Mum's standing in the kitchen when Daisy walks inside. She doesn't immediately look up, instead continuing to sort bills, but she puts a warm smile on her face when she hears Daisy. Daisy can't help but wonder if it's faked.

"Hello, love. Have a good time at your dad's?"

Finally, she turns around, her smile faltering when she catches sight of Daisy's face. Daisy's standing in the doorway, her bag still on her back, watching Tess warily.

"Everything alright, darling?" Mum asks, but she stops moving forward, halting a few feet away. "Alec didn't do anything wrong on the drive back, did he?" She pauses. "I knew it was weird that he wanted to bring you home. What did he say?"

Daisy finally finds her voice as she shakes her head, glad Mum is keeping her distance. "He didn't say anything, Mum." Her tone's wrong but at least she's talking.

"Then what is it?" Fears apparently appeased, Mum has reverted to slight impatience, looking like she's ready for Daisy to stop having a teenager moment.

"Can we sit down, Mum?"

Mum blinks at her suspiciously for a moment. "Why?"

Daisy pulls up a chair and gestures expectantly to the one across the table until Mum sighs and sits.

Daisy is in no way ready for this conversation, but sitting here avoiding it is going to do her no good, so after a long moment, she sighs deeply at looks squarely at her mother. "Mum, I want you to tell me what happened between you and Dad."

Immediately, Mum's expression turns fifteen degrees colder. "Why are you asking, Daisy? You already know what happened. What did your father say to you?"

Daisy is already emotional, hurting and feeling betrayed, and if she's had any doubts about Dad's versions of events- honestly, she hasn't- they're all gone from the way that Mum immediately goes on the defensive.

Her own expression hardens. "No, I don't think I do, Mum. Care to enlighten me?"

"Daisy Anne Hardy, you know everything you need to know and I do not appreciate your tone."

Daisy sits forward and crossed her arms. "You know what? You're right. I know everything I need to know. I know you cheated on Dad and let him take the fall for you losing evidence."

Mum's jaw drops, and she freezes that way for a few seconds. The silence is almost unbearable. "That's not- who's been- Daisy-"

"Oh, are you going to deny it?" Daisy snaps. "Go ahead. Tell me I'm wrong."

Mum stares at her for a long moment, clearly assessing how confident Daisy is in these assumptions, and she slowly nods. "I had an affair, yes," she says stiffly. Her eyes are still cold, colder than Daisy has ever seen them.

"Then why did you let me think Dad did!?" Daisy explodes, leaping to her feet. Mum looks on, unmoved. "You drove him away from me and made me hate him when it was you all along! WHY!?"

Mum swallows, looks away. "It was for the best. It was the best thing at the time. Your father and I agreed."

"Because he wanted to fix the mess you made, Mum! He wanted us to stay a family!"

This brings Mum's eyes back to Daisy's. "Daisy, you were not a part of that discussion, so you cannot talk to me about this. You don't know what you're saying."

Daisy loses her ire a bit, because she doesn't want Mum getting upset with Dad for something that Olly did. "Someone told me the whole story. Dad didn't want me to know. He was just going to let me walk out of his life because he wanted me to have a good relationship with you. But how is that supposed to ever happen again, Mum? You lied to me, destroyed my relationship with Dad, tore apart my family-" She has to stop because her voice is breaking and tears are starting to leak out of her eyes.

Mum looks pained now, her anger dropping as Daisy's does. "Daisy, love, I'm sorry for hurting you. But your father and I were over well before any of that happened, and it was never going to work out for us to be a family again."

"Did he know that?" she asks, sobbing a bit.

Mum sighs heavily. "He and I both love you very deeply, darling, and that's never going to change. But he and I don't love each other anymore. You'll understand someday, when you have your first heartbreak."

Daisy doesn't agree with Mum's assessment. She also thinks Mum shouldn't be allowed to talk about heartbreak, not after what she did to Daisy and Dad. Daisy doesn't say any of this, though, instead turning around and heading for the door.

She stops, turns slowly again instead of exiting, stares at Mum through her tears one more time. "You're not the person I thought you were."

As she leaves, she hears Mum murmur something very softly. "I'm sorry you feel that way," she says.

Daisy heads to her room, curls up in bed, and tries not to think. After a few minutes, she hears the door slam and Mum's car start up and leave.

She's all alone again.

Daisy is curled up in her bed under a small mountain of blankets, mobile in one hand and the other massaging her forehead as she listens to the silence of the empty house and waits for Dad to ring her.

8pm. It's been enough time, hasn't it? He made it back in good time, but it's still been four hours. Hardy takes a deep breath and draws up a chair before dialing Daisy and pressing the phone to his ear.

She lets the phone ring a couple of times to compose herself before she answers. "Hey," she says, subdued. Her voice sounds too loud compared to the previously deafening silence.

