Warning: Discussions about stalking and stalking behaviour.

Ellie

Ellie opens the door before they're even half-way up the walk. Hardy takes one look at her expression and flushes, but to his credit, his gaze doesn't waver.

"Is this your doing?" she demands.

He rolls his eyes. "Would I be here begging for help if it were?"

Her mutinous expression doesn't soften until she looks at Daisy. Ellie gives her a smile and says, "The loo's down the hall...although maybe you'd rather not think about loos right now." She makes a face and Daisy gives the ghost of a giggle. Even Hardy's lips twitch. "Tom and Fred are in the back and they're going to take you over to our friend Beth's place. Her daughter, Chloe, is about your age, and we thought you might like to meet. We'll be over in a little while."

Daisy glances from Ellie to her father and back again. "He didn't do this," she says clearly.

Ellie's smile disappears. "I know he didn't. But a wise man once told me never to trust, so I have to ask the questions."

Daisy doesn't smile. "No," she says, "you don't. Not about this. Not about him."

Hardy puts a comforting hand at the base of Daisy's neck. "Don't worry about me, darlin'. Miller's just as upset by all this as we are and she needs to let her anger out. She doesn't mean half of what she says to me, anyway, and this is no different. Go on. Go with Tom and Fred, meet Beth and Chloe and Beth's wee bairn, and do your best not to worry."

He gives her a reassuring smile and she reluctantly leaves them.

Ellie holds her tongue until she hears the back door close then rounds on him.

"For God's sake, Hardy! Why didn't you tell me things were escalating with your stalker?"

"I didn't know they were escalating until Daisy showed me the video this morning! My God, why would I suspect someone put cameras in me own bathroom?"

He follows as she stomps into the kitchen and starts opening then banging shut cupboard doors as she rages, spilling out an almost incoherent stream of words calling him everything from moron to idiot to wanker to knob and beyond, until she finally slams the last one shut and yells, "And I have nothing to fucking drink in this house!"

She sees him move as if to put a comforting hand on her shoulder before he hesitates and instead crosses his arms as he leans against one of the cupboards.

"Why are you so upset?" he asks and his calm demeanour makes Ellie want to scream even louder at him. She grips the sink and leans over it, breathing heavily while he waits in silence.

"I used that loo," she whispers. "So did Tom and Fred."

"I know. Why do you think I'm here? Why do you think I brought Daisy here?" His voice begins to rise and his accent thickens as he straightens and begins stalking around the kitchen. "Do you think you're the only one who loves their children? Worries about them? She's been living with me, living her life in front of cameras I didn't even know existed! I don't care if some anonymous sick bastard wants to plaster my naked arse all over the Internet, but that little girl is all I have! She's the only good thing I've ever done and I will do whatever I have to do to protect her. I almost ruined my career for her, I ignored her mother's infidelities so I could stay with her. I will die for her. I will kill for her. And whoever this bastard is will find out just how far I'll go if he decides to target her!"

He stops, looming in front of her, eyes wild, teeth bared in a feral snarl, chest heaving from the fury of his feelings. Ellie stares as she presses back against the cupboard. For the first time since they met, she genuinely feels Hardy is a dangerous man, and she remembers his words when they were investigating Danny's death: everyone's capable of murder, given the right circumstances.

She's just discovered what those circumstances are for Alec Hardy.

She clears her throat and says, "It's not your arse that's plastered all over the Internet."

He flushes a deep red and closes his eyes as he deflates. He presses a hand to his forehead and groans.

"Well, then," she says briskly, "let's get started."

He opens his eyes and stares at her with a puzzled frown.

"What?" Ellie says. "Did you think I was just going to be a child-minder service? We're detectives, Hardy, let's fucking detect."

They go to Beth's place first where she greets him with a tentative half-smile.

"I wanted to see you again," she says as she leads them into the living room where the kids are gathered, "but this isn't quite how I expected it."

He gives her a faint smile and shrugs.

"What are we going to do now, Dad?" Daisy asks.

"We're going to get you set up here in Broadchurch." He sighs. "I don't know if we'll be able to get you into the school or what this is going to do to your schooling. I'm going to keep you here until the end of the term, unless..." he trails off, lips pressed tightly together.

"Unless something else happens," she says flatly. "I get it. We already had this argument on the way down here. I don't want to leave you alone, Dad. They're after you, not me, and you need somebody to watch out for you in Stonebridge."

"We did have this argument on the way here, and the discussion is over," Hardy says flatly, and Daisy crosses her arms and throws herself against the back of the couch with a huff.

Beth's eyes dart from Hardy to Ellie to Daisy and back again. "Is this going to get dangerous? I mean..." she trails off.

