A/N: Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter posted. It's fairly long so I hope that makes up for the wait. :)
To everyone who's commented and I haven't replied yet to: I'M SORRY. This is my first weekend to myself in a while so I'm going to get all caught up on comments/feedback...in between trying to catch up for NaNoWriMo15 (I only have about 6500 words written so far...EEEEPPPPP).
*/*/*/*/*
Miller texts him in the morning, tells him where she's hidden the key and that she'll be out with the boys until evening. He wonders what he managed to do right to deserve a friend like her...even if she's still oddly determined to deny they're anything even close to friends.
Daisy's quiet as they stroll towards Miller's house and step into the living room. They both silently stare at the piles of mail, and Hardy's heart sinks again at the sight.
"Was it worth it, Dad?" Daisy asks suddenly, startling him. "Was all of this worth choosing a dead girl over me?"
Hardy meets her eyes and stands, silent and solemn and guilty, uncertain how to begin, how to make her understand something even he doesn't fully understand.
"It wasn't supposed to be one or the other," Hardy says finally. His voice is husky and soft yet it seems to shatter the brittle silence. "And Pippa…you were the same age-you even look alike. I could have been...I was carrying you from the river that day, and I ultimately failed her, which means I failed you. She's you, and Danny, and every other person who can be reduced to nothing in a moment of rage or hate or cold blood. If I can't help these people, then...other than you, what is the point of me?
"I took the blame for the pendant because it was the only thing I could do that would save you a bit of pain. You were only twelve-you needed your mother. And, ultimately, it was my responsibility, my debt, my...fault. I knew about the affair and did nothing about it. If I had..."
He presses his lips into a tight line.
"It was never supposed to be a choice," he says softly. "I didn't think it would make you as angry as it did."
"How did you think I'd feel?"
"I thought you'd be angry and upset but..." he shrugs helplessly. "I didn't think it would hurt you that much."
"Of course it hurt me, Dad!" she explodes, throwing up her hands and pacing round the living room. He almost staggers at how much she looks like him in that moment, at how much he loves her and how desperately he wants to take her pain away. She spins to face him and glares. "You were my hero! How could you not know that? I was so proud of you and then you screwed everything up and the town turned against you and you left us—you left me! And you weren't a hero anymore, you were just some stupid, incompetent...arsehole! You didn't even tell me the truth about your health problems, either-how bad it was!"
He scowls. "It as bad as all that," he mutters.
"Stop trying to hide things from me! I know all of it! I watched that stupid show that's caused all this!" She makes a sweeping gesture at the mail stacked in the living room. "You let me believe you were this...this screw-up! You let me hate you!"
Her breath catches in a sob. He moves towards her but she shies away and he stops, standing helpless in the living room.
She swipes at her cheeks. "You should have told me, Dad. You and Mum."
"You were twelve! We wanted to protect you!"
"I shut you out!" she says and now her tears flow in earnest. "You were so sick-and you never told me! You were running yourself into the ground trying to hide that woman-and you never told me!"
"You were very angry," he says softly, remembering those early days after his split with Tess, the confusion, hurt and anger in Daisy's eyes when she would finally agree to see him. The long weeks and months between phone calls after he moved to Broadchurch.
"I was angry with the wrong person! You let me blame you for all of it and all the while you were protecting a woman who didn't deserve it!"
"Claire-"
"I'm talking about Mum!"
"Don't lay all of this on her. It takes two to build a marriage, and most of the time it takes two to lose one as well. Whatever it is your mother's found with Dave, it's obviously something she couldn't find with me. You managed to forgive me, darlin', you'll forgive your mother, too, if for no other reason than because she's your mother and she loves you."
She's watching him with eyes that are too old for such a young face. "Why do you insist on protecting her?"
He looks away.
"Are you still in love with her?"
He hesitates, remembering the day before his surgery when he told Tess he missed her, missed being a family. He doesn't really know what he hoped would happen, whether he hoped she would want to try again when things weren't so complicated, or whether he just hoped she would tell him she missed him, too, missed their life together even if it was over. Maybe he hoped she'd reassure him that somebody somewhere would feel his absence, tell him that at least once in his miserable life he'd been enough to make somebody else happy, even if it didn't last.
He shakes his thoughts away and looks at Daisy, watching him with those too-old eyes, waiting for his answer.
"She's a part of you," he says softly. "That means I'll love her forever. But I'm not in love with her, no. Not anymore."