He clears his throat a little, waiting. "Hi," he answers. Hard to say how she's feeling from just that one syllable, but a 'hey' is something; she's talking. His voice is very even. "...how're you holdin' up?" He's a knot of uncertainty, right now. Can't imagine how Tess took this. Maybe it's a good sign he hasn't heard from her.

"Okay, I guess. That wasn't… um, it could have gone worse, but it wasn't fun." Hers isn't even. It's wobbly, hitched. She's been crying again recently. She hopes that someday soon she'll get to the point where she doesn't do that often anymore.

All right. Now he's getting a little more from her voice, and something in his chest tightens. "Mm. She wasn't… angry with you, was she?" he asks, hearing himself distantly. If anything, Tess cannot take this out on Daisy. It's hardly her fault. And while he'd like to hold true to his belief that Tess won't, he knows he ought not to put any such thing past her, now. She's not the person he thought she was.

"I don't think so. At first, she was, but… I think mostly she's angry with you, not me. But she wasn't… I don't know, Dad. She wasn't acting like Mum. She wasn't as- um, loving?- as she usually is. Seemed like she didn't want to talk about it and I was inconveniencing her by trying to." Daisy swallows. "She left about an hour ago. I don't know where she went, but she seemed upset."

Hardy swallows. "...good." Oh, god. "...all right. Well…" Tess is doing that false litle let's-talk-about-it-later escape plan. Overcompensating. He can almost hear her tone, she must be outraged. But not at Daisy- and that's all that matters. At least Tess knows, now. No more secrets. "..."

He unintentionally lets the gap in his sentence drag, bowing his head and rubbing his face. Jesus Christ. "Um. Daisy, listen, I…" He has to call Tess. He has to. "...you did well. There's no easy way to deliver that. And I'm so sorry that you had to. You tell me immediately if she does an'thin'- an'thin' at all that she shouldn't." He swallows again. "If she says anythin' to you tha' she shouldn't, blames you at all…" He's sure Daisy gets the picture. God, he has to call Tess. He can't tell Daisy. Has to tell Daisy. The next words he hears himself say waver with conviction and uncertainty. "...I'm going to talk to her."

Daisy's only half-listening, instead continuing to think in circles. His voice is soothing, though, soft and patient and caring, and his familiar brogue is comforting to her. "I will. Thanks, Dad." She freezes when his last few words register, though. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asks, worried. "Dad, I've been realizing this weekend that I was wrong to push you away for so long, even if you'd done what I thought you did. I don't want to make that mistake with Mum, too. I love her, of course I do, I just- look, wouldn't it be better to just… let things settle?"

She's afraid of making things worse, knows Dad won't do it on purpose but might by accident. At the same time, though, she knows it's not fair to silence him, and she knows that at some point, her parents will have to talk.

Hardy falls silent. He's thinking the same thing, but- to say nothing…! He'd be handing Daisy over on a platter. Tess'd find a way to twist this, to guilt him into keeping his distance, or… Is she above threats? Ugh. She could take legal action. He's still publicly at fault, and hardly in a position to push her.

"...I know," he croaks. "I don't want that, either. You need her - and she needs you, too." He means it with everything that he is. The last thing he wants to do is destroy their relationship. Daisy deserves her mother… and if he'd had his way, Daisy still wouldn't know about what had happened and things would be as they'd been. Protected. "This is - I can't say what'll happ'n. But I have to speak with her. I'm…" He sighs, constricted. Almost a choke.

"...I just have to - be sure she knows it's not my intention to pull you away. I'm - afraid she won't let me see you if I don't make things clear very quickly."

"I tried," Daisy offers softly. "I tried to make it very clear to Mum that you didn't break any agreement, that you didn't even want me to find out what happened. I'm not sure she believed me, though."

She pauses.

"Okay, just… Dad, please be careful what you say," she finally concedes. "Don't let her get to you. I'm not sure how much steam she needs to blow off."

"Thank you, Daisy." He takes a deep breath. "...I won't. I promise." There's not much more she can do, really.

"She- Dad, she loves me, right?" She feels horribly bitchy for asking, knows how much of a slap in the fact this reminder must feel to him, but she needs the reassurance. "She used to say she loved you and then she didn't mean it, in the end. She's not doing that to me, is she?"

A week ago, she'd have sworn up and down that if there was one thing she was sure of, it was her mother's love, but now… She just doesn't know what to believe, and it stings.

"Oh, Dais'... No. She loves you. I know she does. She adores you…" It's breaking his heart that she has to doubt it… but she's not unwise to consider it. "You're our daughter and I know she would do anything for you. She wouldn't intentionally hurt you, emotionally or otherwise."

