A/N: All right – finally here it is, the long promised continuation of this story. I apologize for the lengthy delay, but "A Million Holes" took way longer to write than I thought it would. There will be more regular updates now while I'm working on concluding "A Million Holes". If you want to refresh your memory (and also because there a few changes), I've updated the previous chapters. I hope you enjoy the continuation!

Chapter 3 – With All My Heart

Ellie couldn't sleep. Nothing new about that. After staring at the empty side of the mattress for a while, she huffed and pushed the blanket away. No use in staying in bed. She put on socks and a light jacket and padded out onto the landing. It hadn't even been a week since they had taken the house back. It turned out to be a minefield of memories which proved incredibly stubborn to ignore. After a futile battle, she had settled on letting them happen, looking at them what they were, images from a past long gone.

She checked on Tom like she did every sleepless night. He was wrapped in his sheets like a burrito, one leg sticking out over the bed frame. She sighed. They would have to get a bigger bed, he had finally outgrown his childhood one. She left the door ajar and sneaked into Fred's room. The toddler was sleeping on his tummy, head bent back, mouth open and drooling. The blanket had been kicked off, for the fourth time this night. With a smile, she gently tucked it around him and ran her hand through his curly hair. Fred didn't mind being back, in fact he enjoyed all the space, stairs and furniture to jump off from. Blissful ignorance. Ellie was jealous.

She trudged downstairs to the kitchen. There was a brief debate with herself about a cup of tea versus a glass of wine. The latter won. She was pouring herself a red when there was a knock at the door. She froze. Who the hell would come to her house at this time of the night? The knocking was louder now.

She grabbed a frying pan and stepped into the hallway. They only had sent off Joe a few hours ago. Maybe the world was doing her a favor and she could give Joe a deadly head injury, if he should have the nerve to show his face at her house. She couldn't quite make out the figure outside in the dark, but something struck her as familiar. She gripped the handle tighter and approached the entrance, ready to pounce.

"Who's this?" Ellie asked much more confidently than she felt.

"It's me, Miller," a male voice with an annoyingly strong Scottish accent answered.

What the fuck? What was Hardy doing in her vestibule in the middle of the night?

"Why are you at my house?" she hissed, not making any move to let him in.

"Christ, Miller. Will you open the bloody door?" She could hear him rolling his eyes.

"Give me one good reason why I should," she threw back at him.

"'Cause I'm cold and I have to use the loo. That's two reasons. Now open up," he demanded.

"No," Ellie pouted.

"What do you mean, 'no'? I'm cold and tired and really need to use the loo. Stop being a knob," he whined.

"You've got nerve. You're the bloody knob for showing up and ordering me around. What are you even doing here, thought you'd left." Ellie realized she was yelling at a closed door.

Bollocks. This was stupid. The obstinate git was driving her bonkers. She was seriously contemplating opening up and whacking him with the frying pan, when a movement caught her eye.

She heard a muffled moan, then a thud. His body slumped against the wooden door. There was a growled groan and a muttered "Bloody thing", followed by more cursing and groaning.

"Hardy?" He didn't say anything.

"You all right?" She probably shouldn't ask.

"'M fine." Even with the wood and glass between them she could tell he was out of breath.

Ach, for God's sake. "Move away from the door, I'm opening it."

She couldn't help herself but grin when she saw him. His hair was not only as shaggy as usual but sticking up in all directions, mussed up from the ocean breeze. She squinted at the dark. Yes, no doubt, there were some grass seeds and stems stuck in there. His shirt was clinging to him, damp and more wrinkled than normal. His cheeks were uncharacteristically flushed in his otherwise pale face. He was rubbing his chest where he'd had the surgery. His mouth was slightly open and he was panting a little. There was sweat on his forehead and his eyes were dark and wide.

"Jesus Hardy, what'd you do? Did you fall in a ditch or something?" Ellie joked.

"Please, can I come in? I'd like to sit for a moment." He was subdued, aggravation all gone.

Ellie frowned and moved out of the doorway. He staggered into the kitchen and plopped heavily onto a chair, still tugging nervously at his left shoulder.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have come. Bad idea. Should've just left." He didn't look at her.