Daisy drops her gaze to her hands and Hardy doesn't know if she's sad or relieved by his words.
"I'm sorry, darlin'," he says, feeling woefully inadequate.
She nods without looking at him and he hides a sigh. All he can give her is time and hope it's enough.
*/*/*/*/*
Ellie and the boys arrive home to a cleared-out living room but she doesn't see hide nor hair of either Hardy until Monday morning when she breezes in to their over-stuffed office to find Hardy Senior crouched behind his computer, scowling at the screen through his glasses.
She pauses, because even though it's been a couple of weeks and she should be used to this by now, she suddenly feels like it's a year ago and she's still resentful he stole her job, still angry that Danny was dead and all they were doing was spinning in circles. She closes her eyes and wishes childishly that it was a year ago, because at this time last year, she still didn't know about Joe, and if they could just go back, maybe this time it would be somebody else and not her perfect husband ripping apart her perfect world.
She opens her eyes to find Hardy watching her. His eyes are wide and dark, an expression she doesn't want to think too deeply about lurking in their depths.
She shakes herself. "Right, morning," she says briskly. "What's been happening?"
"We've got locations on all the AlphaBetties," he says, pushing to his feet and leading the way to the murder board. She sees he's spent some time rearranging boxes as there's more room in that part of the office. She's surprised to feel a little disappointed that she doesn't need to stand tucked in front of him anymore but quickly shoves the thought away.
She turns her attention to the board, where Hardy's already written locations beneath each woman's picture.
"Bianca James is a police officer in Falmouth, Cornwall. Della Goodwin's working at a factory in Leeds. Both Cora Ramirez and Elena Mckinney are in London. Cora's a fashion designer while Elena's a mid-level manager in a high tech company. Ginger Delgado is still in Sandbrook, living on the dole."
They stand and survey the board in thoughtful silence.
"How do we handle this?" Ellie asks. "Face-to-face or phone calls?"
Hardy puffs out a sigh. "Face-to-face is always best," he growls. "If we start with Bianca, then go to Leeds, London and end in Sandbrook, we can check in with Dottie at the end of it. Let her know how we're getting on."
"Have you already made the arrangements?" she asks sarcastically.
He ignores her as usual. "I thought next week for Della, Cora, Elena and Ginger, if we can make arrangements for the kids. We can talk to Bianca on Thursday."
Ellie gives him a long-suffering glare then nods. "Daisy can stay at my house for the days we're away. Look after Tom and Fred. Lucy and Beth and Chloe will help, of course."
"I'll ask her," Hardy says.
*/*/*/*/*
Bianca James is a square-framed, square-jawed brunette, stocky with broad shoulders and kind, shrewd eyes. She looks nothing like what Ellie imagined a 'Binky' would look like. Bianca looks curiously at Hardy and Miller as she shakes their hands then sits across the table from them.
"You're looking for Frankie Livingstone?" she says as she leans across the table, hands clasped in front of her.
Hardy raises an eyebrow. "Yes," he says. "How did you know?"
She shrugs. "I visit Archie regularly. He told me you'd been to see him. I wondered if you were going to investigate further or give it up as a bad cause." She assesses him thoughtfully, dark eyes searching his face. "You look a lot skinnier on telly," she says drily.
"Well, just proves you shouldn't believe everything you see on the telly."
Bianca smirks a little at that. "Or read in the papers?"
"Or read in the papers," he agrees.
She chuckles. "What do you want to know?"
"Tell us about the night Francesca disappeared."
Bianca laughs outright at that. "Oi, she always hated being called Francesca. Reminded her too much of her bloody mother."
"We understand she didn't get along with her mother," Ellie says.
"That's putting it far too mildly. They detested each other. Frankie would have cut the old biddy out of her life entirely if she didn't feel obligated to her. She was old, after all, and somebody had to care of her."
"Did Frankie do a lot for her mother? Run her errands, that sort of thing?"
"Not if she could get away from it, but the old cow had nobody else. That tells you a lot about a person right there. The mum, I mean."
"Francesca felt sorry for her?"
"Not really. She just didn't want to lose out on her inheritance, which the stupid hag periodically threatened to take away whenever she didn't like what Frankie was doing. Which was every day, really." She smiles thinly. "This isn't helping you determine where Archie might have hidden the body, is it?"
"Do you have any ideas?" Hardy says.
