A/N: DI Alec Hardy ambushed me last night and refused to leave. I suppose I have myself to blame, a Broadchurch marathon is bound to have some effect on my wild imagination... This is my first fooray into the Broadchurch-verse, so please, be nice. This takes place during episode 3, so mild spoiler alert for that episode (not much, but just to be safe). Enjoy everyone's favourite grumpy DI. Title from the excruciatingly beautiful song "Old Skin" by Olafur Arnalds (yes, the same guy who did the soundtrack for Broadchurch).
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Broadchurch. Obviously. They just invade my mind and refuse to let me sleep.
"No, I hate it. I hate the air, I hate the sand. I hate the stupid people. I hate the way they work. I hate their bloody smiley bloody faces. I hate the neverending sky."
Even as he said it, Alec could feel his bubbling resentment lose momentum. He didn't hate all of it. Yes, the people were annoying, and the police department could definitely work more efficiently. Too much intimacy, too personal. Sandbrook all over again.
And yet... not. Broadchurch was different. It was an escape, a chance for atonement. This would not be a new version of what happened in Sandbrook. How could it? He had eliminated the main problem. Taken himself out of the one expression that crumbled the entire equation. It was still erroneous, but on the surface everything looked all right. To most people, that's what counted. He exiled himself to this small town in the back of beyond, with a sandy beach that went on for miles and a relentless pale sky that seemingly had no end. And a murder victim.
Was he haunted? Alec briefly wondered if this was his curse; if the broad strokes of Sandbrook would follow him wherever he went.
Child
Murder
No leads
Until-
But then-
Would it end the same?
Would it always end the same way?
The newspapers had already found him, flocking around the investigation like sinister ravens, ready to attack. The hotel was not safe. The town was not safe. At the edge of the earth, with nothing but water and sky in front of him, he hid from the world and deflected the harsh truths of life.
"You'll end up dead."
Anything can kill you in the end. Baxter had left, giving him a meaningful look, as if begging him to consider the facts. He wouldn't back down until the Latimer-case was over, properly over. The betablockers did their job, keeping his heart from running away from him. Two small roundels and a lot of secrecy. Lies to build a life on. Alec hunched over, letting his head rest in his hands. This was a good place. Confined and open. Hidden away from suspicious eyes, but open, oh so open, making him feel like he had all the space in the world to float around in. Far enough away from the water that it couldn't get to him, but close enough for him to hear the steady rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore. He knew deep inside that's what he needed. Stability, rhythm, calm.
But not yet. Not now.
(not ever)
A/N: Reviews are better than sick Alec. ^^