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Chapter Text

Alec

Alec Hardy lay in bed but sleep still evaded him. Try as he might, his eyes remained resolutely open, his mind wide awake. He couldn’t stop thinking. Specifically, he couldn’t stop thinking about his name. Memories flooded his mind. Of Glasgow many decades ago, his father shouting at him for some slight, often imagined, mistake. Of his first partner as PC on the streets of his hometown, thinking he was better than Hardy because, unlike the tall gangly youngster, he had grown up on the right side of town. Thoughts of Sandbrook, of Tess. Knowing just how to say his name to cut him right to the core and not afraid to use this knowledge against him. All these painful memories clouded his own perception of his name. For so many years, he had winced every time someone called him that.

“Stop thinking and go to sleep, Alec,” mumbled the person next to him. He turned his head to face Ellie Miller. She was pressed against his side, her hand resting lightly on his heart, vigilant even in her sleep to make sure it was working properly. He took a deep breath and pulled her closer. His eyes finally closed and soon enough, his breathing evened out. He fell asleep grateful that at last, he had found someone who could say his name without conjuring his demons.

Beach

Those stupid bloody cliffs and the stupid bloody horizon with the stupid blood never-ending sky—Alec Hardy hated being here. On this beach that had held nothing but pain as a child and turned into a waking nightmare as an adult when he walked towards another child, one who wasn’t lucky enough to ever leave this beach again.

Hardy took a deep breath. He hated the smell, too, almost as much as the beach itself. And yet, here he was. Standing once more on the stupid bloody sand, surrounded by all the people he cared about in this world. Because apparently, at least according to Daisy and Miller, he could not be a permanent resident of Broadchurch and avoid the beach on Guy Fawkes Night. So here he was, standing on the beach he hated with the people he loved. A smile spread over his face. Maybe the beach wasn’t that bad.

Case

After three gruelling days, Hardy was so exhausted he could barely even keep his eyes open anymore. He sat slumped over his desk, propping his chin up on his hand and trying valiantly to take in anything in the report he was currently reading. They were knee-deep in a missing person case that hit too close to home for him. Jenny, a teenage girl similar to Daisy not just in age but also appearance, had disappeared on the way home from a friend’s house late at night. Three days later, there was still no hint of where she might be. Hardy had pushed his team beyond their breaking point, and he had pushed himself even harder.

If he had been awake enough to think about it, he might have resented how much he had regressed in the last days. Working nonstop, barely even seeing Daisy at all. At least he didn’t have to worry about her being on her own. Once news broke of the girl’s disappearance, Beth Latimer had taken things into her own hands and arranged an extensive network of parents to look after the kids of everyone who was involved in the search. Grateful for her support, Hardy swore he wouldn’t stop until he found Jenny. Not just for the girl and her parents, or for the sake of Daisy and, quite frankly himself—he knew he would be having a new set of nightmares if he didn’t find Jenny in time. No, he was also determined to keep going for Danny Latimer’s mother who had experienced the worst and now did whatever small bit was in her power to help another family avoid going through the same. Hardy sighed. Another strong tea to keep him awake, then he would get back to work. He had a teenager to find and he wouldn’t rest until he did.

Death

It was after midnight and Hardy sat fast asleep on his couch, the novel he had been reading resting on his chest. A knock on the door woke him up with a start. He was still trying to get his bearings when there was another soft knock. Hardy hurried to the door and opened it. Before him stood Ellie Miller, her eyes red-rimmed, but her face terrifyingly neutral.

“My dad died.”

Hardy blanched and immediately moved aside to let her in. He held up his hand but let it hang mid-air, unsure how to proceed. Ellie brushed past him, letting herself fall onto his couch, staring straight ahead.

“Tea?” asked Hardy. He flinched at his own inability to provide any comfort, but she only nodded in response. He busied himself in the kitchen to prepare the tea, then returned to the living room. Ellie hadn’t moved at all.

“How…?” Ellie flinched as if she had forgotten Hardy was even in the room. She shook herself and finally turned to face him.

“Heart attack. He was gone before the ambulance even got there.”

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “At least Tom and Fred weren’t around when it happened.”

“That’s good.” Hardy inwardly rolled his eyes at himself. Was this really the best he could do for his closest (only) friend who had just lost her parent? But Ellie managed a small smile.