"Hardy, did your pacemaker go off?" Ellie wasn't sure but it seemed like a valid conclusion.

He nodded, self-consciously moving the hand away from his chest and staring at it. Ellie marveled at how uncomfortable he was in his own skin. His awkwardness warmed her heart, and she asked gently, "Did it do that before?"

This time his head went side to side, a deep furrow etched into his forehead.

"Oh," she breathed. And then after a few heartbeats curiosity won. "How does it feel?"

"It bloody hurts," he snapped at her, piercing her with his hazel eyes. He inhaled deeply and added with a softer voice, averting her gaze, "It does that thing... my heart... 's not beating properly... it flutters," he stammered, trying out the words to describe his everyday reality that was so foreign to Ellie. "Felt like it would stop, just like before." He was rubbing the spot again. "'S not supposed to do that any more. Was scared, it wasn't going to work," he admitted, whispering the last few words.

Ellie remembered holding his wrist and feeling his fleeting pulse that night on Briar Cliff. It had been frightening. She couldn't imagine how it must be for him. They had never really talked about his heart condition besides in the hospital that morning after the boat yard. When she saw him again at the trial, she was deeply disturbed how ill he'd looked, even compared to after his cardiac arrest back then. His movements were so much slower than what she'd observed that night she'd stalked him on his birthday. At times, he'd seemed so weak that she'd wondered how he was still walking around.

Like that one night, when she came to tell him that Claire was agreeing to meet Lee. She had knocked at his door, peeking through the glass. He was asleep inside on his sofa, glasses on his face. He woke up startled and could barely make it to his feet to drag himself to the door. His face had been drawn in pain and his already pale color had turned ashen. She wanted to say something, ask him if he was getting worse, but then she didn't, too wrapped up in her own emotional turmoil.

"You never talk about it. Do you want to though?" She wasn't sure why she pried but something seemed different about him tonight.

He shrugged. "Dunno. Haven't had anyone be interested in quite a while. Sorta forgot how to." He squirmed on his seat. The loneliness that his words implied was making Ellie's heart ache.

She stood up and picked up her glass of wine. More out of politeness than anything else she asked, "Do you want some?"

That earned her some eye rolling.

"I'm not supposed to, Miller," he sighed.

"But you were drinking when you came over for dinner," Ellie insisted.

"Yah, fucking good that did for me," he replied angrily.

"God, you didn't slip in the shower, you had an attack," Ellie exclaimed, sudden realization hitting her. She felt seriously daft. "That's when you were in the hospital for the first time."

"Certainly not the first time." His words dripped with sarcasm. He ran his tongue over his teeth and sniffed.

Ellie frowned. "They only told me about one other time."

Hardy sighed, exasperation written all over his face. "No privacy in this bloody place." He snorted and looked Ellie straight in the eye.

"I've been to the hospital more times than I can count on two hands, Miller. The security guard at A&E at the hospital in Sandbrook knows me by name. A rather dubious honor, if you ask me."

Ellie was shocked. He had told her that he'd been sick for what by now must be over two years but she didn't expect this. She got angry all of a sudden.

"And you still took that job, you fuckwit!" she blurted out.

"For God's sake, when are going to get over the bloody job?" His voice had jumped an octave. "It wasn't personal. I really needed a place to go."

"To hide Claire Ripley," she retorted.

"No, Miller. To hide myself." He looked away, lips pressed tightly together.

She stayed silent. They all knew about what happened at the Sandbrook trial, the aftermath ruining whatever was left of his reputation. She felt empathy more empathy for him now than she had when she learned who had been given her job. Her own life got poured shit on by the press and by the unjust legal system, a fact that had made her see things in a different light. There was one big difference though. She hadn't done anything wrong. He, however, had given Claire a wonderful opportunity to steal the pendant.

He must have read her thoughts, asking quietly, "Did Olly ever tell you they were going to write about the Sandbrook case?"

"No, he didn't. Why?" Where was he going with that? His expression was as stoic as ever.

"It wasn't me who lost the pendant." He was barely audible. She sat up in her chair. Now that was new. She waited for him to continue but he didn't. If it wasn't him, who then? And why would he take the blame for something that would ruin his career? Who would he want to protect so badly? If it hadn't been him who had the affair then?

