A/N: This story was inspired by the moment that Alec Hardy and Jocelyn Knight shared when he came to her to make his will and the question what he did all night before returning to his home in the morning.

I could add all the self-conscious drabble of a first time fanfic author (Are the characters too OOC? Did I make too many mistakes as English is not my first language? What if Ellie Miller calls me a knob?), but I'm not going to. Instead, I truly hope you'll enjoy the journey through the night as much as I did when I was writing it.

I would like to dedicate the story to…

Lauren – who is the most amazing person out there. Without her encouragement, guidance and kind words, this would have never happened. Seriously, YOU ROCK!

My dear husband – who has suffered endless (and I mean ENDLESS) hours of discussing the ups and downs of Alec Hardy, Ellie Miller and the rest of the Broadchurch universe without even realizing that Ellie was wearing the same orange coat the whole series (and I quote "What coat are you talking about? – The orange one, the one she was wearing the whole time? – Really, I didn't notice that." *insert my exasperated sigh*).

The Alec Hardy enthusiasts amongst you guys out there – who share my obsession with this character and just want to give him a hug.

And last but not least, David Tennant – because without him Alec Hardy wouldn't be who he is.

"A Better Way To Fall"

Chapter 1

"Well see what you wanna see. You should see it all.
Well take what you want from me. You deserve it all.
Nine times out of ten our hearts just get dissolved.
Well I want a better place or just a better way to fall.

But one time out of ten, everything is perfect for us all.
Well I want a better place or just a better way to fall."

- Modest Mouse "Bukowski"

The vivid imagery of the water dripping down his arms, pulling him under, blended in with the foggy awareness of the seawater that was gently flowing around his body. His vision still blurry, he pulled himself up to his knees, heart beating erratically in his aching chest. He tried to catch his breath while fumbling for the pills. His trembling fingers popped them out of the blister packet and he washed them down with cold tea. He was so exhausted, all he wanted to do was to close his eyes without reliving the horrid moments in the river over and over again. His doctors had told him that the feeling of drowning was related to his heart failing and flooding his lung with the blood it couldn't pump anymore, but he knew better. The urge to just give in was strong. And yet, despite all the desperation that had been gnawing at him for what like seemed forever, he struggled to his feet, his hands slowly climbing up his legs and steadying himself.

He looked out over the water – how ironic it was that the home he had chosen was so close to the sea. He really should get out of the habit of staring out onto the ocean while his body was so untrustworthy these days. He was vaguely aware that Miller was rummaging through his files and turning his house upside down. He briefly wondered if he should tell her about the upcoming hospital appointment. But no, she didn't need anything else to worry about and besides, she would just fuss over him, a thought that was bothering him surprisingly less than he would have liked to acknowledge.

A sudden resolution formed in him. He needed to put things right, move on. God knows, he was trying so hard. His conscience was struggling to reconcile the overwhelming relief he was feeling from having Miller being so invested in solving Sandbrook with the burning guilt that he had dragged her into this nightmare. He still couldn't put his finger on the odd sentiment that had washed through him when she had vowed to solve the case, wide-eyed, sincere and disconcertingly determined. He turned around, still unsteady on his feet and without looking into the house, grabbed his coat.

"I'm going for a walk… leave the key under … the thing."

He barely heard her distracted response of, "Okay." He staggered off, dragging his feet through the very puddle he only minutes ago had been lying in.

The soft lights of the fun fair mixed with the setting sun. A smile curled around his lips when he was reminded of Miller's excitement upon discovering the fun fair behind his house; he could still hear her saying, "Bumper cars, Hardee!" with delight. She hadn't seemed so genuinely happy, even for a brief moment, in such a long time now. His lips pressed to a line, he wished he could have joined in the fun, be Uncle Alec and taken wee Fred to the tea cups like he used to do with Daisy a lifetime ago.

He had to slow down his pace, still breathless from before and feeling rather light-headed. The thought of Daisy gave him the strength to go on and determination settled in. He slowly walked up the long gravel path to Jocelyn Knight's house while the sun was setting over the ocean.

Jocelyn's thoughts were wandering when a noise startled her. She looked up and there was Alec Hardy, his lanky and way too skinny body framed by her door against the golden cloudy evening sky.

"Oh, for heaven's sake… gotta get a lock put on that gate."

She gave him a piercing stare, question written over her face. His quiet inquiry "Are you busy?" seemed like a joke to her.

"Well, of course I'm busy. I'm in the middle of a trial." she scoffed. "What'd you want?"

"Could you do my will?"

The exhaustion was audible in his voice, but so was the urgency. This was the last thing that Jocelyn would have expected. While she gestured for him to come inside, she took another look at him. He was in his usual blue shirt and coat, but they all seemed to hang even more loosely on him. His face was grey and he was breathing hard. There was something wild in his eyes, something she wasn't sure she had seen before.

They sat down on her small desk with her laptop. She started drafting a standard will. It had been a while since she'd done such a simple task. His directions were clear – everything to his daughter Daisy Henchard – she noted the different last name, but didn't pry. He didn't have much, but Jocelyn was surprised to hear about the old family estate in Scotland.

"Anyone would think that I was a High Street Solicitor."

" 'S not like it's very complicated." he said in a soft voice, so contrary to his usual grumpy demeanor. She was typing away, murmuring mostly to herself.

"So, everything to your daughter, held 'til she's eighteen. Hmmm… Lucky girl!"

"Do you have kids?" There was pensive undertone in his voice.

"Never married."