“I should be devastated, but I’m just… not,” she admitted. “Like I’m trying to mourn someone who—” she broke off.

Hardy understood her feelings. He’d met the man often enough to know the difficult relationship he had with his daughter. He also had his own feelings on the merits of a man who still blamed his daughter for not seeing her husband for the monster he truly was.

“When I told him I wanted to be a detective, he just laughed at the idea.” A single tear fell down her face. “And I don’t even want to know what he’s been teaching the boys when I’m not around.” 

Hardy reached out again and this time, he rested his hand on her shoulder. Light enough that she could easily brush him off like she had the last time he tried that. But this time, Ellie not only didn’t move away, she even leaned into his touch.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sure I am.”

 He squeezed her shoulder lightly, still trying not to cross the lines she had drawn so long ago. “Well, at any rate I’m sorry your dad was a cunt.”

Ellie stared at him, mouth open.

“Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t—”

She started laughing. She was laughing so hard, tears started flowing down her face. And then her resolve broke. Her laughter turned into sobs, her shoulders shaking. She tried to hide her face in her hands, but before she could shut herself off again, he moved. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close, his chin resting against her hair. She cried and cried, her grief for the difficult father she’d had mixed with her longing for the one that she should have had. Throughout it all, Hardy held on. He breathed in, letting her scent wash over him.

Her sobs finally slowed, her breathing evening out. Soon, she was asleep, still burrowing into his arms. It was the first time he had been allowed to hug her. He couldn’t help but smile at the realisation and held her even closer. After all these years, she finally trusted him enough to let him in. He wouldn’t be letting go any time soon.

Evening

On a cosy Saturday evening, Hardy sat on his couch with his daughter next to him and Paul Hollywood judging cakes on the telly. Daisy had insisted that they watch the new episodes of Great British Bake Off together and he was glad to be spending this time with her. Of course, they already knew who had won since the final episode had aired months ago, but that didn’t stop them from enjoying the baking masterpieces as well as the hilarious fails. They had a great time judging each piece themselves and trying to guess how the judges would react to them.

Hardy turned to gaze at Daisy, her face bathed softly in the TV’s glow. He smiled and turned back to see one of the contestants present a Dundee cake to the judges.

“My mam used to bake those,” he commented, one side of his mouth lifting in a half smile. It had been a long time since he had thought of his mother’s baking prowess.

“Really?” Daisy turned to him, Bake Off temporarily forgotten.

“Aye. She used to teach me how to bake. Shortbread, Clootie Dumplings, Dundee cake, Fly Cemetery and all kinds of other stuff.” He grinned. “I was actually quite good at it. Definitely better than your sorry attempt at a chocolate cake when you were ten.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was so dry, it took me five minutes to swallow one bite,” he laughed. He remembered that day vividly, his desperate attempts to get down the cake, Daisy’s hopeful face peering up at him. He had needed several cups of tea afterwards, but it was worth it for the smile he received when he praised her efforts. It was still one of his fondest memories of the time before his life had blown up so spectacularly.

Daisy scoffed. “Anyway, I’m way better now. Better than you could ever hope to be, old man.”

“Oh yeah?” Hardy grinned softly.

“Definitely. I’ll prove it.” Daisy had a glint in her eyes now. “Our own Bake Off. Me against you.”

“And who’s judging? Unless you have that Hollywood guy’s phone number saved up. In which case, this conversation will be taking a very different turn.”

“Very funny, dad.” She smirked. “Nah, Ellie will judge.”

“Ach, that’s no’ fair, Daize. You know she’ll let you win just to get one over on me.”

Daisy considered for a moment. “Fine. We’ll get all the Millers and Latimers to judge. Ellie will vote for me, Fred will vote for his ‘Uncle Alec’. That makes us even. Chlo, Beth and Tom will decide.”

Hardy chuckled. “Fine, if we must. I will win, though. Nothing beats my mam’s recipe.”

“Sure, dad.” Daisy turned back to watch the rest of the episode. She leaned her head against her father’s shoulder. “After I’ve beaten you, you can show me how to make grandma’s recipe.”

Hardy put his arm around his daughter and pressed a soft kiss to her head. “Aye, I will.”

