Derailment

Author's Note: Broadchurch belongs to the BBC and CC. I am not making any money with this.

Rating: T, might change to M

Pairing: Miller/Hardy

Summary: 5 Times Ellie Miller loses it. Act I: After Joe's arrest

Act I

She sat in the hotel chair and didn't even know how she got there. She should be with her kids, should explain to them what had happened. But how did you do that? How did you tell a child its father was in love with his best friend and killed him?

How did you explain anyone? Miller, the great detective, who couldn't figure out her husband was a paedophile?

"It's not your fault, Miller," Hardy said.

She looked up, surprised. Had she spoken out loud? Apparently she had.

"I should have listened to you. You told me to trust no one."

"I wanted to be wrong."

She laughed wryly. He had been right all along. He had been right and she had scorned him for getting the job she had wanted so badly. She had been the wrong choice, that much was clear now.

In her confusion, a thought rushed through her mind. He liked him.

For a second, it was too fleeting to grasp, but then she remembered. The dinner. Chocolate. Flowers. Wine. Him laughing with Joe.

He hadn't known. He had liked him. DI Hardy, the great, grumpy, distrusting detective hadn't had a clue. Anger shot through her nerves, the anger he had stopped her from unleashing towards Joe. The anger she had hidden behind the shock.

"You liked him," she said slowly.

"What?" he asked, irritated.

"You bloody liked him!" she shouted and rose. "How could you like him? You, of all people! You don't like anyone around here, fuck, you don't even like the damn town itself! You suspected a mourning father, but let there be wine and you sit on a table and laugh with a killer!"

He stared at her, thunderstruck. But neither his confused expression, nor his fatigue face held her back. Not this time.

"You should have been able to see through him right along. Shit, you could have ended this before we had to drag other people through the dirt!"

"Miller, you know exactly..."

"What? I was married to him! I loved him! I loved him and I hate myself for it. But you, you walk around like your immune to all human feelings, like you give a shit for all social standards, like everyone of us would murder someone when the right buttons are pressed – so why didn't you realize I was sleeping next to a murderer?"

"We caught him, Miller. We caught him before he could hurt anyone else. That needs to be enough."

"It isn't!" she shouted and tears built up in her eyes. "I made him breakfast! Dinner! One night I came home and found him wrapped up in the blankets with Tom and instead of ending it, I smiled and slept in Tom's bed! He could have touched him there and I wouldn't even have noticed! He could have..." She stopped and turned towards the window, trying to wipe the tears off her face.

Suddenly, his hand was at her arm. "Miller," he said, but she forcefully shook off his hand.

"Don't you touch me!" she hissed. "Don't you fucking dare!"

Her eyes glared at him, all the anger and guilt forming an expression of hatred he didn't deserve, but she couldn't preserve. It built up to one last, devastating blow.

"But maybe you really are Britain's worst cop," she spat out.

His arms, reaching out before for her, dropped immediately. His face was filled with pure resignation - but that wasn't what she wanted. That wasn't what she needed. She needed him to shout at her, maybe grab her, shake her, assume some kind of control over her she had lost hours ago.

Nothing came.

"You're pathetic," she snapped and walked out of the room.

Later, she regretted everything. Tom and Fred were curled up next to her, but their peaceful unawareness did nothing for her. She wanted to call him and apologize, but it seemed as if she was immobilized, as if Joe hadn't only taken her happiness, but also her body, her mind – everything that made her the person she believed to be.

Eventually, some days later, she actually tried to apologize but was brushed off with an annoyed "Forget it, Miller". And she was left wondering whether, behind his grumpiness, Alec Hardy was more sensitive than anyone gave him credit for or whether she was really that irrelevant to him.

Reviews and suggestions are always welcome!