"Is that through choice, or…?" And although his voice was warm when he asked, she couldn't help herself but retort, "What is that? A police interview?"

"No." He shook his head. " 'S alright. Just conversation."

He sounded sincere, which took her by surprise. She somehow didn't picture him as the conversational talker. She took her glasses off, turned and looked him in the eyes. She wasn't quite sure why she opened up to him but something about his tone of voice had struck a chord in her.

"Err, things were complicated. And I made… made them more so. I was at a point, when I should have been strong, and I wasn't… and I missed the person I was supposed to be with."

He looked straight at her with his hazel brown eyes all wide.

"Did you ever tell?" He asked as he held her gaze steadily, not looking quite as grey as he did before and breathing more easily now.

She shook her head. "No."

With a tender voice he said, "Maybe you should."

She let out a sigh. "It's always easy to recognize mistakes in hindsight." She pauses, her face sad. "Much harder to fix them now."

He was still looking at her with a quiet understanding written all over his face.

Taking in a deeper breath, she changed the subject and curiously asked "Anyway, why do you need this… why do you need this now?" Her face was warm and open, encouraging him to respond.

He sucked in a breath and straightened himself. "Just putting things right."

She glanced at him and before she could say anything else, it was his turn to change the topic. "What's your sense of the trial?"

"Susan Wright was a mistake for the defense. Makes them looks like amateurs. Not going into the witness box is going to damage Miller's credibility." His expression was stern and she could not tell what was going on behind that frown.

"He's got to be convicted." He made it sound like there was nothing else left in the world but getting Joe Miller locked up behind bars. With a little more acridity than she intended to, she replied, "I don't need you to tell me that. I'm doing the best I can with what I have." A resigned smile flicked over her face.

They finished the will in silence. When they were done, he thanked her, offered her an envelope with money. She refused to accept, but he convinced her by pointing out that he as the SIO couldn't possibly accept favors from the CPS barrister. Before leaving he asked her for a glass of water. He looked tired again, all energy drained from him. She brought him the water, and he pulled some pills out of his trouser pocket. A sudden memory of reading his medical files flashed by. She had debated with herself to use his health issues to rescue the confession but then had shied away from taking away whatever remaining dignity this man had left by exposing him like this in court. And, who knows how Sharon would have twisted the fact that technically DI Hardy had been placed on medical leave the morning of the day he arrested Joe Miller.

With this memory another image of this man surfaced in her thoughts – the image of a younger looking Alec Hardy, well groomed, healthy and confident, facing the cameras during the Sandbrook case. Maggie had told her about what Hardy had confessed on the eve of catching Joe Miller. It still struck her as unbelievably protective of his child and oddly loyal to a spouse that had betrayed him so profoundly – personally and professionally.

He stood slowly, pushing himself off of the chair. It was dark outside now. He took in a deep breath, leaned briefly against the door frame – a tall and lonely figure against the black sky – before starting to walk out. Jocelyn couldn't quite tell what urged her to pose the question – maybe it was the odd familiarity they had shared earlier, maybe it was because he seemed so lonely, coming to her to make his will when he was clearly not doing well – but she felt compelled.

Quietly she asked, "What happened to you?"

He took in another deep breath and turned around. His hand reached for the door frame again and when he looked up, his eyes were wild.

Alec wasn't sure why he'd asked her about having kids and being married. He felt strangely at peace. For once in these past months, he felt that he was doing the right thing, that he actually was in control. Ever since that day he pulled Pippa out of the river, things had been falling apart. Caught up in his own past, he was surprised to hear her talk about hers. When he asked if she'd ever told, his mind wasn't on Tess, not even Daisy, but with the woman who was currently occupying his home. He didn't need to be reminded about how hard it was to undo mistakes – he'd made way too many in his life. But maybe soon, all would be over and finally the heartache would stop.

"Why do you need this now?" Jocelyn asked him. He was pulled away from his morbid thoughts, back into the here and now. He sucked in a breath and tried to keep his voice level.

"Just putting things right." He changed the topic to the trial. His need to get any reassurance that his most recent case wasn't going to end like his last case, was strong, but the need to fight the utterly desperate feeling about what it would do to Ellie if Joe did get off, was even stronger. He listened to her while trying to convince himself that she was going to pull of the miracle that her reputation promised. She didn't sound as quite sure of herself as he would have expected, but rather honest and matter of fact.

He convinced her to take his money, a feeble attempt at not messing things up more than they already were. When the time came to leave, his spirit had dampened again and whatever peace he had felt earlier was gone. The thought of walking back to his house was tiring him out, and he could feel light-headedness coming on even before he stood up. He figured she might have seen his medical records, so he asked her for a glass of water and didn't hide the pills that he was about to take. He had to push himself up from the chair, but did alright until he reached the door. It wasn't the night time ocean view that took his breath away, but his dodgy heart yet again.

He leaned briefly against the frame and was wondering whether, if he made it back to his house, he would find Miller and wee Fred camped out in the tiny living space. The thought brought a smile to his weary face. And in an utterly soppy moment that would have earned him a stern frown from Daisy, he wished Miller could have met him before the day he pulled Pippa out of the river.

"What happened to you?"

Yes, indeed what had happened to him? The world around him began to spin out of control, figuratively and literally. He had to reach for the door again. He didn't know what made him turn around, but his last bit of composure was vanishing quickly and there was nothing left in him besides the urge to let it all go. He stared at her and tears that he couldn't hold back any longer were stinging his wild eyes.

Very quietly, he said, "Love - that's what happened to me."