving as she strode out of his office. As the door was shut forcibly, he couldn’t help but flinch.

He had anticipated Miller to be mad at him, but certainly this was an exaggeration. From the corner of his eye, he looked at the package in it’s festive paper. He sent it a glare, which it ignored and then demonstratively looked the other way.

Hardy sighed and opened his email. Soon he was absorbed in work and thoughts about the package had moved to the back of his mind.

He was jerked out of his concentration sometime later by commotion in the bullpen and a knock on his door, followed by Miller's muffled voice.

'Photographer’s here, sir. We’re taking the picture outside in five minutes.'

He grunted an affirmation and slumped back in his chair. Automatically his eyes landed on the package on the edge of his desk.

A soft curse slipped from his lips as he reached for the package and pulled it towards himself. Ignoring the heavy feeling of reluctance, he opened the wrapping paper and stared at the present Miller had bought him.

On top of the blue cotton, lay a handmade Christmas card.

This was the least ugly one I could find that will pass in this office. Hope you like it. Merry Christmas.

The card wasn’t signed, but Hardy knew Miller’s handwriting and recognised Fred’s hand in the drawing of Santa standing next to a Christmas tree.

A strange feeling settled in his stomach. It wasn’t quite sadness, not quite guilt or remorse, but something in between. 

Carefully he placed the card against his monitor and picked up the jumper. It was dark blue with a pattern of small white snowflakes. The only decoration that put it into the Christmas category was a tiny sleigh with two flying reindeer near the waistline. If he ignored that little aspect, the jumper was quite tasteful. 

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realised that Miller had not gifted him this jumper to taunt him or to force him into wearing it. She had bought it for him because she knew him too well and she cared. Even when Hardy himself didn’t.

He muttered another curse, trying to fight the shame that tinged on his cheeks. Miller was right. He was exceeding himself today. Her present had been thoughtful. Miller had anticipated his actions and instead of being mad at him, had gone out of her way to give him a chance to fix his mistake.

Suddenly realising the bullpen was already empty, he jumped to his feet. In a few quick movements, he had shedded his jacket and pulled the jumper over his head. Still struggling to pull the fabric down over the buttons of his shirt, Hardy took the stairs two at a time.

The lobby was deserted, but through the front doors he spotted a bunch of red and green backs huddled together on the steps.

As he stepped out, a few people turned their heads and he was met with a few surprised stares and an excited shout at the photographer.

'Wait, we have one more!'

Feeling put on the spot, Hardy awkwardly searched the bunch of co-workers for a familiar set of antlers. Luckily, Miller was at the side of the group, two steps down, and was already waving him over.

'I didn’t think you’d come out.' She whispered at him as he slipped past his colleagues.

He didn’t really know how to answer and before he could come up with something, the photographer started yelling instructions at them.

'Move closer!' 

Following the wild gestures of the man, the group shifted closer to each other on the steps in front of the station. Hardy grabbed Miller’s arm as they shuffled to the left and steadied them on the narrow step. By the time the man was satisfied with their arrangement and told them to smile, Hardy was standing at Miller’s shoulder. Weirdly enough, he didn’t find their proximity uncomfortable, even though her elbow was poking lightly into his stomach and he could feel the heat transfer between their bodies.

Miller leaned back slightly. 'You alright?'

'Yeah.' He whispered back. Now that he was actually doing this, the awkwardness was manageable.

'Okay, people, looking sharp.' The man took a few shots and told them in various, mostly ridiculous, ways to smile. 

Finally the shutter clicked for the last time and the photographer gave them the thumbs up.

The group cheered and Hardy rolled his eyes when a few people applauded. Chattering happily the colleagues spread out and started making their way back inside. 

'Nice jumper, sir!'  DC Harford smiled at him.

'Looking good, sir.' Another of his co-workers, Hardy couldn’t see who it was, clapped him on the shoulder amicably.

Someone else shouted 'Merry Christmas!'

All around him, Hardy saw happy faces. Everyone looked joyous with the prospect of the upcoming holidays and many people were giddily checking out each other’s outfits. The brightest smile, however, was Miller’s.

'Look at you!' She looked him over appreciatively. 'That wasn’t so bad, right?'

Hardy forced a smile and was surprised to find it wasn’t a hard thing to do. 'Could’ve been worse,' he admitted. 

Miller sent him a sceptical look and then shook her head. She reached for his arms then and made him turn to face her. Going into full mother-mode, she checked the fit of the sweater and the length of the sleeves. 

Hardy let it happen, watching her quietly while warmth filled his chest, battling the weird feeling that was still plaguing him. He had thought Miller would still be mad at him, but she didn’t show any sign of it.

'Miller.' he started softly. But when she looked up at him, still smiling warmly, his weakly formulated apology got stuck in his throat. He smiled back at her, this time unforced. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.' Her hand landed softly on his arm, giving a small squeeze. 'Merry Christmas, Hardy.'

And even though it was ridiculous because it wasn't even Christmas for another full week, Hardy didn't correct her. 'Merry Christmas, Miller.'

Chapter Text

“Congratulations to our DS Ellie Miller and DI Alec Hardy.” Jenkinson looks proudly around the colleagues that have gathered in the bullpen. “Today we celebrate the first year of a fruitful partnership. Give them a round of applause!”

Ellie tries her hardest not to duck away behind her computer screen as a halfhearted applause follows. Hardy is leaning against the doorframe of his office. He doesn’t smile. There is cake and it feels horribly out of place.

One year has passed. One year since Ellie’s old life fell apart. 365 days since that late summer morning, still jet-lagged from Florida, when she had gone to work fully expecting a well-earned promotion, only to discover it had been given to a man. Exactly one year ago the events had been set into motion that would destroy her happy uncomplicated life.

These are the thoughts that have been racing through Ellie’s head since she woke up. They have been following her around; in the shower, in the car, up the steps up to the Broadchurch Police Station. They stay with her as she tries to bury herself in paperwork. She had hoped for a case that requires her full attention, but it has been a slow week and today is no different. It’s as if the town itself has slowed down in preparations for the wake that is upon them.  