She slowly blows out her breath. "I've always assumed he threw her in a dumpster or drove her out to the river the next day and she was just never found."
"So you think he's lying then? When he says he doesn't remember?"
"He has to be," she says calmly. "There just wasn't enough time that night for him to murder her and hide the body so thoroughly."
"Yet you still visit him regularly?"
"We were so close," she says softly, eyes suddenly soft and distant. "I didn't want to believe he'd done it at first. It took the other AlphaBetties several years to convince me it had to have been him. Doesn't mean I love him any less, though."
Hardy and Miller exchange a lightning glance.
"Tell us the sequence of events that night," Hardy says.
"Dinner was at seven at the Side Street Bar and Grill, then we went to Spot-it was the place to be, back in those days, for Sandbrook, anyway, and it made us dream about when we'd all move to London and we'd be able to go to all the best places." Bianca smiles with bitter nostalgia then continues. "After that was Plymouth Tavern, then the Bunk House Bar and Grill, then Blossom's, then Chumley's...after that, well, we're not sure." She gives Hardy a considering look. "I doubt you knew any of the party spots."
Hardy raises an eyebrow. "I was married with a young child at the time," he says, "but I was also a Detective Inspector. I knew all the party spots, only most people wished I didn't."
Bianca smiles before she continues. "After Chumley's, the group began to drift apart then back together again. I know I passed out in one place and Del stayed with me, got me back on my feet and we met up with the group somewhere else, but I honestly don't remember much. I do remember Frankie's voice as she argued with Archie. Not so much what was said but the tones, the anger and the fear…it's the only reason…" She trails off.
Ellie's eyes narrow. "The only reason you believe Archie killed her?"
Bianca sighs. "That and the confession, yes. He was devoted to her-so devoted it was almost sickening! But there was real fear in Frankie's voice that night." She frowns, staring off into space. "She kept telling him to shut up-that I do remember! I also remember her telling him he was going to get into trouble if he kept talking that way."
"Do you remember where this argument happened?"
Bianca's forehead creases with a frown before she slowly shakes her head. "No. I'm sorry. And I've tried to remember-we all have, but no. After Chumley's, it's an almost total blank, nothing but a series of snapshots, really. I know the row was outside somewhere but…"
"Do you have any suggestions about where Archie might have hidden her body? You must have thought about it," Hardy says.
"Of course I've thought about it," Bianca sighs, "but I have no idea. Like I said, a dumpster or he took her to the river and buried her." She leans back in the chair and stares off into space. "Frankie's murder is the reason I became a police officer, you know. It ate at me. Still does, really. It messed me up for a long time but when I finally straightened out, I knew I wanted to be a cop. We may never get the answers we want about Frankie...but maybe I can help others find theirs. I start as a Detective Sergeant next week."
*/*/*/*/*
Ellie drives in silence while Hardy broods in the passenger seat.
"What did you make of her story?" Hardy finally says.
She shrugs. "Nothing new, really. In line with Archie's story and the information that's in the files." She frowns. "If Archie hadn't confessed, I would have begun to suspect Dottie."
Hardy nods but says nothing. Ellie glances over at him and takes in his expression.
"Oh, come on!" she says.
He shrugs. "She's the only one so far who believes Archie is innocent. Maybe it's because she knows it's true."
*/*/*/*/*
They spend Friday going through the case file again, the silence in their office absolute except for the noises of the squad room outside and the occasional comment or question from one or the other of them.
In the early afternoon there's a knock on the door and they look up to see Isabella.
"Oh, God," Hardy groans. "Not more mail!"
Isabella laughs. "It's lovely to see you again so soon, too, Hardy. Yes, more mail." She glances round the still-crowded room. "I see you've made quite the dent in this."
"Been busy," Hardy mutters, flushing a little, because he hasn't taken anything else out of the room since they sorted through the mail at Miller's.
"I'm sure," Isabella says drily. "Well, Elaine has kindly agreed to clear some space in your mail room for this batch."
"How much is there?" he asks, his voice wary.
"A little bit more than this."
"How is that possible?" Ellie demands.
Isabella raises an eyebrow. "Close to Home is the latest craze in America," she says kindly. "Everybody watches it. Hardy just happened to be featured as it's hitting its peak." She grins. "Don't worry-it's all downhill from here."
*/*/*/*/*
A couple hours later, Isabella corners Ellie as Ellie's on her way back from the loo.