Hardy gives her a steady, stoic stare. "I don't know. I can't make any promises because I don't know who's behind all this or what they're trying to achieve. I'll go to the leasing agent in the morning and see what's-ouch!"

He turns wide startled eyes to Ellie, rubbing the spot on his arm she'd just smacked.

"You'll do no such thing," she snaps. "Daisy will stay with me and the boys."

He scowls. "Come on, Miller! We don't know what this-" he stops, glances at the avidly listening kids, then continues, "person is capable of doing next."

"Well, we know it'll be more difficult for them to do anything if Daisy's surrounded by people and not off living on her own somewhere. We'll have some work to do but I think we can clear out the attic and get a bed in there for you, Daisy. Not ideal, but extraordinary circumstances and all that." She turns a dark glare on Hardy. "No arguments. You know it's useless anyway."

He scowls, looks at Daisy and nods.

They leave the kids at Beth's and head to the shops to buy poster paper, pens, wine and scotch before returning to Ellie's house.

They tack up the poster paper and pour the wine before Ellie pulls the cap off a pen and says, "Right. Who are the likely suspects?"

"I don't even know where to start."

"Maybe it'll be faster to start with those who like you, since that's such a short list."

He rolls his eyes. "I love you, too, Miller."

Even with the heavy sarcasm, the words rock her to her toes. She freezes then turns to him with a determined smile. "In that case, I guess I should go to the top of the list."

"You? Don't be daft." He frowns, then says, "Awright. Let's start with this: what are the different kinds of stalkers?"

Ellie nods and says as she writes on the paper, "Current or former domestic partners."

"Enemies."

"Friends, acquaintances, co-workers."

"Obsessed strangers. Someone who wants a relationship with me or thinks they already have one."

"Somebody obsessed with somebody else, and you're standing in their way," Ellie continues, writing busily.

"Or I've hurt their object of obsession in some way."

"People you see all the time."

"People I never see at all."

They stop, step back and look at the paper.

"Right," Ellie says. "Let's start slotting the most likely people into each category." She writes 'Tess' under the domestic partner category and gives him a slightly challenging look. "Anyone else?"

He shakes his head.

"Any girlfriends in the last year?"

"No."

"Any one-night stands? Not really a domestic partner but in the same realm, I suppose."

"No."

"What? None?"

He ducks his head and looks away. She grins at his discomfort.

"When's the last time you had sex, Hardy?" she asks and is rewarded with a glare.

"The people who hate me will be straight-forward," he says, firmly changing the subject.

Ellie's still grinning as she turns back to the board. "Where do you want to start?"

"With the most obvious: Claire, Lee, Ricky, Joe."

Ellie writes. "Anyone else?"

"Not recently. We can go back farther if none of those are viable suspects."

"Right. Friends, co-workers, acquaintances."

"Dave and Webster," he says promptly.

"Sal," Ellie adds as she writes it down.

"Oh, come on, Miller! Not wee Sal!"

She turns and points a warning finger at him. "Don't trust. Besides, she's a bit of a hacker, remember? She could have easily gotten into Sandbrook's electronic files to find the notes about Tess and Dave and sent them to Daisy. Making that video would have been child's play for her."

He frowns and nods morosely.

"Anyone else?" Ellie asks.

"Well, add Missy in there."

"Who's Missy."

"She's a confidential informant."

"Oh?" Ellie says as she writes the name down.

"I haven't seen her for a while," Hardy says, "and she's not really my confidential informant. She approached me in the pub months ago, then I didn't see her again until a few weeks back, when she offered to work Tom Avenue at the times our victims went missing. See if she notices anything suspicious."

Ellie spins around and gapes. "She's a prostitute?"

"Appears to be, yah."

"I thought you said no one-night stands! Or do you think two nights with a prostitute don't count?"

He rolls his eyes. "I didn't sleep with her, Miller! For God's sake, I'm a police officer!"

Ellie gives him a speaking look then turns back to the board. "Anyone else you can think of?" she says.

"Well, other than every person I may have spoken with or passed on the street? No."

"That's the stranger category," she says with forced cheerfulness.

"Aye," he says with a sigh and comes to stand beside her, his hands shoved into his pockets.

They stare at the list of names in silence, then Hardy asks, very quietly, "Have you watched it?"

Ellie turns to look at him. He's staring straight ahead, his mouth pressed into a tight line, his jaw clenched. He's standing with his legs a little apart, braced to weather the storm breaking over him. She wonders where that unconscious posture comes from, if it's something he was born with, or if it's something he learned to do when he realized Tess was having an affair, or when the Sandbrook case fell apart, or when he was told how ill he really was.

