Hello Everyone! I know it's been a very, long time since I've updated anything, BUT! I decided to publish this piece I've had sitting in my writings folder for a while. I am currently working furiously on Solstices and Equinoxes, the next chapter I need to post is so tricky because of the plot that I have going for the story. As for A Promise Through The Stars, I have hit the biggest writing wall, not a block, but a huge flippin' wall that I am trying to find a way to get over...Anyway, enough about that! A new year for me will hopefully mean more updates and less writer walls.

I came up with this story after a late night of watching Broadchurch followed by Doomsday, (THE FEELSSSS) Whatever made me write it at three in the morning, I haven't the foggiest. I always like to think that Rose could have possibly met D.I. Alec Hardy after her first goodbye with Ten and the unfortunate end to his Sandbrook case.

Hope you all have a lovely New Year! \0/ \0/ \0/

What could possibly go wrong when you put together two people who were screwed over by life in more ways than one? (RosexAlec) Post Doomsday, Pre-Broadchurch

Rating may go up, Rated M just in case for now...

Shattered Souls

Enough was enough.

Detective Inspector Alec Hardy sat brooding in one of the shadier pubs of Cardiff nursing a scotch in one hand and rubbing his heavy brow with the other. He was an old friend to the drowning abilities of alcohol, knowing all too well that it could only solve his problem for so long. With a heavy, broken sigh, he raised the mediocre scotch to his lips holding it within his cheeks before letting the warm amber liquid trickle down his throat. All the surrounding noise should've been unpleasant if only it hadn't been for what was taking up his thoughts.

The bloody Sandbrook murders; just mentioning the name made his rage begin to bubble. It was a gruesome murder case of two young girls; a case that so far had no stable, solid leads. That was until his DS had found key evidence. A pendant belonging to one of the two girls was recovered from the car of a key suspect late that eventful night some ten kilometers away from the initial investigation area. From the launch of the investigation to that moment it had been nearly a month with still no solid leads. At that moment, he had been at the station reviewing paperwork for the umpteenth time, ensuring that the few disputable leads they had were as secured as they could be. Vibrations and a horrendous high pitched noise pierced the air, coming from the direction of his mobile. He had picked it up as soon as he saw the caller ID. The moment he answered an excited voice came through the other end; more evidence had just been found. He quickly caught onto the enthusiasm and with a relieved sigh had told the DS to just leave it locked up at the station. About forty minutes later, DI Hardy had gone home brimming with confidence on a now hopefully closed case.

He lazily traced the smudges his fingers had left on the outside of his scotch glass, lost in the details of the recent turn of events. The DS who had reported it was going to bring it in, well, she never did. Hardy hadn't even gotten the chance to see the goddamn thing because this DS had apparently thought it was appropriate to not head immediately back to the station. After they had ended their phone call, she placed the items as well as case papers on the floor of her car and drove up to the Premier Inn off of Port Talbot. While he got home around 22:50 to enjoy well needed and deserved rest, she proceeded to partake in a romp with a man in a hotel.

Subconsciously, he began to clench and unclench his left hand, thumb aggravating the now well worn gold band on his third finger.

It had been around 3:20 that morning when his phone went off on the nightstand. Eyes, watering from the abrupt awakening, were blinking in an attempt to clear away his grogginess. He flipped open the mobile and answered with a gruff, sleepy voice.

Recalling the conversation, the rush and roar of the bar fades from the clink of glass and rush of people to a steady whoosh; it's the sound of his blood pressure skyrocketing. His heart begins pumping blood furiously in his ears.

He had only been absently listening until several points were told: a car had been broken into, valuables had gone missing, evidence was compromised. The last one had sent him scrambling out of bed. All this had happened in the span of five hours in his DS' hands; said DS also happened to be his wife.

You couldn't see a stones throw ahead because of the low lying fog, but he still ran into his car, disheveled and livid. When he raced into the parking lot of that inn, rubber squeaking against pavement, the local department was already there. He got out of his car, slamming the door behind him as several officers came closer. The report local authorities were giving him slipped in one ear and fell out the other onto a trail on the cold asphalt as he made his way towards the vehicle. Sharply, he turned his head, seeking her out. There she stood by the hood of her vandalized RAV-4 in her wrinkled navy suit from earlier that day. A tissue, clear used, was balled up and worried back and forth between her hands. When she finally met his gaze, her normally sharp, clear green eyes were clouded over with guilt. It would seem at first that it was guilt for cheating on him; a closer look would show it was the guilt of being caught. And the bastard who had just been fucking her, had the audacity to try and comfort her right in front of him. Smoothing down her messed chestnut hair, leaning to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and holding her in a semi-tight hug.

