A/N: Dear reader – as some of you may know I've been chronicling Alec Hardy's life during the Sandbrook case in "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul". At some point my dear friend hazelmist posed the question what would have happened to Hardy if the pendant hadn't been lost. An idea was sparked from that. This story is the result of that spark. But don't worry, it still is Broadchurch, and fate will find a way to unite Hardy and Miller in a common cause. And true to the idea that some points in time are fixed, neither Hardy nor Miller can completely escape their fate despite this AU version of events. I hope you enjoy a different take on things (and because it's me who's writing this, there's going to be heartache, angst and drama, but also humor, love and certainly feels). (see A/N at the end for further explanations, especially if you haven't read "A Million Holes"; you might enjoy it more if you've met my Alec and his world before, but I think you don't absolutely have to commit to reading the saga that "A Million Holes" has become.)
DOWN BY THE RIVER
"When we walked arm in arm
I felt like we can throw away
The forces of our past
And I know too
It's been the hardest days for you
Let's throw them out the Window"
"Down By The River" – Milky Chance
CHAPTER 1 - Salad
Detective Chief Inspector Alec Hardy scanned the crowd. This time there were about a dozen detectives scattered throughout the room. They looked suspiciously keen and awake for a Monday morning. He hated them already. Not personally, but as a group and what they represented to him. The more eager they were, the more apathy it evoked in him. He really shouldn't be like that, but he envied them and their busy detective lives that he couldn't be a part of any more.
His boss, Chief Constable Liz MacMillan, had told him that this was a great opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to the force. He'd been sitting in her office, staring at the wood carvings on her Victorian desk and listening to her lecture about his professional responsibility to – and she had the nerve to quote the bloody manual – "invest time in developing people by coaching and mentoring them and providing developmental opportunities". His first reaction had been a derisive snort, but then she had pinned him down with her piercing eyes until it sunk in that she had been dead serious about the seminar series. And a few weeks later he found himself hiding in a corner and teaching a professional development workshop with the unnervingly catchy title 'Three Birds With One Stone - How To Apprehend A Murder Trio'. To his utter surprise - and incomprehension - it seemed he had a following, especially among the under thirty, nerdy male detective sergeant group. It drove him nuts.
His 'co-lead' Mike Bailey, a spunky junior faculty member from the academy, went around the room, personally greeting each participant. There weren't any women. Hardy suppressed a sigh and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. This was going to be another long week.
It was his turn to introduce himself.
"Good morning everyone. I am DCI Hardy from the South Me –"
The door slowly opened with a drawn out creak. Hardy's eyes snapped to the widening gap. One hand was glued to his hip while the fingers of the other impatiently tapped his thigh. A mop of curls stuck through the door, framing a woman's face. Her brown eyes widened when she realized he was staring at her. Her lips drew into the most awkward smile he'd ever seen.
"Sorry," she whispered apologetically, her gaze flicking back and forth between his piercing glare and the options for empty chairs.
Hardy sniffed and let out a short groan. The woman clumsily stalked between the chairs until she found a seat while Hardy committed murder with his eyes. She sat down and shot him a wide smile.
Hardy's jaw twitched. "Right. As I said I'm DCI Hard -"
There was a loud and prolonged rustling noise. Hardy's head whipped around and his gaze fell on the perpetrator. It was the woman again. This time she was peeling herself out of what she might call a coat but others undoubtedly would call a monstrosity. The bright orange evoked the image of traffic cones. Hardy dragged a hand over his face and closed his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them, he felt calm enough to continue. "Again, I'm DCI Ha –"
The squeaky noise of a thermos being unscrewed threw him off. He didn't have to look to know who dared to interrupt this time. His patience wearing thin, he plucked his glasses off his nose and tossed them on the desk he'd perched on.
"Tea anyone?" the woman asked in a cheery voice.
Hardy took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. This was indeed going to be a long week.
