A/N - Siblings are at work, and I have time to post! Thought I'd better do this right away since we're drinking tonight and peeling potatoes and that's always a fun combination (we're making potato salad for the dance tomorrow). Plus ~5 hours of travel time gives you lots of time to edit/write! Hope you enjoy! ")

Ellie

Ellie prints the pictures and goes through them each day with her heart in her throat and her stomach churning.

There are ten in all, five of which are Hardy with Daisy. One shows him with Sal, and another with Missy where they're both slouched over a table in the pub. There are two with Ellie and she blinks at the expression on his face as he looks at her, something she never noticed at the time. The final picture shows him standing with a group of coppers at a crime scene, wind ruffling his hair as he squints against the sun, listening intently to the two uniformed officers standing next to him. In the after versions, he's been edited from the pictures in such a way that it looks as if he'd never been there.

Ellie scowls, because the stalker is telling him he could be removed from the picture-literally-and no one would notice.

It chills her as much as it seems to have thrilled him.

SOCO finds no fingerprints, but he tells her Thursday night with almost vicious triumph that they have permission to see Ricky Gillespie and Lee Ashworth on Monday morning, and Claire on Monday afternoon. Ellie's not sure if these interviews will be any more productive than the others. Their correspondence and phone calls are monitored, after all, and if they are making blatant death threats against the lead investigator of the case against them, well, she has no doubt more charges would have been laid long before now. But she's a detective, and she's learned the hard way to leave no stone unturned.

She hasn't been able to go to Stonebridge due to a violent assault on a tourist Wednesday afternoon. While they close the case quickly enough, she's only just finished the paperwork and-she glances at the clock and nods-Hardy will be home in less an hour.

She turns back to the pictures and rubs her aching temples. She's going to give him a piece of her mind about his foolish decision to provoke Karla Clarke because he's right: the stakes have been raised dangerously high.

Ellie recognizes a threat when she sees one.

Of course, Ellie thinks sourly, this has to be the night Hardy doesn't arrive at his usual time, and he doesn't answer his phone when she calls. She sends Daisy, Tom and Fred to the skateboard park because she doesn't want them to see her pacing the house, her curses getting louder and more creative by the minute.

It's almost nine by the time Hardy pulls up in front of the house and Ellie's worked herself into a fine frenzy. She flings open the door and stands on the step, eyes blazing, hands on hips.

"Where have you been? And why haven't you been answering your bloody phone?" she snaps as he opens the gate and walks towards the house.

He slows, eyes widening, and she knows he's flipping through every possible social rule he knows to determine why she's angry. It doesn't take long, she thinks snidely, since he knows so few of them.

Then his face changes as he thinks of another reason why she might be angry.

"What? What's happened?" He hurries up the walk.

"You happened, you-you-you-" Words fail her.

That stops him. "Me? What have I done?"

She glares.

"Lately, I mean."

She just rolls her eyes and stomps into the house.

"Miller! Come on!" he calls as he follows her, closing the door behind him.

She spins to face him. "You should have been here hours ago!"

He blinks in confusion. "I was late leaving the station," he says blankly. "New case came in and I had to finish the assignment."

"And you didn't think to call? And why weren't you answering your phone?"

"Obviously not, and I never heard the phone. Must still be on vibrate. What's going on? You've never worried before."

"You've never received death threats before! You could have been run off the road, dead in a ditch somewhere, and we wouldn't have known anything until the police came knocking!"

He's obviously flustered and she's viciously glad, even as a small part of her thinks she may be being somewhat unreasonable.

"For God's sake, don't fuss, Miller! I left instructions at the station a long time ago and I carry them in my wallet. If I'm ever found dead in a ditch, they'll go to Tess first so Daisy won't hear the news from a stranger."

Ellie gasps, and her eyes fill with tears. "You-you-you-I don't even have words bad enough to call you!"

He's looks rather adorably befuddled and combined with Ellie's worry and relief and her heartbreaking realization he truly doesn't understand how devastating such news would be to all of them, something snaps inside her.

Almost before she realizes what she's doing, she steps close, pulls his head down and presses a firm, hard kiss against his mouth.

She doesn't give him time to react but almost immediately releases him and takes a hasty step away. His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are just as wide as she glares and says, "You're an idiot!"

She turns and storms down the hall towards the kitchen as the back door opens and Daisy, Tom and Fred tumble in. Daisy, glowing with fresh air and happiness, flings herself against her father and he gives her the smile he reserves especially for her. He hugs her tight, eyes closed, then opens them to look at Ellie with a surprisingly vulnerable expression.

