A.N. Finally saw Broadchurch and just about died O.O So bloody fantastic and heart wrenching! So, naturally I thought I'd give a shot at adding my own OC~ Let's see what happens if we toss in a small-town doctor into the mix! Mwahahahaha~

Disclaimer: I disclaim any and all characters beyond my own and most of the plot. I own only the little twists I've added and am not making any profit via writings this – I swear it's just for fun peeps 3 Please also note that this will be my only disclaimer since I hate repeating myself.

Graduating university wasn't what she had expected… but then, of course, in all the media-portrayed versions the heroine usually had her family all there; smiling and proud, telling her they're so happy for her. Not this time. No, this time she was allowed to watch, sadly, as families embraced and cheered on their individual graduates as she knew her parents lay in an alcoholic coma on the sofa at home. Which was probably just as well as she didn't have plans on returning there anyways. Nodding and smiling her thanks to the gushing professors she moved away from the party to where her car was waiting for her. She would be dropping it off to the person who'd purchased it off her and then cabbing it to the airport so she could fly far from here.

Between the grants, scholarships and her inheritance from the only family she'd ever loved, Faye Marcy was able to get through university without paying a dime and still have just enough left over to afford a plane ticket to the UK and a bus ticket to Broadchurch where she would set up a clinic. There was a hospital in the neighbbouring city, but she felt a nice little clinic would be helpful as well, especially for emergencies. The township had already agreed to build the building for her and supply the equipment – especially since they felt it was needed. Apparently the little town had agreed and even raised funds via numerous charity services to assist in the construction.

The newly graduated doctor got into her car and drove away without a second glance back, her medical, massage therapy and chiropractic licenses sitting in the passenger's seat along with the copy of the cheque she'd written to her parents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Broadchurch~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The trip, while not wholly uncomfortable, was a long one, so when Faye stepped from the bus she couldn't stop the small moan of relief as her spine cracked back in place. Tilting her head from side to side to complete the loosening effect she easily hefted her gymbag and slung it over her shoulder, her backpack settling on both shoulders just overtop the bag as she rolled her suitcase behind her, the paper with her directions in front of her face. She walked easily down the deserted street – it was 10pm after all – looking for the inn she'd booked a room in. She wanted to weep in relief when she saw the building and quickly moved inside to the warm and gently lit building.

The interior was warm and welcoming, the bar to her left and the dining area to her right with the stair case to the rooms just ahead of her. She wanted to head right up and into her bed – but didn't know which was hers, so she steered to the left, where she heard voices. The bar was, much to Faye's entertainment, rather feminine. Dark wood, elegant decorations such as a swan painting, and generally a warm atmosphere. She looked to the attractive woman behind the bar and smiled tiredly even as she bustled out to come greet the girl.

"Alright then? Faye Marcy I take it?" Faye nodded, her smile weary. "That'd be me." An older gentleman spoke up abruptly.

"You're the new doc? They never said you were a bloody yank." Faye blinked. "I'm not, I'm Canadian. We sound similar, I'm sure, but I can assure you I'm not American." She was quick to correct them before looking at the blonde.

"Right then, that mess aside, I'm Becca Fisher. I'll just take you to your room then?" Again Faye nodded before following the bustling woman up the stairs and into a warm, clean room. Thanking the blonde, Faye set her things on the ground, locked the door behind her and stripped before flopping on the bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow.

The first week at Broadchurch was rocky and brutal. People came in to see this new 'yank' doctor, and possibly register as her patients, and were very prying in the mean time. She did, however, manage to make a few friends out of it all. The Latimer family were all very open and friendly, especially Danny and Beth. Quickly befriending them was the one highlight of the small period of time Faye spent within Broadchurch before Alec Hardy stepped into town.

She had just finished off the last of her paperwork and was planning to go out for a cup of tea when her door chimed. Plans now out the window, the woman sighed and made her way over to the front desk, her lips already quirked up into a smile. The shadowy and disgruntled man did not return it. Faye tilted her head at the man, curious.

"Hello there, how can I help you?" Her accent didn't even make him blink, he just handed her a folder. "I'm Alec Hardy, the new DI. I was told you're the new residential doctor?" His accent though, sent shivers up her spine.

"That would be me, Doctor Faye Marcy." She flipped open the file and scanned it quickly. "I assume you're giving this to me in the case of an emergency?"

"I'm also under orders to make you my family doctor." Hardy didn't sound pleased about the idea. Faye nodded, it made sense.

"Sounds good then, DI Hardy." She looked up and met those dark, stormy eyes with her own calm, sea blue. She saw his brow furrow as he gazed into her eyes, seemingly searching for something, and almost instantly her barriers were up.

"Don't worry, Hardy, you're in good hands." The smile she gave him was more bitter than she intended.

"I may sound it, but I'm not a Yank and actually know what I'm doing." Surprise flickered in his eyes before a dark humor glittered deep within.

"We'll have to see about that later. For now, I have a case." Faye grinned, eyes twinkling. "Let me guess – the stolen bike mystery?" Hardy stopped and looked at her, eyes intense.