Ellie hated being late, and judging by the look that DCI Hardy had given her, he hated it too. Ellie watched him sulking in a corner while the overly enthusiastic academy teacher was going over the goals and objectives and how much fun they'd be having dissecting horrific murder cases. She found the idea a bit off putting, but then it had been her choice to be here. She'd only come for one reason, to meet the man whose sullen expression was a dead give-away that he wanted to be someplace else even more than her.
They had reached the first coffee break. To mingle and get a feel for each other, the instructor had said. All the other detectives in the room complied happily, but Ellie had a different target in mind. Carefully sneaking up on her oblivious prey, she slowly approached DCI Hardy who was still hiding in a corner. Once she had him trapped, she stuck her hand out and went for it.
"Hiya, I'm Ellie… well, DI Miller, I guess. Don't like the surname thing… from Broadchurch, down south on the coast… we've got some great beaches and beautiful cliffs there, if you ask me..." She looked up and her eyes met Hardy's. She couldn't tell if he was either spectacularly annoyed or simply mortified by her babbling. His already pale face had turned a shade whiter and he was panting slightly. He ignored her hand, muttered something about needing to use the gents and stalked out of the room as quickly as his long legs would carry him.
Ellie found it a bit odd that he had run off like that, but then she'd heard rumors that he wasn't the most social person. When he returned, he looked better. He trudged over and planted his tall figure right in front of her.
"Sorry, about before," he mumbled, ears red. Ellie got the impression he was genuinely chagrined over his behavior which surprised her.
"Alec Hardy," he said, offering her his hand. It was cold and clammy, but with a confident grip.
"Nice to meet you, Alec." He cringed.
"Please, don't call me Alec. I don't like it. Never have. 'M not into using everyone's first names. It's not like we're at some sort of support group here. I mean we sort of are, but still, it's work. And besides why do we all have to be so familiar all the time?" He abruptly stopped, noticing her gaping mouth that was pulling into a small grin. He groaned and rolled his eyes.
"I did it, didn't I? Babbling, I mean." She bit down on her lip, trying very hard not to laugh and nodded. He scrubbed down his face and then shoved his hands in his pocket. "Hardy is fine," he sighed, studying his feet intently.
"Hardy it is then. But you have to call me Ellie," she replied, not hiding her amused smile. Maybe he wasn't that much of a wanker as his reputation made her believe, maybe he was just shy. The corners of his mouth curled up and Ellie was struck by how much his face changed. Gone was the scowl, replaced with crinkles around the eyes and dimples on his gaunt cheeks.
"We'll see about that," he smirked and left her behind to return to loitering in his corner.
This was going to be an interesting week, Ellie thought when they resumed.
Ellie was dumbfounded by the transformation that happened once Hardy was engulfed in talking about how to approach a murder case.
Gone was the scowl and the slumped posture. He stood tall in front of the whiteboard, one hand in his pocket, the other one wielding the dry erase marker and gracefully jotting down his teaching points. His Scottish lilt carried pleasantly through the room, rising and falling with his speech. He was passionate. Not about teaching, not about being in this room, but about solving a crime and bringing justice to the families of the victims. He believed in his work.
Ellie began to understand why this man had such a following. Her own DS had been forced to go to the seminar and had come back raving about how outstanding Hardy was. He had also said, that Hardy was an arse, but it was okay, because he was bloody brilliant.
"You have to ask yourself what are the key points? What is important and what is clutter? What's the method? What does that say about the perpetrator? Was it planned, was it spontaneous? Where is the murder scene? What do we learn from that? What is the motive? Who had opportunity? What doesn't add up? Where did they deviate from routine? What do they gain? Or lose? And you can't trust," Hardy ended is incessant list of questions. He had underlined every question with a tap on the board. His eyes were gleaming with eagerness and his face was flushed.
Ellie watched the others hang on his every word. It was astounding. Then he stopped and turned back into that lurker in the corner who frowned and pouted. Unbelievable.
At lunch, she stalked him in the coffee shop.
"Do you mind?" she asked and plopped down opposite him without waiting for a response.
His eyebrow went up. "Does it matter?"
She grinned. "Nope."
"Right. You always this chipper?" he growled, stabbing an innocent cucumber violently with his fork.
