A/N: Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. It is very much appreciated. Hardy's weekend isn't going so well… hope you'll enjoy the chapter. Please see also the note at the end.

CHAPTER 8

Hardy's head was throbbing. There was a sharp pain on his forehead. Eyes still closed, he touched the spot and flinched. The panic of the night was lingering, keeping its eerie grip on him. He shivered in the cold, realizing he was lying on the carpet next to the sofa. Stiffly he turned onto his back. He suppressed the urge to cough, knowing the water wasn't really there. Light filtering through his eyelids made him realize it wasn't quite dark outside anymore. He didn't really want to get up, but the thought of either Tess or worse Daisy finding him like this, made him force his eyes open. The right one was caked shut. He rubbed at it and realized the crusty stuff was blood. He groaned and sat up, neck and back muscles tight from being slumped over on the floor.

Christ. He felt like somebody had beaten him up. He was about to run his hands over his face, when he realized that this might not be a good idea considering his state. He looked around and saw crimson red stains on the carpet and the corner of the glass table.

Bloody hell. How was he going to explain that? He wiped at the glass with his sleeve. The spots on the carpet were trickier. He scraped of the crusty leftovers of blood. It was still rather noticeable. He'd have to deal with that later, after cleaning himself up.

He clambered to his feet and padded to the bathroom. There was a small but deep gash above his right eyebrow which was crusted in blood. The dark circles under his eyes and his ghostly pale face sharply contrasted the dark red. He stared at his reflection, working through the horror of his nightmare. The feeling of suffocating and drowning had been very real, so real that he still was short of breath. Or was that his heart? He couldn't even tell, and in a way it didn't make a difference to him. Everything was blending in, making things fuzzy. It took him a moment to realize, the fuzzy feeling was real and that the bathroom was spinning around him. His head was aching like hell and he was getting rather nauseated. He slid down the wall next to the toilet, just in case he had to throw up. Somewhere in his hazy brain, he recognized the signs of a concussion, being reminded of the time he fell of the ladder. He must have hit his head harder than he realized last night.

He pulled up his legs and hugged his knees, head leaning against the cool tiles. He closed his eyes and focused on slow and measured breaths. It helped. Filling his lungs with air unobstructed by the imaginary water calmed him down. The vertigo and nausea subsided. The pain was still there, but in a way it helped him to focus on something else but the vivid images of the nightmare. He stood up and turned on the shower. He let the bathroom steam up, while he was slowly taking off his clothes. He was annoyed at himself that he had slept in them again, beaten by fatigue and exhaustion. He stepped in the shower, tilted his head back and let the hot water soften up the crusted blood before he gently scrubbed his face. He had no idea how much time he had spent under the water, when a knock at the door jolted him back into reality.

"Dad? Are you going to be long?" Daisy sounded impatient.

Bollocks. He really wanted to clean up the living room before they woke up. So much for that plan. He cleared his throat, hoping he wouldn't sound too rough.

"Be right out, darlin'." With the hope to stir her away from the traces of his nightly mishap, he added, "Would you mind making some tea, please?"

"Yes, I do mind. Make your own. I'm still not speaking to you," Daisy grumped through the door.

That hurt. More than the bloody cut on his head. He sighed and turned off the water, whatever tension he had lost all coming back quickly.

"Can we talk about it, Daisy? I'll make breakfast. Please?" he begged.

There was silence from the other side. Maybe she had walked away? He sure hoped she hadn't.

Finally she begrudgingly conceded. "Fine. But I want my eggs sunny side up, don't you dare scramble them. I'll go make tea then."

He smiled. A small step towards reconciliation. He dried himself off and looked closer at the wound. It wasn't big and not bleeding anymore, but clearly noticeable. Maybe he could pretend he had slipped in the shower? He rubbed his hair with the towel, making it stick up in all directions. His fringe was falling into his face and he was about to slick it back when he realized he could hide the cut underneath his brown bangs. He stared at the mirror, trying to not feel too shaggy with the hair falling over his eyes like that, but it served its purpose. He rubbed his stubbly chin with his thumb. He really should shave, but he felt too worn out. He'd do it tomorrow. It was the weekend after all.