Chapter Text

Fred

It was after eight o’clock at night when Ellie Miller finally made her way home. This day had been a complete disaster. Her dad wasn’t home for once because Lucy had decided to take him to Weymouth for a couple of days. Tom had overslept and been in a particularly bad mood when she had to hurry him along to make it to school on time.

Of course, she had ended up late herself only to find Hardy in one of his moods because he was buried in paperwork that absolutely could not wait any longer according to the CS. So, when she got a shout, she had to take Harford who proceeded to tell her how impressively unimpressed she still was by everything coming her way.

And then, to top off this shit sandwich of a day, Fred’s school had called her to inform her that he had taken ill and needed to be picked up early. In her desperation, she had called Hardy, begging him to pick up the boy and take him back to the office until she returned. Instead, in a considerably better mood than before (or maybe just happy to escape the paperwork), Hardy had offered to take Fred home and stay with him.

Now, here she was, expecting to find a sickly and clingy Fred and an irritated Hardy. She toed off her shoes and hung up her coat before she made her way to the living room. The sight that met her there made her heart beat faster. Her grumpy boss was asleep on the couch, looking more peaceful than she had ever seen him. Nestled into his side, his little arm thrown over Hardy’s stomach, was her son.

She tiptoed closer, pressing a soft kiss to Fred’s forehead. His temperature was elevated, but he didn’t seem to be doing too bad at the moment.

Ellie peered around the room, taking in the evidence of how the two had spent their day. The TV was still on, an episode of Bluey providing background noise. A tall Lego tower that had surely not been built by Fred alone stood on the table, surrounded by an assortment of Fred’s favourite books. Also on the table was a half-empty bowl of chicken soup that, if she was not greatly mistaken, had been made from scratch.

Ellie felt something that she hadn’t in years. She sat down next to Hardy and, for a moment, she just studied his face, soft and relaxed in sleep, no frown in sight. She cupped his face in her hands and softly stroked his cheek. He shifted to lean into her hand, not quite awake yet. Finally, his eyes opened and he gazed at her, for once not hiding behind the walls he had built up. Ellie pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.”

He smiled at her then, a soft smile that made her heart flutter. She leaned against his shoulder and let the stress of the day drain out of her. Something had shifted between them and she felt hopeful for the first time in years.

Goal

Alec Hardy and Ellie Miller sat side by side on her couch, reading through case files and examining evidence. There had been a string of burglaries in Broadchurch and after three weeks they were still no closer to finding the perpetrator. So, on Saturday morning, Hardy had showed up at the Miller’s house, Daisy in tow, so the two detectives could keep working without leaving their children on their own. Now they were focused on finding something they had missed before while the kids were playing outside.

THWACK

Hardy jumped up off the couch, looking around for the source of the noise that seemed to have shook the whole house. Ellie, in contrast, barely even reacted. Hardy furrowed his brows in confusion.

“That’s just Tom,” she explained. “He’s decided if he wants to be a striker for the Three Lions one day, he needs to get better at actually scoring goals.”

THWACK

Another shot caused vibrations throughout the room.

“He’s taken to practicing against the house outside.” She patted the couch next to her. “You’ll get used to it.”

Hardy sat back down, but he still startled every time Tom kicked the ball against the wall with increasing force. “How can ye stay so calm with this ruckus?”

“I barely even notice anymore,” she responded. “Didn’t Daisy ever have a hobby that had you wishing for earplugs?”

“Well, there was a brief period where Daisy decided she wanted to play the violin,” he admitted. “I racked up a lot of overtime in those months.”

 “I would have paid good money to see you when she practiced,” Ellie grinned.

Hardy bristled. “I fully supported her. Especially when she decided to quit.” He smirked at Ellie. “Why isn’t he practising on the field that’s literally at the back of your house?”

Ellie’s smile dropped. “He doesn’t like going there anymore. Not since Danny…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Oh.”

They were silent for a while, Hardy doing his best to ignore the continuing thwacking and the way the walls shook.

“There’s a field near my house,” Hardy said eventually. “Maybe Tom and Daisy can take Fred. Give him a chance to work on his goal scoring skills while we work.”

Ellie looked up at him, a small smile on her face. “Sounds great.”

Hardy nodded once and got up to talk to Daisy. He felt Ellie’s eyes on him as he walked out. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d also just managed to score a goal.