Her grin grew wider. "Yup."
He glared at her and then rolled his eyes. Another cucumber fell victim to his war against the poor vegetables. He eyed her fish and chips when the waitress brought it over. There was a longing gleam in his glance and a tomato was stabbed to death when he refocused his attention on his rabbit food.
"I hate salad," she said nonchalantly, watching his reaction. His movements stopped for a split second and his ears turned red. She was right, he hated it too.
"Want some?" she asked innocently, shoving her plate closer to him. Hardy's gaze flicked back and forth between her face and her food.
"I can't eat that," he sighed.
Ellie noted the odd way of refusing her offer.
"Miller, why are you here?" he wanted to know, his exasperation emphasizing the Scottish accent.
"For lunch," she replied, deliberately misunderstanding him. He huffed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.
"Seriously?" His face scrunched up in annoyance. Ellie enjoyed how easily he was riled up. She grinned and stuffed another chip in her mouth.
"What makes you think I'm not one of your nerdy groupies?" she asked innocently.
His eyes bore into hers and there was a murderous fire in them that broadened Ellie's grin.
"You're female, over thirty and as far from being a nerd as I am. Besides your constabulary already sent someone to this seminar so you're here by choice," he explained swiftly, stabbing at the shredded carrots. He raised his eyebrow and pointed his carrot loaded fork at her. "So, why are you here then?"
Ellie didn't know if she should feel flattered or threatened that he had apparently looked into her background.
Reluctantly, she said, "I've got this child murder case –"
Hardy threw down his fork and grunted. "No. Not doing it," he growled, a deep furrow between his eyebrows. His face had grown a shade paler and he forcefully pushed his chair back. It made a screeching noise and a few heads turned.
"Oh, come on Hardy, you haven't even heard what I have to say," Ellie threw at him, annoyed about the blunt rejection.
Hardy stood and glared down at her. His hazel eyes had turned dark and there was something in them that made Ellie shudder. He bent down, his face an inch away from hers. "I don't do dead children. It's not good for the heart," he said, eerily calm and utterly sincere. Then he spun around, snatched up his coat and stalked away, the tails of his black Macintosh billowing behind him.
"Bollocks," Ellie cursed, finding consolation in another chip.
Hardy ran out of the coffee shop as if he had seen a ghost. It wasn't that far from the truth. He'd suspected that Miller was attending the seminar because of an unsolved case. She wouldn't have been the first one. No one though had approached him with a child murder so far.
Hardy slowed down and eventually had to stop. Storming off after being emotionally thrown off balance was the perfect way to upset his heart. He braced himself against a lamp post, rubbing his chest. It had been a while since he had two attacks in the same day – in fact it had been awhile since he had had any attack – and both had been caused by the same person. If he continued like this, he'd be dead by the end of the week.
His hand automatically went for his pockets and pulled out his pills. Lost in his world of rivers and dead children, he popped two in his palm and promptly dropped them when a loud "Oi!" startled him. His heart jolted and his chest seized up. He sagged against the lamp post, panting and desperately trying to calm down.
"Hardy, why the hell did you run off like that?" Ellie Miller yelled at him from a few feet behind.
He didn't have enough air to reply, so he stayed mute. She caught up with him and stepped around the post to face him.
"Jesus, Hardy. You look like shit if you don't mind me saying. Are you all right?" There was genuine concern in her voice and her hand came to rest on his elbow.
"'M fine," he wheezed.
She tilted her head, doubt written all over her face. "You don't seem fine to me. Have you got asthma or something?" she asked curiously.
It was a good guess, considering that he was clinging to a lamp post for dear life and struggling to breathe. He took a mental note as he'd never thought of using that as an excuse.
"Something like it," he mumbled, his ears burning. He was lucky, his heart decided to be a good sport and settle down, even without his medication. "Sorry about before."
"Do you always run off when someone says something you don't want to hear? It's a bit weird," Miller commented with a raised eyebrow.