Towel wrapped around his slender waist, he padded to the bedroom, surprised to find it empty. While he picked out his clothes he briefly wondered were Tess could be. Gym, most likely. Or maybe she was doing something for Daisy's party. Not like him who had completely forgotten about it. He felt awful, not only because he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to Daisy, but also because he had allowed for him to get sucked into the case so much as to be oblivious about his own child's needs. There was no excuse for that.

He sat down on the bed, mechanically going through the motions of knotting his tie. He felt strangled by it and left it lose. He fished the pills out of his old trouser pockets, swallowed two of them and put them back in his new pair. Yet again, he found himself staring at his reflection. He had to stop doing that. It didn't help, it just made everything worse. He wasn't too thrilled over where his life had been taking him lately, but there was no use in feeling sorry for himself.

He found Daisy sitting at the kitchen table, two mugs ready for them. She was quiet, pretending to ignore him. He opened the fridge and got out what he needed. His back was turned to her, when he started talking.

"Look, I know I messed up. I want to apologize but I'm not making excuses because there aren't really any good ones. I just want you to know, I didn't forget your birthday, I never would. I did forget the party though and I let you down."

He turned around. She was still just sitting there, fixing her eyes on the tea mug. She was scowling and her lips were pressed together. He walked over to the stove and started making the eggs. He wasn't facing her, when she finally spoke.

"You promised, Dad. You've never broken a promise before." She sounded so hurt, it was making Hardy's heart ache. How could he explain to her that there was a time when every parent was turning from perfect into that person who broke a promise? That there was a time when they were getting older and it became harder to protect them from all the pain and rejection of the world, even if you did everything you could as a parent. And that that was part of growing up, something she wanted to do so badly, but that there was a price to that.

He placed the plate with the food in front of her, perfectly done as she liked it. She didn't touch it. He pulled up the chair next to her and sat down.

"I'm sorry, darlin'. I can see how much that hurts you. When I said I would make your party special, I really meant it, but I didn't think it through. Because if I had, I would have figured out that I have no idea what you girls like these days. I shouldn't have promised something that I couldn't do in the end." He put his hand on her arm, but she shook it off.

"Maybe you should be around more often, then you would know. Mum's right, you don't care about the family. You only care about your job." She jumped up and ran out of the room.

Hardy was shocked. Not so much by her reaction, but more by what she had said. The simmering anger quickly turned into boiling hot fury that Tess would dare to make such a comment to her. His face was heating up. All he could do was ball his hands into fists and not break something, while he was trying to compose himself. Then he pulled out his mobile and hovered over Tess' number. How could she do that to him? He tossed the phone down, got up and turned to the counter, leaning on it, arms spread apart. Angry tears were stinging his eyes, his chest heaving with his breaths.

He wasn't aware that she was there until he felt her warm hand on his back. He stiffened up, not able to say anything. He ran his hands over his face to wipe away the tears and noticed blood on them. He groaned. For fuck's sake. Why did everything have to be so screwed up this morning?

"Dad? Are you okay?" she asked shyly.

He debated lying, but then decided against it. "No, Daisy. I'm not okay."

He still didn't turn around, not wanting her to see the blood on his forehead.

"I'm sorry about what I said. That was mean. I don't really think that. I was just so angry and disappointed. I know you care about the family," she admitted quietly.

He brushed his hair over his eyes, hoping to hide the cut and turned around. His eyes were still teary and so were hers. He quickly pulled her into a hug before she could take a closer look at him. Resting his chin on her head, he tried to explain.