Holiday

From one end of the room to the other. And back again. And again. Anything to not look at the phone lying innocently on the table in front of him. It had only been fourteen hours and he knew better than to call just yet. Or text.

For the first time ever, Daisy was on holiday without either of her parents. Instead, she was travelling with a couple of her friends. One week of sun, beach and fun in Spain for her—one week of fear and anxiety for him. At least she had texted earlier to tell him they’d landed safely in Málaga. But now he was pacing his living room, trying very hard not to check up on her every five minutes. She deserved to have some peace and quiet. After what had happened to her at school, she had had a difficult time of it and Hardy wanted her to be happy. If bloody Málaga made her happy, then he would damn well make it through the week without reminding her of home all the time. He checked his watch. Only six days and 14 hours to go.

---

After what seemed like an eternity, the week was over and Hardy stood at the train station, waiting for his daughter to return at last. Soon enough, the train arrived and Daisy jumped off, a huge smile on her face. She spotted her dad and made a beeline for him. She dropped her luggage on the ground and gave him a big hug. He held her close and pressed a soft kiss into her hair, before picking up her luggage and leading the way to the car.

On the way home, Daisy chattered on about her holiday, barely stopping to breathe. Hardy smiled. This Daisy seemed more like the girl she had been back before Sandbrook had destroyed their family and forced her to grow up too early. He was thrilled to see her so happy and relaxed.

Once they arrived home, Daisy ran into the house with him following at a more sedate pace. Already, she was busy placing the souvenirs she had bought all over the living room. During dinner, she kept telling him about her time in Spain, the food, the people (he didn’t want to think too much about what exactly those people may have been to his little girl), the beach and on and on. Once they had finished their meal, Daisy yawned loudly and declared she was going to bed. She leaned closer and kissed his cheek before making her way to her room.

Hardy leaned back, relieved to see how much she had enjoyed herself and how good it had been for her to go out on her own, without her parents hovering over her. It would help her be more independent in the future, to meet more people, experience more things, go more places. She had already talked about where she and her friends might travel next. She couldn’t wait to go away again.

And leave him all alone here in Broadchurch with no one except maybe Miller. He would be coming home to an empty house while she was off exploring the world. At first, she would call and send him pictures, of course, but how long? Surely, after a while she would forget about her grumpy old dad at the back end of nowhere and barely come back, barely even talk to him anymore.

His smile fell. Fuck.

Interview

Jason Markham sat in the interview room, his heart pounding, his sweaty hands leaving tracks on his shirt as he wiped them off. He had been told to come in for an interview as a potential witness to a violent murder. When he first showed up, he felt secure, certain that the detectives had nothing to go on. But that was before he sat opposite DI Alec Hardy. The man had unnerved him until he had unintentionally given away too much.

Like a hound, he had immediately jumped on him after his mistake. He kept trying to talk his way out, but at this point it was really only wishful thinking that kept him going. The gleam in Hardy’s eyes, that eyebrow of his that seemed to have a life of its own—it all served to remind him that he was really in it now. Eventually, he hung his head in his hands. No point denying it anymore. He had killed her and he was going to go down for it. Well, at least he could take some pride in how he had managed to evade Hardy for almost a whole week. And even then, he wouldn’t have actually known anything if Jason hadn’t messed up. If you thought about it, he really had bested the bastard. He’d hold onto that while he was rotting in prison.

Jewellery

“Dad?”

Hardy turned to face his daughter who held a small box in her hand.

“What’s that, darling?”

“Mum was clearing out some stuff and she found this. She told me it was yours and asked me to give it to you,” Daisy explained. She carefully placed the box on the living room table in front of her father.

“Huh, I don’t even remember that one.” Hardy picked up the box and opened it up.

“Oh.” He paled as he stared at the contents.

“What is it, dad?” Daisy demanded as she leaned closer to peek into the box. Hardy turned it so she could see better and, to her great surprise, there was a lovely gold necklace with a small oval locket. She faced her dad, her eyebrows raised.

“This is yours?”

“My mam’s,” he responded. “I forgot I even had that.”

“Can I…?” Daisy held out a hand to pick it up but waited until Hardy nodded his consent. She carefully raised it from the box, holding it up to examine it.