Daisy swallows and nods, even though she knows he can't really see her. "She said she was sorry for hurting me, but… She didn't ever say she was sorry for doing what she did." Her lip trembles. "How do I learn to trust her again? How do I ever get back to the point where I believe what she says? I'm sure you're right, but I just can't convince myself of it."

She clenches a fist in the fabric of her quilt, her face crumpling and her voice catching. Doesn't want him to hear her crying again, knows it'll only make him feel worse. She hates this, she hates this, she's got all of this emotion boiling up inside of her and she doesn't have a clue what to do with it. Everything that used to be easy and taken for granted hurts now.

No remorse. Of course she wouldn't have any. Hardy's resting his face in his hands as he speaks softly. "...I don't entirely know, darling," he admits. "But I think things will become clearer for all of us. I hope so. But I also do believe we were all three of us happy together, once… And I've seen her do things - wonderful, beautiful things for you that assure me… She - she doesn't just want to keep you from me. She wants you. She loves you."

Daisy lets 10 seconds pass without speaking. 15, 20, holding her breath and feeling her face turn red. Finally, holding the phone away from her face, she takes a deep, gasping breath and calms herself down a breath.

"Okay," she mumbles finally. "I have to believe you're right."

She grips the phone harder, wishes he was closer. "I want that again, Daddy, I…" She hasn't called him Daddy since he left. Always just Dad these days. Hell if she doesn't need the comfort now, though. Let herself give into that delusion that her protective father can handle everything.

"I know it'll never happen like that again. But I remember being so happy, you're right, you and me and Mum and - oh, what was his name? Charlie. That dog we had that it turned out Mum was allergic to. A year before you left, those few weeks are my happiest memories."

"Is it wrong for me to wish to have that again? Even though it's unrealistic, and… and wouldn't even be fair to any of us? We're not the same people anymore, but I want us to be."

As if all of this wasn't heart-wrenching enough, her note of vulnerability has him aching to hold her and promise that everything will be alright, and to keep her from it in every way that he can. It's startling, because he knows well that this is a delicate situation, that they're all vulnerable here - but none more so than Daisy.

"Oh, sweetheart…" It's very faint, but he chuckles a little about Charlie. That'd been a good dog. His voice is heavy. "...It's not at all wrong, love. It's perf'ctly natural. I…" He wants it, too. Wants nothing but their family back. "...You're right. We're not the same people. But I think we're capable of finding new happiness. This won't be the end, Daisy, not for any of us… Maybe somehow… It's for the best; it's just hard to see, right now."

"I hope so, Dad," Daisy sighs, her voice as heavy as his. She burrows into the pillow. "I really hope so. I could use a little more happiness right now." She glances at the clock on her bedside table and sighs heavily.

"I've got some homework to do if I can make myself focus on it, so I should probably ring off. But thanks for being here, Dad. You just don't know how much I needed you tonight." She's stopped crying again- hopefully it'll stick, this time- and she just feels tired now. Grateful to him for loving her consistently despite the way she's treated him until very recently.

"Right..." God, he wishes he could be there, right now. More than ever. "I love you, darling. I'm… I'm grateful we could talk tonight, too, thank you. Hope your work goes well, but- Daisy? Know that it's alright if you just need to rest tonight, instead. It's been an intense weekend. Sweet dreams. 'Night."

Daisy smiles a bit, committing this to memory… She's not sure she's ever been told it's okay to not finish her homework. "Good night, Dad. I love you, too." She hangs up, feeling a little happier than she did before the call.

Right, time for calculus. Sigh.

Hardy takes a minute to himself after letting Daisy go. For such a difficult subject, it was the sweetest call they've had in ages. Quite frankly, he's loathe to give it over to Tess now. God… Daisy's okay, though. She's okay for the night.

He takes a deep breath and dials Tess, not at all sure what he's going to say or how this is going to go, just determined to keep it calm.

Tess has been aimlessly driving for over an hour now, fuming. She's 50 miles outside from Sandbrook when the Bluetooth feature of her car alerts her to an incoming call. She growls under her breath when the name is announced, and she aggressively hits the answer button. "Well done, Alec," she says instead of actually greeting him.

Well. He should have expected this. It still prompts a silent moment, closing his eyes and trying not to bite. "...hello, Tess." She sounds a little fuzzy. Drove somewhere, hadn't she? Is she still driving?

Tess rolls her eyes and finds a deserted side road to pull off on, expecting that she won't be interested in paying attention to the road very soon. "What happened to our agreement?" she demands. Best to get it out now. No point in exchanging pleasantries with her backstabbing ex-husband.

He suffers a long sigh, but it's quiet. "She knew, Tess. Somehow. I couldn't downright lie to her."

"And how is it that she knew!? I sure as hell didn't tell her."

