Chapter Text
The days in Broadchurch as of recent had been damp and wet. Everything had been particularly droll for DI Alec Hardy. His case was dragging on much longer than he had anticipated and his stale cup of coffee wasn’t bringing him any comfort this late in the day.
The clock had just struck nine. If the dark, rain-soaked clouds didn’t span the entirety of the sky, the sun might’ve peeked through as it set. Alec hadn’t seen the sun all day, being tucked away in his office stuck with stacks of paperwork that needed doing. A few people came and went, usually bringing more paperwork in tow. There were few things worse than getting stuck with a stack of papers early in a shift. It was a slog that seemingly never ended.
With the end of the day— and his shift — growing near, Hardy finished the last of what he could manage off the stack and let his pen fall from his hand. It rolled and stopped when it hit the side of his mug. Hardy’d been nursing and refilling the mug with the awful coffee that the station keeps in stock. He was disappointed to glance in the cup and see that nothing was left. He knew that there was nothing left in the pot considering he’d used up the last of it. It was also decidedly too late to begin brewing another pot, and Hardy didn’t have the motivation left to wait for it to be done.
There was one thing that remained constant despite moving away from his life in Sandbrook, and that was the half-smoked pack of cigarettes stuffed behind some case files Hardy kept in his desk drawer. Originally he’d kept it stuffed away at work rather than on his person because Tess had nagged him about quitting and he was less likely to get caught there. He’d tried when Daisy was born, but work got stressful and nothing else made him feel better than smoking did.
He’d tried to quit plenty of times, looking back on it. Only recently had Alec been even semi-successful in his attempt to ease on the cigarettes. Moving from one demanding case to another kept him busy enough to not have time to think about stepping aside to light one up for a moment. Miller pestered him enough outside of work hours to keep him from having a smoke at home. Alec really didn’t want to give her another thing to worry about, and he really didn’t want to hear her nagging about how he should quit. He'd heard enough about that already.
There were plenty of reasons for him to quit, Hardy knew that. Getting around to it was an entirely different beast than just knowing better. He’d known better for at least two decades at this point. Even more so now that he was having heart issues. Despite all of the reasons that he shouldn't, the reason that he should always prevailed. His line of work was incredibly stressful and it took a toll on him. A toll that was slightly lessened every time the weight of smoke filled his lungs.
A sigh fell from his lips as he considered pulling the files out and grabbing the pack. A piece of him cringed at the idea, knowing that it was stupid and not worth losing his streak, but a different piece craved it like his life depended on it. Coffee wasn’t doing the trick and his stress levels weren’t getting any better. He worked better when he smoked, he thought. Well, maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Tess always complained when he smoked for a plethora of reasons, but Hardy had stopped listening at the tail end of their marriage.
The drawer slowly slid open as he contemplated whether or not this was a good idea. Miller had gone home an hour ago to take care of her kids, so he didn’t need to worry about her. Not like she’d see him on the balcony, nor would she ever look back through the tapes unless she had to. It was just a few other officers all engrossed in their own work and himself.
After staring mindlessly at the files covering where the pack sat, Alec parted the folders and plucked the pack from the bottom of the drawer. It wasn’t anything special, really. Just a regular pack of cigarettes. No menthol since he didn’t like the “mouth feel” of menthol cigarettes. There were 4 left inside, remnants from months of on-and-off quitting. Looking at the pack brought back some unpleasant memories of arguments that he and Tess had over the years. Originally, she hadn’t minded. That turned into her semi-minding and asking him to step away when he smoked. That then turned into her nagging him to quit, then demanding. It was a whole thing that Alec did not care to remember.
He stuck his fingers into the box and slid one of the cigarettes up. He put the box up to his lips and fished it the rest of the way out. It was just one cigarette, he thought. It was always “just one cigarette”. One cigarette turns to two, then three, then a whole pack, and suddenly he’s back where he started. Broadchurch was supposed to be a new beginning for Hardy, and it was. However, it's hard for an old dog to learn new tricks.
With the cigarette between his lips, Hardy slipped his suit jacket over his shoulders. He was halfway to the door of his office before remembering that he didn't have a lighter. Back when he smoked a lot, he would keep a lighter in his pocket or stuffed into one of the breast pockets of his jacket. Sometimes he still pats his chest as to check if its in there. He sighed and took the cig from his lips and slipped it above his ear as he turned around. Since he kept cigarettes in his office, he kept a lighter too. It would be silly for him to keep his vice nearby without the proper tools to partake in said vice. The lighter also sat behind the same files that the box sat behind. He tucked the pack back into its spot and grabbed the lighter instead. With the drawer shut and a lighter acquired, Hardy set out for the balcony.
Broadchurch was just like any other town in the evening. There were a few street lights that were beginning to flicker on and some houses with windows lit. It wasn’t anything too special, but a nice sight considering Alec had been staring at the same four walls under the fluorescent lights of his office for nearly 12 hours. His shoulders slumped as he leant against the railing. He took the cigarette from where it sat atop his ear and let it hang from between his lips. He flicked the lighter and it lit, only to be put out by the passing breeze.
“Stupid coastal cities,” Hardy mumbled to himself.
He flicked the lighter once more, now cupping the flame with his hand, and lit the tip of his cigarette. His face lit with amber light as he sucked the first bits of smoke into his lungs. It burnt in that way that pleased Hardy to his very core. His hand fell away from his lips and the smoke began to stream and fizzle away in the wind. Hardy held his breath in for a moment before exhaling. It was as if the stress in his body melted away with each hit he took. The breeze against his face, smoke filling his lungs, the serenity of it all? This is why he smoked. Having an excuse to get away from everyone to get his bearings was what it was all about. Tess never understood that. Miller probably wouldn’t either. Miller never had to know if he played his cards right.
Another hit brings another rush of peace through his body. The way it sat in his lungs when he held it in was a feeling that was rivaled by very few things. He let the smoke rise from the embers for a moment as he just watched. It floated away in such a mesmerizing way, similar to the way that water hit the shore. Water was no comfort to Alec, not after… it.
Smoke blew through his nostrils as he let his breath go. His eyes focused on the strip of water that lined the street in front of the station. The ripples were highlighted by the street lamps. Hardy held the cig out so the smoke dissipated into the waves. A frown tugged at his lips. He looked to the light coming from one of the houses across the way, but his mind kept lingering back to the waves. It was as if he could still feel the waves thrashing against him. He thought that the feeling might go away after some time, but time had passed. A lot of time had passed. He’d moved houses, tucked away in a small town, and still felt like he was drowning when he got near any form of water deeper than his ankles. Smoking felt reminiscent of how drowning felt. His throat got tight, his chest felt heavy, and then everything was peaceful.
Hardy let his gaze linger on the moving waves as he sucked another breath in. Tight throat, heavy chest, peace. Like he was drowning. The only difference is that there wasn’t the weight of another body in his arms. It was ironic, how the thing he sought out to relieve stress mimicked what he feared most.
A blink later and that thought was gone. No use in dwelling on things like that when trying to escape reality. If the sun had been out, it would have set behind the horizon by now. He held his hand away and took a breath of air. Paperwork was so far forgotten in his train of thought. A new vigor ran through his body now that he'd smoked nearly half of the cigarette. The nearby water sloshed lightly as the wind began to pick up. Usually, this would've sparked a deep-seated feeling of dread within Hardy. This time? This time he didn't let it bother him.
Alec allowed himself a few more minutes of peace before deciding that it was nearly time to go back in and close up shop. Just one more hit and he’d put it out and smoke the rest when he got home. Just one more. One more.