She remembered that time she had asked Hardy about what happened. He had said a big mistake had been made and when she wanted to know by who, he refused to say anything else. A quick row of pieces of conversation between Hardy and Tess Henchard played through her mind filling in her knowledge of the Sandbrook debacle.

"You don't want to open the case because of what? Internal politics? Or… Personal inconvenience?" – "Me take the moral high ground? You built a bloody house there!" – "I had to leave, nobody stood up for me" – "Should have made more friends." – "Like you and Dave?" – "I still have a job to protect."

"It was your wife," she concluded. The haunted look in his wide eyes confirmed her educated guess. That didn't answer though, why he would do such a stupid thing. Maybe there was no good reason. Knowing him, it could have simply been one of his shit plans that backfired on him. Wouldn't have been the first time.

He gave her a wry smile. "They should really give you your job back. You're good at this."

Ha, like that'll ever happen. She huffed and didn't say anything. And then she realized he had given her a compliment. In his own wanker way. Bloody hell. That's not how it was supposed to work. She didn't need his sympathy. Didn't need anybody so close to her that they could rip her soul out again. And especially not broken hearted, tight-lipped, grumpy Alec bloody Hardy.

Her eyes fell on the slumped figure on her kitchen chair. His fingers were still fisted into his shirt right underneath his left collarbone. He looked sad, staring at the dark kitchen window, thoughts clearly miles away.

She got up and put the kettle on, needing something to do to break the tension. This case had ruined him in so many ways, no wonder that he hadn't wanted her to get sucked into it. Of course that didn't occur to him before he made her his personal chauffeur and dragged her around half of England. Typical.

Despite it being a great distraction from her own mess that was called her life, she more than once had cursed herself, why she'd gotten involved. An image of his big hazel eyes flashed in front of hers. Because he had asked for help, pleading that he couldn't do it alone. He seemed so desperate when he had said he needed to know, if he got it right in the end. His words echoed through her mind.

She had her answer to the why. Without turning around, she asked slowly, "You really believed you were going to die, didn't you?"

He sucked in a breath and held it. When he let it out, a whispered "Aye" accompanied it.

"Is that why you took the blame?" Ellie didn't have to ask to know she was right.

He nodded. "I... I almost died when I found out about the pendant and the affair." He snorted at the memory. His eyes were glazed over, lost in his past. "My stupid heart couldn't handle it. Didn't think I would make it. I didn't want Daisy to be left with her mother who can't support her and who she hates because of what she did to me. Taking the fall for it seemed like a good idea at the time. It was a shit plan." He spat out the last words, self-loath obvious.

She could tell it cost him to be so straightforward. Actually she was surprised that he would be this open. He knew about her whole life and she didn't know anything about him. No wonder he was so screwed up. The physical toll of his heart disease alone combined with the mess that the case had been was probably enough to drive anyone insane. But then add the fact that his wife cheated on him literally under his nose, taking down their marriage and the case alike with one foul swoop, the resulting damage might be irreparable.

He had reverted back to his usual closed up self while she rummaged through her cabinets for herbal teas. She had her back turned to him when he asked for what she desperately didn't want to happen.

"Ellie, could I…" His voice was breaking and he swallowed hard. Spooked by hearing her name out of his mouth, Ellie turned around slowly, catching sight of his pale face. He lifted his hazel eyes to meet hers. "Could I... have a hug?" he asked hesitantly, shy like a little boy.

She stared at the man sitting huddled in on himself on her kitchen chair, very much like he had on that harbor wall that day they closed the Sandbrook case.

'Ultimately we're all alone,' he had said, with such conviction that it was painful to hear. She understood his words much better now, even knowing only a bit more about what happened to him. How lonely must he have been all those months, away from any friends he might have, away from his daughter? As lonely as she had been. She recognized his gruffness for what it was, an act to protect himself and to not let anybody in. She knew all about that now, how it felt and why one needed to be so guarded. And just as much as he seemed to want that hug, that human touch, she couldn't handle the idea of it, fiercely protecting herself from further hurt and disappointment. It surprised her that he would come to her to seek comfort in his loneliness. And for the first time, she wondered who Alec Hardy had been before the Sandbrook case destroyed his life.

