Ellie plopped down on the chair in front of Hardy's desk. "What's gotten into you? You've got that face on."

"What face is that then?" he asked.

"The brooding face. Something's bothering you," she said. Two years in and she knew him all too well.

"Close the door, Miller," he said, scrubbing at his face.

Concerned, Ellie got up and did as he asked. She sat back down and leaned forward. "What's going on?"

"I did something stupid last night," he said with a sigh, barely avoiding looking at her.

"Oh yeah?" she prompted.

"I...kissed Rose. Well, she kissed me. But I let her. I kissed her back. I don't know what the hell I was thinking," he said petulantly.

"Whoa, hold on. Did you just say you kissed Rose? What the hell were you thinking?" Ellie exclaimed.

"I don't know!" he shouted, frustrated. "I took advantage of her. It was stupid. I know I look like her fiance...she probably didn't even think it was me she was kissing. Thing was Ellie...it just felt right. Something about it felt right."

"Well now I know you've lost it. Alec, you can't. That girl needs a friend right now...not someone to confuse and complicate her emotions"

"Don't you think I know that? I feel horrible about it. Because I enjoyed it," he said with a grimace. "It's just been so long. It felt good to touch another person like that. God, I'm going to hell."

"Well, you did say she kissed you. Suppose you're not entirely to blame. What happened leading up to that? I mean, what were you guys talking about?" Ellie asked.

"Nothing. She thanked me, told me she had a nice time, I told her it was my pleasure, and then she grabbed me and snogged me. I was caught completely off guard," he replied.

"Well what're you going to do?" Ellie questioned.

"Suppose I need to call and apologize," he said with a frown. "Blimey, I don't even have her number. Miller, you've got her number, give it to me."

Ellie shook her head. "Sorry Charlie, no can do. If Rose wanted you to have her number, she would've given it to you."

"Oh, come on. You're kidding, right? We went out to eat together. She kissed me, I think we're a bit past all that now," Alec replied, irritated.

"Nope. Not gonna happen," Ellie said firmly.

"Fine. If you're not going to help me, get out. I've got stuff to do," he said, waving at the door.

"Whatever, Mister Grumpy Pants. I'll see you later," she said, getting up and leaving the office.

Alec flicked his eyes back to the computer screen. How much could he really look like Rose Tyler's dead fiance? Maybe it was time to do a little a research. He exited out of the report he'd been reading and pulled up Google. That was the simplest way, honestly. If those searches didn't turn up anything, he could access the police database, do a search that way. He tapped his finger against the desk, thinking. How to find it? He typed in "John Smith school shooting England" and hit enter. Dozens of results came back. He clicked on the first link, an article in the Telegraph titled "Tragedy Strikes King's College". The page loaded, and he was confronted by his own face at the top of the page, just one of many among pictures of the sixteen victims.

He felt his mouth go dry. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. John Smith didn't just look like him-he was iidentical/i to him. Same hair, same eyes, same face, hell, even the same glasses. It wasn't just weird, it was uncanny. Very briefly, he entertained the idea that his parents had lied to him, and he'd been a twin separated at birth. But that didn't make sense. Rose had told him it would've been John's 35th birthday on that Sunday, the 23rd of November. Alec was 38, and born on July 7th. So they couldn't be twins. But was it possible they were somehow related? That was the only explanation he could think of. His eyes scanned the article, reading the details. He had remembered hearing about the King's College shooting. It had stuck out of course because it was the first of its kind in many years. The last school shooting in England had been the Dunblane massacre of 1996. Apparently the killer, a 22 year old student named Kevin Clark had taken a rifle to the college on Halloween and open fired. He'd killed six professors and ten students before turning the gun on himself. No one knew why or where he'd even gotten the gun. Clark had been diagnosed with schizophrenia the previous term. The few who knew him said he'd seemed tortured.

He picked up the phone and dialed his father. He hadn't talked to his dad in ages, and felt a little bit bad about doing it only because he essentially wanted something. His father answered on the fifth ring.

"Hello?" Ewan Hardy said pleasantly.

"Hi, dad. It's me. Listen, I just had a question. Do you know if there's anyone in our family named John Smith?"

"No, I don't think so. Why?" his father replied, sounding puzzled.

"Ah, no reason. Just forget I mentioned it. So, how are you?" Alec asked.

"I'm good. Been gardening, bird watching. Your mum's been knitting, even though her arthritis is acting up. But we're good, we're good. And you son? How are you?"

"Oh I'm fine, fine," Alec lied. "Just been busy with work and all that. Actually, I need to get back. But I'll call you soon, okay?"

"That would be nice. I'm sure your mother would like to say hello. She's sleeping now."

"Alright, dad. Goodbye," Alec said, hanging up the phone. He sat back in his chair and puffed out a breath. He wasn't really busy, actually. In fact, it had been a particularly slow day. He thought he could probably afford to slip away, at least for no more than an hour. Certainly long enough to drive over to Rose's house and apologize. He grabbed his coat and slipped out of the office, still pondering the mystery of his double, John Smith.