"I'm sorry that you even had any reason to feel like that, even if it was just for a moment. And I'm really, really sorry that I haven't been around much this past week. It's been…" he struggled to find the right words. What could he say? Horrifying? Utterly exhausting? Draining all life out of him? None of that would comfort her.

"It's alright, Dad. You don't have to explain. I can see it in your face how much it gets to you." Her words were muffled against his chest. "Let's not get soppy, right?"

His lips curled up in a small smile. Sometimes he wondered what he might have done in a past lifetime to deserve such a wonderful child. He kissed her hair.

"No, let's not get soppy," he replied and let her go. His eyes caught the time on the kitchen clock. It was after 9 am and he was going to be late for the interview with the Ashworths.

"Shit, I'm running late," he muttered under his breath.

"Language, Dad. You're just lucky I don't rat you out to Mum about your cursing all the time." She smiled and so did he.

"I'm sorry, darlin', but I really have to go. Maybe we can go to the movies tonight? Just you and me?" he asked hopefully. He had no desire to spend time with Tess, at least not this very moment.

She nodded. "That would be nice. If you can make it."

"I prom…"

She cut him off, putting a finger on his lips. "Don't. Remember, don't promise anything you don't know if you can keep it or not."

He took her face in her hands. "I will try not to, but I can't promise I won't ever do that again." He kissed her forehead and was already out the door when he yelled, "I'll see you tonight. Love you, darlin'."

He was halfway at the station when he realized that he had left his teenaged daughter home alone without even knowing when her mother would be coming back. He cursed at himself and dialed Tess' number. It went to voicemail. He cursed more and left her a message to get in touch with him and let him know when she'd come home and be able to take care of Daisy. Leaving a trail of honking drivers and terrified bicyclist, he just about made it in time to the station.

It was 10:43 am and the Ashworths had not shown their faces. Hardy was livid. His staff who was unfortunate enough to get stuck working on the weekend, was pretending to appear extremely busy when he briskly walked through the main office. He barked an order to send some uniforms around the house and check, if they might be there.

The splitting headache wasn't helping his mood and when he had to rush to the bathroom to throw up, he about had it for the day. Exhausted, he slumped down on his sofa and closed his eyes, hoping to make the spinning sensation go away. He had underestimated the effects that his accident had on him. The last time he had a concussion after falling of the ladder, it had taken him a day to feel better and another week or so to be back to his usual self. This minor fall shouldn't have caused such an impact. But then he had no recollection of how hard he actually had hit the table. Hard enough to bleed all over the carpet. Which he still hadn't cleaned.

Bollocks.

The uniformed officer had reported that nobody was at home at the Ashworth residence. There were no new reports from forensics, the phone lines or anything else for the matter. The full autopsy report was expected to come on Monday. He decided to go home, he wasn't doing any good anyways and rest would hopefully fix things enough for him to be back tomorrow or the latest on Monday.

He slowly stood up. The vertigo was gone and he felt well enough to drive. He probably shouldn't, but he didn't want to leave his car here. He grabbed a few random files to pretend to take work home with him. He told DC Swenson that he was leaving, but was reachable anytime via phone and that they should not hesitate. He hoped his team would be more scared of not telling him things than disturbing him at home. When he was about to walk out, Swenson called him back. They had just received the copies of Pippa's diary. He tucked them under his arm and was out the door.

He made it home without any major incidence, driving much more slowly than usual. The house was empty. There was a note from Daisy on the kitchen table, telling him she went to see some friends and that Tess would be home later this afternoon. He put all the files down and opened the kitchen closet. He inspected its contents to find something suitable to clean away his mess. Frankly, he had no idea what he was looking at considering that every time he helped with cleaning someone just handed him stuff with a detailed instruction, so he couldn't make things worse. He randomly grabbed some spray bottle and a cloth and went to the living room.

When he bent down, he was immediately extremely dizzy and had to suppress the urge to throw up again. He sat on the sofa, blinking at the glass table. It took him a few minutes to register it was broken.