The day passes both too quickly and agonizingly slowly. As if time can’t choose between contracting and dilating. Apart from the cake nothing exciting happens. They plough through another day of backlogged paperwork. Hardy’s door stays open and she catches him staring at her when he thinks she isn’t looking. He says nothing, but in the afternoon he brings her tea and for a second his hand hovers awkwardly over her arm before he takes his leave. He doesn’t ask if she’s okay and she appreciates that.

Ellie pretends she doesn’t notice when Hardy removes the flyer that someone has taped to one of the kitchen cabinets. In return, Hardy doesn’t make a comment when Lucy tries Ellie’s cell for the sixth time that day and Ellie once again declines the call. She doesn’t know if he is going to be at the beach tonight, he hasn’t asked her about it either. The subject of Danny’s death hasn’t come up between the two of them for weeks.

“I’m not going,” she tells him when it’s half past five and the bullpen is empty save for the two of them. He looks up from the file that she is sure he is only pretending to be reading and simply asks; “Where do you want to go?”

She hands him his coat and he presses the car keys into her outstretched hand. As they drive out of town, he leans against the car door and watches the world roll by. They follow the rural roads into the mainland until Ellie makes a sudden u-turn and speeds back to Broadchurch.

The sun is setting when they stride over the grassland, Hardy struggling to keep up with her restless pace. At the highest point Ellie halts and takes in the view. Silently Hardy takes his place next to her. The wind plays with his hair, creating a lively contrast with the stoney expression with which he stares out over the coastline below.

A flashlight blinks in the distance. Soundlessly the signal echoes over the neighboring tops. On the beach far below, Paul Coates motions Chloe to step forward and hands her the torch. The fire flares up brightly and becomes a smear of orange as Ellie’s eyes brim with sudden tears.

Briskly she wipes her face before Hardy notices, but ultimately it’s that motion that betrays her. She pushes her hands in the pockets of her orange parka and swallows.

Hardy is looking down at her, hard lines etched into his face, eyes darker than ever. Behind him the tops of the cliffs light up in a final homage to a boy that to most onlookers is no more than a main character in a sad newspaper article. 

“I hate this,” Ellie whispers into the wind. “Is that wrong?”

It feels unfair that her memory of Danny will forever be tainted by the sickening feeling of falling that is only a weak echo of her collapse when she found out about Joe. To her Danny is no longer just her son’s best friend and her best friend’s son. Danny’s death has wrecked not only her home, but the whole life that she had built around her. The boy never asked to bear that weight.

Hardy’s gaze hardens. Ellie was expecting his usual snide commentary and it feels weird when he doesn’t speak. Instead Hardy sends her one of those looks that she could swear could see right through her. She averts her gaze and looks out over the cliffs. The light of the day is rapidly fading and the sky bathes everything in a soft glow that gradually darkens as it washes from bright orange to dark blue.

Hardy’s coat rustles and she feels him move beside her. His hand touches her shoulder tentatively and she looks up. His eyebrows are knit together, but at the same time he seems certain when he looks down pointedly to the palm of his hand that he offers her. 

Shoulder to shoulder they stand as the light fades and the first stars appear. Her hand feels small in his, safely enveloped by rough palm and long fingers. Still he doesn’t say a word, although there must be hundreds of sentences forming in his head. Questions, comments, about her, about Danny, about the people on the beach below. It’s almost as if he has finally learned that there is nothing he can say that will make it easier for her. So he says nothing. 

It’s been one year since Alec Hardy became her partner. In these twelve months she has come to know him and he has come to know her. In one year he has become a beacon of strength and hope. She has come to rely on him in more ways than she could ever have expected when she met him. Maybe even in more ways than she wants to admit. 

“Thank you.”

Hardy squeezes her hand and Ellie lays her head on his shoulder. One by one the fires die out and the memories of Danny disappear until all that remains are glowing ashes and Hardy’s warm body at her side. Finally, for the first time in a year, Ellie Miller feels at peace.

Chapter Text

‘I shouldn’t have come here,’ is the first thing that Alec Hardy says when he steps into the office of Dr. John Disco. The space is too cozy, with lightly coloured walls, a sitting nook with a blue couch and two armchairs centered around a low coffee table. Behind the large white desk two windows stretch to the excessively high ceiling. A large tree blocks most of the direct sunlight and gives the room a warm glow. The therapist looks ridiculously out of place with a head of gray curls, plaid trousers, black shirt with silver spots that glimmer when he moves and a black jacket with red lining that he wears casually and somehow manages to pull off.

‘And yet you find yourself in this office.’ The therapist smiles politely at Alec and gestures to the couch invitingly. He speaks with a low Scottish accent that is pleasant to Alec’s ears. ‘Please, at least have some tea before you decide whether or not this is where you should be.’

He sits on the couch and accepts a mug of tea he doesn’t want and John ‘Please refrain from calling me Doctor Disco’ sits to his left, seemingly completely at ease.

‘What made you decide to come here today, Alec?’ 

‘My daughter,’ he answers reluctantly.

‘Oh?’

Alec takes a sip of his tea just to have something to do while he waits for another question. It doesn’t come. He glances to his left and sees that the therapist is watching him curiously. His reluctance grows.

‘She told me to get my shit together or she wouldn’t see me,’ he grumbles. ‘So here I am.’

‘Get your shit together,’ John repeats. ‘That’s an awfully general description of why one would consider therapy.’

Alec frowns. 

‘What makes you think you don’t have your shit together?’

A laugh slips from him, half sarcastic, half because the crude term sounds somehow wrong on this man’s lips. The laugh quickly morphs into a grimace. ‘My daughter won’t speak to me.’

‘Alec, you need to be more clear.’ The therapist looks sternly at him, but his eyes are kind. 