She was lost in her train of thought, wearing a sad frown on her face. She caught him staring at her, eyes wide. He dropped his gaze as soon as she focused her attention back on him.

"'M sorry. What was I thinking? I should leave," he muttered under his breath and stood up.

Ellie took a quick step towards him, stopping him from his retreat. He froze, simply staring at her with those eyes that didn't hide the hurt any more. She opened her arms.

"Ach, come here you bloody idiot." He didn't move, frozen to the spot. She sighed inwardly. Of course he wouldn't know what to do with himself now.

"Didn't think this through, did you? Typical." His face wore a panicked expression.

She shook her head, smiled and stepped closer to him. She smelled salt and wind on him. He was breathing fast and his ears were turning red. She awkwardly wrapped her arms around him, placing her hands on his back. She expected him to stiffen up, but instead he went limp and melted against her body. She leaned her head against his chest, listening to his fast heartbeat. It felt good. Maybe she needed that hug as well.

He freed his arms from underneath hers and put them around her waist, holding her tightly against his body. His breathing and heart calmed down. His head came to rest on hers and she felt the prickly beard scratching her scalp. She quite liked it. They stood together in the harsh light of the kitchen for a long time, both of them not wanting to let go now that they finally had found closeness.

Eventually, he whispered in her hair, "See, I do hugs after all." A few more heartbeats passed and he added, "Thank you, Ellie."

He was still hugging her. And he had thanked her, the bloody knob. What the hell was she going to do with that? Now she couldn't pretend any more he was her annoying boss who had dragged her into some ridiculous scheme of his. Where did that leave them? There was another reason why she didn't want to hug him when she had said goodbye earlier. She had been afraid to admit that he had become more than this irritating person in her life who took her job, ordered her around and refused to call her by her first name. A hug wasn't something she could handle right now despite the comfort his warm body provided.

And that was when it hit her. She didn't want him to leave.

As soon as the thought struck her, she tried to wiggle herself free from his embrace, utterly dumbfounded by the realization. Something must have shown on her face, because he abruptly let go of her, spun around and was on his way out, much faster than she'd thought he could move. He grabbed his bag and hurried out the door, without a word, not turning back. She stood there for a moment, fighting with her own demons.

"Bollocks," she muttered under her breath. She snatched her keys and her coat and ran after him. She caught him halfway down the street. He was leaning against a fence, panting, heels of his hands pressed on his eyes.

"Why'd run out like that? What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed quietly, not wanting to wake up all of her neighbors.

"What's wrong with me?" His pitch had shifted an octave up. "Oh, of course. There's something wrong with me, because I'm the fucked up arse who isn't capable of displaying any kind of normal human behavior, because that's not what I do. Ever considered that I actually try and nobody fucking gives a shit?" He was shouting now, losing his breath.

A light went on in the house they were standing in front of.

Great, exactly what she needed. More bloody attention to her fighting on the street with the man she'd been accused of having an affair with and then trying to frame her husband for child murder. She tugged on his jacket, attempting to get him to go back to her house. He jerked his arm away.

"Just leave me alone, Miller. You don't want me around. I get that. I probably wouldn't want myself around either, but I don't get to choose. I'm stuck with me and my shit life and now that my stupid heart is fixed I have ample time to spend with myself as nobody else is interested." His voice was sharp with all the self-loath he must have been carrying around for the past two years or so.

Ellie's heart broke. It broke because up until now she had known he was a lonely person, but she had never allowed herself to see how isolated he really had been. It broke because she knew she had rejected him like everyone else had, even if her reasons were different. It broke because he was standing in front of her, clothes hanging off of him, trying to catch his breath, rubbing his chest, angry tears running down his cheeks, a personification of a broken heart, but trying so hard to claw his way back into life. She knew how that felt.

He had slid down the fence, knees tucked up to his body, head buried under his arms. She stepped closer, carefully loosening up his tight grip.

"Alec, please look at me," she demanded gently. He didn't move. She kneeled down on the street next to him. She put her hand under his chin, lifting up his face. He tried to avoid her gaze.