"I did my best to uphold our agreement." She's really not making this easy for him.

"Oh, save it, Alec. You're not doing yourself any favours here."

"I don't know. I don't know, Tess… she must have heard it…"

"Didn't you think it might be in her best interests to lie to her?" Tess is furious, but more than that, she's afraid. There's nothing that scares her more than losing her daughter.

"Tess."

Heard it? "Who else knows?" she growls. "Who've you been telling?" He ignores this because frankly, it's none of her business.

"She's fifteen."

"Yes, she is. She's a child. She didn't need to be dragged into this."

"She's a right to make her own choices." The girl herself has made that abundantly clear to him this weekend, and he couldn't be more proud of her for it.

"And that meant telling her all the things we agreed to keep from her?"

"I didn't tell her," he reiterates. "I had no intention of telling her."

"Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that," Tess says, her voice scathing. "I sent her to you completely unaware and she came back fully informed and very angry. You do the maths."

Hardy groans. "Tess, I don't want this to escalate. I'm still taking full public responsibility, your career is untouched. It was a mistake, that's all. I don't know how she found out."

"Yeah, great, my career is fine. But what about my daughter? She hates me now! Is that what you wanted?"

"No, Tess. No, it's not. We can work this out, the three of us."

Tess would have believed him yesterday. Now she doesn't. "No, we can't. Not if you're trying to drive her away from me. She deserves better than that. She was happy."

"...I know. And I'm sorry. Really, I am. It's killing me to see her like this. I want her to be able to trust you. Tess, that's why I agreed to this in the first place. I've told you that before."

"Whatever, Alec. I'm just going to have to clean up your mess."

"Tess-"

"Save it, okay? Just save it."

"I'm calling so I can help!" They may never really get along again, but it's vital that she stops seeing him as the enemy… he's horrified by the possibility that she could try to keep Daisy away from him if he angers her enough.

"How could you possibly help? You've done enough damage."

"Tess… For god's sake…"

"Go back to failing to solve murders. It's what you do best."

There's a part of him that just cannot believe her right now, but the rest of him is used to this. "Tess. Please. Please, just talk to me."

"What do you want from me, exactly? What do you want me to say?" Tess is itching to move, to run, to rove, but she can't do much to improve her relationship with Daisy if she drives while distracted and dies in a car wreck.

"I just want a bit of your time. Just as long as it takes to sort this out."

"I fail to see what's left to sort out. You've made your choice. Now we've all got to live with it. It's that simple."

"I just need you to know - I will do whatever it takes to make sure Daisy feels as at home with you as… As before." He's getting a little desperate.

"And nothing you do will ever be enough. I'm not sure why you don't understand that."

"...I know." He briefly holds the phone out away from his mouth, muttering "shit" under his breath. "I'm- I'm not your enemy Tess. Please."

"You know, Alec, I would have believed that yesterday. Today, I'm not so sure. I thought that at least as far as Daisy goes, we could still work together, but…" She snorts, and there's no humor in the sound at all. "You've always been a one-man show, haven't you?"

"What?"

"Alec calls the shots, to hell with whatever other people think."

"Christ, Tess."

"Don't act like this isn't something you do all the time. You did it when we were married, you did it when we worked together, and now you're doing it with Daisy."

"...unbelievable. This is unbelievable."

"Which part? The part where someone is finally calling you out on your shit?" Tess is normally pretty good at remaining civil, even when she's angry, but he's crossed a line so she feels no shame in crossing one, too.

"You'd know all about that."

"All about what?" Her tone spells danger. Don't go there, Alec, she's warning.

"...talk to Daisy. For god's sake, tell her how much you love her. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Don't be ridiculous. The last thing Daisy wants right now is to talk to me… Thanks to you."

"Really? -Thanks to me?" Is she forgetting everything she did at the end of their marriage, the sort of thing that Daisy's only just now having the chance to get angry about?

"She knows I love her. I don't know why you're implying that she doesn't."

He grits his teeth, the phone clenched in his fist as he fights to keep his breathing even.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to let her visit Broadchurch anymore, Alec."

"I think you need to let her decide that. We both do. I have as much right to see her as you do." He's terrified that she'll disagree, though, and Daisy's still a minor, unable to make her own decisions as far as legal matters are concerned.

"I'm still the custodial parent, remember that? In the eyes of the law, you're wrong."

"Tess... Please. I am… I'm begging you to understand."

"If she wants to see you, you can drive here and have a supervised dinner with her. There's still that chicken joint you loved so much."

His jaw cracks as he clenches it. "Tess." It's growled.

"Alec." Same tone.

"Talk to her." He hangs up… he's not a violent man- in fact, that's so far from his personality that his urges tonight scare him- but he's about ready to punch the wall.