She meets his gaze steadily, then goes into the kitchen. Once she's out of sight, she leans against the wall, and puts a trembling hand to her mouth and closes her eyes.

She's started it now, she thinks, and tries to steady her breathing. She takes a moment to decipher her feelings: excited, angry, afraid and curious as to what he's going to do next.

Hardy

Hardy has no idea what to do.

Ellie

The weekend passes in a tense haze, where Ellie makes a point of avoiding being alone with Hardy and his solemn dark eyes follow her wherever she goes.

Not that it's difficult to avoid him, she realizes with growing irritation. Daisy has him booked up for most of the weekend because of the theatre group, and if he isn't off with her, he's watching Tom's football or taking Fred to the playground, or all five of them are off to the arcade. Really, she thinks with annoyance on Saturday night as she and Hardy clear up after dinner, she hadn't realized how much time he spent with the kids during his weekends in Broadchurch.

Maybe it's better this way, she thinks as they wash up in almost perfect silence, at least for this particular weekend. She's nervous and skittish and he's almost as bad, giving her surprisingly bashful looks from beneath long lashes, and reaching out to touch her then shying away.

Beneath it all, she feels an almost delicious sense of anticipation even though she's terrified and excited, wondering what's going to happen next, and already second-guessing crossing the line.

Because he isn't going to change. That's not how life works. He's always going to be grumpy in the mornings. And the afternoons. And the evenings. He isn't going to suddenly sing her love songs or become a great romantic or wait on her hand and foot.

She hides a shudder because she had all of that with Joe. What she wants is something real this time round.

Not that she's sure what's happening with Hardy is anything more than a moment of insanity, but when they finish washing up and he puts a hand on her arm as she moves to go past him, she doesn't shrug it away.

"Miller," he says, surprisingly gentle, "what's-"

She shakes her head. "I'm not talking about this now."

He gives her a puzzled look from bottomless brown eyes. "Miller-"

"Not now, Hardy," she says. He looks so uncertain she can't help but lean up to kiss him, a softer, slightly longer kiss, but she still hurries from the kitchen before he has a chance to respond.

On Sunday, Ellie takes Tom to his football practice, and after, she takes him for a 99 and a walk, and tells him she kissed Hardy.

"Why are you telling me?" he says with a disgusted grimace.

"Because this isn't just me going on a date with somebody you don't know," she says carefully. "And...if...well, it would be serious, Tom. Not just a couple of dates, and you'd never meet him anyway." She pulls a face. "I'm mucking this all up, aren't I?"

"A bit," Tom says, then smiles. "I understand." He pauses, taking a thoughtful bite of his 99 and says, "Does he make you happy? The way Dad did, before it all went wrong?"

She ponders the question, then says, "Not like Dad did, but he does make me happy. In a strange, Hardy-esque kind of way."

"Are you going to keep calling him Hardy?"

"Definitely."

"He going to keep calling you Miller?"

"Probably. Do you like him, Tom?"

He shrugs. "He's all right. Rubbish at football, though."

"When have you seen him play football?"

"He and Daisy kick the ball around sometimes during my practice. She's bad, but he's worse." Ellie grins and Tom gives her a smile and shrugs. "If he makes you happy, Mum, then that makes me happy."

She blinks back a sudden rush of tears and slings her arm around the baby boy who is no longer a baby.

Sunday evening, Ellie gets in her car and follows Hardy to Stonebridge, her stomach in knots. It begins flipping as they walk into his flat and he tosses his keys on the coffee table then turns to look at her, hands on lean hips, brown eyes narrowed.

"Is now the time to talk about this past weekend?" he growls.

She gives him a nervous smile. "I suppose it's as good a time as any."

"You kissed me."

"You noticed."

"Twice."

"My, you really are a detective!"

He rolls his eyes. "Not that either was any good."

"Hey!"

His lips twitch towards a smile before he catches himself. "Care to explain how we went from 'I'm not hugging you' to snogging in the kitchen?"

"Well, it's not like it happened overnight!"

"You could have fooled me!"

"And apparently I did."

"This isn't a game, Miller!"

"No, but this is bloody ridiculous! I don't know why I have to struggle to figure out if you even want me to snog you!"

"You have to-are you daft? You're the one who ran off in the middle of the night and all I'd done was stand in my kitchen!"

She feels a flash of heat at the memory, because he'd looked damned good standing in his kitchen...if he hadn't still been reeling from the remnants of a recurring nightmare, that is. She plants her hands on her hips and glares.

"Right," she says, "that does it."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?"

"It means I'm tired of sparring with you."

