A/N: It has been way too long since the last update, but RL this past month has been extremely busy, so I apologize. I also apologize for not replying to all the lovely comments, but I appreciate every one of them. Thanks to all of you who read, leave kudos or comments – it means a lot. Thank you also to three wonderful ladies – HAZELMIST, KTROSE and LILY_DRAGON – who were so kind to take a look and fix my mistakes. I owe you!

And finally we are at that point... Alec returns to Sandbrook...

Chapter 10 – The Long Goodbye

Hardy watched Daisy saying goodbye to Cory. He most definitely wasn't stalking them. Even if peeking around the pillar he was hiding behind might have been considered as such by an innocent bystander. They were holding hands, standing way too close for Hardy's comfort. Cory was a lot taller than his little girl, and she had to tilt her head back to meet Cory's eyes. He smiled at something she'd said and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Her clear laughter carried through the air, a bittersweet sound in Hardy's ear.

He was happy for her, but there was a pang of jealousy somewhere deep inside. It had nearly taken him Daisy's entire visit at Duncan's house to figure out what it was that bothered him. Duncan had teased him that he didn't want to share his daughter with another man in her life. But that wasn't it. Hardy was envious of all the time the young man had spent with Daisy while he had been far away and not a part of her life at all. Cory knew Daisy, whereas with every quip or joke that Daisy made Hardy's ignorance became more and more obvious.

It hurt.

Sighing, Hardy turned away. They'd all taken the same train to Sandbrook. Cory was journeying on to London and Daisy was going home to her mother. He picked up his bags and trudged towards the platform's exit, leaving them behind. He was on his own. He'd gotten used to the feeling over the last two years, so why did it feel so wrong then?

His new flat was quite far from the train station, but he decided against calling for a taxi. A walk would hopefully clear his head before confronting the reality of being alone in that place that was supposed to be his home now.

"Alec?"

He stopped and groaned inside. Bumping into Tess was the last thing he needed at this moment. Daisy had said that her mother would pick her up, but he had hoped to avoid her. She'd come up behind him and had placed her hand on his upper arm. A warm flush ran through him, fueled by years of memories of her gentle loving touch. His body was committing treason, ignoring the desperate screams of his brain that this woman wasn't good for him. Maybe moving back to Sandbrook hadn't been a good idea after all. He briefly squeezed his eyes shut before facing her.

"Tess." He acknowledged her with a nod. He hadn't seen her since they'd arrested Ricky Gillespie, Ashworth, and Claire. They had recently talked on the phone which had ended in her hanging up on him after threatening him about custody arrangements for Daisy.

"I didn't know you'd be coming on the same train. Daisy didn't mention it."

Even after knowing her for almost two decades, he couldn't decide if it was suspicion or glee in her voice. No matter what it was though, he didn't enjoy the smoldering hostility.

Shrugging, he muttered, "There aren't that many trains from Cardiff."

"Where is she then?"

"Seeing Cory off," he grumbled.

A smirk grew on her face and Hardy hated himself for being so transparent. "Look at you. You're jealous," she mocked him with clear pleasure.

"No. I'm not," he denied meekly.

She knew him too well. "Liar. I hope you didn't spoil her visit. They hadn't seen each other for a while."

"They hadn't seen each other? What about me?" he blurted out, immediately regretting his words.

"Seriously? You're going to whine about not seeing your daughter when you're the one who moved away and abandoned her," she threw at him.

Hardy pressed his lips together, trying to keep his composure. His hand curled around his pills in his pocket and he dug his nails into his palms. It wasn't as painful as the jolt in his chest that whipped his erratic heartbeat into order, but it gave him enough focus to hide from Tess how much her venom had hurt him.

"He didn't abandon me, Mum," a quiet voice stated behind him. "I didn't want to talk to him. That's very different."

Tess ignored their daughter and stepped closer. Scrutinizing him, she snatched his wrist. Bloody hell, she must have noticed something after all. Their eyes met, and without saying anything, she dragged him over to a small wall and shoved him down to sit on it. Daisy's observational skills were just as sharp and he was suddenly faced with two fussing females.

"Look what you did, Mum!" Daisy exclaimed angrily. "You made the thing go off. Why can't you leave him alone?"

