A/N: Thanks for all the encouraging words, kudos and comments. Makes me happy that you're joining me in this silly excitement about this story.

A big thank you to FRANZI86 for her input and to THEDELIRIUMTENNANTS for fixing my mistakes. Whatever is left is mine.


Chapter 2 – Returning Home

The setting sun bathed the sand in a golden light, framed by the darkening blue sky and the glowing amber cliffs. The receding tide lapped gently onto the shore, a distant melody of the never-ending coming and going of the sea. It was chilly, but not unexpected for the middle of March. A haunting caw of a seagull echoed over the deserted beach.

Ellie got out of her car, stretching her stiff body and soaking herself in the last rays of the sun. The tranquil surroundings soothed her tense mind after a long day in the office. Hardy was still out, and Ellie had been volunteered to fill in for him. She grabbed the bag with groceries she'd picked up on the way and began her way up the rickety stairs to Hardy's cottage. Its white walls shone in the evening light, making the house visible from miles away.

Ellie grinned. Hardy had picked one of the most prominent places in Broadchurch to hide from the townsfolk. It hadn't even taken a week for everyone to know who the new tenant of the cliffside cottage was. It would be a pleasure to inform him of the latest gossip.

She'd almost made it to the top when shouted words drifted down to her.

"How long have you been like this?" an irate voice yelled.

It sounded like a young woman. Ellie's curiosity was sparked. She slowed down and sneaked closer quietly. She ignored the pang of guilt that told her she shouldn't spy on her boss. After all he'd stalked her while she'd been in Devon. Time for payback.

"It's just a cold. 'M fine." Hardy was as aggravated as the person he was shouting at.

"If it's just a cold, why did I find you passed out on your fucking kitchen floor?"

Shit. The bloody moron hadn't told her the truth. He'd assured her that his heart was fine and that there was no need to worry. Ellie wanted to strangle him.

"I didn't pass out. I got a bit lightheaded and the thing went off. That's all." Hardy's feeble attempt at talking himself out of it was unsuccessful.

"That's not making it any better. It doesn't go off without a reason."

Ellie didn't quite understand what Hardy was referring to, but she assumed it was the pacemaker. She had to agree with the woman. It didn't make it less concerning. Ellie had reached the top of the stairs and found the sliding door half open. Two dark figures were moving about inside the dark room – one tall and lanky, the other shorter and with long hair. Both had their hands firmly clasped to their hips. Something in the way the woman – or maybe a teenage girl – moved struck Ellie as familiar.

"Have you at least called your doctor back home?" the girl demanded to know.

The 'r's rolled off her tongue and it suddenly clicked in Ellie's brain. She must be Hardy's daughter.

He sat down and shook his head.

The girl stopped abruptly.

Alarmingly calm, she said, "You know what, Dad? I'm done with this. I'm done with you not telling me when you're ill, I'm done with you being so stupid about taking care of yourself, and I'm so done with you packing up and disappearing to this bloody place all the time. What's so much better about this shitty beach town than Sandbrook?"

"Daisy, please…," he trailed off, sighing.

Knowing him as well as she did after all they'd been through, Ellie picked up on the exhaustion in those two words that was probably fueled by much more than a viral illness.

"I'm going for a walk," Daisy snapped and snatched up a bag.

Ellie had crept closer to the door and wasn't fast enough to retreat when Daisy barged out of the house. The girl full on ran into her, their heads bashing against each other. The groceries she'd brought spilled all over the small terrace.

"Bloody hell! Who the fuck are you?" she cried out, shooting Ellie a deathly glare that put her father's to shame. She had his piercing eyes.

"Millah? What are you doin' here?" Hardy asked incredulously, his raspy voice shifting up in pitch.

Daisy's gaze wandered up and down Ellie, clearly sizing her up. Then an eyebrow rose toward her hairline, making her look so much like her father that Ellie felt a strong urge to call her knob.

"This is the infamous Ellie Miller?" she said, her words razor sharp with sarcasm, just like her mother's.

Hardy buried his face in his palms and groaned. Daisy huffed and shoved Ellie unceremoniously out of the way. She stormed off, down the stairs, her long hair tousled by the wind, and gone she was.

Ellie stared after her, pitying the world that would have to deal with an angry Daisy Hardy who came equipped with her father's deadly glare and her mother's sharp tongue. A force to be reckoned with.

Ellie already liked her.