"It's not that I didn't notice, I couldn't let you. Not because of you, but because of me. I couldn't let you in, it would have hurt too much. And I think you of all people should understand that."

He remained silent at first, but then he nodded. She got up to her feet, holding out a hand to help him up.

"Come, let's go back to the house. It's late. You can sleep on the sofa."

He surprised her by not only taking her hand, but also using the opportunity to pull her into his arms for another hug as soon as he had clambered to his feet. Somewhere inside her it registered that he was actually quite good at it. She smiled.

"Not hugging you... what utter horseshit," he muttered into her hair, sounding as grumpy as ever, holding her tightly. When he let go of her, he growled, "Better get back, still gotta use the loo. Reason why I came here in the first place." His face was stoic again, hiding his emotions.

"Right. And it had nothing to do with what you said a minute ago," she called him out. He glared at her and then shoved his hands in his pocket. She grinned. At times, he was so predictable and although Ellie would never admit to it, she enjoyed getting him all riled up.

Teasingly, she continued, "Wouldn't want you to have an accident and ruin the one pair of trousers you've got." That earned her some eye rolling. She felt like a kid scoring a football goal. Her grin grew wider and finally his lips curled up the tiniest bit. He put his hand on her shoulder, turning her gently towards the direction they had come from. They walked back in amicable silence, his hand resting where he'd placed it. This time she didn't feel the need to shrug it away.

She gave him sheets, a pillow and a blanket and soon enough he was asleep, snoring softly on her sofa. But not after complaining about how uncomfortable this was going to be, how he was way too long for this sofa and how he was supposed to sleep in a proper bed after the surgery. She had told him it was that or the floor which scored her another exasperated eye rolling. She tucked the blanket tighter around him, and watched him sleep like she had done a couple of weeks ago in the hotel. This time she didn't feel the urge to search for his pulse, knowing that that part of his broken heart was no longer of concern. Tonight, they both had made a step towards healing the rest.

The next morning he was gone. The only trace of him was an envelope propped up against the neatly folded bedding. She carefully picked it up. It had its marks of wear and tear, but her name was on it and a few scribbles on the back.

'Ellie, I'm not a man of many words. I wrote this a while ago, before the surgery. Alec.'

Ellie stared at it. A letter. Which he had written to her. When he thought he was dying. Alec bloody Hardy who let her know by text that he was going to a surgery he didn't think he was going to wake up from had written her a bloody letter. She had to sit down on the sofa. Her bottom lip was trembling and her eyes were filling up with tears.

At first she didn't dare open it. She held it in her hands, looking at his slightly curly hand writing. She remembered the whiteboard at the Broadchurch CID and the somewhat jagged letters that he had jotted down for the team. He must have put some effort in printing her name on the envelope.

She got up and took it into the kitchen with her. She placed it on the table while she made tea, now and then glancing at it. Then, she sat down in front of the envelope, holding on to the steaming mug. Eventually, she found the courage to open it.

There were several pages of neat handwriting, nothing crossed out, which made her wonder if he had written more than one draft. In an old fashioned manner, he had put the location - Broadchurch - and the date in the right hand corner. Two days after they had gone to Sandbrook for the weekend. And a few days before his surgery. She took a deep breath before she started reading.

Ellie,

I can't be sure under which circumstances this letter will find you, but I hope someone will have made the effort to get it to you. I would thank that someone in person, but I fear I might not be able to.

Ellie stopped reading. This wasn't fair. He came to hug her, then disappeared in the morning, leaving her a letter that he wrote thinking she would get it when he was dead.

I can't forget the night in the hotel. I feel like I should have said something, when you woke up crying. I should have been there for you and not pretended to be asleep.

What? He had been awake? Knob. Her face was heating up with her embarrassment over crying in her sleep.

But I really thought you might be too embarrassed if you knew I had seen you like that. I know how it feels, much more than you might believe. I was awake because I had just woken from my own nightmare, like I do every night. I told you once, I don't sleep and I suspect it might be the same for you now. I'm sorry about that, and I wish I could take back those three words I said to you, those words that shattered your world.