"Daisy! Don't speak to me like that," Tess ordered her sharply.

They were standing right in front of him, mirroring each other's anger. Hardy had witnessed their standoffs many times in his life, but he had never realized how eerily similar they were in their fury. It was disconcerting.

"Please, Te–" He didn't get to finish.

"If you accuse Dad of stupid shit, I won't stand there and say nothing. You have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Daisy cut him off, her voice growing louder.

Tess' eyes narrowed and a faint red appeared on her cheeks. Hardy knew where this would go. Nowhere good.

"Darl–" Again he was interrupted.

"Don't get involved in things that are none of your business," Tess snapped at Daisy.

Hardy sighed and leaned back. From here on, all he could do was watch the spectacle.

"How is that none of my business? You lied to me for two years. You never said anything about Dad's heart condition. You let him get away with not taking care of himself. You –"

"Enough," Tess snarled. She was flushed to her hairline and the furious glimmer in her blue eyes reminded Hardy of the days he used to be on the receiving end of that glare. Ducking his head, he squinted at his daughter. His worry was unfounded. She was more than capable of standing her ground.

"Oh, you don't like hearing the truth, do you? Well, tough shit, Mum. Dad told me everything and I finally get it."

Tess' face paled. Her gaze whipped over to Hardy who didn't know where to look.

"You told her everything?" she hissed quietly.

If they'd been in a cartoon, a little meter with an arrow quivering in the red zone would have gone off, blaring its alarm, steaming and with blinking warning letters.

He cleared his voice and answered carefully, "About the heart. That's what she wanted to know about."

The pacemaker sent another twinge through his chest and Hardy gave in. He pulled the pills out and swallowed two. Absorbed in what was a routine task to him, their silent stares went unnoticed at first. Eventually his tired mind caught on to the fact that they had stopped arguing. He raised his gaze and was met with yet another disconcerting mirror image of daughter and mother. This time it was a worried one though, all anger dissipated.

"What?" he growled.

"Are you all right?" Tess wanted to know, a furrow parting her brows.

Getting up, he sighed, "'M fine."

For a change, he actually was. Or at least measured by his low standards. A month ago he would have probably passed out, but things were different now. Neither one of them had any idea how bad he'd been, and he had no intention of sharing any memories of those dark lonely hours with them.

"Shit you are," Daisy retorted, fixing her distressed eyes on him.

Hardy hated seeing her like that. His fear of that worried face had been one of the reasons he'd failed at telling her the truth. She was his child, far from grown up, and way too young to bear the burden of a sickly parent. A quick step took him right next to her. Placing a steady hand on her shoulder, he reassured her, "Darlin', please trust me. It's under control. Remember, no more broken heart? Hm?"

Guilt over bending the truth once more gripped him, but the urge to sooth his frightened child won as it had so many times before. He held up his palm with the blister pack.

"I used to take those several times a day. Didn't even help that much. I've barely needed them this past weekend."

Her dubious expression made it clear that she wasn't impressed by his argument.

"Daize, if he says he's fine then we should believe him," Tess encouraged her to listen to her father.

Daisy spun around. "Seriously, Mum? He lied to us for weeks until you found out about it when he nearly died. How can you suggest that he can be trusted?"

Her words stung, and Hardy couldn't help but think that Daisy was referring to more than his health issues. Tess' eyes widened and she exchanged a brief glance with the man she'd known for two decades. The lines in her face that he had never noted before softened.

"I think he learned his lesson," Tess said, her gaze still resting on Hardy. "We all did," she added wistfully.

Silence fell between them. Hardy dug his hands deep into his pockets and studied the stains on his bags intently. He wanted to believe what Tess had said, but her words and actions didn't match. The past two years had left their marks on him, changing him forever. He wasn't sure if he'd learned anything though.

"Do you have your car?" Tess asked softly after minutes had passed with them just standing there.

"No. Not supposed to drive yet," he mumbled. His car had been left behind with so many other things of his past life.

"Do you need a ride?"

He contemplated it for a split second but then declined. The thought of her dropping him off at his new and desolate flat and then taking Daisy with her to the place he used to call home was unbearable.

"You're sure?" Doubt was lacing her voice.

"Aye. I might walk."

