A/N - This is sorta based off of The Reichenbach Fall episode from Sherlock, if any of y'all have seen that. Though, I've added a couple twists and all so it fits better with Broadchurch.

Disclaimer - Don't own Broadchurch and certainly not Sherlock. Anyways.

This can't be happening. It's not.

Shit.

This is not bloody happening.

"DS Ellie Miller," a soft voice says. Maybe the voice wasn't soft. Maybe it was loud. For all Ellie knew, the man holding the door open to her could be yelling - screaming at her. She didn't truly know. Everything just felt muted. Everything felt surreal. No. She couldn't go through this again.

She couldn't hear the tapping of her heels against the cold tile ground, or the shut of the door behind her as she entered a small gray room, which was dimly lit. She couldn't hear if she was greeted in the room or not. She assumed she was because she could see their mouths opening up, giving her a sad smile. She sat down at a small table, waiting for the two detectives on the opposite side of her to say something.

This couldn't be happening.

"Hello DS Miller. Detective Inspector June Green," an unfamiliar voice said, greeting her. The Detective Inspector sitting across from her held out her hand, and Ellie took it, giving her a weak handshake. "This is DS Abigail Wright," the woman said, gesturing to the other next to her.

Ellie just nodded her head.

"During anytime in the interview you wish to pause, feel free to say so. I know this must be hard," said the unfamiliar voice.

This wasn't right. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She was supposed to be on the other side of the table. She was supposed to be the one leading the interview.

DI Green clicked on the audio recorder, and started.

"DS Ellie Miller, you have been called here upon being a witness to a crime. Yes?"

"Yes," Ellie mumbled.

"Could you go through the evening of June the 6th, 2016, please?"

Silence.

"What did you see that night?"

Silence.

"DS Miller," Green said.

"I witnessed - I saw DI Alec Hardy that evening, ma'am," Ellie said, trying to hold back tears. "I was on the beach. We were talking - but he was up on the cliffs. I was down below next to the water." She couldn't help but cringe when she said water. She was starting to see why Hardy had hated water so much. "We were talking," she continued. "Er - he was talking to me on the phone." Ellie's throat felt as if it was burning, and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She felt like sobbing, and she didn't care if it would be on tape or not.

The detectives on the other side of the table shifted uncomfortably.

"On the evening of June 6th, I watched my friend die, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Part 1

Three days prior.

Sand. Coffee. Waves. Flowers. Joe.

NO!

"I never killed Danny Latimer - but I did kill them."

"MILLER."

Ellie opened her eyes to a dimly lit room. She was drenched in sweat and tangled in damp sheets. She felt cool air hit her wet back and a bright light flicker on. Letting her eyes adjust, she saw a tall figure looming over her.

"Miller," he said.

Alec Hardy.

"Oi, you wanker!" Ellie gasped, pulling the sheets around her. She was still wearing her pyjamas, but she didn't like her boss looming over her like that. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Case. Just rang in," he said. His voice sounded rough and only now did she notice how sleep deprived the man looked. He looked as if he had just woken up himself; his hair was still in a tangled brown mess, and his shirt was barely tucked into his worn down black dress pants. It looked as if he had slept in the outfit, and knowing Hardy, that wasn't too far fetched.

"Yes, but what are you doing in my house, in my room?" she asked, sounding a bit offended.

"Like I said. Case."

She could tell he had questions. Maybe why she was screaming in her sleep, or why she was tossing and turning like a maniac. She could see in his eyes that he wanted to say something, but he chose to stay silent.

"Get ready," he said. "I'll grab us some tea and we'll go."

As promised, Ellie met Hardy down stairs. He was holding two small cups, and handed one to Ellie.

She gave it a whiff - and instead she found that it was coffee, and not tea.

"It's coffee, sir," she pointed out.

"Well done Miller. You should win a prize for best detective skills," he said. Even in the morning Captain Surly Sarcasm was dripping with snarky remarks.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "You don't drink coffee," she pointed out.

"No. But you do," he said. "C'mon, Miller. Case."

Ellie drove, of course, and Hardy sat beside her. He sipped at his steaming drink.

"Cheater," said Ellie.

Hardy raised a brow.

"That's not coffee, you're drinking. It's tea," she said. He just shrugged. Ellie decided to change the subject. "What is the case about?"

"A woman was found. She'd been murdered."

"Where?"

There was a bit of silence.

"Three miles down from Axehampton," he said.

"No," Ellie sighed.

After all that had happened, another murder decides to squeeze it's way into their lives. It wasn't right. First Danny Latimer. Then Sandbrook. And then Trish Winterman. The close knit community of Broadchurch seemed to be falling apart, more and more. This is the last thing they needed.

"You're kidding," she said, shaking her head.

"No. I'm not," he said dryly.

The darkness surrounding them as they drove down the street lamp lit roads must have been getting to the both of them because they sat in silence the whole drive down. By the time they had arrived, the sun was only just starting to rise.

SOCO Brian was the first to greet the two.

"It's not good," is what he started with. "The girl."

Shit. This is just what they needed at five in the morning.

"Girl?" Ellie asked.

"Woman. Sofie Andrews. Thirty four," Brian said.

From the distance, Ellie could see the bright yellow-orange police tape and a group of four dressed in the same white scrubs as Brian.

"Time of death?" Hardy asked, moving closer to the scene.

"Not confirmed yet, but I would place it around six or seven hours ago, based off of the wounds she has," said Brian. "Not fresh, but not old."

When the three of them arrived, Ellie let out a gasp, covering her mouth. Whatever beauty the woman had before had completely rotted away. Or burned away. God.

Boiled up white skin covered her face, making her unrecognizable. Her body was sprawled out on the grass in an unnatural way and the distinct smell of urine filled the air. It made Ellie sick.

"What in the hell-" Ellie started.

"Who found her?" Hardy cut in. His face looked even more blank than this morning.

"The farmer who owns the property. He said that his dog was going nuts, and ran off leading him here. The poor man was in a proper shock when we arrived."

"Jesus Chist, who the bloody hell would do something like this?" Ellie asked, still cupping her mouth.

"And she was found with this," Brian said, handing Hardy a flat evidence bag. Inside was a small piece of paper with five letters: Hardy.

"What in the bloody hell is this?" Ellie asked.