"I need to ask you something," Isabella says.
"All right," Ellie replies cautiously.
"Are you and Hardy...?"
Ellie frowns. "Are we what?"
"You know!"
Ellie continues to look blank and Isabella huffs a fondly annoyed sigh and leans closer, lowering her voice. "Are you two having an affair?"
Ellie's jaw drops. "Good God, no!"
Isabella gives her a skeptical look. "No? Never even crossed your mind, has it?"
"No! And I don't know why everyone thinks otherwise!"
"Probably because you were accused of it during your husband's trial," Isabella says drily.
"That was the defense team trying to get the bastard acquitted."
"Worked, too, didn't it?"
Ellie glares. "Why are you asking?" she bites out.
"I was thinking I might take a run at him. Unless you minded."
Ellie's jaw drops again. "A run at-Hardy?" She can't help it: she begins to laugh.
Isabella watches, a smirk on her pretty face. "So, I take it you don't mind, then?"
Ellie can only shake her head, still laughing.
"Brilliant," Isabella says cheerfully. "Could you, I don't know, make yourself some tea or something? Just give me five minutes alone with him."
"What—you want to ask him right now?"
Isabella gives a rueful shake of her head. "I've been hinting at him since I met him with no luck so I think it's time to try the direct approach. I'm going to see if he's free tonight. Maybe go for drinks."
"What on earth are you going to talk about?" Ellie asks and wonders if Isabella has actually met the man in question.
"I'm not interested in talking to him," Isabella says and winks.
That stops Ellie in her tracks.
"Oh my God-you're serious!"
Isabella's eyes widen with surprise. "I'm bloody serious! Have you looked at him?"
"Yes! Have you?"
Isabella laughs. "Out of the two of us, I think I'm the only one who's really seen him, though. Understandable, I suppose, given everything that's happened since you met and with, well, everything else. Well, now that I know I'm not getting in the way of something..." She grins and rubs her hands together. "Wish me luck!" she says and Ellie watches in silent disbelief as Isabella hurries to the office.
She's still not over her shock by the time Isabella pops back out into the hall and gives her a wide grin and a thumbs up before striding away. Shock gives way to rising anger as she stomps into the office and plants herself in front of his desk.
He looks up at her with a wide-eyed, slightly stunned expression.
"Isabella just asked me out for drinks," he says.
"And you, like a knob, said yes!"
"Well, I have no reason to say no," he says then looks at her in sudden horror. "She's not married or anything, is she?"
"Not as far as I know, but-"
"That's all right, then," he says, relieved.
"She's practically a child!" Ellie snaps.
"Thirty last birthday," Hardy says. "She told me just now," he adds at Ellie's incredulous look.
"But what on earth are you going to talk about?"
Hardy's shock seems to ease and he gives her an amused look.
"Why are you so worried? If it's disastrous, it's disastrous. We'll survive." He grimaces. "God knows I've survived worse embarrassments. At least this one will be relatively private...I hope."
Ellie gobbles a little before subsiding into silence.
"Besides," Hardy says, "what does it matter to you? You're having dinner with Will bloody Seymour tomorrow, aren't you?"
"Yes, but-"
"Well, if you can go out with that knob I don't see why I can't go for drinks with a woman who I actually almost like."
"You're such a bloody romantic," she snaps. "For God's sake, just don't come running to me after it turns into a disaster!"
He rolls his eyes. "It's drinks. Even I shouldn't muck that up!"
*/*/*/*/*
He mucks it up in less than fifteen minutes.
He grins and chuckles after Isabella tells him about her conversation with Miller, and she stops, silently searching his face for so long he shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
Isabella slowly nods. "I thought so," she says.
He quickly takes a drink before forcing himself to meet her eyes and raises an eyebrow in question. It doesn't help.
"Don't worry," she says, "I won't out you."
He groans and rubs his forehead.
"Don't bother trying to deny it," she says and leans back in her chair with a smile. "I suspected but, well, I hoped to get a shag out of you at least."
His eyes go wide and now she laughs, loud and full-bodied. It makes everyone in Traders turn and stare. Becca gives him an appraising look, her eyebrows raised, before turning back to the bar.
"Does she know?" Isabella asks.
He scowls down at the table before giving a small shake of his head and gulps almost desperately at his drink.