"Walk?" Daisy exclaimed. "That's way too far, especially with the bags."

"Daize, he's an adult. He can make his own decisions."

Daisy snorted in disagreement. "Bullshit. A five-year-old has more common sense than he does." She resolutely picked up his bags and stormed off toward the parking lot.

Tess and Hardy sighed in unison. Shaking his head, he gave his former wife a small smile. She shrugged her shoulders, shot him a glance from below with those smoky blue eyes of hers, and stated drily, "She's your daughter."

He cocked his head and ran his tongue over his teeth. Raising his eyebrow, he replied, "I see. Now she's mine."

Tess grinned. It was painful how easy it was to fall back into the familiar banter. She stepped closer and put her hand on his left shoulder. She patted it a few times, then let her fingers glide along his collarbone until her palm came to rest over the pacemaker box. It was a gentle touch, but regardless it sent pins and needles down his spine. She gently cupped the bump on his chest and met his gaze.

"She's always been, Alec." Their eyes didn't leave each other's. "I want to apologize for what I said during our last phone call. It was out of line to threaten you. I'm not ready yet to tell her the truth. She'll hate me and I don't know if I have the same courage as you had to face that. You've always been stronger than me and I could never accept that."

He knew how much this admission must have cost her.

"I'm not as strong as you think I am. Not any more," he confessed quietly, echoing what he had told Daisy not too long ago.

Tears glittered in her eyes that were closer than they had been in a long time. Her warm hand moved up from his chest to brush an unruly lock of hair out of his face.

"Oh, Alec," she whispered, her long lashes heavy with her tears. The urge to comfort her was overwhelming and he gave in. He'd never been able to see her cry, and it hadn't changed. He tugged her close to his chest and rested his chin on her head. Her familiar smell engulfed him, comforting and choking him at the same time.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Hardy let out a long breath. She'd said it before, but it felt differently this time. There was a finality to it, and for the first time since he'd heard the words 'But I don't love you any more' he felt deep inside his mending heart that it was truly over. He held her silently until she moved and broke free from him. He let her go, and with it all his starry-eyed dreams of clinging on to the family he hadn't had in years.

It was time to say goodbye.

"I'll walk home," he said, smiling sadly at her.

She nodded, her expression equally somber. "All right. What about your bags?"

"Daisy knows the address. There is a doorman. Maybe you could drop them off?" he suggested, unsure of how to navigate this uncharted territory of truce.

"Sounds fine. We'll leave them there for you. Bye, Alec." There was a tremble in her voice that surprised him. She quickly turned to walk away.

"Goodbye, Tess," he called after her. She waved wordlessly and disappeared around the corner.

He was alone, but it didn't feel as wrong.

Hardy meandered through the streets of Sandbrook without giving it much thought. His feet took him from the more modern part of town to the older core and towards the river. The ground changed from smooth pavement to cobblestone. It was nowhere near his new flat, but he didn't mind. His desire of going there had decreased with every step he'd taken.

Inevitably he ended up at the riverbank. He should have known that he'd be drawn to it, no matter how much he wanted to run away from everything that it stood for. Here, the water was reined in by a pretty stone embankment, opening up to an oasis of peace and quiet within the bustling town center. Iron cast benches were placed under beech trees, and beds of flowers, heavy with a multitude of colorful blossoms, brightened up the grey of the granite.

Hardy stood there for a few heartbeats, staring out onto the water. There was no never-ending sky here, no horizon, and the puny drop of the embankment didn't make up for the lack of the majestic drop of the Broadchurch cliffs. Plopping down onto the bench closest to him, he scolded himself for missing something that he'd detested his whole life.

Leaning back on the iron lattice work, he tipped his head to rest it against the tree that was lending its shade to the spot he was sitting at. Tired from his aimless walk, his eyelids drooped shut. Memories of the sound of waves lapping onto the shore mixed with the quiet trickle of the streaming river, lulling him to sleep. He allowed himself to give in to the weariness, but even more so to the unexpected soothing effect his visit at the river had on him. Maybe he could make peace after all.

When he finally opened his eyes, he was unable to gauge how much time had passed. His gaze wandered aimlessly from the slow current to the lush flowers. Blue and purple blossoms in all shades swayed gently in the pleasant breeze that had helped to cool down the afternoon heat. Another memory was triggered. Determined, Hardy got up. He knew where he needed to go next.