"Do you always upset people when you talk to them?" he snapped. He pushed off the lamp post and started walking away. It irked him greatly when he noted that she had to slow down to fall in step with him. Bloody heart. She was still wittering next to him when a sudden pause in her steady flow of words made him realize she was waiting for him to say something. He hadn't been paying any attention, focused on such menial tasks as breathing and staying upright.
"Hardy?" she prompted.
"What?" he barked, more annoyed at himself than at her.
"Ach, unbelievable. Have you been listening?" she wanted to know angrily. He gave her a blank stare, letting her guess the answer.
"God, are you always like this?" she groaned. He shrugged.
"You don't have to follow me around," he suggested bluntly.
"I came here to talk to you. 'Course I have to follow you around, you knob," Miller argued indignantly.
"Oh, stalk me and insult me, that's a way to a man's heart," Hardy exclaimed sarcastically. Ironically in his case, it had worked on his dodgy ticker.
"Will you quit already? All I meant to do was ask for some advice. It's an eleven-year-old boy we're talking about, my son's best mate and the child of my best friend." Her voice had changed to serious, all banter gone. The pain in it tugged on his crummy heart. He halted abruptly and it took her a couple of steps to realize he had. She turned around, an innocent hopefulness on her face that touched him.
"How long ago?" Hardy asked against his better judgement.
Miller let out a big sigh. "Four weeks. He was found on the beach at Broadchurch."
Hardy swallowed. He hated the ocean, he hated the beach, and particularly that beach. He closed his eyes briefly, sucking in a deep calming breath.
"I've got to get back to the seminar. Maybe we can talk about it after?" he suggested reluctantly.
"Oh, you're inviting me for supper?"
"What? No, that's not –" Hardy tried to protest, but she was an unstoppable force, ignoring him completely.
"That's brilliant. Wouldn't know where to go in this place anyway. Where do you live?" she babbled on happily.
Hardy dragged his hands down his face. Tess was going to murder him. "Miller, that's not what I meant," he groaned.
Her disappointed face was too much to handle. Her wide brown eyes reminded him of a beaten puppy. Come to think of it, it was Monday and Tess worked the late shift those days. Daisy would be home, but she loved having people round.
"Fine. I warn you though, there'll be salad," he gave in. "I'll text you the address." On a second thought, he added, "Do you have a car?"
She nodded.
"You can drive us, Miller," he stated, not allowing any room for discussion.
"What? Didn't you come with your own car?" She was clearly annoyed by his demand.
"No," he stated curtly, hoping she wouldn't pry. He shot her a sideways glance. There was a smirk on her face and he feared what would come out of her mouth next.
"Did they take your license for drunk driving?" she sniggered.
"No. Speeding," he lied smoothly, having heard the remark a million times before since he had to give up driving. He was almost disappointed with her lack of imagination, jumping to the most obvious explanation.
"Speeding, ey? How fast did you go for them to take your license?" she teased. He didn't bother answering. With a grin, she added, "Couldn't have been that fast. After all, they caught you doing it."
He rolled his eyes and held the door open for her. "Stop wittering, Miller," he growled. She gave him a radiant smile and slipped past him, her hideous orange jacket rustling loudly in his ears.
He sighed inwardly. Indeed, it was going to be a long week.
A/N: The split off point for this AU is in Chapter 26 of "A Million Holes" – the idea was, what would have happened if Tess had come home that night and they would have talked. I don't want to give too much away in case there are readers out there who haven't read it yet and would like to.
I will give further additional info on OCs and other events as needed while we get further into this story if it's not explained already anyway as I realize that not everyone will have read the saga that "A Million Holes" has become. I really hope that you as the readers will enjoy the story and I'm looking forward to your comments (or questions if it's too confusing).
A big THANK YOU to those who have served as test audience – Hazelmist, KTRose, creamcolored-converse and franzi86. I am very grateful for your patience, your input and that you listened to my whining and insecurities. This is for all of you!
Oh and one last thing... this is by no means replacing "The Ocean Breathes Salty". I'm working very hard on the next chapter as well as finishing "A Million Holes". This story just didn't let me go and I had to write it.