Alec sighs and sits back sulkily. He knows he is in no way obligated to answer, but Daisy’s heated words ring in his ears and he knows he needs to at least try. ‘I’m having nightmares. Sometimes I have a panic attack. I’m not-’ he frowns again, debating what he should say. ‘I’m not the nicest person to be around these days.’

John makes a note and then focuses his eyes on Alec again. ‘When have these nightmares started?’

‘A year and a half ago.’ He hesitates, thinks about his answer. Then he adds, ‘They’ve been worse since I left Broadchurch.’

—

‘I thought I would have closure,’ Alec says on his third visit. He clasps his tea mug between his hands and stares at the liquid with unfocused eyes. ‘When I solved Sandbrook. But I don’t.’

John leans back in his chair, opposite Alec today. Alec finds him more confronting like that, but maybe that’s the point.

‘I solved it, I’ve done penance,’ he continues more agitatedly. ‘I’ve given up everything for that family and it paid off.’ He breathes out heavily and sags back in the cushions. Today the nearly constant headache he has had for months is worse. It always is after a nightly panic attack. Tiredly he rubs his temples.

‘You talk about closure as if it’s something tangible,’ John comments. ‘What would it be for you? How would you know you have it?’

Alec makes an unhappy, impatient sound through his nose. He doesn’t do it on purpose, it’s an automatic response. ‘I’d feel better,’ he shrugs. I’d be back with my family.’

John hums lowly. He leans forward a little and reaches for his tea. ‘Is that something you really want?’

Alec freezes. He thinks of Tess and all he feels is betrayal and exhaustion that used to be anger. He thinks of Daisy and it hurts so much he can barely breathe through it. His heartbeat sends ripples through the water surface of his tea. John notices this too and Alec sees a small, genuinely interested smile and suddenly it feels too intimate to have his heart rate on display like that, so he sets the mug back on the table. 

‘Alec, I want you to picture the last time you felt at home, can you do that?’

John’s voice is grounding and it pulls him back a little from the pain in his chest. Alec nods.

‘Describe it to me.’

It isn’t hard. It’s the first memory that comes to mind with a crashing wave of loss and regret connected to it.

‘She made tea,’ he says and then he has to stop, because he isn’t going to cry over the stupid tea Miller had made him while he was recovering from his surgery. She had tried so hard to look angry at him, but all he had seen was the shock of finding him in the hospital and a deep caring that pleaded with him never to make her go through that again. It hadn’t seemed significant at the time that Miller had made him tea and breakfast and had created (without asking) a nook for Fred to play in. Now he realized that she had felt at home as much in his house as in her own. And in that moment he had felt it too.

—

‘Let’s talk about when you moved to Broadchurch,’ John suggests.

‘I don’t want to think about Broadchurch.’

John sits back and crosses his legs, balancing his clipboard on one knee. He’s putting more distance between them, giving Alec space to think. It’s something Alec has recognized him doing before asking a difficult question.

‘And how often do you find yourself thinking about it?’

Alec folds his hands in his lap. He stares at the tree. Some of the leaves are already changing color, turning from bright green into a dull yellow. It intrigues him how this room can seem so timeless while at the same time reminding him that months are passing by while he sits here.

‘Why don’t you own a clock?’ he asks instead of answering.

John spins the pen around his fingers. It’s a tick Hardy is positive John isn’t aware of. He doesn’t do it when he’s bored, like most people tend to start playing around with whatever is available to them when they are, only when he has to think carefully about how to formulate an answer.

‘I don’t need a clock,’ he says eventually. It’s true. A session always takes fifty minutes. John has never been late, nor has he been early, even without a clock.

Alec on the other hand does need a clock to measure the passage of time. Consequently he has no idea how long he has been sitting here. But maybe that’s the point. He turns his head and watches the leaves rustle in the soft breeze. 

‘I took her job,’ he says, because suddenly that feels important. ‘She hated me for it.’

‘Did she? Or did you only think she did?’

He shrugs again, feeling a little embarrassed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

John shifts in his seat, turning a little more towards Alec. He tilts his head a little, as if to say I see . ‘Can you tell me about her?’

‘Her name is Ellie.’

And that’s where he gets stuck already, because she’s never been Ellie to him and it feels wrong and impersonal and maybe that’s exactly what he needs to be able to talk about this.

‘We worked together.’

John says nothing. He hasn’t made a single note. He is exceptionally good at playing the waiting game and it's unfair. It means there is nothing to distract Alec from the memories that keep popping up. Flashes of his time in Broadchurch: the station; the looming cliffs; the tiny house next to the water he had called home; Miller standing by the door, extending her hand while looking the other way.

'We were friends," he says when the silence becomes too much and the presence of his own thoughts unbearable. 'I think I hurt her.'

He swallows against the sudden constriction around his throat and his next breath comes in as a choked gasp. 

John simply nods to Alec encouragingly and he hates that it works, that he loses the control over the carefully constructed barricades and that the pain is as excruciating as he knew it would be. It's loss and regret and fear all at once that take over his insides and his lungs can't find enough oxygen and his heart is beating wildly and it feels like he is having a heart attack all over again.

John is awfully calm under all this. He searches Alec's eyes and takes deep breaths until Alec has copied him and has calmed down enough to speak.

'Can you describe what you're feeling right now?'

He can, and he hates the irony because the word brings back even more memories, but it’s the only accurate description, so he goes with it anyway.

‘Guilty.’

—

'She left me a message.'

'Oh?' John doesn't look up from where he's busying himself with their tea. He doesn't ask another question, gives no indication that he is waiting for an elaboration, just offers that one syllable that tells Alec he is listening. It's his choice how he wants to proceed.

He swallows and shifts until he is seated against the backrest of the couch. 'Several messages, actually.'

'Do you want to discuss them?'

John doesn’t look at him while he places two steaming mugs on the coffee table. Alec stares at them, follows the steam that spirals upwards with his eyes.

‘I can’t,’ he says quietly.

It’s a confession and John understands, because he walks back to the windowsill where he keeps his water boiler and starts organizing the teabags. It’s easier to speak without being watched. It gives Alec the chance to gather his thoughts without feeling rushed.