"Does that mean you're going to stop?"

"For tonight," she says with a decisive nod.

"But not tomorrow?"

"That depends on how well you shag me tonight."

She watches as his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

"What?" he finally manages.

"You heard me." She tries to hide a smile as she makes a show of looking him up and down. "I'm not holding out a lot of hope you'll be a spectacular shag, but maybe you'll surprise me."

"Surprise you?" he sputters.

"Well? You'd better decide what you're going to do before I change my mind."

He's caught her up in his arms before she has time to blink.

They don't make it to the bedroom.

They don't even make it to the sofa.

He tells her she's beautiful and when he whispers 'I love you' against her ear, so softly she almost misses it, she buries her face in his shoulder and refuses to cry.

Later, after making their way to the bedroom on wobbly knees and collapsing on the bed-both of them under the covers this time-Ellie asks, "When did you know?"

"Know what?"

His voice is groggy with sleep, and she smiles. She props herself up, her head resting on her hand.

"About this," she says, waving vaguely between them.

"What? Sex? Me mum set me down when I was about twelv-oof!"

He rubs the spot on his chest she's smacked and pouts. She rolls her eyes and he laughs, a real, genuine laugh, and she can't help but stare, even as she laughs too, because he's...sparking. She doesn't know how else to describe it. There's an openness in him that's usually only there when he's with Daisy, and if there is any part of her that is still holding back, it surrenders.

Gladly.

She says, between giggles, "No, us! You and me. I honestly didn't think of you like this until a few weeks back."

"Yah? What changed?"

"I don't know. I mean, I know the moment. When we were in the kitchen and you told me about your nightmares and Marney and something...a switch was flipped and...I dunno. I just knew."

He watches her, smile gone now, dark eyes wide and intent, steady and calm.

She smiles nervously and puts her palm over the small scar that marks the spot of his pacemaker surgery. He relaxes into her touch with a contented sigh, closing his eyes.

"I knew before then," he says softly.

"Really?" she says, her smile growing wider. "How long before?"

"A long time before."

She laughs. "Stop teasing! Do you know exactly when you knew?"

"Oh, aye."

There's something in his voice that catches her attention, and she freezes then lifts herself higher.

"Why don't you want to tell me?"

He presses a hand over hers, where it's still resting against his chest. He opens his eyes and looks very seriously at her.

"It was when I told you about Joe," he says.

She's instantly back in the interrogation room, confused by Hardy's questions (please ellie)(don't call me ellie), the sickening realization it really had been Joe, retching in the corner, Hardy's hand on her shoulder.

She blinks the memories away and focuses on what he's just confessed to her.

"Then?" she squeaks out.

He grimaces ruefully. "It wasn't necessarily sexual. I mean, I didn't think 'I can't wait to shag this one' while you were puking on my shoes. It was just...when you broke, I broke right along with you. All I wanted was to take your pain away, protect you as much as I could. You weren't only my DS, or my partner, and though we weren't even close to being friends, I knew. I didn't want it to be Joe, I wanted you to keep your happy, perfect life, because...I knew."

She stares and can't think what to say. He's watching her with a wary expression, and she realizes he's braced himself for whatever her reaction may be.

"When you left," she says slowly, "you knew then?"

He nods.

"But...you left! And you never tried to contact me!"

"You didn't feel the same way," he says quietly. "No hugs, remember? No comfort from me at all. And you were very...final that day. Besides, even if I'd had a clue how to change things, you weren't ready, not for anybody. You needed time, you didn't need me."

Her face crumples.

"You're an idiot," she says through her tears.

"Awright," he says cautiously. He watches her with a worried frown as she blinks and sniffles. "Do you need a hug?" he finally asks.

She laughs a watery laugh. "Hug it out?"

"People do that."

"Yes, they do. Just...let me go to the loo and wash my face."

"Awright."

"And then we can shag it out."

His jaw drops, but he quickly rallies as she slips out of bed. "What-again?"

She pauses at the door and looks over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised. "How long has it been since you had sex, Hardy?"

"About an hour. I knew you weren't paying attention."

"Hey-be nice to me!"

"Oh, am I allowed now?"

She scrunches up her face and says, "Don't be a smart-arse."

He laughs. "Fine, I'll be as nice as I can be."

He is.

Hardy

The morning is just like any other morning, with him growly and monosyllabic during breakfast, except she kisses him when she walks into the kitchen and again before they leave the flat. Once they step out the door, they're immediately two Detective Inspectors investigating a crime and not two people who had spent the night making love for the first time.