Instead, he seethes for a bit, very quiet, and paces, full of terrified rage. When that proves insufficient, he storms out to the beach.

Hardy shuts down as he waits to hear from Daisy or Tess again, and for two days, he stays home, calling in sick to the station. He's too worried, too angry, to focus properly.

On the second day, Miller decides that she's had enough of being suspicious- the man doesn't bloody call in sick for a heart attack, so what's he on about now?- and marches to his house after work. She raps on his door insistently until he gets irritated enough to answer, and when she sees the state of him, she gives him a long, angry lecture about taking care of himself, and just what is bloody wrong with him!?

She decides he's not well enough to judge his own state, so (from a place of concern but also one of frustration) she calls Laurel almost immediately.

Hardy, of course, protests. "Miller. I'm fine."

"No, sir, you're not."

"Miller!"

"Sir- oh, hi, Laurel!" Instantly, her attitude changes, making Hardy throw his hands up and skulk behind her.

"Hey, Ellie! Is everything alright?" Laurel's caught the tail end of the conversation. She's just finishing up a twelve hour shift and her brain isn't working nearly as quickly as it did at the beginning of the day.

"Oh- well. Actually, I think Hardy could use your professional opinion. You up to much right now?"

"Nothing at all, love." She's on her way out of the hospital. "Are you at his house?"

"The very same!"

"Alright. Give me twenty minutes and I'll be there."

"That would be brilliant, oh - he needs a look over. Looking a little scraggly, if you ask me."

Laurel chuckles. "Is that a new symptom or is he a lifelong sufferer?"

Ellie laughs, glad help is on the way. She genuinely is a little worried. "Chronic, dear! You're incredible. See you soon!"

She determinedly ignores Hardy rolling his eyes dramatically.

"See you in just a bit," Laurel agrees, and rings off. She's exhausted but cheers considerably at the thought of seeing her favourite detectives; she suspects that Hardy is fine, but of course she'll check. She just has to run home and grab her bag.

It's a quick stop and she's at Hardy's 17 minutes after she ends the call with Ellie. She knocks on the door and straightens her scrubs a bit, thinking that she should have taken the time to change out of them.

Ellie answers with a smile.

"Hello, love!" Laurel says brightly.

"Laurel! Come on in!"

She follows Ellie inside. "How are you feeling, Mr. Hardy?"

"Excuse his mess- he's been holed up a few days. Bloody moping." Obviously disapproving, she gives him a look.

Hardy groans a little, interrupting. "I'm fine," he growls, shooting Ellie a look right back.

Laurel's expression morphs into one of concern. "That doesn't sound too nice," she says lightly, glancing over Hardy's form. "Mind if I check you out for just a moment?"

"Really, I am, but- fine." Why not? If it will get them off of his back… "Miller…!" He wants to tell her off, but he honestly doesn't have the energy.

"Thanks, love." The bright smile is back, and Laurel begins pulling things out of her bag, very used to this routine by now. "So what's changed, hm?" she asks as she works. "Thought you were on the mend."

Hardy plops heavily onto his usual spot on the sofa and sighs, long suffering. "I am."

A smug Miller goes to make tea for the three of them.

"I don't mean to be rude, Mr. Hardy, but you're looking a little under the weather." Laurel's tone is light.

"Am I?" Kind of a grunt, a bit clipped but finally settling out of his annoyance. "It's all been fine."

"It'll help if you're honest. If it's nothing, it's nothing, but I need to know." She's not chastising him, just informing him.

She's too damn good, and he's finding her too friendly to argue with. It's disarming. He sighs.

"...it's Daisy- well- it's her mother, honestly."

Laurel nods, affixing the cuff to his arm and not looking at him, letting him talk uninterrupted.

"She's… been especially difficult lately." He trails off, staring off into the distance. He's been doing a lot of that lately.

"Stress is a dangerous thing," Laurel says softly.

"Mm."

Miller brings them all tea and settles happily on the other end of the couch, considerably less worried now that Laurel is here. "Ooh, haven't gotten to see this in a while. Hardy, following orders!" She sips at her own mug, frankly delighted.

The nurse finds that his blood pressure is elevated but not frighteningly so. "Temperature, love?" she asks, holding up the thermometer and shooting Ellie a wink.

Hardy clamps down on it, shooting Ellie a look and earning a light scolding from Laurel. "Don't bite it, please. Won't get an accurate reading that way."

"Mm." He growls a bit but eases up.

"Ah, thanks."

Ellie snorts.

When the thermometer beeps to signal that it's done, Laurel glances at the number on the screen. "Normal temperature. That's a good sign. Can I check your incisions?"

Hardy nods and sighs, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his incisions.