‘I didn’t listen to them.’

‘Ah.’ John doesn’t ask why, doesn’t ask how Alec is feeling about this, he does, however, turn around. Leaning against the windowsill he watches Alec neutrally. There is no judgment in his expression, no pity or any other emotion. It might have been easier if there had been, but maybe that’s the point.

Alec fidgets, suddenly wishing he hadn’t said anything, but now that the words are out he can’t take them back. He wishes John would ask a question because he doesn’t know what to say next. He looks up at his therapist helplessly, but it takes another long moment before John speaks.

'Do you want to?'

Alec cringes. He actually cringes and if he had been a less dignified man, he would have curled up on the couch to shield himself from the world. He shakes his head and looks away. 'It's too late.'

'What makes you think that?' John moves closer, stopping by his desk to pick up his clipboard. He's still giving Alec space without being obvious about it.

Alec thinks about the phone in his drawer that he hasn't charged for months and yet still keeps there to look at every morning. He thinks about Ellie's face and the handshake and the way the clouds had packed together and rain had started falling when he drove out of Broadchurch. He remembers collapsing on the bed in the hotel room and looking at his silent phone and wishing her name would appear on the screen instead of Tess's, because he didn't want to speak to his wife and speaking to Miller had always been easier. But she was giving him space, a chance to let go, and he was thankful that she didn't call.

'I never picked up,'  he whispers, fighting the constriction around his throat. ‘I thought I needed to start over.’

He almost squirms in irrational fear when John sits down in the chair to his left, allowing him the unblocked view of the window. They’re both quiet for a long time and Alec knows nothing more to say. He stares at the leaves and breathes through the bubbling panic until his stomach settles and he feels like he can breathe again.

‘Thank you for sharing this with me, I know that must have been hard.’ John smiles at him and Alec can almost imagine that he is proud. ‘Why don’t you bring the phone next time.’

—

The phone lays in the middle of the coffee table, two mugs of tea symmetrically arranged on both sides, highlighting it as the centerpiece of their session. Alec stares at it as if it’s going to bite him. 

‘I charged it,’ Alec says, ‘It’s off.’ What he doesn’t say is I couldn’t bring myself to turn it on , but it’s obvious that John knows it anyway.

‘How is this making you feel?’ John gestures at the phone.

‘Scared,’ Alec admits, fidgeting a little in his seat. He takes a deep breath that feels shallow. ‘I don’t think I can do this.’

John becomes blurry when tears fill his eyes. He blinks heavily and averts his gaze. Slowly the tree comes into focus. Almost all the leaves are gone by now and the tree appears dark and looming and gives the overall sense of missing pieces and being incomplete.

‘I think you can, do you know why?’ John sits forward and waits for Alec to shake his head. ‘You were brave enough to bring up the voicemails. You were brave enough to charge this phone and brave enough to bring it here today. Would you have gone through all that if you weren’t ready?’ 

Alec looks up at him tearily, trying and failing not to feel like a child looking for a comforting word from a parent. He shakes his head.

John smiles. ‘Turn it on.’

It takes three attempts for Alec’s trembling fingers to enter his pincode. For a moment nothing happens while the phone connects to the network. Then it starts vibrating wildly as multiple texts are loaded into his inbox. He drops the phone on the table as if he’s been burned. He’s breathing too quickly, feels his heart pound painfully in his chest, 

‘I can’t,’ he says again, but he doesn’t want it to be true. 

‘May I?’ John asks calmly and when Alec nods, he picks up the now motionless phone. He quickly clicks through the messages, then searches Alec’s eyes for confirmation.

He takes another deep breath, nods and closes his eyes, bracing himself.

They listen to the automated voice that informs them that Alec has twelve new messages and that the first one dates from over a year back. John places the phone on the table between them carefully and watches Alec with an expression that lacks any judgment. Then Miller’s voice comes through the speakers and everything changes.

‘It’s me. Just checking in since I haven’t heard from you in two weeks and you’re not replying to any of my texts. Not to say you’re obliged to of course… I guess we never talked about staying in contact. I just-’

The message is cut off as his fist clenches around the phone so hard that he’s afraid the screen might break. He had expected to freeze. He had expected to panic. He had expected for it to hurt worse than almost dying. He had been right about all those things. Tears are streaming down his face without him being able to stop them this time. 

‘I can’t.’

‘You’re doing great, Alec,’ John tells him gently. ‘Allow yourself to go through this.’

The phone clatters to the ground and Alec cries. He cries freely for the first time in what feels like forever, choking on heavy sobs that are too quiet to contain all that he is feeling. He cries and he cries and John sits on his left quietly and waits and somehow this miserable state Alec finds himself in is the closest to having closure that he has come. 

—

‘I need to cancel our appointment, and maybe all the appointments after that.’

‘Alec, speak calmly. What is happening?’

‘I’m in the car. I’m going back.’

…

‘To Broadchurch?’

‘Where else would I go back to?’

‘Remember when we talked about rash decision making?’

‘It got me in this mess, it might as well get me out if it too.’

…

‘You listened to the rest of the voicemails.’

‘This morning.’

…

‘John?’

‘Still here.’

‘I hurt her. Something’s happened.’

‘Ah.’

‘She’s not picking up her phone.’

‘What makes you think you can help?’

‘She said she couldn’t do this on her own.’

‘Then I suppose there is nothing I can say to make you reconsider?’

‘No.’

…

…

‘John?’

‘Still here.’

‘Thank you. For helping me remember.’

‘Drive safely, Alec. Call me if you need to.’

…

‘And good luck.’

…

…

. 

Chapter Text

Sleep was a dark curtain that had wrapped itself snugly around Ellie’s heavy limbs and it was difficult to extract herself from its grasp. Something must have woken her, because the world was slowly drifting into focus, feeling cold and unwelcome on her skin. The first thing she noticed, on the first inhale into consciousness, was that her mouth was dry and her throat felt raw. Even the tiniest stripe of light that passed through her eyelashes was too bright for her pounding head and with a groan Ellie clenched her eyes shut and rolled over. As she curled up under the covers more snugly, the fabric of her jeans scratched roughly over her skin. Her cloudy brain marked this as an important observation. It was morning. And she was still dressed.