They're in full police officer mode by the time the guard ushers Ricky Gillespie into the small interrogation room with a two-way mirror taking up one wall. The guard takes up position at the door while Ricky settles across the table from them, a questioning look on his moon-shaped face.

"How are you, Ricky?" Hardy asks.

"I've had better days," Ricky says with a sardonic shrug. "Why are you here?"

Hardy raises an eyebrow then opens the folder he's brought with him and slides copies of the pictures that were on his coffee table across to him.

"Do you know anything about these?"

Ricky frowns, glances at them and shrugs. "No. Should I?"

"Have you heard about some of the things that have been happening to me over the last few months?"

Ricky's frown deepens. "No."

"You don't know about a video that was released on the Internet?" Miller asks. "A video of Hardy?"

He shrugs and shakes his head. "He's not exactly my preferred topic of interest." He smirks as he looks at him. "I'm not wasting my precious time online searching your name."

Hardy leans back, expressionless, his eyes wide and steady. "No, I suppose you wouldn't."

Ricky sits impassive as the silence stretches between them.

"I went to the cemetery," Hardy says, so abruptly both Ricky and Miller start a little. "On the anniversary. Paid my respects."

Ricky's face twists then smooths again.

"Went and saw Cate, too."

Ricky shrugs. "Still drinking?"

"Sober three months when I saw her."

Ricky's gaze slides away from his. "Well...good for her, I suppose."

They lapse into silence then Hardy glances at the guard at the door. "We're done."

The guard nods and Ricky gets to his feet. He shuffles to the door then turns and looks at Hardy.

"Whoever's behind those," he says and nods at the pictures, "you obviously knows it's not me. I don't like you because you wouldn't let it go, but you did it for Pippa. I can't blame you for that."

Hardy stares unmoving at the closed door, Miller's hand warm on his arm.

Lee Ashworth is still in great shape, muscles bulging beneath his prison uniform, and Hardy thinks he must spend most of his time working on maintaining that physique. Perhaps it's a form of self-defense: be stronger than everyone else and life will be somewhat easier. As Ashworth sits at the table, he gives them a small smile and Hardy's eyes narrow. He seems lighter somehow, relaxed, and examines the pictures with what seems to be honest curiosity.

He puts them down and shakes his head. "I don't know anything about these, or any of the other things that have been going on."

"You seem...different," Hardy says slowly.

Lee smirks with a flash of his old arrogant bravado. "I'm ready to meet my fate, if Claire ever tells the truth and we finally get our deals with the Crown."

"She's the hold-out then?" Miller asks.

"Are you surprised?"

"Not really."

Lee sighs. "She keeps changing her story, and, of course, every time she makes a new allegation, it needs to be investigated since our deals aren't valid if we're lying to the prosecutors."

"Same old tactics as before."

"Yes."

Hardy is listening carefully, and says now, "How did you know I was hiding Claire?"

Lee smirks, and Hardy knows he's considering telling a lie. Probably instinct, he thinks ruefully. Then the other man sighs and says, "She told me."

Hardy lifts an eyebrow. "How did she tell you?"

"I kept my cell phone number. She'd text or call me, especially after you parked her in that dreary little cottage and she was bored out of her mind. Of course, then I got here, and she played the frightened wife to the hilt." He shook his head. "I told her it wouldn't work."

"What was she hoping to accomplish?" Miller asks.

He nods at Hardy. "Lay the groundwork to discredit this one and cause enough stress to knock him permanently out of commission, hopefully without actually having to lay a hand on him." He shrugs as he turns his gaze back go Hardy. "It was the only thing we could think of to get you to let it go. Not exactly a foolproof plan, but desperate times and all that."

"Why did it take you so long to come looking for her?" Hardy says.

Lee glances away and sighs. "I really did want to get away from the media attention. I was hoping things would calm down after a few months. Then..." he pauses for so long that Hardy wonders if he's going to continue at all. He sighs. "There was a girl. Sophie." A soft, tender smile curves his mouth. "She was from London, but had been living and working in France for a couple of years. She'd never heard of me."

"So why'd you come back then?"

Lee's mouth twists. "Sophie is beautiful and sweet and so, so innocent, and I..." he swallows heavily. "You once said I was stained with death. I couldn't stand to put that stain on her. Besides, there's a pull between Claire and me. When we're together, it's passionate and dark and ugly and...irresistible, although I did try." He pauses, eyes dark with memories then he shrugs with a rueful grimace. "Besides, who else would have me, after what happened?"

"Where's Sophie now?" Miller says.