For a split second, she considers lying, sparing him that embarrassment, but as quickly as she thinks it she knows she could never do that. If there is one thing she's clung to after Danny's death, after Joe's arrest, during the trial, it's that Hardy will always, always tell her the truth-when he decides to speak, that is—no matter how difficult or heart-shattering that truth may be. She couldn't—she wouldn't—offer him anything less.

"Not all of it. I stopped once the shower started," she says, and shifts uncomfortably although she doesn't look away. He closes his eyes, and there's something achingly vulnerable about the long sweep of thick lashes resting against the curve of his cheek. He takes a deep breath, opens his eyes and looks at her.

"I didn't do this to myself," he says firmly.

"I never really thought you did," she says, surprised.

That causes his mouth to quirk in a soft smile. "What have I always told you about trust?"

She doesn't smile, her eyes serious. "Yah? You brought your daughter here, to me. How do you know I'm not the one doing this?"

He gives her a look of appalled contempt. "I've already told you not to be daft," he growls and his Scottish accent seems thicker than ever.

"Seriously, Hardy."

"You won't even give me a hug," he says, "I doubt you'd waste your time editing video of my naked arse."

She pulls a face and nods, and a flash of something that might be hurt crosses his face, but it's gone so quickly she decides she must have imagined it.

"No, I wouldn't," she says. "There's something particularly sick about recording somebody without their knowledge. I sincerely hope I've never been, or will be, that...disturbed."

They stand in silence, pondering the list of suspects they'd created.

"When are you going back to Stonebridge?" she asks.

"Tomorrow night, if I can get Daisy settled by then."

"Where are you going to stay when you get back?"

"My flat." He gives her an angry, challenging look. "I'm not being spooked out of my home, Miller."

"But how can you live there?"

"SOCO's pulling it apart as we speak." He pauses and returns his attention to the list of suspects and says, "Although I'm thinking I might invest in some extra wallpaper and put a few extra layers of that shit over every inch of the walls. And ceilings."

She gives him a glimmer of a smile. "Maybe set up curtains around the bed?"

"Burn the furniture."

"Bleach everything you own."

"Twice."

Ellie snickers and Hardy turns and gives her a rueful smile. She sobers, her heart clenching at the bewildered expression in his eyes.

"We'll find him," she says firmly.

Now there is only absolute certainty in his face as he says, "I know."

Hardy

Tom gives up his bed for Daisy and bunks in with Fred while Hardy tries to settle on the sofa. Every time he closes his eyes, he feels the water closing over his head and a phantom ache in his arms and he jerks awake as he begins choking. He doesn't want to wake anyone, and even though they're upstairs, he doesn't feel up to the task of soothing his worried daughter about this along with everything else that's going on. He's the dad, after all. He needs to protect her.

He finally gives up chasing sleep and stares at the ceiling, wondering when and where and how someone managed to put cameras in his flat. It's only slightly better than wondering what they're planning and when they'll strike next.

He rubs weary hands over his face, and groans softly. Thank God they've only been focused on embarrassing him. So far. He suspects they sent the information to Daisy to make him look like a fool in her eyes. The fact she reacted by moving in with him was most likely unexpected because having Daisy with him had made him happier than he'd been in years.

'Happiness' is definitely not this person's intent.

He heaves a quiet sigh and rolls off the sofa. He walks to the windows and looks out from behind the curtains and wonders if whoever-it-is is outside, watching the house. He shakes his head, because that thought has guaranteed he won't sleep. He hesitates then grabs his glasses, walks into Miller's cubby-hole of an office and closes the door. He logs on to the computer, finds the video and sits and stares, unmoving, at the screen.

He finally takes a deep breath and clicks play.

It's mortifying and horrifying and clearly cobbled together from videos recorded over a period of time, and it does imply everything he does in a shower, which makes him burn with humiliation. Yet it's also not as explicit as he'd feared. Under different circumstances, it might even be described as artistic. Under these circumstances, though, it is, literally, a crime.

But now the agony of the unknown is over and it's time to be a detective. He plays it again, this time looking for clues, something to tell him when the different videos might have been taken, and which might then give him some idea of how long he's been observed without his knowledge.

That's where Miller finds him an hour later, hunched over the desk, eyes blinking owlishly behind his glasses when she opens the door and scowls.

"Really?" she demands.

"I think I've narrowed it down," he says, then frowns. "What time is it?"

"Four! In the morning!"

"Well, I knew it was morning, Miller. What are you doing up?"

"If you must know, I needed to use the loo, then I checked on the boys and Daisy, then I came downstairs for a drink of water. I would have used the lights if I'd known you were in here rather than sleeping on the sofa like a sane person! I wouldn't have stubbed my toe, then, either."