Rose was lounging on the sofa, eating a pint of Chubby Hubby and watching Supernatural when the doorbell rang. She set the ice cream down, got up and answered the door. Alec Hardy was standing on the other side.

"Oh. Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied. He looked anxious. "Listen, about last night…"

"What about it?"

"The kiss. We shouldn't have done it. It was wrong. Your fiance just died, and I'm not him. I took advantage, and I'm sorry," he said earnestly.

"What are you sorry for? I'm the one who kissed you," Rose pointed out.

"Yeah, but I could've stopped you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You don't know me very well," she said with a sardonic smile. "You're right...we shouldn't have done it. But I'm not sorry it happened. I know you're not my fiance, Alec. But can't I just like you for you?"

Her answer took him by surprise. Several emotions flitted across his face before he was able to find his voice again. "Well, sure. I mean, I suppose. There's really no reason why you shouldn't, I guess."

He sounded so much like John then that it made her heart ache. "So what do we do now?"

"I think we should agree...no more kissing," he said uncomfortably. "Just friends."

"Right. No more kissing. Friends. Okay," Rose said, nodding.

"Alright then. I'd better get back. I guess I'll see you Thursday night at Ellie's?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course. See you there," she said, toying with her hair.

"Okay. Bye," he said, turning and walking down the steps. Rose stepped back inside and shut the door.

She knew Alec was right, but she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Surely, it was her fault, though. She had rushed things by kissing him. Still, he had taken the blame, saying he had taken advantage of her. That was a laugh. She had wanted to kiss him. Sighing, she put the rest of her ice cream back in the icebox and resumed watching Supernatural. Sam and Dean weren't enough to get her mind off of the detective, though. Eventually, she abandoned the sofa altogether in favor of taking a cold shower.

Monday morning at 9am, Rose was waiting outside the Seaside Soapery. Around 9:15, a harried looking woman approached the shop-it was the owner, Charlotte.

"Sorry I'm late, my car wouldn't start," she said, unlocking the door of the shop. A bell jingled above them as they walked in. "You can put your bag and your coat in the backroom here. I've got to get the till out of the safe."

Rose shrugged out of her her pea coat and hung it and her bag on a hook on the wall. She waited while Charlotte tinkered with the safe, cursing softly as she did. Finally, she pulled it open and retrieved her prize. "Come on then," she said, gesturing for Rose to follow her. "First thing's first, you have to hit open on the register. The drawer will pop open, and you can put the till inside. Then you need to set the float. The float is £200. That's it, and the register is good to go. It's pretty simple. Understand so far?"

"Yeah, I think I've got it. Open the register, enter the float," Rose repeated.

"You have to enter the price of each item manually when ringing a sale, we don't have a scanner. Every item, except soap and bath bombs has a sticker on it. Bath bombs are all £3. If someone wants soap, you cut it right off the loaf and weight it on the scale. The price is calculated according to weight. The scale will tell you how much it costs when you weight it. After you weigh it, you wrap it in a piece of paper and put one of our stickers on it. If someone spends £40 or more, they get a free bar of soap, no more than 113 grams. You don't ring the free soap in, you just mark it on the sheet by the register. So far, so good?"

"Yep, I got it," Rose said, nodding.

"Only managers can do returns and exchanges. So that's basically me and Tabitha, my keyholder. But as I'm almost always here, it shouldn't be a problem. Everything sold here is made on the premises, by me. Our signature soap is By the Seashore-it's a combination of lemongrass, lavender, and seaweed. Make sure you tell that to customers. There are aprons hanging up in the back. You can go ahead and put one on. That's the only uniform. Otherwise, you can wear whatever you like. Now, think you'll be okay here by yourself for half an hour? I need to go to the bank to get change."

"Um, yeah. Sure. I guess so," Rose said. The prospect had her nervous. The last time she had worked in a shop was almost ten years ago and it had been in the clothing department. This was something entirely new. Still..it seemed simple. How hard could it really be?

"Alright, I'll try not to be long. Good luck," Charlotte said, walking out the door.

Rose drifted around the shop, picking up bottles of lotion and shower gel, giving each of them a good sniff. Her sense of smell had heightened considerably since she'd gotten pregnant, and some of the things she sniffed were so strong they made her eyes water. Still, most of it smelled nice. She had a feeling she would be spending a lot of money here. It reminded her of Lush, something they didn't have in this universe. It wasn't quite as spendy though, which was a good thing for her wallet. She had a weak spot for things that smelled good.