"No daughter going to show up unexpectedly this time, I hope. Not that it wouldn't be lovely to see her again, but…" Laurel's wearing a slightly bashful grin, remembering the last time they did this with a bit of awkwardness.

Hardy merely hums a little and stares at the ceiling.

Laurel's relatively pleased with the appearance of the incisions, no obvious signs of infection.

"Alright, love, you can button up again."

Hardy does so.

"In my professional opinion, your only issue is stress. No surgery-related problems. That being said, stress is very dangerous for someone with a heart condition."

"...yeah." Ellie mutters something along the lines of told-you-so and sips her tea.

"I'd like you to try to do something relaxing- no, I'm not telling you to stop working entirely, but mix in something that'll make you happier, too- over the next few days."

Hardy sighs hopelessly and flops back on the couch. "What could that possibly be?"

Laurel shrugs lightly. "That's up to you."

"Any time I try to relax I just - can't."

"You could finish Harry Potter." She grins as she remembers reading to him.

He lets a slight, reluctant smile onto his face. "Maybe I'll try that, then," he mutters.

"Whatever you do, don't shut yourself away. I know that you might have an instinct to pull away from others when things get hard- I know because I do it, too- but that'll only make things worse."

Ellie coughs, fed up with his attitude. "Go on a date, sir." Hardy immediately shoots her a glare.

Laurel chuckles. "There's a plan."

Hardy rolls his eyes. "Half this town hates me, Miller."

"I know some who don't," Ellie contests, smug- but then pauses, clearly horrified. "-don't get any ideas, sir; I hate you more than anymore."

Laurel listens with the slightest hint of dejection; she doesn't really want to watch him date someone else, though she has no claim on him at all, just a pointless crush. Ellie's comment makes her snort, though.

"So, what- you want me to hang out at bars now, is that it?"

Ellie sighs as if he's a great trial unto her. "God, you're thick." Hardy proves her right with a blank look.

Laurel quietly repacks her bag. She should make an escape now that she knows he's fine. She doesn't want to hear this.

Ellie leans back on the couch, sipping her tea and raising her eyebrows as she waits for him to get her point. When he doesn't, she shakes her head and spells it out for him, her voice light. "Oh... Let me see... Who's kind, intelligent, adorable, brilliant in every way... loves Harry Potter, apparently, and -might just find your nasty grumpy schtick to be the slightest bit tolerable...? Especially 'in-glasses', I hear? -And who's currently packing up her bag, since you're still staring at me like a bloody dead bird?"

Laurel freezes, wondering wildly if Harry Potter will let her borrow his invisibility cloak. "Me?" she squeaks, but it's a lost cause because no sound comes out. God damn it, Ellie, she thinks. I trusted you.

She really can't believe Ellie's repeating the glasses thing.

Ellie is so smug, so determined to play matchmaker, that she's quite happy to ignore the discomfort from both Hardy and Laurel.

Hardy's still giving her a stupid look, and he blinks at Laurel. She blinks back, and he sees how awkward she looks. He turns his gaze on Ellie. "No." He leans back, covers his face, and groans. "Nooo- no, no, no, I can't. For god's sake, Miller!" He sinks low on the sofa, trying to disappear.

Now, Laurel finds that just offensive. She may look like a mess in her 12 hour-old scrubs, but a flat out no is just rude. She thinks she even looks kind of cute in her messy bun, but apparently not.

Ellie whacks his shoulder hard. "Christ, Hardy! That's the exact wrong word! Thought you knew the difference like left and right."

Laurel, meanwhile, starts to fantasize about melting into a puddle. Or the ground opening up and swallowing her. Equally appealing options.

"God... no. No, no..." He's repeating that sort of thing in a muffled voice, head in his hands.

Ellie looks flatly at Laurel. "Still attractive?" Hardy looks up to glare at her for that one.

Laurel makes the executive decision to never to do a vitals check on this man again. Too dangerous. Twice in a row it's gone horribly wrong. For now, she's making an excellent impression of a deer in the headlights- not gonna answer that damned question in front of the man himself, no way. The answer is, unfortunately, yes.

Hardy glances at Laurel and then back to Ellie, painfully uncomfortable, and Ellie gives him an incredibly flat look. Clearly, a simple, unexplained 'no' isn't going to get his DS off of his back. "What d'you want me to say, Miller? I can't! I cannot, even- even if I want to. Miller. I told you what was happening."

Oh, now Hardy's going to think that the reason Laurel's been doing free home checks is that she's been itching to get into his bedroom or something! This is so humiliating. 'Even if I want to.' She's not sure if that's a good sound or not, but she's not about to stick around and find out.

Ellie arches her eyebrows very slowly. "What was that, sir? Even if you want to?"

Hardy freezes. "...wanted, of course."

Ellie's right back to being smug. "Of course. Hardy."