What happened? Thinking hurt, but she remembered vaguely that she had wanted to go to the pub. That would at least explain the headache. She must have a hangover. She racked her brain for more information. Why had she gone to the pub? Had she been alone? How did she get home?

There had been a man, her brain helpfully supplied, sending her a flash of a laughing man on a bar stool next to her. She must have met him there. Briefly Ellie panicked, because she couldn’t remember coming home.

Opening her eyes for the second time hurt less, but only slightly. Fighting against lids that felt thick and heavy, Ellie blinked until the wall in front of her came into focus and sighed in relief. She was in her own bedroom. On the bedside table lay her phone and next to it a glass of water and two aspirins.

She froze, heart beating wildly when she realized that she had not put those items there herself. With a shock she realised that there had been something that had woken her. The vibrations of a phone. And the sound had come from the other side of the bed.

Breathing shallowly, Ellie tried to stay calm and think rationally. Whatever had happened the previous night, she was still wearing her clothes. Whomever she would find when she turned around, she could handle it. 

Now that she had deduced that she was not alone, Ellie became aware of a presence next to her. The mattress dipped under the added weight that was tugging on her covers. Now that she was holding her own breath, she could make out the soft breathing that indicated that the person next to her must still be asleep. She could use that to her advantage.

Slowy, careful not to disturb her guest, she turned over and cursed softly. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Ellie pushed herself up in a sitting position. The wave of nausea slowly passed and was replaced by the panic that was returning full force. Next to her, curled up on top of the covers, lay Alec Hardy. His face was partially obscured by the way he was tugging his coat tightly around himself, but it was unmistakably him. 

“Fuck.” Ellie cursed again. “Hardy!”

Hardy sniffled and pulled his legs closer to his chest, still asleep.

“Fuck,” Ellie repeated, louder. She gave Hardy a shove. “Wake up.”

Her boss mumbled something unintelligible and pulled his coat up higher.

“Sir, wake up!’”

"Miller?"

“What are you doing here!?” Her voice sounded shrill to her own ears. 

Hardy suddenly became very still. One eye blinked open and took a moment to process Ellie’s distressed look. Then he was scrambling back, trying to get away from her. “Miller, I’m-”

With a surprised yelp he toppled over the edge of the bed and sprawled inelegantly on the floor, one foot still hooked around the mattress’s edge. “Ow…”

Ellie would have laughed at his clumsiness, hadn’t she been so alarmed by waking up next to her friend who was technically still her boss . “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” Hardy inquired, sounding a little bit hysteric himself. He scrambled into a sitting position and looked at Miller, disoriented.

“You didn’t just appear in my bed, did you?”

“No, of course not! You called me, don’t you remember?’’ 

Hardy looked properly confused and he reminded Ellie strongly of that time she had bumped into him late at night when he was walking home from his cheeky date. This meant he was embarrassed, then. This knowledge helped Ellie calm down a little. She shook her head and immediately cursed herself, groaning as the pounding in her head intensified. 

“You should take those,” Hardy commented softly, and pointed at the glass on her bedside table. “I imagine your head must be killing you.”

Ellie took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. Alec Hardy had spent the night in her bed. On top of the covers. She had called him. It didn’t make sense.

Her head spinned and she gave in, reaching over to grab the glass of water and the painkillers. She took a few tiny sips, cringing when her throat protested, before swallowing the pills. Her stomach churned.

“Okay, what happened?” she asked when she was confident that she would manage to keep everything down. “You didn’t come with me to the pub.”

“Don’t take it personally.”Hardy rubbed his eyes with a tired yawn. He had moved so that he was sitting with his back against the wall. His coat had been tossed on the bed and he had rolled up the sleeves of the dark blue jumper he was wearing. He looked very out of place in her bedroom. 

“Hard not to,” Ellie grumbled. “So then what?”

“You called me around midnight to insult me,” Hardy shot her a pointed look. “Very eloquent by the way.”

Ellie groaned. “Don’t tell me I drunk-dialed my boss.”

He chuckled lightly. “You were absolutely hammered. Kept going on about me being an arse and some guy you picked up not wanting to leave you alone. You asked me to take you home.”

“And you came?”She raised her eyebrows.

Hardy spread his hands as if to say obviously . “I drove you home. Almost had to carry you up the stairs ‘cause you kept tripping over your own feet.”

A small memory of tripping on the stairs and sliding down the wall to sit down all the while giggling flashed before her eyes and Ellie felt shame burn her cheeks. With a groan she lowered herself on the pillow and hid her face in it. “Shit…”

“It’s fine, Miller. You were obviously not yourself.”

She turned her head to look at her boss. Hardy’s face was flushed and he looked a little nervous. “Are you doing that supportive boss thing again?”

He ducked his head. “No good?”

“Still needs some work.”

“Right.”

They were quiet for a moment. Hardy rubbed his wrist distractedly, not looking at Ellie, while Ellie stared at the ceiling, trying to process what he had told her. Then she spoke.

“You’re still here.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Hardy shrugged. “You asked me to stay.”

Ellie stared at him, stunned. Her boss looked completely serious. “Just like that?”

“Yeah.” He frowned unhappily and Ellie could see he was reconsidering his actions, trying to figure out if he had interpreted everything wrongly and to determine how badly he had screwed up. “I would have slept on the couch, but you were upset and-”

And she remembered suddenly, getting home to a dark and uninviting house where memories of Joe were bittersweet, tainted and never far away. She remembered feeling sad and lost and lonely and Hardy’s hand on her forehead and grabbing his wrist because she was scared that if he left the darkness would swallow her whole.

“Thank you,” she told him, before he could apologize. “For staying.”

The way he looked up bashfully at her was quite endearing. “You’re welcome, Miller.”