Bloody hell. That at least explained why he was feeling so miserable. Mind fuzzy and overcome with nausea he gave up on his sorry cleaning attempt. He clambered to his feet and dragged himself up the stairs, into the bedroom. He laid down, room spinning around him and tried not to fall asleep. He failed.

He didn't wake up until the early evening. Voices were filtering up from downstairs. He propped himself on his arms, groaning. Then, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His head still hurt but at least the vertigo was gone. He stood up and walked downstairs. Daisy and Tess were huddling over the kitchen table, decorating a cake.

"Oh look, sleeping beauty is joining us," Tess teased. He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his disheveled hair, pulling down his bangs to cover his forehead.

"Daisy, sweetheart, why don't you go and print out the recipe for the frosting?" Tess instructed her daughter. Daisy bopped her head up and down eagerly and hurried out of the kitchen. Tess took a few quick steps towards Hardy.

"You have about three minutes to explain to me why the coffee table is broken and how blood got onto the carpet. Go!" Tess hissed under her breath. Her piercing blue eyes were scrutinizing him. Before he even could say anything, her hand swiftly brushed away his hair and she sharply sucked in some air.

"Bloody hell, Alec. What did you do?" Her voice was louder now. Clearly there were distinct disadvantages to being married to a detective.

He shock the hair back into his face, struggling to find a good explanation. "Erm… I was trying to go to the bathroom in the dark. Tripped over the carpet and fell on the table."

She frowned at him. "Seriously? That's clumsy, even for you. You didn't have a panic attack or something?"

He intently studied his feet, contemplating his options. Quietly he admitted, "Had a nightmare, about the river. Might have thrown me off a bit. Banged my head pretty hard."

Her questions came quickly one after the other, leaving him barely any time to answer.

"Did you pass out?" He nodded. "Dizziness?" Another nod. "Throwing up?" And another. "Is that why you came home early and slept all day?" Again his head went up and down.

That's when Daisy walked back into the kitchen. She looked from one parent to the other. "What's going on?" she questioned, tone tense.

"Your father managed to get another concussion by tripping over his own feet and smashing in the coffee table," Tess curtly replied.

"What?" Daisy was instantaneously worried. She walked over to him and just like her mother a few moments before immediately spotted the poorly disguised wound.

"Oh, Dad. When did this happen?"

"Last night," he begrudgingly confessed. He was getting lightheaded, but he knew it wasn't from his head injury. He had missed a couple of doses of his medication while he was sleeping, something that his body seemed to be less and less tolerant of. His heart was dragging along and if he didn't take anything soon, this wasn't only going to be a confession about his nightmare and the fallout from it.

"I think I need to lie down again, not feeling so well," he mumbled, chest aching.

"I'll take you back upstairs, Dad. Come." She gently pulled on his arm and pushed him out the door. He held on tightly to the banister. She was right behind him, hand on his back. He tried not to breathe too heavy as that clearly would be hard to explain by a concussion. Once they reached the bedroom, he had to make her leave so he could take his pills.

"Daisy, could you get me some water please?" It was the best he could come up with. While she walked over to the bathroom to get him what he asked for, he scrambled through his nightstand drawer and hurriedly popped a couple of pills in his mouth, waiting for her to come back. He used the water she brought to wash them down. She fussed over him, fluffing his pillow, tucking the blanket around him, arranging his glasses and phone on the nightstand. He got the impression she didn't want to leave.

He grabbed her hand, making her stop what she was doing. "Darlin', you don't need to do that. Talk to me, what's bothering you?" He pulled her down to sit on the bed next to him. She was squirming, but finally got there.

"Why didn't you say anything this morning? I was so stupid about that party, I'm really sorry."

She looked miserable. He sat up and put his arm around her, pulling her back, leaning against the headboard with him.

"Don't feel bad. It was okay in the morning, didn't get worse until later on. Don't worry so much. I'll be fine," he tried to comfort her.