She turned her attention back to Hardy who was slouching on his sofa, eyes closed and forehead puckered. A dull ache throbbed behind her temples when she bent down to collect the food she'd brought for Hardy.

"She's got a hard head, your daughter," Ellie commented, rubbing the spot where they had collided.

Hardy grunted and cracked his eyelids open.

"So do you," he retorted, a smirk flicking over his tired features.

Knob.

"Did you really pass out?" she interrogated him while she was putting away the contents of the shopping bag.

"No," he denied, then added, "Maybe. Sort of."

Ellie returned to the living room, a frown on her face.

"Unbelievable," she exclaimed, closing the distance between them to give him a good whack on the arm.

He dodged her hand with another one of those infuriating smirks.

"Why do you have to be such a fuckwit about this?"

"Excuse me?" he piped.

"You have a heart condition. You take pills like candy and have a bloody pacemaker. Shouldn't you get checked out if you're ill?"

He stared at her as if she'd told him she had two heads and was an alien in disguise. His mouth gaped open and the frowny blinking that had annoyed her so much while working with him was back. Ellie hid a grin. There he was, good old grumpy DI Shitface.

"Nah," he snorted and scratched his stubbly chin.

"Did you not tell her that you were ill?" Ellie inquired, certain of the answer.

"I didn't want to worry her at first, and then the girls went missing, and I nearly died because of the bloody heart when I pulled Pippa from the river, and I never got a –"

He broke off when he saw her blush.

"Oh, that's not what you meant," he moaned, his cheeks taking on a rosy color as well.

"And you wonder why she's upset with you?"

He didn't dignify her admonishing question with an answer. Ellie shook her head. She wasn't even surprised.

"Did you send her a text too, to tell her about the heart?" she quipped.

"Seriously?" he growled and clambered to his feet.

It took him a moment to find his balance, and Ellie had her hand on his chest and around his waist before she knew what she was doing. An erratic beat pounded against her palm.

"Woah, Hardy. Steady there."

He clamped down on her arm, putting more weight on it than she'd expected him to. They both fell onto the sofa, an entangled mess.

Her face was an inch away from his. His eyes glossed over, worrying Ellie he might faint again. A flinch and a groan later, he was back. Ellie scrambled off of him and snagged his wrist to feel his pulse. It seemed regular enough.

Ellie looked down upon his pale and sweaty face. She'd had enough of his shenanigans.

Towering over him, she threatened with her most sincere mum-voice, "Hardy, call your doctor or I'll drag you to A&E right now. After I piss in a cup and throw it at you."

To her surprise, it worked. He gestured for his phone and obediently reported to his physician. Ellie retreated to make some tea, half listening in.

"'M not going there," he protested, raising his volume.

This was followed by a minute or two of intense chatter from the other side while his pout grew bigger and bigger. Ellie watched him, fascinated by how his whole demeanor changed. Whoever that person was on the other end in Sandbrook deserved a medal for shutting up Alec Hardy.

"Fine," he growled finally and hung up without saying goodbye.

"Millah! Going to A&E. You can drive me," he ordered and shrugged on his coat.

Ellie sighed. Then a smile curled up her lips. Old habits died hard.

"Nice to have you back, sir," she said, a much happier feeling warming her stomach than it should have.


Miller dropped him off at the bottom of the hill that the house was nestled in. It was pitch black that late at night. The wind had picked up and tugged on his coat, ruffling his hair. His gaze wandered out over the dark grey sea. The surf was welling up and clouds piled at the horizon. A storm was coming.

Hardy felt small, surrounded by the forces of nature and once again confronted with the vulnerability of his own treacherous body. It had been a while since his last hospital visit and he had almost forgotten how jarring it could be. They had run some tests on him, given him IV fluids and some additional medication to settle his bum ticker. He'd met a familiar face, the cardiologist who'd taken care of him when he lived in Broadchurch for the first time. The doctor didn't hold back how surprised he was that Hardy was still walking and breathing after all the stunts he had pulled on them. Hardy had kept his stoic face, letting everything wash over him. The only thing he wanted to do was get back home and talk to Daisy. She hadn't replied to his text, but he hoped she knew that he'd done the reasonable thing and gone to get help.

Miller didn't make any move to leave until he barked at her to go home and take care of her children instead of his grumpy old arse. He did thank her though. Then he stumbled up the stairs in the dark, tripping more than once.