"Well, that explains your mood," he mutters and turns back to the computer.

He can hear her teeth grinding so he's rather impressed at the tight calm in her voice when she speaks again.

"Seriously, Hardy, you should be sleeping. Besides getting Daisy settled tomorrow, you want to leave for Stonebridge, too, and God knows what's going to be waiting for you there."

"Don't fuss, Miller."

"You are such a bloody knob," she growls, then frowns. "You've got what narrowed down?"

"You need more sleep," he says, "you almost missed that. A time frame for when the videos were taken."

"Based on what?" she asks curiously, tying the sash of her housecoat more securely as she peers over his shoulder at the computer screen. "I mean, it certainly won't be your clothes—you always wear the same damn thing!"

"You want to know about this or not?"

"Fine."

He hits play, and they watch him walk into through the door, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and Hardy pauses the video.

"There have only been a handful of cases that have left me looking like that."

Ellie gives him an incredulous look. "You always look like that!"

"Here, Miller! While I was here! I was also dying, in case you hadn't noticed, and I'm still amazed I made it through. But Stonebridge is different. I think this was recorded before Daisy arrived, because since then, while I've been working hard, I've been making an effort to be home for her, taking care of myself and at least pretending to sleep."

"Unlike tonight."

He huffs an impatient sigh and turns to look at her, and is startled by how close she is. He allows himself to admire the little crinkles at the corners of her eyes as she glowers at him before saying, "I already told you not to fuss, and shouldn't you be in bed, too?"

She hunches her shoulders up in a defensive posture, then mutters, "I can't sleep. I keep wondering if it's Joe, if this is his way of announcing he's back. What if this is some convoluted way of getting to me and the children? So he can get custody."

"I don't see you in the video, Miller," Hardy says firmly.

"But it was released on the Internet as if you were posting it. And everyone knows we work closely together. The company I keep, and all that."

"We'll focus on Joe and Tess first, awright? Either clear them or not, and go from there."

She presses her lips together and nods.

"If we can narrow down when the videos were made," he continues, "that's going to help." He shrugs at her questioning look. "There's obviously more than one day included here based on my beard, or lack of one, but most of it seems to be one continuous recording. I think most of it was shot after we found Marney's body, but before Daisy arrived." He pauses, frowning at his face on the screen. "Or even the day she arrived, because I'd just worked three days straight on a double homicide and I was pretty knackered by the time I finally got to bed that night. But I hadn't been out of my clothes in three days and a shower was beyond necessary. I even managed to scare off the station's cleaning lady before she came into my office, apparently from smell alone." He shakes his head, thinking he must be tired if he's rambling like this. "So that puts us anywhere from early December to mid-February."

"But we don't know for sure," Miller says.

"No. But it gives us a place to start." He taps one finger on the desk. "I don't know if it's possible to get any information off the video itself, but I have somebody I can call for help."

"They'll be looking into that in Stonebridge, won't they?"

"I don't know who to trust in Stonebridge," he mutters. "Besides, this isn't high priority when compared to our other cases."

"You just don't want to wait for other people to do their jobs."

"Would you?"

The morning is spent talking to the school and finagling a place for Daisy, then cajoling Chloe's tutor, Tabitha Jones, to make room for Daisy among her other students. Hardy thinks it was his fervent pleading that finally made the pretty woman change her mind. He doesn't mind. He would do anything to make sure Daisy's future isn't impacted by this second disruption in her home life in as many months.

Then he calls Alistair Murray, the same man he'd called upon to examine Tom's laptop a lifetime or two ago, and asks if he can examine the video and see what, if anything, can be found out. After some commiseration and good-natured, black-humored teasing, Murray becomes very serious and promises to see what he can do.

Daisy's in the kitchen doing school work, grumbling that Tabitha doesn't waste time, and Hardy is just finishing checking in with Webster when Miller returns home with the boys. He pokes his head out of the living room, phone to his ear, and nods hello. Fred smiles widely and rushes to him, arms held high. Hardy tells Webster to hold on, then bends down and scoops Fred up, perching him on his hip before he goes back to his phone call. He wanders back into the living room, finishes the conversation with Webster, and turns his attention to Fred.

He's smiling at the wee boy, asking about his day and listening to the babbling reply when he realizes they're no longer alone. He turns his head and surprises an odd look on Miller's face. His smile turns into a questioning frown, but Miller just shakes her head and says, "How was your day?"

"Productive," he says. "Yours?"

"Same."