The letters blurred in front of her. 'It was Joe' - she heard these words every night, uttered in his soft Scottish lilt, haunting her. Sometimes she had wondered, if he knew that he had involuntarily lent his voice to her nightmares. Maybe he did. It wasn't his fault, but it was still his face that was connected with the words that had destroyed her life. She rubbed her eyes, wiping the tears away.

You gave me a gift that night and you don't even know it. Your caring touch helped me go back to sleep and wake up rested in the morning, something I haven't been able to do in a really long time. I guess, maybe I didn't feel quite as lonely. One never really understands how the simple presence of another human being and a kind gesture of caring can make a difference until you experience the utter lack of it.

If Ellie hadn't been in tears already, she'd be crying by now. The loneliness reflected by his words was striking. It was hard to stomach. But when she imagined reading this at the time for when he had originally intended it, she almost couldn't handle it.

I'm very grateful for all that you've done for me. I dragged you into this nightmare of mine, made you part of my shit plan, yelled at you and did nothing to make your life better.

Not true, Ellie thought. He had made her life better. Granted she started from a rather low point, so it didn't take much to elevate that. But he had done more than that. He was the only person who didn't either treat her like a child murderer herself or drowned her in pity. He had been genuine, kind and present.

The best I could be was a distraction from this farce of a trial. You must believe me, I have tried so hard to comfort you, to give you more than bickering and ordering you around, but it's been such a long time for me and I fear I failed.

He had come back last night, trying again, willing to expose himself. Despite her rejecting him over and over again. He hadn't so much failed, as she hadn't let him succeed.

I have many regrets, some are small some are big. One of the greatest ones is that I couldn't be a better friend to you. I've forgotten how to be one and I am truly sorry for that. My life took a turn for the worse when I almost drowned in that river; and when I found out about my wife's betrayal and the dire consequences it had for the case, everything fell apart. I was never able to come back from that, it broke me, in more than one way. And I'm not sure, if I ever can heal from it. I haven't given up yet, although I've been close many times.

A shiver ran down Ellie's spine. He had told her about the day he found Pippa, but she had had the feeling that there was more to it than he had let on. It wasn't until last night, when he had revealed that it wasn't him who had lost the pendant, that it dawned on Ellie how complex his story really was. He had taken the blame for this horrible lapse in professionalism that led ultimately to him wasting away while pursuing the desperate attempt at getting it right in the end. Because he was convinced he was dying. And he was willing to give his last breath to it, just like he had to solve Danny's murder.

Ellie inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly. He had said he was a bad friend because he didn't try hard enough, but the truth was she hadn't either. He had come to her for help, ill and lonely, and she knew and chose to look away from everything that wasn't related to the case. He hadn't been forthcoming, but she also hadn't dug very deep.

Why am I telling you this? I don't want you to feel sorry for me and certainly I wouldn't want you to feel guilty that you didn't know any of this, because how could you, I never told you. That's not why. I'm telling you because I worry about you. Very much.

He did, didn't he? It used to be her who would fuss over him, but if she looked at the past weeks, they had switched roles. He had offered a hug and words of comfort, had fed her, had been willing to give up his bed for her, knowing how ill he was, and had sat beside her in the trial, never leaving her alone. And she hadn't even asked once how he was doing, at least not beyond their standard 'You all right?' - 'M fine' exchange. The pang of guilt that she had been nursing over her choice to look away suddenly exploded. She grabbed her phone, searching through her contacts. Her fingers rested over his name. She put it down. She hadn't finished reading the letter yet. She probably should.

I saw Danny's case change you and although I was more than pleased to see you grow into a brilliant detective, it was painful to see you turn from this happily naive person into a sad and suspicious person by doing so. You said you hate what you became – hardened. I had my part in it and perhaps I shouldn't have been so pushy. I hope you accept my apologies.

Ellie's face was drawn into a sad smile. He sure had done his best to convey that you can't trust anyone. He had been so right though. She idly wondered, if he used to trust before his wife cheated on him and lost vital evidence in the process.

She took a sip of her now cold tea and grinned at the memory of him calling her outstanding in front of his smug ex-wife, who seemed surprisingly bothered by it. He was utterly oblivious of her reaction, only excited over what Ellie had accomplished. After they had met in the coffee shop and Tess had blown him off, she had thought Hardy might still have feelings for her. But now she wasn't so sure any more. Their dynamics seemed complicated, not the least because of the daughter they shared. She was surprised by her desire to learn more about this part of his life, not out of morbid curiosity though, but because she cared about the bloody wanker.