“Is there a baby picture of you in there?” she grinned.

He huffed a small laugh in response. “Unlikely. She wasn’t the sentimental type.”

“Well, let’s see. Maybe, she’ll surprise you.” She opened the locket. It was empty. Her face fell. “Sorry, I really thought— I mean, why even have a locket if you’re not putting anything in it?”

“Don’t worry, darling. She just wasn’t like that,” he sighed. “You can have it if you want.”

Daisy’s eyes lit up. “Really? Thank you!”

Hardy smiled at her and took the necklace from her. “Turn around.”

She did and held her hair up as her father fastened the necklace around her neck, then turned back to show it off.

“Looks lovely on you, Daize.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. She jumped up and ran to find a mirror where she could admire her new jewellery.

---

A few days later, Hardy came home from work to find the necklace lying on the living room table again. As he came closer, he noticed that the locket had been opened slightly. He pushed it all the way open. Inside, there was a picture of him and Daisy, her laughing brightly at something and him smiling softly at her.

He stared at the picture, at the happiness exuding from it. He didn’t notice Daisy coming into the room until she hugged him from the side.

“Told you, there’s no point without a picture,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.

He pulled her closer. “It’s perfect.”

Chapter Text

Kilt

“Do you think he’s gone traditional?”

Lucy Stevens didn’t even try to lower her voice as she talked to her sister about his choice of attire. Hardy glared at her, but she only cackled in response. He should have known.

He’d wanted to wear one of his suits (yes, he did have multiple, thank you very much) to Maggie and Jocelyn’s wedding but then Daisy had insisted that he should wear his old kilt and, well, he’d never been able to resist her when she looked at him like that. Apparently, the kilt was a reminder of when she was young and he had been more open, more easy-going. He had worn it then on occasion, to weddings or to other big celebrations. For a long time, it had been hidden at the back of his closet and he stuck to his suits day in, day out.

And now here he was, standing off to the side, trying to blend into the background because he couldn’t say no to Daisy. From the moment he’d shown up, he’d been the talk of the party, almost stealing the happy couple’s thunder. Although the happy couple was talking about him just as much as everyone else, so they didn’t seem to be too bothered by it.

“Nice skirt, Hardy.”

Hardy scowled at the newcomer, one Oliver Stevens, who stood smirking next to him.

“No really, it suits you,” Olly drawled.

“Oh shut up, you.”

Before Hardy could even open his mouth, Ellie had already stepped in. Her own reaction to his outfit had been disbelief at first, but now she seemed to have gotten over the first shock and was ready to go into battle for him.

She wasn’t the only one. Maggie and Jocelyn joined the little group, more than a little soused already.

Maggie threw one arm around Hardy (whether to make a point or to keep herself steady wasn’t quite clear). “It takes a confident man to wear a kilt. Of course, you wouldn’t understand.”

Olly looked like a kicked puppy and turned tail. Ellie and Maggie cheered loudly and clinked their glasses. Even Jocelyn deigned to smirk a little.

“Just how drunk are you, anyway?” asked Hardy, more than a little amused.

“Not too drunk to appreciate you making an effort, petal,” exclaimed Maggie.

Ellie leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Drunk enough to tell you you look hot today.”

Hardy’s jaw fell open. They had been tiptoeing around each other for months now, but she had never been this forward before. Over Ellie’s shoulder, he saw Daisy in the distance. She was smirking at him and giving him a big thumbs up. He rolled his eyes at her but was distracted when Ellie whispered again.

“So, did you?”

“Did I what?”

She giggled.

“Go traditional.”

Laughter

Katie Harford raised her head from the file she’d been reading. Something was happening and she couldn’t quite place it. From the looks of it, she wasn’t the only one who had noticed. The whole room was distracted by an odd sound that seemed to come from the boss’s office. He and Ellie had been in there for some time, discussing the case. And now… well, now apparently… Hardy was laughing? No, giggling really.

Again, the high-pitched giggle came from his office and Katie and the other detectives exchanged shocked glances. This was new. They had never so much as seen the man smile and now here he was, laughing out loud at whatever was going on that room. Katie turned to look out the windows. Maybe today was the day she’d see pigs flying.

Meal prep

“Not that one, dad! The gluten-free flour, not the all-purpose.”