Laurel can't remember eating any butterflies, but she must have, given the state of her stomach.

Ellie settles herself next to Hardy, stern. "You're humiliating this poor woman, look! Your ex-wife is just that- your ex. Yes... You've got a daughter. Yes, things are difficult. All I'm suggesting is that you two go out and bond over some chips. Literally- that is it. Because I know you two get along..." Here she winks at Laurel, none too subtly, and the blushing nurse in question pretends not to see- "and I know you understand each other. Hardy. Please." Really pleading now, gently gripping his arm- "you're killing yourself. Go on a bloody date, sir, or so help me-" growls- "I will make you a Tinder profile."

Laurel has transcended the human existence and is currently moving on to her next stage of life as a tomato. Very still and very red. Would it be appropriate to escape through the window here? These are not the sort of social cues that her mother included in her upbringing.

Hardy glances, horrified, at Laurel. He honestly didn't want to humiliate anyone here. He finds his throat to be very dry all of the sudden. "Uh…" Glances at Ellie, still a little in disbelief.

'Uh...' has never made Laurel feel so mortified.

"...are you just throwing this on her?" Hardy whisper-hisses to Ellie as if this will somehow prevent Laurel from hearing.

Ellie rolls her eyes so hard that she thinks she may dislocate them and whacks him again. "She fancies you, you dolt," she replies, mocking his 'whispering.' His eyes widen in response to this.

No, I don't! No, I don't! No, I don't- huh, strange, Laurel's mouth isn't moving. Has she lost her voice? Maybe she should check her own vitals. Her heart feels like it's beating very quickly. Too quickly. She expects that she'll have to undergo her own pacemaker operation soon.

"Um..." Hardy murmurs again, a little hoarse, this time speaking to Laurel. She's not paying attention, busy as she is with mentally writing her will- all of her things to her family, and her estate should be used to buy a hundred bottles of that awful pinot noir so they may be gifted to Ellie bloody Miller.

Ellie nudges him. Hardy tries again, quiet. "Is- yeah? I mean. You..."

"Ask if she likes chips," Ellie whispers.

"...um. D'you like chips...?" Hardy parrots, glancing uncertainly at Miller; what kind of pick up line is that!?

Laurel's voice is on vacation somewhere. She tries to say yes, but no luck; she can't make any sound come out. She nods instead. It's a tiny movement.

"I can't even eat chips," Hardy mutters, but then he spots her nod and nods back once. "Okay- um. Good. Right. Uh." He's a little alarmed, doesn't remember how to do any of this. Ellie, feeling as if her work is done here, sits back to observe and does not deign to help him again.

"Don't do me any favors, please," Laurel mumbles, her voice completely strangled; she sounds like the victim of an aborted hanging. Honestly, she doesn't want him to go on a date with her because of heavy coercion... he doesn't even seem attracted to her! Apparently her own cat is out of the bag, though, no denying what Ellie clearly announced.

Hardy flushes a little. "No- no. Never. Um. I'm sorry."

How humiliating. She's not sure what to do with his apology; actually, she's not even sure what he's apologizing for.

Hardy clears his throat. "Please? If you want." He shrugs a little. "I'll pay and all that."

"Chips?" she squeaks. "You want, um, chips?"

He considers this once more and nods. "With you," he clarifies.

She flushes hotly- where is all of this extra blood coming from? She'd thought she couldn't get any redder.

Hardy tries for a little smile but it's a bit grim.

"Are you sure?" Laurel shoots a look at Ellie. This all still feels like a set up. The pushy little DS has thrown them both under the bus here.

Ellie, who has been more or less ignoring them both up until this point, grins. "He likes you, too, you know."

Laurel's breath catches in her throat. She's fairly certain that Ellie is making that up. Poor woman is delusional. Maybe they should get her some help?

"Oh, Hardy, you're not that subtle," Ellie adds, rolling her eyes.

Unable to look at either of them, Hardy stares at his socks, quite flushed.

"I should go," Laurel suggests, but once again no sound comes out. This is getting inconvenient. She should learn sign language.

"I mean, you're alright," Hardy murmurs, shrugging.

Laurel is just not equipped to respond to that.

He feels weird, and awkward, and as he glances at Laurel, he fears that Miller just might be right.

"Umm... thank you?" Laurel tries.

"Sorry. Meant that as an understatement, kind of..." Hardy's voice is uncharacteristically small. "Kind of missed the mark, I think."

Laurel nods uncertainly. He's not actually saying anything and it's freaking her out. "It's fine...?"

"For god's sake, Hardy," Ellie groans.

Hardy sighs explosively, coming to a decision all at once. "Fine. Yeah, alright." He manages half a smile that quickly grows on its own, watching Laurel now. "D'you want to get chips, then? Tomorrow?"