She snuggled up to him. His heart was slow now, making his vision all blurry. He closed his eyes, giving in to the fatigue. It would take a few minutes for the medication to kick in.

"'M sorry we can't go to the movies." The drowsiness slurred his speech.

"It's alright. We'll go next weekend. You need to rest. You had a long week. Go to sleep." She brushed a kiss on his cheek. "Ach, Dad, you didn't shave this morning." She was indignant.

With his eyes closed and sleep firmly taking over, he barely was coherent when he answered. "Too worn out from drowning, Daisy, too worn out."

He was already asleep before he could even see the frown and confusion on Daisy's face.

"Dad."

He groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. It felt too early to be disturbed.

"Dad! Wake up," Daisy nagged him.

He peeked out from under the pillow. It was too bright outside. He moved and his head protested, but not as ferociously as before. It took him a moment to recall the events of the previous day. He wondered, if that was a result of the concussion as well.

"Why?" he asked gruffly.

"Ach, Dad. Really? Because the party starts in an hour and Mum needs you to go and pick something up from the store." She pulled the pillow away and the light hit his eyes. It actually hurt and he moaned.

Daisy frowned at him. "Are you feeling better? You look horrible."

"Oi, thanks for that." He climbed out of the bed. He was still wearing the same clothes he had put on the other morning. This was becoming an unhealthy habit. If he continued like that, he would only need one shirt and suit. He caught his reflection in the bedroom mirror. The bruise around the wound on his forehead had taken on a nasty yellow purple shade and he had to agree with Daisy, he did look rather hideous.

"Tell your mother to come upstairs and tell me what she needs. 'M going to rinse off and change." He padded over to the bathroom while Daisy was noisily thudding down the stairs.

He barely had taken his clothes off when Tess walked in on him.

"Bloody hell, Daisy wasn't exaggerating. You do look rather worse for the wear." She stepped up to him and looked him over. So did he. There was an angry purple bruise on his right hip. He flinched when she touched it.

"Oh, Alec," she whispered. He self-consciously wrapped a towel around his waist, hiding a very different reaction to her touch. Annoyed at himself, he hurried to get into the shower. While turning on the water, he asked her what she wanted him to do. His memory of the prior day might be fuzzy, but he hadn't forgotten what Daisy had thrown at him the last morning.

"Actually, we are pretty set for the party. I just wanted you to have a way out, in case you didn't want to be around a crowd of noisy people right after waking up from your concussed sleep."

"Is that how you're making up for telling our daughter that I don't care about the family? Or do you just want to get rid of me?" he asked angrily, voice raised over the running water.

"I didn't say that to Daisy," she snapped back at him, equally loud.

"Don't lie to me Tess. Why would she tell me then?" He was getting more and more riled up which wasn't good because he hadn't taken his medication yet.

"I only tried to explain to her why you might have forgotten about the party. She was so upset about it," Tess countered.

"Seriously? That was your way of making her feel better, by telling her I only care about my job?" He didn't understand, frustration growing. He was scrubbing himself down, trying to get rid of all the icky feelings of this weekend. It didn't work.

She was silent, but didn't leave. When he was done and opened the shower stall, she handed him his towel, not looking at him.

"Tess, whatever it is that's going on between us right now, we can't drag Daisy into it. We always agreed on that and now is certainly not the time to change that. We both are under a lot of pressure at the moment and there is so much we need to talk about…" - his irregular heart beat surely could attest to that – "but there never seems to be the right time anymore."

He lifted her chin with his hand, looking her in the eyes. "I miss you Tess. I miss being close to you and I want to go back to how it used to be."

She gave him a sad smile. "Sometimes you can't just go back and ignore everything that has happened, Alec."

He sighed. His heart uncomfortably jolted in his chest. "I know, more than you might think. But we can at least try, please?"

She looked away again. "Get dressed Alec. Let me know, if you're going to be here for the party." And she left him standing, shivering in the cold bathroom.