Too late. Hardy had already dropped some of the wrong flour into the mixing bowl. He looked at it, a frown marring his face.

“Sorry, Daize. Any chance we can salvage that?” he asked.

“Nope,” she replied glumly. “We’ll have to start over. Great, dad.”

Hardy sighed deeply and poured the faulty mix into the bin. A few days ago, Daisy had insisted on them spending their Sunday preparing food for the entire week. So far, it was not going great. Their lack of coordination meant they had spent most of the day being in each other’s way, using up way too many pots and pans and making a huge mess of the kitchen. Now he had mixed up the ingredients for the bread Daisy was so excited to be baking. It was a disaster.

Daisy didn’t say anything, she just pushed her father to the side and took his place, carefully weighing the correct ingredients and mixing them together.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Hardy said quietly.

“It’s fine,” she shrugged. “Maybe it would be easier if I just do this on my own.”

Hardy nodded and left her to finish the meals by herself.

---

Three hours later, Daisy and Hardy sat together at the kitchen table, eating their dinner in silence. Hardy racked his brain, trying to think of something he could say to make things better. Nothing came to mind. Well, at least Daisy’s Spaghetti Bolognese had turned out quite well.

“This is really good, Daize,” he praised her.

She barely even acknowledged him.

“No really, it tastes great,” he kept going, determined to fix things. “It’s a good thing you made this. I would have probably messed up again, putting chocolate into the sauce because the packaging looked too much like tomatoes.”

Daisy just rolled her eyes.

“Maybe next week I’ll manage to make a Shepherd’s pie with ground raisins.”

A small smile spread on Daisy’s lips but she didn’t give in just yet.

“And then lasagna with vanilla ice cream instead of cheese. Both yellow, you know.”

This time, Daisy couldn’t hold back a snort. “God, dad, you’d actually do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Weeell, guess you’ll just have to teach me how to do things properly. Next Sunday?”

Daisy finally met his eyes and they gazed at each other for a long while before Daisy spoke.

“Only if you listen to what I say and don’t try to do anything without supervision.”

“Deal.”

They smiled at each other and tucked into their meal. Neither would say it out loud (it was way too embarrassing for her and he didn’t want to increase the levels of soppiness above Daisy-approved levels) but, despite the mess and the stress and the frayed nerves, it had been a good day because they spent it together.

Nightmare

Hardy shot up in his bed, his breathing laboured, sweat running down his face. He tried the calming techniques he had learnt years ago, but nothing seemed to work this time. It had been a while since his last nightmare and these days, he was less prepared than he used to be. He felt his pulse. At least his pacemaker was holding up.

After several minutes, his breathing finally normalised. Hardy sat on the side of his bed, trying and failing not to think of the nightmare that had woken him up. Of Pippa’s bloated body… her face… morphing into Daisy’s. Then joined by others. Miller, wee Fred, his long-dead mother. Even Tess made an appearance. Hardy struggled to get up and run to the bathroom, dropping to the ground in front of the toilet just in time before he started heaving. After, he sat leaning against the wall, staring off into the distance. Would he ever be released from these nightmares? Would the spectre of poor Pippa ever leave him? Tears streamed down his face and, for once, he didn’t try to hold them back.

It took almost half an hour before he finally managed to get back up, tears dried up on his face. He walked through the hallway in a daze, steering clear of his bedroom and the terrors that awaited him in his sleep. Instead, he softly pushed open Daisy’s door. He stood in the doorway, listening to her even breathing, watching her chest rise and fall in the moonlight. He matched his own breathing to hers and repeated his own little mantra in his head.

She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s here.

Over and over again, until his heart no longer felt like it was being pulled from his chest.

At last, he closed her door and walked downstairs to make himself a cup of tea. He wouldn’t sleep any more tonight. But it was okay. He had nothing to worry about.

She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s here.

Oracle

Standing in the stuffy, overheated room, Hardy felt a headache coming on. He rubbed his temples and tried to ignore the pain forming behind them. All he had to do was get through a five-minute interview with this witness and then he could get out of here, breathe fresh air again. Maybe he would even walk back to the station to clear his head.