The man probably in his late 20's, stocky, blond hair, grey eyes, a good three inches shorter than Hardy was. Yet, he could not figure out what exactly he had done to deserve this.

He and Olivia, his wife, had always gone out together at least once a week, he would buy her flowers the second Sunday of every month; sunflowers were her favorite. Their marriage had been official for almost fourteen years now and had been running seemingly smooth. They might've gotten married young, but they still had a lovely relationship. Or so it seemed. That was when he just gave up, surprised even himself by wrapping things up with the other officers and taking his wife home. Clearly noting and choosing to ignore the cold look her lover shot him. He just accepted his defeat and submissively continued on. Of course he hadn't said a word on the ride home or even slept in the same bed as her that night. The fact that he had given up didn't change that he was well beyond livid at her betrayal.

He did however, take the brunt of the criticism when word got out that crucial evidence had been lost several days later. He had used his own name in saying that the evidence was lost because of him having an affair. It wasn't even to protect his wife. Ha! Not even in the slightest, it was all for his daughter, Mckenna.

He downed the remaining contents of his glass before signaling the bartender for another. Regardless, the trial was now over and press had been all over him demanding to know why an affair was so much more important than that of the death of two young girls. Honestly, he wanted to know too. Every newspaper available had essentially gutted him of information, one after the other rubbing salt in his wounds until thoroughly satisfied with their work. It had been about forty eight hours since they had left him in peace to lick his wounds.

Groaning, he leaned most of his upper body weight on his elbows at the edge of the counter, burying his hands in his mess of dark auburn hair as he awaited his drink. The events of the previous hours swam in his mind: packing up his belongings into the car, getting Mckenna's door slammed in his face after an attempt at saying bye, meeting his wife's eyes, cold and unimpressed on his way out of their foyer. He slid off his wedding band, wanting to throw it against the wall; see how many cheap drink bottles he could hit in one go. Instead, he placed it in his suit pocket. Even if she had gone to go sell hers, he would keep his as a bittersweet memory.

He thought about how exactly he planned to get back to his hotel tonight; a fully packed Honda Accord with all his belongings sat in the parking lot, but did he want to risk driving it back completely pissed? He groaned again; where the bloody hell was his drink?

A new topped off scotch on the rocks slid in front of him, " 'ere ya are mate,"

He nodded his thanks to the bartender before nursing the new, chilled drink in his hand. While he had been lost replaying recent events, he hadn't even noticed the mysterious woman who had sat down to his right.

" 'n what'll it be for the miss, hm?"

"I'll have a martini. Gin, dry, shaken. Ta,"

Alec continued to sip his drink. The woman slid off her coat. He didn't even break his eye contact with the far edge of the chipped ebony counter until the woman sighed.

"What's up with you then?"

The question was aimed towards him, an attempt on her part to be sociable or polite. Honesty in her quiet voice stunned him; she legitimately wanted to know. For a moment he was genuinely shocked as he contemplated responding; anybody who had heard of the Sandbrook case wouldn't even consider talking to him at the moment.

He took a deep breath and sighed, "My life's gone to complete shite."

Eyes trained forward he kept going. Something about this woman, even if he hadn't seen her face, just radiated understanding and compassion.

"Everything's just startin' to fall to pieces," he swirled the three cubes of ice in his glass, "My wife had an affair, my daughter has lost all respect for me, my jobs gone off the rails, and I've been essentially kicked out of my home."

The stranger didn't make any noises of endearment or pity. From the squeak of her chair, she had turned slightly to observe him. The bartender came forward with her drink. Alec continued to watch the extensive rows of cheap liquor and ale behind the counter, taking note of the surprisingly wide variety. She turned back in her seat fiddling with the stem of her drink,

"Looks like we've both had a horrible recent turn of events,"

Alec let out a bitter snort at her words. She sounded as though this has happened to her before.

"Is that so?" he turned to look at her, "let's see who's gotten it worse."

"Alright then," She took a large sip of her drink remaining facing forward,

"A bloke I've been searchin' everywhere for after we were...forced apart, told me to meet him at a beach in Norway, Bad Wolf Bay 's called," she smiled mirthlessly,

"Anyway, I show up, we talk for about 10 minutes. Now this bloke, I...I knew him for years, I'd seen him grow from a serious stick-in-the-mud bloke to this outgoing hyperactive overgrown kid."

He kept his ears focused on her words and eyes concentrated on her every movement while cataloging her details. Her shoulders were slumped forward a bit, but underneath he could tell there was strong, lean muscle. Fairly long, blond hair lay straight around her shoulders. He creased his brow when he noticed her take in a shuddering sigh and finish what was left of her drink.

"Did you have any feelings for this bloke of yours?"

She laughed softly, "Yeah, you could say that."

"Aye, so what happened during that talk?" he prompted, wanting to know why she was here instead of being with her bloke.