"How did you know?"

"I was the first one to be questioned. Travis was visiting me when his bike was taken."

"Then I don't suppose you'd mind if I ask you some questions myself?" Faye was about to nod before stopping.

"Let's do it over a tea? I've been dying for a cup." The man didn't seem to like the idea.

"Fine, but we drink it here." Faye blinked and paused from moving away from him.

"I was going to brew them myself. Come on back." She invited before moving into her office, Hardy following her almost reluctantly.

He watched her as she moved over to the small stove and set the kettle on, her impossibly dainty figure moving with a grace that impressed him. She was seemingly at ease, her slender hands deft as she got the teapot ready, her eyes gentle. She felt like someone Hardy could trust, something that would have to be tested later. For now, he wanted to hear about Travis and his bike.

"Do you need a hand?" Hardy asked after a brief moment, his hands in his pockets. She glanced at him, startled before smiling quickly. She had forgotten he was there.

"Nah I should be good. What do you take in your tea?"

"Just milk, please." Faye blinked, shocked before smiling.

"And here are all the townspeople tell me that tea isn't tea unless it has sugar in it. I like it with just milk as well." She explained at his questioning look.

"I'm Scottish." He said by means of explanation. Faye smiled at him as she poured the water into the tea pot.

"The accent kind of gave that bit away. I'm half Scottish, Dad's right off the boat." She stopped suddenly, her mouth forming a small line of displeasure. She didn't want to talk about her family, something Hardy could relate to, and so didn't press.

When no questions were raised by the Detective Inspector, Faye subconsciously sagged in relief. She'd been peppered with questions left right and centre since she stepped foot in this town, and it had driven her mad. She'd flown as far away from home to escape her family, not to talk about them.

"You don't have the accent." It wasn't a question, just a casual observation.

"When you stick out in public school because you sound funny… you change how you talk very quickly." She said by means of explanation. He deserved that much at least.

Family problems and unpopular at school; no wonder she got defensive. For one she wouldn't want to talk about it, and for another that would be like a local gold mine for gossip.

"Fair enough." Was all he said, nodding his thanks to her as she handed him his tea. She leaned against the counter, mirroring his stance, and sipped her tea. Humming quietly in pleasure as the liquid warmed her and chased away the dust-bunnies in her head, she closed her eyes, missing the once-over Hardy gave her, his mind cataloguing every detail. Golden tresses clipped up on the back of her head, an open and caring face, impossibly dainty yet strong looking frame, simple and elegant clothing style, well groomed and clean. He took a swig of the tea and hummed his accent.

"You know how to make tea properly, well done." She smiled, eyes dancing.

"Everyone else thought my tea was too weak, said I wasn't adding enough leaves."

"I'm Scottish." He said once more, causing the woman to chuckle.

"You said you had questions for me?" She asked; Hardy hummed in an affirmative.

"Aye, did Travis ride his bike when he came to see you?" Faye nodded immediately.

"Yeah, I remember because I gave him hell for not riding with a helmet. Said I'd have to glue his head back together, and that neither of us would like it." Hardy nodded and set his tea down to scribble a note in his book.

"Do you remember what the bike looked like?"

"Yeah, it was a cherry red, kind of looked like one of the BMX ones." Hardy blinked, frowning, before looking up at Faye.

"You're sure?"

"Yup! I remember that I was planning on asking his parents where they got it so I could get a bike myself." Hardy pondered a moment. Faye tilted her head to meet his eyes.

"I may have a theory to what happened." She told him, her eyes almost amused. Hardy nodded for her to continue.

"It's a simple case of jealousy. I know the BMX is new, actually bought the day before. Travis was excited and told me he'd told his best friends about it. It wouldn't surprise me if someone just stole it because they wanted it." Hardy shook his head.

"No, that's not it. The color of the bike is wrong. Travis's bike was blue from the description he gave us."

"Perhaps he stole his friends bike, and the friend stole his? Like an involuntary trade?" Faye suggested, sipping her tea. Hardy frowned into his cup.

"Or perhaps he thinks it was just stolen. Travis was the one to report the bike as missing. Doubtless the parents just gave away his old bike since he got a new one, and just forgot to tell him."

"Or it's not Travis's bike that's missing. Maybe he has a friend that's too scared to come to the cops and can't tell his parents?" Hardy looked up, surprised. That was actually a half decent theory. His eyes scanned her. He'd just bounced ideas off of a civilian, one that had helped with a case. A minor and unimportant case, but one nonetheless. He wasn't used to doing that.

"Perhaps, I suppose I'll just keep an eye out for a blue bike then?"

"I guess that's the best we can do, short of going out and looking on foot." Hardy cocked an eyebrow.

"We?" Faye blinked before blushing slightly.

"You, sorry, heat of the moment." Hardy searched her eyes another moment.

"Aye, short of that, there's not much I can actually do. Well, thank you for your time, and the tea." Faye nodded her head jerkily and watched him leave, hands deep in his pockets.

She didn't see him for a week, and when she did, she wished she hadn't, not under those circumstances.