Lee shakes his head, his eyes sad. "Still in France, I suppose. She called, you know, after the news hit the papers. I had to tell her it was true, although she didn't want to believe it. Haven't talked to her since."

As they're escorted to the women's side of the jail, Hardy says, "I'd like to speak with Claire alone."

"What? Why?"

"Because this has always been a battle of wills with her, just the two of us. I want her to remember that. This prankster is focused on me, and if Claire is involved, I don't want her suddenly thinking you're enough in the picture to be a target. I don't want to remind her of your role in breaking Sandbrook, if that's what's behind all this."

"Well, what am I supposed to do then?"

"Go in the observation room. Watch. Listen. Catch the things I'm going to miss."

Claire's face is expressionless, her eyes wide and limpid green as she walks in. She sits at the table and says, "Running alone today, Alec? No loyal little pet Ellie to do your dirty work?" She glances at the two-way mirror. "Or is she back there, preparing to play good cop?"

"Nice to see you haven't lost your spirit, Claire."

She leans back, arms crossed. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Have you missed me so much, you needed a visit?" Disdain drips from every syllable.

"I need your help."

She barks a harsh laugh. "Really. Why would I do anything to help you? After all, I came to you for help, Alec, and you betrayed me." She glances around the small visitors room then back to him. "You promised to protect me and I end up here."

"You murdered a child," he says with calm finality.

"I didn't murder anyone. I gave her something to help her sleep. Lee's the one-"

"No more games, Claire," he says softly, "no more lies." He opens the folder and lays out the pictures. "Do you know anything about these?"

She frowns, shooting him a puzzled look before reaching out and dragging the pictures closer. She examines them carefully and Hardy sees the amused smile curving her mouth when she finally glances back at him.

"Am I supposed to know anything about these?"

"You tell me."

"I don't know anything."

"Have you heard what's been happening to me these last few months?"

"We-ell, I heard about the video-really, hasn't everyone?" She grins. "We're not allowed on those sites in here but I heard it was quite impressive." Her contemptuous eyes flick over him. "The video, I mean."

His expression doesn't change. "How did you hear about it?"

"We have newspapers, Alec," she says sarcastically. "We even e-mail and chat with people on the outside. I have friends, now. I'm not isolated in some cottage in the middle of nowhere, completely at your mercy." She leans forward, eyes wide and intent on his. "Not everyone believes your version of events."

"Anyone in particular? Anyone who feels the need to take up the fight for you?"

"As if I'd tell you, after everything you've done to me."

"Really? What have I done? What have you told people I've done?"

"The truth."

"Or your version of the truth, anyway."

She smirks. "You took advantage of me, Alec, and you know it."

Now he, too, leans forward, eyes boring into hers. "Then lay your complaint, Claire," he almost purrs. "Give dates and details. Accuse me in open court, drag me through the mud, and let a jury decide."

Her smirk is wiped away in an instant and she leans back. "What's the point?" she says. "None of the prosecutors believe me. They're all biased towards you."

"Aye," he says drily, "if for no other reason than I've never murdered a child."

"I had nothing to do with it! It was all Lee and Ricky!"

"How much did you give her, Claire? Out of that flask? Was she already dead when Lee picked up that pillow?"

Claire's face hardens. "Go to hell, Alec."

He stares impassively back at her.

She must see something in his eyes, something in his face, because her expression changes, becomes cunning. "Is Ellie behind the mirror? Won't you allow her to come in and say hello?"

He doesn't blink. "Miller's exactly where she wants to be," he says flatly.

"Oh, ho, like that, is it?" She leans forward again, a sly smile on her face. "After doing everything except throw yourself naked at her feet, she still doesn't want you, does she?" She shakes her head in mock pity. "Poor Alec. You'll never understand, but Lee and I-we couldn't live without each other. It was our strength and our greatest weakness, but at least we truly loved. Not like you-with a cheating wife and your heart on your sleeve, still all alone, nothing more than empty space in a suit and tie without anyone who loves you and no one who would miss you. If your body were left on a beach somewhere, would anyone care? Would anyone even notice?"

"Are you threatening me, Claire?"

A slow smile curves her lips. "Just stating the obvious."

He raises an eyebrow at Miller's wide eyes and flushed cheeks but she refuses to say anything as they wend their way through security, sign out of the prison and get in to his car.

"That shit!" she exclaims as he pulls out of the parking lot and points the car towards Stonebridge.

"What? Claire?"

She furiously shakes her head, almost bouncing in her seat. "Not Claire! That stuff about being left on a beach and nobody would notice? That's what Beth said to Joe when we ran him out of Broadchurch!"