Hardy wanted to stay for the party, be part of his daughter's life, but after hiding in the corner for an hour, trying to ignore the fact that the music, the happy chattering and the noise level was giving him a splitting headache, he had to leave. He was feeling nauseated and dizzy again and longed for a quiet moment anywhere else but in his backyard.

He found Daisy, surrounded by her friends, happy and enjoying herself. He pulled her aside, attempting to smile at her guests.

"Darlin', I have to take a break. Not feeling too well. 'M sorry." He hated himself for being such a wimp and bailing out on her, but he also knew that him throwing up at her party or even worse, passing out, would maybe be the talk of the day in school, but surely not the one she had been hoping for.

Her happy face promptly changed into an angry frown. "Really, Dad? Mum said you would try to get out of it and I guess she was right."

Hardy had to put a lot of effort into not showing his anger in front of his child. "Please, Daisy. It's not like that." He couldn't find the right words. The nausea was getting worse and the party lights around him started to spin. He really should get out of there before it was too late. Unconsciously he grabbed onto Daisy's shoulder to steady himself.

"Ouch, you're hurting me." He registered her complaint, but couldn't do anything about it, putting all his energy into suppressing the sickening feeling in his stomach.

"Dad, let go!" He tried, but immediately put his hand back to where it had been holding onto her.

"Dad?" She sounded worried and he felt bad for doing that to her on her big day. He was so miserable though, just wanting to be in a quiet spot so badly. She must have been asking him something, because she was gently shaking his shoulder. Her words finally got through to him.

"Can you hear me, Dad? Answer my question, please." Her voice was full of anxiety.

He pulled himself together. Or at least he tried. "'M sorry, what'd you ask?" Vertigo blurred her terrified face. Tess had finally noted that something was up. She had come over and gripped his arm, digging her fingers deeply into his flesh. It hurt, but it also helped him to focus on something else but the overwhelming nausea.

"Jesus, Alec. You're scaring the hell out of the kids," she hissed in his ear and dragged him away. While she was ushering him up the stairs back into the bedroom, she was going on about his impeccable sense of shit timing to choose this weekend of all to get a concussion. He couldn't really care, he just wanted her to be quiet. Her voice made his ears ring and the idea of his brain melting away from the excruciating pain was almost appealing. Maybe it would make everything stop. They ended up in the bathroom again, him forcefully vomiting and her still muttering on about him being unbelievable.

When he was finished, he was leaning breathlessly against the wall. His heart was pounding in his chest, feeling more erratic than it had since the nightmare. He should take some of his pills but the thought of putting anything in his stomach made him gag. It occurred to him that he had barely eaten anything or drank enough fluids in the last two days. Didn't his doctor say something about making sure not to get dehydrated and to have proper electrolyte intake? He tried not to panic.

"I have to go back downstairs. Can't leave a bunch of teenaged girls by themselves. And you're clearly no help," she barked at him.

He tried to get up but couldn't really, too weak and too dizzy. She was watching him struggle, and finally with an exasperated huff, she dragged him to his feet and over to their bed. He fell on it, pulling a pillow over his head in order to block the offensive sensory overload of light and sound. Tess closed the curtains to keep out the light and shut the windows to reduce the noise coming in from the party.

"Get some rest. Come back when you feel better," she instructed sternly. Hardy was out as a light before she even closed the bedroom door.

He woke up coughing, chocking from the water in his lungs. His arms ached from pulling her out, he could feel her cold body next to him, the river stench all around them. He gasped for air, coughing more, with the desperate need to breath. There was pain, so much pain, everywhere - his head, his chest, stomach and his side. He finally was able to open his eyes, realizing where he was. Not at the river, but at home, in his own bed. His shirt was damp with sweat and his heart was racing away. He reached for his pockets, he was in his underwear. He didn't remember taking his pants off, must have been Tess. Where had she put them? He really needed those pills. He rolled over to his nightstand and dug through the drawer until he found what he needed. Still heavily breathing, he gagged down a couple tablets, hoping he wouldn't need to throw up again.