Hardy loitered at the big double doors that had swung shut behind him. The cold mist was like a wall and it made it hard to breathe. The air was pregnant with sweet and earthy odors and left Hardy feeling queasy.

His eyes drifted over the rows of bouquets and flower arrangements. Dark red roses seemed to dominate the picture, finding their ways into nearly all the pieces on display. White calla lilies, chrysanthemums, and the odd orchid was sprinkled in between the burgundy of the plump blossoms. They contrasted with the golden and silver ribbons and medallions that delivered the messages of the loved ones who'd been left behind.

Hardy inhaled the sickeningly thick air and stepped between the rows of benches heavy with opportunities to wish those well that didn't need it any more.

"Can I help you?" a girl younger than the one he had come to visit greeted him. Wild curls that flowed down her dark blue dress framed her pale face. An eerie feeling crept up on him as she stared him down.

He cleared his throat. "Erm… I was wondering if you'd had anything that wasn't red roses or white roses, or roses at all."

The girl gave him a funny look as if his request was an unthinkable one.

"I've got yellow ones," she stated with an indignant air to her tone.

Hardy sighed. "I was perhaps thinking of pansies or maybe forget-me-nots? Something purple or blue?"

The girl eyed him from below, frowning and chewing her lip. "Oh, you're one of those," she said as if that explained it all.

Hardy blankly stared at her, wondering who the hell 'those' were. Considering everything, he probably fit right in.

"Yup, apparently so," he confessed insecurely.

It must have been what she wanted to hear because she beckoned him to follow her. She led him far into the greenhouse, away from the chill that kept flowers alive that in return were meant to keep alive the memory of the ones gone by. When they reached the very far end, the musty warm humidity was nearly too much to bear. Hardy inhaled deeply, regretting it quickly. His stomach lurched and he swallowed hard to keep his bile down.

It had been worth the journey though. On a rickety table, a small but decent collection of pansies, asters, forget-me-nots, and other flowers that he didn't recognize was on display. They were huddled together as if they had to band together against all the more luscious plants.

Hardy tugged insecurely on his earlobe, his gaze flicking over the choices. He'd never been good at making these kind of decisions. Rolling her eyes, the girl helped him pick two pots with a lavishly violet pansy and another one with deep blue forget-me-nots. She suggested a bigger nicer piece of pottery to group them in. After his approval, she swiftly arranged the flowers. It turned out beautiful.

"I have some lovely bluebells that would go well with it," she said without looking at Hardy.

His heart stuttered, immediately reined in by his pacemaker. Teetering to the side, he gripped the edge of the table.

"No. No bluebells." His voice could have come from a tomb, it was so gravelly.

The girl lifted her head and met his dark eyes. "Oh, it's for her," she whispered.

Hardy didn't blink. The girl stepped up, uncomfortably close now, and looked him up and down. Her features softened, dropping the scowl and indignation she'd carried like a shield. Time stretched until she finally breathed,

"And you're the knight who found her."

Hardy's knees grew wobbly. He leaned heavily on the table that bent under his weight.

"Violet?" a male voice called out.

"Over here, Dad!" she replied, her eyes still fixed on Hardy as if he was a long awaited apparition.

A man his age approached them quickly. "Violet, what are you doing here?"

He briefly glanced at Hardy's pale figure.

"You know you're not supposed to spook the customers," he chastised his daughter and then addressed Hardy, "I'm sorry. She has a vivid but morbid imagination. Probably growing up in the cemetery greenhouse didn't help with that."

He sighed and made haste to usher his daughter away. She whispered something into his ear before running away. The man's eyes narrowed as he took a closer look at Hardy.

Hardy meanwhile felt decidedly awkward under the scrutiny of father and daughter. Whatever fantasy was going on in the girl's head, her father obviously was well aware of it.

The man picked up the flower pot Violet had arranged and cradled it carefully in his arms. He shot him a questioning glance. "Are these the ones you wanted?"

Hardy nodded, not trusting his voice. The man lead him back to the brighter parts of the greenhouse.

Hardy was about to pull out his wallet when the man held him back.