“Normally I would offer you breakfast after a sleepover, but…”

He smiled. “Your head is killing you?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna get some more sleep.”

“Do you want me to go?”

She looked at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the yawn he was suppressing. A glance at the alarm clock told her it was still early in the morning. They couldn’t have slept for more than six hours.

“No,” she decided and she petted the bed beside her. “You can stay. Just don’t snore.”

Chapter Text

The first week of January was always a stressful one. The festivities were over, the Christmas lights taken down and family feuds that had been reignited over Christmas dinners reached their point of climax. It was therefore busy at the Broadchurch Police Station and Ellie had to deal with her more and more irritable colleagues as they made long hours working on minor crimes. On top of all that, according to tradition on the first Thursday of the year, the New Years reception was being held. Attendance was mandatory for all personnel that wasn’t invaluable at the moment as this would increase the team spirit. And, Ellie mused, otherwise everyone would gladly skip this formality. 

This year she and Hardy had not been spared and the invite had magically reappeared on her desk that morning, along with a message from the Chief Superintendent that, save an emergency, she and Hardy were expected to show up.

Ellie had waited for the latest possible moment, but no emergency had presented itself. Hardy had already removed himself from the office to go god knows where and Ellie swore quietly that if he had managed to duck out of this, she would kill him. She, however, had no choice but to obey her boss’s wishes and thus Ellie had reluctantly grabbed the change of clothes she had brought for herself and, after a quick look around the almost deserted bullpen had stepped into Hardy’s office for some privacy.

Grumbling, she changed into an even more formal attire, cursing the people who had decided on a dress code. She honestly didn’t understand the fuss. It was a reception where only police officers would be. There would be a speech, there would be a toast and then there would be food and alcohol and too much time before it wouldn’t be impolite to leave.

Ellie had just moved on to the last item of her outfit when the door was pushed open and Hardy’s surprised voice came from behind her.

‘What are you doing in here?’

‘I am tying,’ Ellie turned around to show him. ‘My tie.’

He watched her with a dumbfounded expression. ’What would you do that for?’

She ignored his question, instead took the ends of the tie that she had slung around her neck in her hands and measured their length. ‘Where have you been?’

‘I picked up Daisy at the train station.’ He moved to the couch and sat down on the armrest, watching her curiously as she expertly slung one end over the other and reached through the loop to start the knot. He didn’t seem perturbed that she was using his office as a changing room. 

‘You changed your suit,’ she noticed. The navy blue suit Hardy had been wearing this morning had been replaced by a dark gray one. 

He shrugged. ‘You told me we needed to go to that thing where everyone looks like they’re at a funeral.’

‘New Year’s reception.’

He made a dismissive gesture, then frowned pointedly at her hands. ‘Miller, why are you wearing a tie?’

‘Didn’t you read the invitation?’

He shrugged almost apologetically and she shook her head disapprovingly.

‘Of course you didn’t.’ she muttered to herself. One hand left the tie to grab the invitation from between a stack of papers on Hardy’s own desk and she tossed it at him.

His eyebrows disappeared beneath his fringe. ‘Black tie and cocktail dress?’

‘Yes. Bloody hell.’ Ellie’s hands were struggling with the knot. It was supposed to be a double windsor, but it didn’t look anywhere near the real thing. Apparently being able to tie your husband’s tie was no guarantee you could tie it around your own neck. The memories of Joe appeared at this latent thought and Ellie groaned in irritation, tugging hard on the knot, accentuating each tug with a grunt. ‘Who. Even. Wears. A cocktail dress. In the middle. Of the bloody Winter!’

Unfortunately this only made things worse as the tie was now winded even more tightly around her throat. She gave another desperate tug, but the tie didn’t move. She let out another frustrated noise and clawed at the silky fabric that had moved out of sight under her chin.Changing tactics, she tried to pull the tie over her head, but it got stuck in either her curls or under her nose.

Suddenly two strong hands were gripping her wrists. ‘Miller, stop trying to kill yourself.’ 

Hardy had stepped into her personal space, looking mildly amused and worried at the same time. He gently guided her arms down and then released her. ‘I get it. No cocktail dress.’

She breathed out a shaky laugh and shook her head.  Realising she looked ridiculous she tugged the tie down her face and.traced the knot searchingly with her fingers. ‘I know how to do this, I swear.’

‘Sure you do,’ Hardy smiled. ‘I could help?’

Ellie hesitated a moment, then relented. ‘If you think you can do better.’

He fished his glasses from his jacket pocket, perching them on his nose and investigated the tie closely. He turned the end around, fingers tracing the loops looking for a starting point. Ellie resisted the urge to fidget under the sudden closeness. Hardy was standing so close that she could feel his body heat. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she crossed her arms. Her eyes fixed on the door in an attempt not to study Hardy’s head too closely.

‘Maybe we should use scissors.’ Ellie suggested, half jokingly. If that was the sacrifice to get out of this situation, so be it.

‘No.’ Hardy smiled and not a moment later, pulled the tie free from her neck. He took a step back and held it up for her, looking rather pleased with himself.

Ellie reached to take it, but Hardy anticipated and he moved it out of reach.

‘You really still wanna wear this thing?’ he questioned, eyeing the item with disgust.

Ellie shrugged. ‘It’s the dress code.’

‘Let me do it then.’

She huffed. ‘I know how to tie a tie, sir.’ 

‘Clearly.’ he said dryly. ‘Do you know how to do it without hanging yourself as well?’

She looked away from him. The movement let her gaze fall on the clock. They didn’t have much time. Not enough for a repeat untying anyway. Rolling her eyes to regain at least some of her composure she gave in. ‘Go on then.’

Hardy stretched the tie and took both ends in one hand. Then he stepped closer, reaching around Ellie to fold back the collar of her dress shirt and slid the tie over her shoulders. If he noticed how her breath hitched in her throat at the proximity he didn’t show it.