She picked up a small block of soap, and gave it a sniff. Vanilla and jasmine. She thought Ellie might like that. She'd have to buy her a bar and bring it over the next time they had dinner together. Only one person came in while Charlotte was gone, and they browsed and left within five minutes. She hoped it wasn't always going to be this boring. She supposed it had to be slow this time of year, being almost winter in a seaside town. Charlotte came back, and continued educating Rose on the various and sundry products they sold. Before she knew it, it was three o'clock and her shift was up. Her legs were aching as she walked back out to her car. She was going to need a better pair of shoes if she was going to be on her feet all day. Already being in town, she decided to walk down the street. She'd remembered seeing a shoe shop near the cafe where she'd had dinner with Alec. She veered away from her car and back onto the pavement. The shoe shop was only a couple blocks away, and for once it wasn't raining, although it was still pretty cold. She kept her hands in the pockets of her coat, only taking them out when she had reached her destination to open the door.

"Hello!" a man greeted her cheerily from behind the register. "Can I help you find something today?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for a good pair of work shoes. I just got a retail job and I'll be on my feet a lot, so I need something supportive and comfortable."

"Well I'd be happy to help you with that. What's your shoe size?" the clerk asked.

"I'm a six," Rose answered, taking a seat on one of the benches in the middle of the floor and kicking off her shoes.

"Hold on just a tic, I'll see what I can find," the clerk said, going to the women's section. "Any particular color?"

"Black would probably be best, but anything will do, really," Rose answered, resisting the urge to bite her nails.

The clerk returned with several boxes in his arms. He set them down on the bench beside Rose, and opened the one on the top. "Let's try these," he said, handing her one of the shoes. She slipped it on her foot and wiggled her toes before accepting the other shoe. "So, what do you think? Go ahead, try walking in them."

Rose got up and made a brief circle around the store. "These feel pretty good. I'm take 'em."

"Oh, alright. You didn't want to see anything else?"

"Nah," Rose replied, sitting back down on the bench. "These will do fine. Can I wear them out?"

"Of course," the clerk replied, putting her other shoes in the box. Rose met him up at the register to pay. The clerk peered at her credit card when she handed it to him. "Rose Tyler. That sounds so familiar. Are you related to Peter Tyler, the Vitex guy?"

"He's my step-dad," Rose answered, shifting uncomfortably. This was the first time someone in Broadchurch had recognized her.

"Oh, I love Vitex. The fruit punch flavor is my favorite," the clerk said, handing her back her credit card. "So what brings you to Broadchurch?"

"I'm living here, for now. Just wanted to get away from London for a while," Rose replied.

"Oh my God. Rose Tyler. Your fiance was one of the professors killed at the King's College shooting on Halloween, wasn't he? James Smith?"

"John Smith," Rose corrected him, becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. "And yeah, he was."

"That's just so sad," the clerk said, clucking his tongue sympathetically. He handed her the receipt to sign, and she scribbled her name quickly, eager to escape the shop and the clerk's pity.

"Alright. Well, thanks," she said lamely, picking up the box with her old shoes in it.

"Any time," the clerk replied with a smile, oblivious to how much his questions had upset Rose.

She slipped out of the shop and practically dashed back to her car. She threw the shoe box unceremoniously onto the passenger side seat, buckled herself in, and drove away. The radio drowned out the sound of her crying. It had been a month already since John's death, and talking about it wasn't any easier now than it had been back when it had first happened. She cursed the nosy store clerk for bringing it up, but it wasn't his fault, not really. She supposed he'd probably been trying to be friendly and solicitous, in some absurd away. Her fluctuating hormones probably didn't help anything, either. With great relief, she pulled into her driveway and turned off the car, resting her head against the steering wheel. Had it really already been a month? It didn't seem possible that John had been gone that long. She didn't realize just how long she'd been sitting there until a knock came on her window. She jerked her head up and looked. Ellie.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You've been sitting there for a while."

Rose rolled down her window. "Yeah, I'm fine. Was just thinking. Got caught up."

"You look like you've been crying. Are you sure you're alright?" Ellie pressed, the concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, it's just stupid. I went to buy a pair of shoes, and when I went to pay the clerk recognized me from my name on the credit card. Then he started asking me about John. It just upset me, that's all. It's been just over a month now since he was killed, and it hasn't gotten any easier talking about him," Rose sighed.

"A month isn't that long. God, I was still crying over what Joe did six months later. Everything in its own time. You can't rush grief."

"Suppose you're right," Rose said, grabbing the shoe box and swinging the car door open.

"So how was your first day at work?" Ellie asked, following Rose up onto the porch.

"It was fine. A little bit boring, not too many customers. But I got a schooling on all the different types of essential oils and their therapeutic properties, so there's that, I guess," Rose answered, unlocking the door. "You coming in?"

"Nah, I've got to get back over. The boys are alone. I just wanted to check and see that you were alright. You're still coming over for dinner on Thursday, yeah?" Ellie asked.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Did you want me to bring anything?" Rose replied.

"Just yourself," Ellie answered with a smile.

"Alright then. I'll see you on Thursday," Rose said.

"See you then," Ellie replied, walking back down the steps.

Rose shut the door with a sigh. She was more exhausted from that six hour shift at the Soapery than she'd been after days long missions for Torchwood. She took off her shoes, hung up her coat and purse, and collapsed bonelessly onto the sofa to watch some telly. Hopefully, it would take her mind off of John.