It's weird to see him smile, but Laurel can't bloody deny that it's attractive. "Um, sure. I'd love that." Her voice is quiet but apparently once again functional.

Hardy nods. "Alright. How about if I text you?" He feels very rusty and suspects that tomorrow will go terribly wrong.

"Sure. I'll- um, yeah, sure." She's not sure what has just happened but she feels a blossoming nervous excitement in her chest. Thinking she ought to make an escape before things can get even more awkward, she hitches her bag on her shoulder. She's pretty sure that her friendship with Ellie is dependent on the outcome of this date. Otherwise... Well, Hardy will have to solve a murder case without Miller's help.

Hardy and Ellie both get to their feet after she does.

Ellie squeezes past Hardy. "I'm out, too! Ta!" She's decided that she needs a quick chat with Laurel.

"Er, I'll talk to you soon?" Laurel murmurs to Hardy, edging toward the door.

He nods, waving a little at Laurel. "Yea'- soon! Night." Nods at Ellie, too, in acknowledgment. "Miller."

"Good night!" And finally, Laurel's free, out in the fresh air at last.

"Night, sir!" Ellie hurries after Laurel, leaving Hardy quite suddenly alone and trying to understand what just happened.

Laurel hears Ellie following her and debates whether or not it's okay to punch someone for giving you what you want in the worst way possible.

Sensing this, Ellie keeps a slight distance. "So… How mad at me are you for betraying you?" She's actually a little worried, as much as she's trying to play it off as a joke.

"Very angry," Laurel answers, but there's a tiny smile fighting to take up residence on her lips. "Please be aware that I know where your arteries are, Miller."

"Oh, god," Ellie mutters, hurrying to catch up and unable to see her friend's expression. "I'm so sorry, Laurel, I'm so sorry..."

"If this date doesn't go well..." Laurel warns, but now she's grinning, a little giddy.

"..." Ellie doesn't know what to say, finding herself a little horrified. Clearly, she overstepped. "God, I should have asked first."

Laurel hasn't been on a date since Ben died; she hasn't wanted to- but now she's so very happy to have the chance again. She gives Ellie a spontaneous bear hug.

Ellie's still trying to explain herself when it happens. "You said it was a - a week's crush but I got exc-!"

"You're exactly the friend I need. Told you that, didn't I?" Laurel says, amused and fond.

Ellie laugh-cries, hugging Laurel back and sighing in relief.

"That was humiliating and I would have appreciated some advance warning before that ambush… But thank you. Honestly."

"Yeah, sorry... He really is shit. I had too much faith in him."

"He's lovely." Laurel's got a soft smile on her face… she's so far gone.

Ellie's wearing a silly grin, full of happy butterflies about all of this, and she starts laughing. "All right, if you're saying that, I really am no longer worried."

Laurel grins. "Haven't been as excited about anything besides wine night in so long, love. Didn't realize I needed something to look forward to."

"And I know he would've asked you on his own if he wasn't so stuck up on his failed marriage. I know he would," Ellie continues.

"You're excellent at well-times arse kicks, aren't you?"

Ellie shrugs, grinning, clearly proud of this, indeed. "I've been known to place one or two quite well."

"You realize, though, Ell, that you have to see this through, right? Bring Fred if you have to, but you'll be helping me get ready tomorrow. I haven't been on a first date in... Oh, God, six years? Seven?" Suddenly, Laurel finds the prospect twice as frightening.

Ellie laughs. "Oh, you'd be fine on your own. I will, though, I'm not that heartless. It'd been at least that long for me as well, til recently..." This prompts a little sigh.

"I really want this to go well, Ellie," Laurel confesses softly.

"You'll do just fine. It's been even longer for him, you know."

The nurse straightens, wriggles a bit, full of nervous energy. "Even so."

"Oh, it'll be fine."

"I should go home, try to get some beauty sleep."

"Yeah, he is old. Sorry, love."

Laure giggles. "Didn't even think to ask, don't remember from his chart. How old is he?"

Ellie nods and slows to a stop; they've reached the crossroads where they'll go their separate ways. She clicks her tongue at the question. "Two years older than me. Forty-four. Now I feel old."

"Oh. That's a 14-year difference."

"He looks older, if you ask me," Ellie adds with a snort.

"Hope that won't bother him." The difference doesn't bother Laurel in the least, but… well, it's not insignificant.

"Mm, 14… Dunno. You'll find out." It's said very kindly, though.

"Hmm." That's a sort of depressing, scary thought for Laurel. She can't do anything about her age...

Sensing this, Ellie nudges her.

"Mm?" Laurel looks up.

"It's going to be fine." Warm smile. "See you tomorrow."

"Maybe." Laurel's unconvinced. "Good night, Ellie."

"G'night."