‘Chin up.’ He guided her head back a little with one finger, exposing her neck and allowing him the necessary moving space. His eyes were focused entirely on his own fingers working on the knot. 

It was a terrifying feeling to have someone tie a knot under your chin and yet every time Hardy’s fingers brushed against her, the touch sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. The smell of his aftershave tingled her nostrils and from this close, she could feel his breath on the exposed skin of her throat. It was dizzying and Ellie wanted to reach out and hold onto him in case her knees decided to give out.

As Hardy pulled the broad end through the noose and pulled, he slowed his movements. Ellie looked down and saw the trepidation in his eyes. She wasn’t the only one who was being affected and the thought was exhilarating. He found her gaze, searching for guidance and she was sure he could see the adoration in his own eyes reflected back at him.

He swallowed thickly and his eyes shot briefly to his hand before landing on her face again. Steadily he slid the knot up, fixing it at a comfortable distance from her throat. Using both hands he straightened the fabric and folded the collar neatly back into place.

‘There you go. All set.’

‘Thanks.’ she murmured, unable to break away from his soft gaze.

Neither of them moved. The air between them seemed to crackle from all sorts of electrifying possibilities. Ellie’s gaze dropped to Hardy’s own tie. Slowly she reached up and lightly touched the silky fabric. Underneath her fingertips a healthy heart was beating steadily against the ribcage. A hand closed over her fingers.

‘Miller…’ Hardy said softly, an uncertain warning. ‘We’re gonna be late.’ 

‘Right.’ She broke from her trance and took a step back. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ he whispered, almost inaudibly. Something warm and full of wonder shimmered in his eyes, followed by reluctance as he let go of her hand and offered her his arm instead. He cleared his throat. ‘Ready?’

‘Let’s get this over with,’ she nodded. And then, because the adrenaline rush made her feel bold, she added, ‘Maybe afterwards you could help me get this thing off?’

It was endearing how, after all this, Hardy still managed to look surprised. Joy filled her chest and with a laugh, she hooked her arm through his. 

‘Come on.’ She pulled him out of the office before he could stumble his way through an answer. Suddenly she found herself to be in a way better mood about this whole ordeal than she had been before.

Chapter Text

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ellie groans when they enter the hotel room. “I bet you they did this on purpose.”

Hardy has stopped in the doorway. He looks unhappily at the double bed and then at her.

“No,” she cuts him off threateningly before he can offer to sleep on the floor. Demonstratively she dumps her bag on the right side of the bed. “You take the left side. Don’t make this weird.”

It’s more bravado than she is really feeling, but she is too tired to get into an argument about their sleeping arrangement. She can imagine the faces of her colleagues plotting to put them in the same bed and vows not to give them the satisfaction.

Hardy’s shoulders sag, but he doesn’t dare protest. He sets down his overnight bag and closes the door. “Right,” he sighs resignedly as he turns around. He rubs a hand over his face and Ellie can see he is as exhausted as she is feeling. They share a look of wordless understanding and Hardy even manages to send her a tiny smile. “D’you wanna shower first?”

She nods gratefully and all but flees into the tiny ensuite.

Ellie takes her time to enjoy the hot stream and lets the water wash away the pent up frustrations of the day.

It’s Christmas Eve and for the first time in many years Ellie isn’t home with her children and her dad. She’s not reading the nativity story to Fred and she’s not crashing on the couch to watch Home Alone with Tom or sharing a bottle of wine with her dad. Instead she’s the victim of a practical joke and stuck in a hotel room with her boss who coincidentally is also her best friend. 

With a frustrated sigh she closes her eyes and tilts her head to let the water pour over her face. How did she end up here?

She has been asking herself this question at least five times each hour since they left the station that afternoon. Originally both detectives had been given the Christmas holidays off, but there had been a last minute call-in for a small undercover operation. It had been a simple infiltration mission. They had to pose as a couple attending a dinner and subsequent gala in a posh hotel. All they had to do was to keep an eye and camera on a man that, according to their source, had been smuggling drugs into the country, and find out who his partner was, whom he would certainly be meeting here. It had been almost too easy. 

They had mostly spent the long car ride bickering. She had been nervous and he had been insufferable. Ellie would have rather spent Christmas Eve at home. Hardy hated Christmas anyway. Hardy had turned off the radio, claiming that he couldn’t bear to hear another Christmas song, while Ellie refused to drive in silence. Eventually they reached middle ground and chose a classic rock station on low volume. Hardy had complained about his suit and Ellie had cursed the heels that went with her dark green dress. Ellie had brought snacks that Hardy refused to eat and everything had been back to normal.

It hadn’t been Ellie’s first undercover mission, but it never before did she have to pretend to be in a relationship with anyone other than her ex-husband. 

Hardy must have sensed her nerves when they arrived, because when she stepped out of the car he had confidently offered her his arm and told her to follow his lead. The role of galant husband was one that he played with a natural ease. It was in simple gestures, pulling out her chair, offering his arm, his hand on her back providing comfort as he led the way. And he was smiling. Not the forced, plastered smile that he used during interrogations, but a gentle, loving smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made his expression softer. 

It was easy to play along and move with him as he steered her through an evening of high-class entertainment as if he had never done anything different in his life. it was unnatural behaviour for her boss and yet it suited him. By the end of the evening Ellie had found herself reaching for him without looking and not being surprised to find Hardy right where she had expected him to be standing, phone in his hand to take her picture along with their suspect talking to his potential partner. She had held his hand until the elevator door closed behind them, feeling happy and proud and she thinks that had Hardy really been her husband she would have kissed him right there and then. But Hardy isn’t her husband and the thought that she had felt the urge to kiss him is as disorienting as it is exhilarating.

Ellie can’t help but be impressed. She is proud of him. Proud of them. It’s a marvelous thing, the wordless understanding between the two of them. Part of her is sad that the evening is over and that they’re back to DI Hardy and DS Miller. The other part is happy that Hardy is back to being himself again. it’s less confusing this way.