It was a good plan. Unfortunately, Miller hadn’t got the memo. Their witness Madam Kowalski (whose strong Polish accent slipped whenever she spoke too fast and gave away her Mancunian origins) was a self-proclaimed oracle and she had offered to read Miller’s palm. So now here they were, standing around while this fraud told Miller that there was someone out there waiting for her and that she would live a long, happy life. Not that he begrudged Miller a long, happy life with a loving partner (hopefully one that turned out to be a better man than Joe Miller had), but he really wished they would just hurry up already. And besides, Miller would surely have no trouble finding that man on her own without an oracle’s useless help.

Hardy huffed and unsuccessfully tried not to roll his eyes.

“Are you in a hurry, detective?” Madam Kowalski asked in her low voice.

Hardy merely frowned in response.

Madam Kowalski let go of Miller’s hand and approached him. Before he could react, she grasped his hand and peered at his palm as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries. And if the gasp she let out was anything to go by, maybe it did.

“You, my dear, are quite special,” Madam Kowalski crooned.

“If we could just get to the point, Ma’am,” Hardy tried to get back on track.

“You mean a lot to people. You are loved by many.”

Hardy rolled his eyes. “Right, I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, could we focus on where you were last Tuesday night so I can get back to the harem of people whose love you can apparently see in my hand?” His patience was wearing quite thin.

Madam Kowalski just smiled at him. “I think you know it’s true, dearie. You’re just not ready to believe yet.” She dropped his hand and moved back to the chintzy armchair that took up most of the room.

“Oh, trust me, he’s not ready for any of this,” Miller retorted, giving him a funny look that Hardy couldn’t quite place.

Madam Kowalski looked between the two, her brows furrowed. Finally, her features relaxed, as if she had seen the truth at last.

“Ah, so this is how it is.” She turned to Ellie. “No worries, love. He’ll see eventually. He’ll realise he’s finally in the right place.”

Hardy’s head shot up. He stared at the oracle, his mind filled with his mother’s last words to him. Could she know? Or was it just a lucky guess? And could she be right? Were there people here who loved him? People who made this the right place for him? His eyes strayed to the side, trying to meet Miller’s eyes, but she seemed to be forcing herself to look away.

Hardy forced himself to focus back on the task at hand. He still had an interview to conduct. And then, he would walk back to the station, clearing his head. He desperately needed some time to think. Although, he thought, if there were so many people here who loved him, he would really appreciate it if they could just tell him already. After all, he couldn’t read people’s minds.

Chapter Text

Postcode

Hardy stared at the letter he was holding, not quite believing what he was seeing. Specifically he was staring at the return address with a postcode he hadn’t seen or thought about in a long time. That combination of numbers and letters brought back memories of his childhood, of pain and loneliness. He couldn’t think what anyone from that place might want with him after all this time. After he’d turned his back on all of them and gone as far as he could without leaving the island altogether. Now, there was this letter with the familiar postcode and he couldn’t bring himself to open it. Nothing good had ever come from that place for him. He didn’t expect it would this time, either. He put the letter to the side. He wasn’t ready to open it yet. Maybe tomorrow.

Queen

“I’m telling you, Miller, no one will ever beat Freddie.”

Ellie Miller scoffed. “Oh, please. The Beatles, The Who, David Bowie, Elton John. Need I go on?”

Hardy shook his head. “None of them even come close to Queen. Freddie Mercury could sing and dance circles around every single one of them.”

Hardy plucked her phone from her hand and started typing. Ellie tried to take it back but he held it up high, just out of her reach. He cued up a song and hit play.

Freddie Mercury’s voice filled the room, singing You’re My Best Friend.

“Ooh, you make me live,” Hardy sang along softly, a small smile on his lips.

He held out a hand to Ellie who took it reluctantly.

“Well?” he asked, pulling her closer and gently swaying with her.

“Fine,” Ellie sighed. “This can be our first dance.”

She leaned up to kiss Hardy softly and their movements stilled.

“Ellie?”

“Hmm?”

Hardy kissed her again.

“You are my best friend.”

Religion

“I’m surprised to see you here, DI Hardy.”

He turned around, coming face to face with Paul Coates.

“Why’s that?” Hardy responded, looking around the room at the people buying and selling stuff as part of a church fundraiser.

“You’re not a man of faith.”

“You don’t know what I believe.”

“Don’t I? I thought you had made that pretty clear when we first met.”