The noises from the party had died down and it was almost too quiet now. He rubbed down his face with his hands, breathing in and out, waiting for the medication to do its work. There was a note, propped up against the night lamp.

'Gone to the movies with some friends and Mum. Hope you feel better.' – signed with a heart and Daisy's curly signature. He was annoyed that he didn't get to go, especially as he knew Tess actually didn't like going to the cinema. He sat up, feeling significantly better. His head was only mildly achy and the nausea was gone. In fact, he was hungry. He put on some sweat pants and a T-shirt instead of his damp clothes and made his way to the kitchen. His search for a healthy choice for supper was derailed by all the party food leftovers. He eventually settled on some pasta salad and a piece of birthday cake. Not really low fat but considering he barely had anything to eat over the two days, it might be acceptable. Also, he didn't really care. He deserved a piece of cake after all the misery.

He took the dessert to his desk and his eyes fell on the copies of Pippa's diary. He wiped his fingers on his sweat pants and opened the folder. He never had liked reading the victim's private writings such as letters or diaries. Couldn't ask for permission, but then being entrusted with the investigation in their murder might suffice.

She had been an avid writer. The entries were daily and often several pages long. He started with the most recent one, Friday April 13th. Nothing on the day she was taken. Her hand writing was edgier than Daisy's, but very flowery and descriptive. She talked a lot about, how she was looking forward to the weekend, spending it with Lisa. How she would ask her about that boy in school who she liked, but thought he didn't fancy her. She went on to talk in length about these other girls who didn't like her very much but how she didn't really care, which in Hardy's fatherly opinion obviously was very much the opposite. He stared at the papers and tried not to make the immediate comparison to Daisy. It was impossible.

He skimmed back a few days and finally found something that caught his interest. Pippa was talking about her afternoon with Claire, how they were doing each other's hair and how 'awesome and cool' it was to have her as a neighbor. She raved over the haircut and that she seriously considered changing her mind about becoming a hair dresser instead of a make-up artist. Another entry talked about an afternoon with BBQ at their house, Lisa, Claire and Lee were all there. She had showed everybody her new trampoline and it had been a blast.

After an hour of reading the small writing and taking some notes, Hardy's head was throbbing again and he had to put the diary down. A profound sadness was settling in. Not that he didn't assume it before, but Pippa had been a blossoming teenage girl, at the cusp of turning into a young woman, full of hopes and dreams, determined and only thwarted by the expected teenage insecurities, however facing those bravely. Lisa was an important person in her life, almost like a big sister and certainly someone she confided in and looked up to. She had a good relationship with her parents, no indication on any marital problems. So either there were none or the parents were good at keeping it from the girl. The neighbors, Lee and Claire seemed to become more prominent in her life.

He hadn't really gained any major information, but his picture of Pippa and the important relationships in her life were more fleshed out. He sighed and rubbed his hands down his face. He realized he never finished the cake. He took the plate and munched down the last bites. His thoughts wandered to his own child. He didn't know if she was keeping a diary. If she did, would there be any acknowledgement of her parents' squabbling? Would she write about the things that her mother said to her about her father? Despite having just finished the cake, he had a bitter taste in his mouth. He felt betrayed by Tess' back stabbing statements, something he would never do, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why she would say those things to Daisy.

Daisy was turning thirteen in a few days. He remembered the day Tess told him she was pregnant. They had been married for less than a year and it wasn't quite planned at the time, but they were both so excited. He had picked her up and spun her around, hugging and kissing her all over. They fell on the bed together and Tess had to fight him off, mockingly scolding him not to squeeze the baby. She laughed so hard at his terrified face that she was crying. He sure was gentler for what followed.