They stand in awkward silence, and Hardy's frown deepens because there's a certain tension in the air and he's not sure what's causing it. He's rifling through his admittedly limited social skills to determine what faux pas he could have possibly made since they came home, then remembers Joe was a stay-at-home dad. Perhaps seeing him with Fred in her own house is bringing up bitter-sweet memories.

He softens.

"I'll be getting out of your hair tonight," he says.

"Oh," she says and frowns. "Why don't you go back in the morning? You have no place to stay if you go back tonight."

"They're finished with the flat."

She cocks her head and gives him that look that tells him she thinks he's lost his mind. Again. "Really. And what did they find?"

He glances at Fred, still perched on his hip. He presses a kiss to the boy's chubby cheek then sets him down. "Why don't you go find Tom and cousin Daisy?" he says, and shoos him out the door and down the hall towards the kitchen. He returns to where Miller is standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips.

"They found where the cameras were in the bathroom."

"Were? Everything's gone, then?"

"Aye. They didn't find anything anywhere else."

"You think they missed something?"

"Maybe." He pushes his hands into his pockets and ducks his head.

"Stay until the weekend," Miller says brusquely, "and then we'll all go back with you and tear the flat apart."

"I don't want anyone else in that flat until I know it's safe."

"For God's sake, Hardy! You don't need to deal with this on your own!"

"I'm not. I have you." She rolls her eyes at the hopeful half-smile he gives her. "Come on, Miller. We both know we have to keep the children away from all of this, and I won't have any of them in the flat until I know there are no more hidden eyes and ears. Or at least I've managed to cover them all up."

"You know, I've learned it's a lot easier to paint and paper when you have help. Tom and I are pros, now."

He shakes his head. "No. Besides, I need to return the car to my CS."

Miller looks at him with a challenge in her eyes, and Hardy braces himself for further arguments. To his surprised relief, she just hums and says, "Dinner first?"

"Oh, aye," he says. "Besides, I still have to soothe Daisy. She's been fighting with me all day."

He wins the argument with Daisy by simply walking out to the car after dinner. Daisy follows, with Miller and Tom hovering in the front yard and he's suddenly, fiercely grateful his girl will have people there for her after he drives away.

"Stay here until they catch him," Daisy begs again.

"I can't, darlin', you know that. We talked about it on the way here and for most of the day. I still have a job to do, and I'm not going to let whoever is doing this force me away from my life."

"Then take me back with you!"

He cups Daisy's face and says, dark eyes wide and intent, "I'm at work all day, Daisy, and you're alone and vulnerable. Here in Broadchurch, there's a whole network of people who will watch out for you."

"This guy doesn't want me, Dad, so who's going to watch out for you?"

"I'm fine," he growls. "You know me. I've been in worse spots and I've always made it through. I'll be back next weekend and I'll force you to spend so much time with me you'll be begging me to leave again, just like when you were in Sandbrook." He gives her a reassuring smile. "I'll give you a ring when I get to the flat, yah?"

Daisy throws herself against him and he enfolds her in his arms, wishing this was all it ever took to make everything all right and to protect her from the world.

"I love you," she says in a tear-filled voice.

"I love you, too, darlin'," he whispers.

They stand in a mute agony of fear and grief before Daisy sniffs and says, "If you let anything happen to you, I'll never forgive you."

He smiles, cheek resting against the top of her head. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You should probably let go now."

"Never."

"It's going to be tough to leave if you're still hugging me."

He chuckles and slowly releases her.

"I meant what I said about anything happening to you," Daisy says, giving a determined shake of her head and wiping a tear off her cheek.

"I know." He hesitates, then says, "I think you should call your mother. You don't need to go through this alone."

Daisy glares. "For all we know, she's the one behind all this."

"Tess?" he scoffs while sending a lightning glance at Miller. "She wouldn't need to go to all this effort to embarrass me-she knows all my secrets, including all those tragic wardrobe choices I made while we were dating." He's rewarded with a small smile. He glances again at Miller and says, "We'll look into it. If I can prove to you that it isn't Tess, will you call her? Offer her an olive branch?"

She huffs a put-upon sigh. "Maybe. But no promises."

"Awright. Now go on back to Miller. I'll ring you tonight, and every day."

Daisy nods and reluctantly steps away.

He opens the door then looks at his daughter, and behind her, Miller and Tom and wee Fred, held in Tom's arms, and he hesitates. He's not looking forward to returning to Stonebridge to face, alone, whatever happens next.

Then he remembers walking into the hospital with nothing but a small bag of clothes and submitted to a surgery he truly believed he would not survive. If he had the courage to do that, he thinks, then he has the courage to do this.

He gives them all a small smile, lifts his hand in farewell, and gets into the car.