“Your turn,” she mumbles as she shuffles out of the ensuite. “Did you pack pajamas this time?”

Sheepishly Hardy holds up a simple gray shirt and black shorts before he brushes past her and locks the door. 

She’s on the phone with Fred when the bathroom door opens and Hardy strides into the room with determined steps. “Miller, I’ve been thinking-”

She holds up a hand and indicates the phone that’s pressed against her ear and Hardy backs away with an apologetic gesture, but it’s already too late. 

“Is uncle Alec with you?” “

Fred’s excited voice is immediately followed by her dad’s dark growls that spill too loudly from the tiny speakers.

“Is he? El, you said you were getting ready for bed!”

She doesn’t have to wonder if Hardy has heard this. His eyebrows are raised lightly in surprise and he mumbles a soundless sorry . Ellie sighs and puts the phone on speaker. After the day she’s had she can handle one more tiny disaster.

“Alec’s here, dad,” she bites out the last word, “Because we are undercover as a couple . Would be weird if anyone saw us come out of different hotel rooms now, wouldn’t it?”

It's improvisation. Their job is done. But her dad doesn’t need to know that.

The mattress of the hotel bed dips beside her as Hardy sits down. His hair is still damp from the shower and the smell of deodorant and shampoo tickles her nose. He shoots her a quick glance before he clears his throat.

“Good evening mister Barrett,” he says tightly. “Merry Christmas.”

After a moment in which Fred can clearly be heard yelling “ Uncle Alec!” Ellie's dad grumbles a reply.

“I was about to suggest to Ellie I take the first watch,” Hardy continues Ellie’s earlier improvisation. Her eyebrows shoot up at seeing him lie so easily and he rolls his eyes at her affronted expression.

“That’s alright, sir.” she winks and continues before her dad will interrupt. “Do you wanna say hi to Fred?”

“Sure,” Hardy says. “Hi Fred. Merry Christmas.”

“You too!” comes the toddler’s happy reply. Then he yawns exaggeratedly. “You bring mum home?”

“Tomorrow,” he promises.

“The earlier you sleep the earlier I will be back,” Ellie adds.

“ Okay,” Fred replies with a sigh. “Night, mum. Night, uncle Alec!”

They wish Fred good night and then Ellie curtly ends the call with her dad before he starts grilling them for information about their sleeping arrangements. She tosses the phone onto the nightstand and collapses onto her back with a heavy sigh. “Sorry about that. He’s a knob sometimes.”

Hardy chuckles. “I hope I’m not this possessive when it comes to Daisy.”

“You’re not.” Ellie smiles. “You’re much worse.”

“Oh shut up.” She can hear the smile in his words.

They move coordinately without having to communicate. Hardy gets up and gets the lights. Ellie switches on the reading light and organizes the covers. She crawls under them on one side and waits for Hardy to make himself comfortable on the other side before she switches off the light on her side. To her surprise Hardy doesn’t make a move to turn the other light off. He lies on his back, hands folded on his chest, and stares at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly.

Hardy hums softly. Then he turns his head. In the soft light his eyes appear even darker than usual, his expression open. Her heart rate picks up a little. She feels it pound insistently in her throat. It's not quite fear she feels, she’s too relaxed to feel anxious, but there’s something in Hardy’s expression that tells her he is struggling to put something into words. She wonders what part of their evening he is thinking about. Did something happen? Did she do something wrong?

“Fred calls me uncle Alec,” he blurts suddenly. Automatically his face contorts in a grimace at the feeling of his own name on his lips. 

The amount of relief she feels seems excessive. She nods. “He’s been doing that for a while.”

“Do you…” He falters and his eyes flick back to the ceiling. It’s a little endearing to see her boss struggle to express what is really bothering him. “Do you call me uncle Alec?”

The reluctance in his voice surprises her and she shifts to look at him more closely. “I do. But only to Fred. Does that bother you?”

He shrugs uncomfortably. “I’m not exactly family.”

She reaches over and grabs his hand. At the start of the evening this was enough to send a shock through her chest. Now it feels like the most natural in the world.

“Alec,” she says earnestly. “You’re the closest thing to family he has.”

He doesn’t answer. His fingers spread and wriggle and she waves her fingers through his. She can see the deep frown appear as his brain wrecks itself to understand the full implications of that statement. 

“This is nice,” she tells him, because it’s what she’s realized this evening and it seems too significant to keep to herself. She likes sharing these simple, friendly touches with Alec Hardy.

Hardy freezes. His eyes flick down, then back to her face and she sees the fear in them as he opens his mouth and tries to pull his hand away.

Ellie tightens her grip. “Don’t overthink it.”

“I’m not-” he protests weakly, but she uses both their hands to smack his chest and he shuts up.

“I said don’t overthink it. It feels nice, that’s all.”

He mutters something unintelligible, but his arm relaxes. With his free hand he turns off the last remaining light and that’s the end of this conversation.

Silence fills that room and Ellie closes her eyes. She lets her thoughts drift and soon she feels sleep pull at the edges of her focus. She would have easily fallen asleep. Except for the hand that is still in hers, which trembles as a shiver runs through Hardy’s form. She yanks her hand away and rubs the coldness from her fingers.

“Get under the covers.”

“What?” His voice is sharp. Obviously he had still been wide awake.

“This is ridiculous. My hand is freezing. You must be cold. I want to sleep.”

He doesn’t move immediately. Then slowly he rolls out of bed and lifts his side of the covers. He clambers in next to her and turns to his side, facing her from a safe distance. She reaches over and pets his shoulder a little awkwardly as if to say well done .

“Don’t overthink it?” he inquires softly.

“Now you get it.”

Hardy finally relaxes beside her and gradually his breathing slows.

Ellie is almost ready to fall asleep when the irresistible urge to laugh overcomes her. “You know what I just realised?”

“What?” Hardy inquires suspiciously. 

“Now we’re both undercover.” Her laughter intensifies as Hardy pulls the sheets over his ears and groans loudly.

“Go to sleep, Miller.”

And finally she does.