"It's all right. The least I can do is to let you have them for free after Violet played her little game with you. She knows the story of all the young women or girls who are resting out there and has come up with her own romanticized version for each one of them."

"I can't let you do that," Hardy protested.

"Please. It would mean something to her." The man smiled at him. Hardy couldn't shed the impression that it might not only mean something to Violet, but also to her father.

"Fine," he conceded. The man smiled with a glimmer in his eyes.

When Hardy was about to leave, he heard his voice behind him.

"Thank you for remembering."

Hardy stumbled through the swinging doors, sucking in the clear crisp air. With every breath that rid his lungs of the intoxicating air from inside the greenhouse, he wondered more and more if he had only hallucinated the whole encounter. Fighting his unsettledness, he held on tight to the pot with the purple and blue flowers.

Then he slowly trudged over the fine gravel to find the place he had come to visit.

It was a simple headstone, dark granite with modern lettering. This grave was fairly new and her own, not like the one she'd been abandoned in. Tess had been the one to exhume her, but Hardy had gotten it out of Ricky where he'd hidden Lisa Newbery's body.

His eyes wandered over the letters. Only her name and the dates. No poem or other words to remember her by. He wasn't surprised and it felt right to him. Red and white flowers from the arrangements that had come with her funeral hung their heads. The wilting blossoms reminded him of death and decay more than of anything else.

He stooped down and brushed away some of the fallen petals, clearing out a spot for the pot he'd brought. He put it down gently, pressing it into the loose earth. The vivid purple and blue stood out against the rest of the flowers, a lively memory for the young woman that finally could rest properly. He placed his palm on the granite that bordered her grave. It was warm from the sun that had been heating it in the late afternoon.

A sob choked in his throat. Then another and another, until his tears dripped on the dark shiny stone, leaving tiny dots and marking it with his sorrow. He'd made good on his word, he'd –

"You found her," a quiet voice finished his thoughts for him.

Hardy's head snapped up, only to stare into those watery blue eyes that Lisa had shared with her mother Marilyn. Hardy tried to clamber to his feet, but the overwhelming emotions had taken a toll. His rubbery legs refused to oblige, and he would have fallen if Marilyn's strong hand hadn't steadied him. She pulled him up and propped him unceremoniously against the next best tombstone.

"Didn't I tell you to take care of yourself?" she chastised him.

Hardy's cheeks flushed. "I did," he protested meekly.

Her eyebrow arched up. "You do look a bit better than when I saw you last on the telly." She shot him a quick sideways glance and then rested her eyes on the flowers he brought.

"You remembered," she said with a sad smile.

"How could I ever forget?" Two years of sorrow and despair echoed in his words.

Marilyn bent down and plucked at some of the dying flowers.

"Maybe it's time you did," she suggested with a quiet resolve in her voice.

Hardy swallowed around the lump in his throat. She was right, but there were days when leaving the river behind seemed like an almost impossible feat. And then there were those days when his heart was lighter, when he could see a future. It was a new and thrilling sensation, one that he cherished greatly. Hardy watched her small figure tending to her daughter's grave, marveling at the strength this woman had.

"I don't agree with them, by the way," she proclaimed sternly, ripping off a dead rose.

"About what?"

"Worst Cop in Britain." She stood abruptly and faced him. "That's not what you are. You made good on what you promised me. You never gave up, despite everything."

Hardy dropped his gaze and studied the pattern of the pebbles under his feet. "I didn't do it, Marilyn," he admitted.

"Nonsense. You might have had some help, but – "

"No, that's not what I meant," he interrupted her and found her eyes. "I didn't lose the pendant."

He watched the words sinking in. First, her face paled and her eyes grew wide. Then she squinted at him, not quite believing what he'd said, and lastly she turned bright red.

"You bloody moron!" she yelled at him and whacked him on the arm. It wasn't the reaction he'd expected. Not that he knew what to expect, but certainly not being chastised like a school boy. He rubbed his arm slowly, idly wondering how Marilyn and Miller seemed to instinctively go for the exact same spot. It didn't take her sharp mind long to come up with the question he'd dreaded.

"Who for heaven's sake did you want to protect to take the blame for this? It fucking ruined you," she exclaimed. Genuinely upset, she paced up and down the narrow path between the graves.