Bloody hell.

Ellie didn't leave until she saw the lights go on in his house. She'd fussed over him ever since the first sign of the cold. A fiery debate was going on inside him if he actually liked it or not. Not being alone wasn't the worst when he was feeling more miserable than he had in months.

Daisy had waited up for him.

"Don't you ever do that again, Dad," she greeted him quietly.

Hardy lingered at the door, hiding in the darker part of the room.

"I can't guarantee it, darlin'. The pacemaker and ICD can only do so much," he replied, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck.

"That's not what I meant. I'm fully aware of that," she said, frustration making her sound so much older than she was.

She stood and walked over to where he was seeking refuge in the shadows. She gently placed her palm over his heart and made sure he didn't look away.

"No more hiding stuff. No more not telling me when you don't feel well. No more tough guy bullshit."

She held his gaze until he cupped her hand in his. "You worry too much."

The words didn't sit well with her. An angry fire gleamed in her irises when she ripped her fingers away.

"You don't get it, do you? Not knowing is worse. I can't deal with it. It drives me bonkers to think that you were sitting all alone in this house and who knows what could have happened. Can't you understand that?"

"I wasn't quite alone," he muttered under his breath.

Miller had made sure to check in on him several times a day. She'd nagged him to eat, drink, and take his medications until he wanted to chuck his phone into the ocean.

Daisy's eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything. He was sure his words had been filed away for a later time, but for now other things were on her mind.

"That's not the point. You've shut me out ever since the bloody Sandbrook murders. You've lied to me about everything and I still have no idea why. It's been four years, Dad. That's a long time to keep secrets from an adult. But for me, it feels like a lifetime," she ended her argument.

Hardy looked down upon his daughter who had grown into a woman while he'd been gone. He'd missed it. The hole that the absence of his daughter had ripped into his heart had never been fully filled, even after he'd gone back to Sandbrook to be closer to her. He knew why. They couldn't heal until the last thorn was torn from the festering wound.

He'd returned to the place he'd hoped he could make his home again, but he'd been sourly mistaken. The hushed voices and rumors kept following him, despite the conclusion of the trials and the secret about Tess' role trickling out into police circles. His face would always be connected with what had transpired, no matter how long ago and whose responsibility it ultimately had been. Accusations that he had covered for his wife were flying and general resentment smoldered behind every sham friendly smile.

He hadn't cared so much though, as long as Daisy was willing to rekindle their relationship. It was working, but he had to pay a steep price. He had to endure Tess' desperate games and manipulations. She'd managed to make his life a living hell, and in the end he'd wanted nothing more than to leave Sandbrook to get away from it all, to distance himself from Tess' vitriol. To think that once he'd desired to rebuild that family that he had lost pained him now. He'd come to Broadchurch to find solace for his battered soul but also the strength he needed to rip that last thorn out.

If he told Daisy the full truth now, Tess would never speak to him again. If he held back, Daisy would never find peace. And he would never be able to return from the river.

This time, the choice was easy.

He trudged over to the sofa and fell heavily onto the cushions. He patted the spot next to him.

"Sit. We need to talk," he invited her quietly.

A long conversation, many tears, and equally as many hugs later, things had finally been put out into the open. In that dark night, in a house at the beach where a young boy had been murdered and in the shadows of these cliffs that had changed his life forever, he'd found the courage to explain his actions after the pendant had been taken. He told her that he'd been convinced he was dying and wanted her to be safe. He told her about how ill he'd been and how he didn't want to burden her. He told her about how unbearable life had become in the place he used to call home after everything had happened. He told her about why he'd come to Broadchurch in the first place.

Not unexpectedly, she was livid. She'd never yelled at him as much as she did that night. He took it bravely, and in the end they both agreed. It had been a shit plan.

And then lastly, he told her about her mother's betrayal.

Her anger at him was nothing compared to the storm that raged in his daughter when he confessed to her whose car the evidence had been stolen from and why it had been unattended. Hardy would never forget her glowing eyes in a face that changed from pale to bright red within seconds.

She didn't say a word, chomping on her lower lip as if it was chewing gum. Then she jumped up suddenly and ran out of the house.

Hardy scrambled to follow her into the night.

She was faster than him and had the advantage of knowing where she wanted to go.

He hurried down the stairs, scanning his surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something silvery, up on the path to the cliff. He squinted through the dark and could barely make out her figure. The moonlight reflected on her light colored hair and it shone like a beacon.