Her gaze trailed out the window. She did, didn't she? Care about him. Not only because he'd been an odd version of a friend, but because she actually liked his company. Again, she was dumbfounded by the realization that she didn't want him to leave, that she wanted him to be around. She returned her attention back to the letter, finding the spot she had left off.

And then I had to tell you about Joe. Believe me, it was one of the worst days I my life and I've had some really bad ones in my recent past. I watched you break in front of me, your world falling apart in a split second, just like mine had. I would never compare what Joe did to anything that Tess did, but the deep feeling of betrayal, that I can compare.

Could he really? Maybe. His wife's adultery at least had been with a consenting adult and not an eleven-year-old child. Who was then murdered by the cheating spouse. She rubbed her eyes. She didn't want to think along those lines. Tess's actions let a child murderer walk free. Ironically, it also indirectly led to the whole murderous trio being apprehended. But not after Hardy had ruined his life over it. He said he'd almost died after he found out about his wife's affair and the stolen pendant. He must have been quite ill already then. Maybe one day he would tell her the whole story. She wanted him to.

I've been watching you go down the same path that I've been walking along and frankly, it hurts. Nobody should go there, and especially not someone so drunk on life and happy like you. I've always been a miserable sod, but not you. And as much as I get irritated by the fussing, people hugging Ellie, I have to admit I miss her.

Her tears dripped on the letters, bleeding the ink. She hastily wiped them off the paper, leaving a smear over his neat handwriting. She missed her too.

I don't have much left in my life, and most of it is compulsion and leads to nothing but more anger and sadness. But trying to be there for you, to help you not make the same mistakes I made, that was at least something positive that I could focus on. Sadly, I think I'm no good at it. I couldn't really find the right things to do and certainly not the right words. That night you drove me home from Sandbrook, I wanted to tell you so much, to share what I had done wrong in order to protect you from turning into me. But I couldn't and I'm sorry for that. Being betrayed by the one person you can think you can trust your life with is one of the worst things that can happen to you. It leaves scars, even if you can manage to heal and function again. You go on with your life because you have no choice, but something inside has died and is gone, forever.

Ellie was stifling a sob. Her children were still asleep and she didn't want them to wake up to their mother crying. She wanted him to be wrong so badly, but she knew he wasn't. The day she found out about Joe, something inside her had died and she would never be the same person again. She wasn't able to admit that to herself until now, but he was right. It left scars, deep ones.

I hate this town for what it has done to you. Their smiley faces shunned you so readily and left you out in the cold, it disgusts me. And it pains me to see that your only recourse was to leave and run. Just like I had to. What I said to Tess in the coffee shop was true. Nobody stood up for me besides one true friend and I wouldn't be here without him. When you came to me that night after I arrested Joe, I wanted to be that person for you, the one friendly face that wouldn't turn you into the boogey man. It hurt a lot when the barristers dragged that through the mud, but I can't even begin to understand how it must have been for you. I should have known better, like so many other things. I feel completely responsible for the fact that the confession was thrown out. I failed you and Danny alike. Just like I failed Pippa and Lisa. And that's what people will remember, if they will at all.

Ellie couldn't decide if the tears on her face were because she felt utterly sad for him or angry about his self-deprecatory words. Maybe a bit of both. When he wrote this, he clearly had been in a very dark place and Ellie seriously worried about him. She eyed her phone again. There were only a few paragraphs left, she might as well finish it. She hoped she wouldn't be a complete emotional wreck by the end.

My only hope is that Daisy will not see me in this light. I'm holding on to this thought as much as I can. I haven't really spoken to her in over a year, it's killing me. When I saw her a few days ago, she had changed so much and I missed it. I missed her growing and getting older. I hate it and it hurts so, so much. Don't let that happen to you and Tom, please. Ellie, if there is one thing I would ask from you, then this would be it. Go and get Tom back. Yell at him, hug him, bribe him, do whatever it takes. If you want to pick one mistake I made and want to be serious about avoiding it, then this should be it. You love him, you're his mother and you should be together.