"Was it the woman you had the affair with?"

Hardy winced and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Marilyn, I didn't have an affair," he explained quietly. That made her stop. Her breath hitched.

"You didn't have –" She broke off. "But Karen White's article... the defense barrister... they all said..." she stammered incredulously.

Hardy leaned heavily against the marble of the headstone Marilyn had perched him on before. He blinked at her, his vision tunneling in on her.

"They got it wrong," he wheezed while he waited for the pacemaker to take over his slowing heartbeat.

A warm hand came to rest on his hunched over shoulders. "Are you all right? What's going on?" The anger was gone from her voice.

There was a twinge in his chest and his heart faithfully thudded on at a more appropriate pace. Hardy cursed at how tedious the process of fine tuning the pacemaker was and made a mental note to call Emily as soon as he was alone.

He straightened his lanky body. "'M fine. I have a pacemaker now. Still fiddling around with the right settings though," he reassured her.

She tilted her head. "So you did take care of yourself."

"Aye," he confirmed tiredly. The three letters didn't quite do justice to the story, but it was good enough for now. He passed a hand over his face and pushed off the tombstone, hoping in vain that she wouldn't come back to what they'd talked about.

"What happened with the pendant, DI Hardy?" she wanted to know.

"'S not DI anymore," he mumbled, buying himself time to find the right things to say. He was sure she wouldn't let him get away with a one word answer to that question. He considered making an excuse, trying to hide behind police procedure, but it didn't feel right. Not while they were standing next to Lisa's resting place.

"You're right. I was trying to protect someone," he began reluctantly.

"Who?"

Hardy remained silent, chewing his lower lip and staring at the blue sky. He couldn't admit to the truth, even now after all this time.

"They said it was your car. You didn't deny it. So who did you..." She paused. Her gaze had fallen on his fingers that were draped over the marble, barren without the wedding band that had been there for almost fifteen years. Marilyn's hand came up to her mouth.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, "It was your wife."

He sucked in air sharply and looked away. "You should consider a career in the police force," he said flatly in a feeble attempt to deflect from his anguish.

She brushed his elbow, "I'm so sorry." Coming from her, it didn't sound trite.

"You must have loved her very much if you were willing to protect her after all this," she added gently.

Hardy snorted. "I guess there was a time when that was the case. But that wasn't why I did what I did."

Curiosity shone in her eyes.

"I did it for my daughter Daisy. Didn't want her to find out about what her mother had done. I also needed her mother to keep her job."

She frowned. "But why would you do that? Why lie to your child and the world?"

Hardy stepped up to Lisa's grave and stooped down again. Absentmindedly, he brushed away more of the dead flowers and rearranged the ones that still had some life in them. He couldn't look at Marilyn when he spoke.

"Ed Baxter told me that you talked to him after the press conference when he announced that we'd made an arrest. You asked if I was still alive. I was, but barely. After my wife told me what had happened and why, my heart gave out on me. I had a cardiac arrest and nearly died. Everyone including myself at the time thought I wouldn't survive. I didn't want my daughter to grow up with a mother she hates because she cheated on her father. And I wanted to make sure her mother would be able to provide for her once I was gone."

Hardy felt her steady gaze on his back. It unnerved him, but he'd already chosen to share so there wasn't any point in stopping now. He seized a handful of the musty soil. When he rose slowly, he opened his fist, letting the bits and pieces of damp earth trickle between his long fingers. Looking Marilyn straight in the eye, he confessed,

"It was a shit plan and it backfired when I didn't die."

"When you didn't die?" she cried out. "Good Lord, Hardy, are you listening to yourself?"

He took in a deep breath to answer, but then let out the air with a sigh instead.

"Right," he pressed through his lips. Meekly, he tried to explain what now seemed utterly naïve even to him.

"I never thought the affair would become public. The incident with the pendant, yes. But not how it disappeared. My daughter didn't talk to me for almost a year. I've only had more contact with her these past weeks."

He dusted off the last remains of soil on his palms.

"Does she know the truth?" Marilyn wondered.

Hardy shook his head. He'd been contemplating giving Daisy the letter over the weekend but had decidedly lacked the courage to do so.