Hardy smiled. He was so happy back then and he wished he could turn back time, go back to the unburdened more youthful feelings of those days. He rubbed his chest, completely unconscious of the movement. His mind was filled with random memories, lazily tumbling through his thoughts. Happy and sad, alike. He remembered Daisy's first birthday and many others. Her glowing face when blowing out the candles, her utter excitement when unwrapping her presents.

He sat up straight, so suddenly that the forgotten cake plate slid from his lap to the ground.

Damn it. He didn't have a present. How could he have not thought of it earlier? He knew what he wanted to get her, had known since he had seen her in that gorgeous dress at the wedding, but with everything going on it had slipped his mind. He hoped it wasn't too late. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He found who he was looking for and dialed. She picked up quickly.

"Hello Emma. It's DI Alec Hardy. Remember the guy whom your father keeps complaining about?"

"Ah, the skinny tall Scottish bloke, who curses almost as much as my Dad. Sure I do. How are you?" she playfully answered.

He grinned at her reaction. "'M fine. And yourself?" He politely listened to the answer but was anxious to ask her his question.

"Listen, I was wondering, if you could help me out with something. It's Daisy's birthday and I had an idea for a present for her, but got sidetracked at work."

She chuckled. "Don't you guys always get 'sidetracked'? Saw your picture in the paper. Not very flattering. Sorry about the girls by the way. Awful thing." She sounded sad and they were both silent, until she took in a deep breath.

"Anyways, what was it that you wanted my help with?" she continued, changing the subject.

"Are you still doing that jewelry stuff?"

"Sure thing. Do you want something specific for Daisy? How old is she now?"

"She'll be thirteen on Thursday. And yes, I had something in mind. A necklace. Could you do it that fast?" he asked anxiously. Considering his current negative tally on the birthday tab, he had a lot riding on this.

She sighed. "Typical man, always waiting to the last minute. Depends a little on what you need, but I'd say I could put some extra time in, considering it's for Miss Daisy. Not that I'm doing you a favor or something just because you're my Dad's friend, because you're a total knob, in case nobody told you lately."

He blew out air through the nose. "Don't worry, people don't lose any opportunity to remind me of that. Especially your father."

She laughed again. "Ya, he's good at that, isn't he? Tell me what your knob-mind had envisioned and I see what I can do. Would love to help you, seriously." Her tone was genuine and a small hope was growing inside Hardy. Maybe he wasn't a total failure as a father of a teenaged girl after all.

It took them the better part of an hour to settle on the details. They only argued a wee bit, when both of them were stubborn about color choices, but in the end he was able to convince Emma. When he hung up the phone, he was happy with the plan. He put away all the work related files, took his dirty plates back to the kitchen and decided to go back to bed, to sleep off the last effects of the concussion and the shitty weekend.

On his way to the bedroom, he stopped by Daisy's room. He leaned against the door frame and let his eyes wander around. His memory of her room wasn't at all matching the display in front of him. The decorations were different, posters of people in questionable outfits and poses had replaced wall decals of Curious George and Hello Kitty. It was messy as always. Clothes, jewelry and what he presumed were hair accessories were lying around. Truth be told, he didn't even remember seeing most of those things on her. He didn't like that feeling, having to acknowledge that he didn't know everything about her anymore. The purple unicorn was sitting in the corner of her bed. At least one left over from her childhood. He was happy to see that she hadn't put it back into the box, that she kept it with her after the hospital stay. Maybe there still was enough of his little girl hiding behind the teenager that he could catch up with her before she was all grown up and gone. He took in the room one more time, fighting off a few sentimental tears. He smiled and closed the door. Daisy was right, he was too soppy.

A/N: For those who would like to learn more about Hardy's and Baxter's friendship, get a glimpse on how Baxter's daughter Emma knows Daisy, please be on the lookout for another little spin off. There is "Sir Alec" already where we meet Baxter for the first time and then I'll be posting "A Unicorn In the Snow" shortly. Hope you'll like Daddy!Alec.