Scowling and drenched, DI Hardy stalks up to the crime scene's supervisor and points at the large, unfamiliar vehicle blocking the entrance.

"What," he snarls, "is that doing in my way?"

The supervising officer—having come to associate DI Hardarse with headaches and paperwork—is uncharacteristically thrilled to have the detective on scene.

"Dunno, sir," says the officer, relieved. "Pulled up just after we arrived, and flashed their IDs. I had to let 'em in, they have clearance."

The vehicle is huge and bulky, a state-of-the-art 4x4 with blacked out windows and no plates. Hardy doesn't have any problems imagining it as a tactical assault vehicle on some battlefield. That nice mental image does not help his already rotten temper any more than a good poke in the eye with a stick would. If anything, it reminds him that he got very little sleep, he still doesn't drink coffee, the police are understaffed and overworked, and he's just been handed a new case on top of his others.

Oh, and it's exactly a year to the day since Rose Tyler went missing.

No, Alec Hardy is not in a good mood. In fact, he's in a very foul mood, and pity anyone who even comes across the wrong way.

There is an ongoing pool among the force, betting on how long it is before he shoots someone (someone who isn't a criminal and in definite and unquestionable deserving of being shot). The money is up to a good seventy quid.

Now, he arrives on his much unwanted crime scene to find…this. Someone warn the owners of the black 4x4 to be prepared to duck for rogue bullets.

"What kind of clearance?" Hardy rubs his temples and prays that whoever caused this mess has a very, very good reason.

"Umm…" The officer wrings his hands and steps back to what he thinks is out of strangling range; he obviously underestimated how quickly a sick-looking man like Hardy can move. "Special Ops, sir. It didn't actually say…just out of my jurisdiction…sir."

Ellie almost didn't believe it, because she'd thought it only happened in books and movies, but yes. She can actually see a vein pulsing in Hardy's forehead. Oh, bollocks. This can't possibly end well.

"Then why on God's Earth would you let. them. through?!" Hardy snarls, eye twitching.

It has been a very long day, and he just wants to go home, have a drink, and nurse a broken heart he hadn't realized he had until after his lady love was already gone. Now, he spends every night praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in that she would come back, so he would have a second chance. Tell her how much she means—meant to him.

The supervisor looks sheepish and wary, and very much like he would like nothing more than to bolt like a rabbit to a safe distance. Ellie feels bad for the poor bloke; she of all people knows how nasty Hardy can get when he's in a proper, rotten sulk.

It doesn't escape her why this day is particularly sensitive—it's touchy for her too, she liked Rose—but he doesn't need to take it out on everyone and their mother.

Ellie decides to intervene before there's more than one homicide victim on the beach.

"Alright," she says, stepping between them; well, really, she's shielding the poor officer from the wrath of a thoroughly brassed off Detective Inspector. "Calm down, sir. Let's find out who these people are before you decide to go in ready for war."

For a moment, she thinks Hardy is going to strangle her instead, but then he backs down and turns away, stalking in the direction of the big CS tent. He mutters angrily to himself about incompetence and interlopers, and on this day of all days. He couldn't have mourned for Rose in peace, no, because

The crime scene team have been kept behind the tape, but Alec can pick out people moving in, out, and around the tent. From a distance, he can't make out anything more specific than black figures, but as he gets closer, he can make out specifics. The "special ops" aren't wearing any identifying insignias or patches, but most of them have firearms strapped to their backs or hanging at their hips—some kind of futuristic, sci-fi-looking guns that Alec have never seen before—and carrying around GPS's like cell phones.

Alec thinks he sees a familiar face—the spiked blond friend of Rose's, Alec hasn't seen him in months, ever since he gave him the letter—come out of the tent, but the closer he gets, the figure blurs and disappears, and Alec wonders if he ever saw it at all.

Bloody hell, it's just like the first couple of months with Rose.

And isn't that a scary thought?

It's also a thought that he doesn't let himself dwell on long, because it's associated with blonde hair and wide smiles, and chips and rain. Rose isn't coming back, he accepted that months ago. If he lets himself think that she's waiting around the corner with a smile and a hug, then it will just be that much harder when he finds empty air and silence instead.

He pushes past a few of the Special Ops when they try to stop him, and after knocking one straight back onto his arse, they just stand by and watch. Ellie trails behind him, handing out second-hand apologies like candy. He gets the feeling that there's some kind of unspoken conversation passing through the air, secrets he isn't privy to. It's a familiar feeling, and as usual, that silent discussion is about him.

He bursts into the tent, ready to snap the head off of anyone interfering with his investigation. The body had been covered with a sheet, but now it's been pulled back and there's a woman crouching next to it. Unlike the Special Ops guys, this woman's wearing civvies—probably a desk jockey called into the field, with short blonde hair.

And she has her hands all over his vic.

He drops a hand on the woman's shoulder and pulls her back roughly, saying, "Miss, what do you think you're—"

His voice disappears mid-sentence when he sees her face—wide-eyed, pale, and mouth hanging open, full of shock and disbelief. He imagines that he's not looking too different at the moment.

Finally, he finds his voice again, only to choke out one, four-lettered word:

"…Rose?"

oOoOoOo

I apologize again for not updating Sunday, I was busy. So, here's the next two chapters. Beware, though, that my updates will be farther apart now, because this was the last chapter I had already written.