"We talked about what had happened in the previous months; caught the other up on recent events," she paused for a moment, "I told him about my Mum's pregnancy and the look on his daft old face was priceless. I'd said that I was livin' with my mum, her husband, an old friend, and that there was gonna be baby soon. He'd asked if it was me."

She laughed quietly.

"A little bit afterward he had to go. I had done a fine job of not cryin' 'til then. I told him I loved him," she hesitated with her next words, "Then I blacked out. When I woke up he was gone and Mum had told me he could never come back. Took the first train I could away from that bleedin' beach only to not know where to go next. I have some...history with Cardiff so now I'm here. That was three days ago."

Her voice trailed off. Now once she had finished speaking her whole body language just screamed out tired...lonely...broken. Here was this woman most likely a solid ten years younger than him with a broken heart and he was a man who had lost a fourteen year marriage and had had horrible experiences through his work. Not knowing why, Hardy put a light hand on her shoulder. Normally, he was never the one to comfort victims and their families because he was complete rubbish at it, but this just felt natural and simple. He continued to smooth his hand over the deep red-violet henley that covered her right shoulder, signaling the bartender to come and refill her drink, he remained quiet as her sniffles became slightly audible. Once again, the bartender came back,

"Will that be all?"

"Aye," he replied, "at least for right now."

He turned to look at her; hair curtaining her face and hands restlessly moving in her lap.

He offered her the handkerchief of his suit which she graciously took.

"Thanks," she mumbled as she patted her eyes , "I haven't even told you my name yet,"

Alec could tell by her watery laugh alone that she was trying not to cry again. Her damp hazel eyes met his gaze. For a split second, panic flashed over her features, as if she recognized him, before being replaced with a small, but honest smile.

"I'm Rose, Rose Tyler."

"Well Rose," he gave her a small smile. Debating on whether or not to use his real name,

Oh sod it, he thought, "I'm Alec Hardy."

"That's a lovely name," she smirked, " 'n it seems I have got you beat for who has it out worse."

He let out a loud chuckle at her playfulness and ran a hand over his lengthy stubble. The evening progressed with simple small talk until they both had enough alcohol running through their veins to talk about anything. Subtly their chairs had grown closer together; neither had noticed they were thigh to thigh. In front of them they had a growing collection of scotch and martini glasses. Completely pissed, Alec began to clumsily stack his, failing repeatedly while Rose laughed at him,

"I bet you ten quid you can't get it done," she hiccuped with a loopy smile.

"You're on, Rose Tyler." His voice was beginning to slur, but nonetheless, he grinned goofily at her.

Tongue pressed behind his teeth, he attempted to complete the task at hand. His brow creased in concentration as he managed to somewhat line up the first three scotch glasses. Long fingers curled around a fourth one as he stacked it on the first row. Rose watched fascinated, nibbling on the olive from her third martini. Slowly and not at all gracefully, he managed to stack all six of his glasses.

He turned his head to stare down at her, wiggling a finger at her nose,

"You," his manic grin an odd sight, "owe me ten quid!"

"Bugger," she says with a small pout and fumbles in her coat as he sits contentedly with his hand outstretched awaiting payment..

She slaps the ten quid into his waiting hand before reaching for one of her remaining olives in the empty martini glass. Alec reaches over swiftly plucking the olive from her fingers before placing it between his teeth with a wolfish grin.

"Hey!" she laughs, " 's my olive!"

"So come get it if ye want it," it's a barely distinguishable mumble as he speaks around the olive.

The corners of his mouth turn up with as much of a smirk as he can manage; eyes hazy but sparkling with laughter. He's peeled off his dark grey suit coat, rolled up the sleeve to his white oxford, and has loosened his silver tie a bit. He looks like any other bloke enjoying a night in the pub, not a man who's been screwed over by life in every direction. She grins at his challenge, tongue in teeth she doesn't even hesitate as she leans over, kissing him before taking back the olive with her tongue. His flabbergasted look sends her into a fit of giggles until she notices the dark look in his chocolate brown eyes. Mistaking it for one of anger she creases her brows together and looks down. She buries her forehead into his strong, and at the moment very tense shoulder.

" 'm sorry, that was stupid of me," she hastily apologies into his shoulder absentmindedly running her fingers over his forearm, "I wasn't thinking, 'm so sorry Alec."

He contemplates his next words; his brain telling him he shouldn't but that small secluded section of courage egging him on. Throwing caution to the wind, he follows the niggling thought at the back of his mind.

"Don't be," he whispers, his warm breath flittering against the shell of her ear sends a shiver down her spine.

I hoped you guys liked it! Let me know if you would like for me to continue it as well as some possible drunk shenanigans :D

Please Read and Review!