Ellie could see him in front of her, pleading to not let her child grow apart from her. She hadn't and she hoped that Hardy was happy that he got his dying wish fulfilled. She also very much wished that he would listen to his own advice and try to get back in touch with Daisy. He had said as much, and knowing him, he most likely meant it. There were still a few sentences to be read.

One last thing. I wanted to make sure that you truly understand, how grateful I am for what you've done. The Sandbrook case destroyed my life. It broke my heart in more than one way, and from what it looks like, I might never be able to heal from it. I am trying though. When I came to you begging to help me solve it, I was desperate. My body is failing me and I don't think I will be able to finish what I started. But knowing that you will, makes me feel almost at peace with it. I have absolute faith in you and I hope when you read this, you will have succeeded where I never could.

Thank you for that Ellie! With all my heart (whatever is left of it).

Farewell and have a wonderful life,

Alec Hardy

Ellie put the letter down carefully. It took her several minutes to compose herself enough to stop sobbing. She gently caressed it with her fingers, trying to avoid smudging it more with all the tears she had shed on it. She felt exhausted, emotions riding high. The only thing she was thinking over and over again was how relieved she was that this did not turn out to be a true goodbye. He was one phone call away. Or maybe she should send him a text. Her lips curled up in a mischievous grin when she grabbed her mobile. Payback time. She pulled up their phone history. There it was the offensive message amongst the last texts he had sent her. The one from when he went to the hospital.

It read: Going for surgery. In case I make it, will need a ride. Would you mind?

She still couldn't believe that he had sent her that message. 'In case I make it' - who would say something like that? She sighed, the exasperation helping her to reign in the inner turmoil.

She typed her message: Read your soppy letter. Followed your orders. Reunited with Tom and solved the case for you. Happy?

The answer came fast: I don't do happy.

And then: But thanks for listening. For once.

The nerve this man had! She typed "Wanker" and sent it.

Another fast reply: You can't do better than that? You're disappointing me, Miller. Would have at least expected 'bloody idiot' or maybe 'fuckwit'

And then: Should have been more soppy.

She laughed. Fine. You're a bloody idiot, for not talking to me.

Remembering all the remorse and guilt he had, she added: And I'm the fuckwit for not really asking you how you are. I'm sorry, I wasn't the best friend either.

She thought she wouldn't get a response, when her phone finally lit up again.

Is that what we are? Friends?

And then a few moments later: I think I'd like that, very much. Don't have many left.

She read the messages a couple of times. And much happier than she would ever admit, she wrote back: Neither have I. Friends it is then. I warn you though, I call all my friends by their first name, ALEC.

He quickly replied: I would say over my dead body, but considering the circumstances that might be a bit weird.

Oh, now he had to be witty. Unbelievable.

Her screen blinked: Tell you what. I'll explain to you why I don't like my name the next time we meet and then you can decide if you still want to use it.

And before she could answer, he had written again: I'm sorry to cut you off, but I have a doctor's appointment and they're calling me in. We'll talk soon. Thanks for last night.

Ellie put her phone on the table and picked up the letter. She placed it back in the envelope, walked up the stairs and put it carefully in her nightstand drawer. To read it again soon. Her heart was heavy and light at the same time. Heavy with all the sorrow that his words had carried, but light with the knowledge that they both were moving on. She was grateful that he was the stubborn git that he was and had clung onto life despite all the things that happened to him.

When she was back in the kitchen, she sent him one more message: Thank you for caring. Thank you for being there for me when I needed someone.

Surprisingly her phone lit up: Who's soppy now?

And then: Don't mention it. That's what friends do, Ellie. Gotta go, the nurse gave me the evil eye. They don't like me, can't imagine why. Something about being difficult. Can you believe it ;-)

Ellie almost fainted. He had sent her a winky face.

You just sent a ;-) to me. Did they give you drugs? Did someone steal your phone? Is this really Alec Hardy?

All she got was this: ;-p

And that was the last she heard from him until he left her a message a couple days later, letting her know he was visiting a friend in Cardiff until he figured out where to stay. She missed him already.