Marilyn hummed pensively. "Is her mother going to tell her?"

Hardy's piercing glare was enough of an answer for her.

"I see. What about you?"

Hardy's shoulders sagged under the weight of the confession that was looming over him.

"I can't," he groaned.

"Horseshit!" she admonished him. "Pull yourself together. You're a grown man for crying out loud. You have to speak with her before she finds out from someone else."

"That's what Miller said too," he whined.

"Whoever that person is, he has common sense. You should listen to him," Marilyn ordered sternly.

"Her," Hardy corrected automatically. "Miller is a woman. She helped me solve the case."

"Did she?" Her curiosity was apparent.

His face brightening up, Hardy said, "Yup. Couldn't have done it without her."

Marilyn had sidled up next to him and to his surprise cupped his cheek with her palm. "I've never seen you smile before." Their eyes met. "It suits you. You should do it more often."

Her hand dropped down, leaving him longing for human touch. Then she moved away from him, drawn to her daughter's grave.

"You know, you were the only one who ever really paid attention to Lisa. Not even the press did. It was always about Pippa." Her voice broke and slowly tears began to drip down her face. "The bastard smashed her head in and he would have gotten away with it if you hadn't–" A sob choked off the rest of her words.

Hardy took one long step towards her and pulled her against his chest, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She buried her face in his shirt, soaking it through with the hot sorrow she'd been holding in for so long. Hardy's eyes were stinging, but he held back, standing tall for the two of them.

It took a long time for her violent sobs to calm down and eventually subside. Carefully, he unfolded his arms, holding on to her shoulders.

"Better?"

Nodding, she wiped her puffy eyes and wet cheeks. She cleared her throat and muttered, "Sorry about your shirt." Her hand came up to the spot where her tears and snot had left their mark. Shyly, she placed her palm on the damp cloth, right over his racing heart. She looked up.

"We can all rest now."

Hardy closed his eyes. For a moment he was back in that room in the Broadchurch nick when his emotions had overwhelmed him, breaking down the last of his barriers and leaving him weeping like a child. It became harder to breathe, his heartbeat drowning out everything around him until it was filling his mind. It tugged him under and away with it until a sudden jolt pulled him out of the river and back to the now.

Hardy forced his eyelids open, blinking into the bright blue sky. When he fisted his numb hand, his fingers raked through the pebbles of the gravel path. He must have fallen. Marilyn's scowling face swam into focus. She brushed his hair out of his sweaty face.

"You tried to die on me," she stated drily. "Again."

She was shaking her hand. "That was a nice zap. My fingers are all tingly," she groused.

He rolled over and grunted, "'M sorry."

Marilyn raised an eyebrow, but didn't hesitate to help him up. They stood by the grave, looking down on it. She wistfully eyed the flowers that Hardy had brought.

"She would have liked them." There was peace in her voice and Hardy found consolation in it. Minutes passed. She broke the silence first.

"You know, I'm glad your shit plan backfired and you didn't die."

Hardy huffed. "Should have had a plan B."

Marilyn chuckled. "Typical men... You lads never have a plan B."

Hardy shot her a sideways glance. The amused grin on her face took years off her features. When he rolled his eyes at her, she hooked her arm under his.

"You look like you could use a cuppa," she observed with the tone of a practiced mother who wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Yeah, tea might be nice," he acknowledged quietly and let her lead him away from the place where he hoped he finally had been able to lay his sorrows to rest.

A/N: I have had the scene with Marilyn and Hardy at Lisa's grave in my head for ages. For those of you who haven't read "A Million Holes" – I had introduced Lisa's mother early on as I felt she was oddly missing from the show. Maybe it was to underscore the fact that everyone was so focused on Pippa, forgetting all about Lisa. Hardy and Marilyn shared a connection right from the start and I couldn't wait for her to meet him again after he'd found her daughter. I have to confess – there are pieces of the story missing which I've been working on though. It's the time around Lee Ashworth's original trial and what happened then. It'll be part of "A Million Holes 3" for those who are interested.

And I hope you forgive me my indulgence with the greenhouse scene. As soon as I realized that Hardy needed to get the flowers somewhere it popped up in my crazy brain, and I just couldn't get eerie Violet and her morbid dreams out of my head until I wrote it.