Swearing loudly, he staggered onto the path. After losing his footing several times, he pulled out his mobile. The small but bright light was good enough to avoid breaking his neck. He didn't want to think about what his doctors and Miller would have to say once they learned about his nightly adventure.

Drizzle caked his hair to his head. He called her name several times, but the wind ripped the words off his lips before they could be heard by anyone.

By the time he'd reached the top, he was utterly out of breath. A coughing spell shuddered through him, forcing him down onto his knees. It was times like this when he seriously loathed his body. At least his bloody heart was being kept in check by the pacemaker.

"I hate her," a voice came out of the dark void.

Hardy lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. Daisy was right behind him. She struck up a circle around him, in a desperate attempt to walk off her agitation. Hardy knew better than to tell her to stop. He sat back on his heels and followed her with his gaze.

"How could she do that? How could she let you take the blame for all of this? Did she know how ill you were?" Daisy stopped her restless pursuit and fixed her eyes on him.

Hardy nodded, not trusting his voice.

"And she left you to deal with all this shit?"

"Daisy, it was my choice, my plan."

It had been, but Tess more than willingly had gone along with it.

"Why would you protect her? She dishonored everything that meant something to you – marriage, work, family."

Hardy seized Daisy's forearm and pulled her down to the wet grass, right next to him. He found her eyes.

"Darlin', I didn't protect her, I meant to protect you," he corrected her, his voice as soft as it ever could be. "I did not want for you to grow up with a parent who you hate and who can't provide for you. Do you think you can understand that?"

Her silence was only interrupted by the sound of the distant waves and the howling wind. Hardy scanned her face for any sign of comprehension. He couldn't sure in the dark.

It was freezing and Daisy's teeth began to chatter. She'd run out, only wearing her thin sweater. His cold fingers fumbled to take off his coat which he draped around her.

"Dad, you need your coat," she protested, wiggling herself out of it.

He pulled it tighter and gave her a smile. "No, I don't. All I need is for you to believe that I will always do what's needed to keep you safe and unharmed. It doesn't matter what happens to me. You're the only thing that matters," he assured her with the utmost sincerity.

His thumb brushed over her cheek where rain drops blended with her tears. Then he pulled her into a warm embrace. She molded against his body, burying her face into his chest. She was still shivering. So was he. His reserve was fading fast. He had to get down the cliff before he'd tumble off of it due to exhaustion.

He contemplated lying to her about why he needed to get back quickly, but then remembered his earlier promise.

"Daisy, I need to go back to the cottage. Now. Before I can't make it," he let her know and rose onto his wobbly feet.

Daisy's face was a canvas of guilt. She slung his arm over her shoulder and together they weathered the climb down in the oncoming storm. Soft rain drops quickly turned into a hard, whipping assault of water. They slipped and slid down that muddy hill, the ocean below them crushing against the cliff.

They quite literally fell through the door of his new home, soaked and drained from the exertion.

"Those paths are a bloody death trap," Daisy complained while peeling off Hardy's coat.

Lying on the floor and panting, Hardy burst out in laughter.

"What? What's so funny?" she groused and tossed the wet piece of clothing at him.

It landed on him with a wet thud, unloading more frigid water on him.

"I said the same thing to Ellie Miller when I first came here."

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Dad, that's not funny. People fall off those cliffs."

He moved under the drenched coat and sat up. A puddle was steadily collecting more and more murky drops. A mischievous grin lingered on his lips, when he revealed,

"I told her that the cliff is a perfectly fine place to chuck a body over."

Daisy gaped at him. "You didn't?"

He nodded, hiding his amusement. She whacked him on the arm.

"Oh, my god. You're awful. And she still talks to you?" She seemed genuinely shocked.

"Yup." A broad smile brightened his face. "She's got to. I'm her boss," he added smugly.

"Wow, look at you, trying to be all witty. What sort of drugs did they give you at the hospital?" she teased.

Hardy took courage in the lighthearted banter. There was one more thing he needed to clarify with her. He took her ice cold hands in his.

"Daisy, I didn't come here to leave you. I tried everything to stay in Sandbrook, but…" he hesitated, struggling for the right words that wouldn't make her hate her mother even more.