“What, because I was in the middle of a murder investigation and your only alibi was you’re a man of God?” Hardy scoffed. “Like that’s ever stopped anyone.”

“Still as rude as ever, I see,” Paul bristled, turning away again.

“I’m not the one bringing up old grievances in order to belittle others, reverend,” Hardy spat.

Paul looked at him warily.

“And for the record, faith isn’t the problem, it’s your bloody organisation.”

With that, Hardy stalked out of the room. He found a bench overlooking the cemetery and threw himself onto it.

He sat there for long minutes, taking deep slow breaths. Eventually, he heard soft steps coming closer. Paul sat down at the other end of the bench, not looking at him.

“Forgive me,” the vicar began. “You’re right. You had no reason to believe me back then.” He smirked. “But I’ll maintain that you didn’t have to be an arsehole about it.”

The corners of Hardy’s mouth twitched.

“Yeah, well, I’m afraid murdered children don’t bring out the best in me.”

Paul looked at the gravestones in front of him, his gaze caught on the one bearing Danny Latimer’s name. He could never move past that one without pausing for a moment.

“I know that the church hasn’t always upheld its ideals.”

Hardy scoffed at that, but Paul went on. “And yet, I try to stay true to myself. That means listening to the community, even if all they want is to rage at me about all the ways we’ve done wrong by them.”

He finally looked at Hardy. “If you ever want to talk, the door’s always open. Faith or no faith.”

When no response came, Paul nodded softly and got up. As he walked away, he heard a small cough, followed by an ever quieter response.

“Thanks, Paul.”

Sunrise

At half five on a Saturday morning, Hardy should have been asleep, tucked into his warm bed, hopefully having nice dreams. Instead, after lying awake for hours, he had decided to go for a walk. Now he sat on the pier, the sea and the cliffs in his view, bathed in the soft light of the rising sun.

Thoughts flitted into his head of another sunrise he had watched here many years ago. Back when he’d first seen those imposing cliffs and spent the day under them, hiding from his parents. Well, mostly his father. Although, when push came to shove, his mother could give as good as she got. Hardy smiled softly as thoughts of her filled his mind. She had been a good woman for the most part. A bit too zealous in her faith for his taste and definitely stuck in a bad situation with her husband. But still, a good woman altogether.

Another memory struck him. God will put you in the right place, even if you don’t know it at the time.

Her last words to him. He hadn’t known what to make of them at the time. At first, he had simply dismissed them as a dying lady trying to be profound. He hadn’t believed in God and didn’t want to consider that an almighty being might be in charge of putting him anywhere, right place or not.

He still didn’t really believe. At least not in any sort of religion. He did have a certain amount of faith that wasn’t tied to any specific doctrine. Just the occasional sense that there might be more. Undefinable, unknowable, but still there. He would be hard-pressed to admit this to anyone. Most people were so rigid in their beliefs, whether religious or atheistic. No one wanted to listen to someone who believed in something, but couldn’t articulate what that might be.

So, he wondered, was his mum right after all? Had God or some other being or just a certain kind of guiding light brought him here? Maybe even his mother herself as a guardian angel. Because this he did know at last: He might hate (or at least pretend to) everything about Broadchurch… but this was certainly the right place for him. After searching for most of his life, after losing everything he had built and almost dying with nothing and no one, he was finally where he belonged. And ultimately, whether this was divine or not—it felt good to know that in the end, his mum had been right after all.

Tess

Hardy stared at the phone lying on the table in front of him. He was tapping his fingers, a nervous gesture that he thought he had mostly left behind but that always seemed to come back when his thoughts turned to his ex. He should just call her and get it over with. And yet, Hardy didn’t pick up the phone. Nothing good ever came from it. Of course, he would call eventually. He had promised Daisy and for her, he would do anything, no matter how excruciating. Even calling his ex-wife to ask her to spend Christmas in Broadchurch with them so Daisy would be able be with both her parents for a change. She had gone off to uni this year and planned to spend most of her free time with friends, so she had requested that he and Tess get their act together and make things easier for her. Which brought him here, staring at the phone and gearing himself up to calling his ex-wife and inviting her for Christmas. Not a bloody problem. Hardy kept tapping his fingers. He would call her. He just wanted to wait one minute longer.