She hums a little, still amused as she watches him. "Ah, well-it was worth a try. Tell me, if I'd met you a year ago, would I have had a chance?"
He flushes again but his gaze is steady. "You wouldn't have been interested a year ago," he says.
"Oh, I don't know. I rather like half-dead dark-eyed brooding wankers." She takes a sip of her own drink. "You wouldn't happen to have a brother, would you?"
*/*/*/*/*
Ellie spends Saturday with her boys then primps for her date with Will. She must have done something right because when Daisy arrives to mind the boys for the night, her eyes pop wide and she tells Ellie she looks gorgeous. Ellie blushes, gives her an awkward smile and fights the urge to ask if she knew how Hardy's date went with Isabella. It wasn't her business...and Daisy likely wouldn't know anyway.
Ellie spends most of the drive to Weymouth brooding over the fact that she usually can't shake him and today she hasn't heard from the bloody wanker even once. Not that she expected him to call her as soon as his date was finished or first thing in the morning in order to give her a detailed account of his evening or anything.
Still.
She shoves her irritation away as she pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant and finally turns her thoughts to Will. She tries to drum up the sense of excited anticipation she felt in Sandbrook and assures herself it'll all come rushing back once she sees him again. She's right, to a certain extent, and she accepts his welcoming kiss with genuine pleasure.
Unfortunately, her interest slowly fades as the evening progresses and she doesn't understand why. Will is everything she could hope for: handsome, charming, amusing, attentive...
...and there's something about him she just can't trust, no matter how hard she tries.
She finds herself smiling and nodding and even laughing in all the right places, but she's somehow separate from it all. She realizes she's assessing him the way she assesses a suspect, watching his body language and the ways his eyes flicker when he tells her something. She realizes with growing discomfort that there's a disconnect between the smile on his face and the look in his eyes. She thinks of Hardy's rare smile and how he smiles with his whole being, the same way he rages or mourns-or loves, she supposes, if his sacrifices for Tess and Daisy are anything to go by. She wonders if he smiled at Isabella like that last night and her stomach lurches at the thought.
Her phone rings, startling her, and she sees Hardy's name on the screen. She feels a spurt of irritation. She left him alone last night while he was on his date, the least he could do is leave her alone on hers. She gives Will an awkwardly apologetic smile.
"What?" she hisses into the phone.
"Hi, it's Daisy," says Hardy's daughter and Ellie jerks upright in her chair, blood draining from her face.
"Oh, God—he's in hospital again?"
"What?" Daisy asks, sounding honestly confused.
"Your dad!" She's already tossing down her serviette and fumbling for her purse. "What's happened to him?"
"Dad's fine," Daisy says blankly. "He's just out in the squad room with Tom..."
Ellie freezes again. "What-?"
"Look," Daisy says in a rush, "everything's fine-really!-only our phones got nicked while we were at the arcade and we came here to tell Dad and we're filling out the report but Dad thought you might worry if you try to call and can't get us, so he told me to give you a ring so you know everything's all right."
Ellie slowly relaxes. "Right," she says. "Right."
"He's giving me his phone for the night, so you can get in touch with us," Daisy continues.
"What's your dad going to do?"
"He's working late anyway so I can get him through his desk phone if we need him, or at the hotel."
Ellie lets out a whooshing breath. "Awright," she says. "Thanks, Daisy. Let me talk to Tom, yah?"
She speaks briefly to both of her sons, then disconnects the call and explains what happened to Will. Will watches her with a strangely bitter smirk and there's a brief, awkward silence when she's finished. She fidgets beneath the man's level, unblinking stare.
"What?" she finally asks, wondering if she has a bit of something on her face.
He shakes his head. "I'll never understand what women see in that gloomy, self-righteous wanker."
"What?"
"Never mind." He shakes his head and gives her a determined smile. "Let's finish our delicious meal and call it a night." He lifts an eyebrow at her dropped jaw. "I like you, Ellie. I think we could have a lot of fun together, but let's face it-your heart's not really in it."
"I barely know you!"
A laugh explodes from him. "I'm not talking about love, Ellie! I'm talking about your interest in enjoying a great shag!" He shakes his head. "I saw your face when you thought something had happened to Hardy."
"We're not-there's nothing-!"
He waves her words away. "It doesn't matter," he says with an insincere smile. "Let's finish our meal and the wine then have some dessert and coffee before I see you on your way. Never let it be said I don't know how to entertain my date."