He sucked in some air and let it out when he continued, "You asked me what's so special about this shitty beach town. I can't give you an answer to that question. The only thing I know is that when I realized that being in Sandbrook wasn't good for me, that things had become worse than I could bear, there was only one other place I thought of going to. Here."

Daisy's searching eyes met his.

"All these years I believed that you had left us, that you had left me behind because you didn't care enough. And I couldn't have been more wrong. Why did you let me hate you, Dad?" she asked with a quiver in her voice that tugged on Hardy's heart.

He pulled her close again, cradling her wet body against his.

"I'm so sorry, darlin'. It was a mistake," he whispered into the crown of her head, taking in the faint scent of honey and grapefruit of her rain-soaked hair. His tears dripped on her locks while hers dripped on his shirt.

They sat clinging onto each other until their chattering teeth and their shivering bodies reminded them that they were soaked to the bones and were slowly turning into icicles.

Daisy wiggled out of his arms and stiffly got up. Hardy was so frozen that he barely could move. Groaning, he accepted her stretched out hand and after the third attempt he was on his feet. Daisy ushered him under a hot shower and then to bed.

She sat down on the edge of the mattress, handing over a mug of hot tea.

"I have one more question, Dad," she said, straightening out the fine crinkles on the sheets.

There was a glimmer in her eyes that Hardy couldn't quite place. He blew away the steam and peered at her over the rim of the cup.

"Which is?" he prompted when she didn't continue.

"You and that woman, Ellie Miller…" – Hardy's heart skipped a beat – "Did you have that affair they accused you of?"

"No. We did not," he replied firmly.

"Was there anything going on between you and her after her husband was arrested?"

"Don't be silly," he avoided a direct answer.

"Mum made some comments, that you seemed very…" – there was a slight hesitation – "… enamored with her."

Hardy wondered what words Tess really had used, what ideas she'd planted in Daisy's head.

Sighing, he set out to explain a relationship to his daughter that he couldn't even explain to himself.

"When I came to Broadchurch, I was very lonely, Daisy. No one wanted anything to do with me. I was tainted by the Sandbrook murder case and my failure in solving it. When the boy was murdered, I felt it was my penance to close the case at all costs. Miller told me it wasn't worth killing myself over it, but to me it was. I solved it, but it destroyed her life."

Daisy was listening with wide eyes, her fingers curled into the sheets. It wasn't easy to confess to her that he had cared so little about his life at the time.

"I saw her change, just like Sandbrook had changed me. And I couldn't bear the thought. I was very ill at the time, and when Joe Miller's case went to trial, I asked Ellie for help. I couldn't go on by myself and in a way I think she couldn't either. It helped her to keep her sanity during the worst time of her life. For once that bloody case was doing something good. She solved it. It wasn't me. She figured it all out."

A proud smile flicked over his lips. Daisy squinted at him, a question on her face.

"There was nothing between us, Daisy," he emphasized again. "She didn't even want to hug me goodbye when I left."

"Did she now?" Daisy commented with a pregnant undertone. "But yet she's been taking care of you while you're sick."

Hardy huffed. "She likes to fuss. That's it. Nothing more."

"And you let her," Daisy stated with a knowing grin.

"What? No," he protested the implication her words had. "'S not what you think it is, Daisy. She's a friend. Maybe, hopefully…" he broke off, groaning and dragging his hands over his face.

The memory of Miller's long curls grazing his skin nuzzled its way into the foreground of his thoughts, reminding him of that nervous knot in his stomach ever since he'd come back and had laid his eyes on her again. The tips of his ears were burning.

Fuck, he swore silently.

Daisy's face was suspiciously neutral which made it worse than any snarky remark could have. The corner of her mouth curled up. Then she leaned over and brushed a goodnight kiss on his forehead.

"All right then, Dad. Just a friend. I'll take that for now," she said when she turned off the lights.

Hardy stared at the ceiling in the dark. A previous tenant had left fluorescent stars behind and Hardy began counting absentmindedly.

'Just a friend' – Daisy's words echoed in his sluggish mind. He'd gladly take that. For now, was the last conscious thought he had before he drifted off to be embraced by Morpheus arms.


A/N: At first I wasn't planning on writing out that conversation between Hardy and Daisy but I quickly realized that I had to. I hope you will forgive any possible overlap with "The Ocean Breathes Salty". The two stories are very different, but Hardy's and Daisy's history is still very much based on my head canon about what happened in Sandbrook which is chronicled in "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul". More to come…