*/*/*/*/*
Hardy blinks owlishly as Miller walks in to their shared office late that night.
"I knew you'd still be here," she says with a smile that doesn't even come close to her eyes.
He glances at the clock on his computer with a scowl, then takes off his glasses and leans back in his chair. He allows himself to admire her pretty dress that shows off a slender waist and hugs the curve of her breasts. The soft folds of the skirt stop at mid-knee and her shapely legs are shown to best effect by the dainty high-heeled shoes she's wearing.
He quickly returns his attention to her face. "What are you doing here, Miller?"
"I work here, remember," she says, putting her purse down on her desk and wandering to the boxes of mail still stacked in the room.
He scowls. "You know what I mean."
She opens a box and stares at the jumble of envelopes and packages. Hardy watches carefully, seeing the downward curve to her lips, the slumped shoulders.
"What happened?" he asks.
She shrugs. "Nothing. It was a lovely dinner." She gives him a wide-eyed look. "Expensive!"
"The chips came on a real plate, then, did they?"
She scowls and huffs an irritated sound but he can tell her heart isn't in it. He looks at the time again and frowns, doing the math.
"Well, either you didn't have sex or Seymour doesn't take long."
Her head snaps round and she glares, and horror creeps over him as he realizes what he's said.
"How long do you think it takes?" she snarls.
"Well, longer than the fifteen minutes it must have taken if you're back here already!"
Her glare intensifies before her expression changes and she dissolves into giggles.
"No," she says with a grin, "no sex. What about you?"
His eyes open wide. "What about me what?"
"Drinks with Isabella?" She raises an eyebrow.
He flushes. "Drinks were...nice," he says lamely.
"Take more than fifteen minutes?"
"The drinks?"
Ellie rolls her eyes. "The sex, Hardy!"
He shrugs as he picks up a pen then puts it down again. "No sex. I like her too much."
"You only sleep with people you don't like?"
His smile is wry. "Seems that way. I don't know why this is suddenly about me, Miller. What happened with Will?"
"Nothing. It was a perfectly lovely evening. We had dinner and drinks and then I kissed him good-night and came home. To Broadchurch, I mean. Didn't feel like going to bed quite yet, so came here. What are you working on?"
He rubs his hands over his face and sighs. "Re-reading the statements about the night Francesca disappeared. Comparing them to the stories we got from Archie and Bianca."
"Anything?"
He shakes his head, his face glum.
She sighs and turns back to the open box in front of her. "What are you going to do with all this?"
He shifts uncomfortably. "I don't know."
"What does Isabella say about it?"
He sighs as he pushes himself to his feet and walks to her side.
"She told me again to read and reply to them."
"She must be joking—especially if there's even more waiting for you in the mail room!"
He picks up a handful of letters and drops them again. "That's what I said."
Ellie frowns down at the box full of envelopes and packages then says, "Tess and Dave aren't doing anything are they?"
He snorts. "They're not likely to respond kindly to my fans."
"How, exactly, is anything that's happened since Claire spilled their secret even remotely your fault?"
He shrugs. "Dave thinks it is."
"Well, then Dave's a bigger knob than you are."
He stares at her. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Miller."
She gives him a rueful grimace but her eyes are soft as she looks at him. "Well, don't expect it to ever happen again."
He allows himself to admire her eyes and the curves and lines of her face before he slowly smiles. Her eyes widen and she quickly turns back to the open box. She lifts out a thick manila envelope and says, "This is probably another case file."
His smile fades away and he nods.
"We should read them," she says softly. "Maybe there's something we can do."
His mouth twists. "We can't save them all, Miller."
"They don't want to be saved, Hardy, they want answers."
He looks at the envelope in her hands, his eyes dark and sad. "We can't give all of those, either."
"Does that mean we shouldn't try?"
He looks at her, his head bowed, hair flopping over his forehead, and Ellie's fingers itch to brush it away from his eyes. The urge only grows stronger as he gives a slight shake of his head, his gaze never wavering from hers.
"Well, then," she says briskly, "why don't we go through all these boxes and quickly sort out those that are most likely case files. We can put them in the filing cabinet for now and review them later."
They both silently consider the boxes stacked around the room.
"Tonight?" he asks doubtfully.
"You have anything better to do?" she asks.
He sighs and she doesn't even try to hide her smirk as she moves the box to the table and begins digging through its contents.
*/*/*/*/*