A/N: I apologize for the delay in updating. RL was jealous of Alec Hardy and had serious issues with hogging all my time this past week or so. But finally, I stole some time and here it is… it's a Wednesday and Alec is trying to keep things together… hope you enjoy the continuation of the saga. Again, I am no expert in police work, but I try… thanks for reading and commenting! And of course my heartfelt THANK YOU to my faithful beta hazelmist who is absolutely precious – you rock!

CHAPTER 11

"That bloody woman!" Hardy cursed, tossing down the receiver of his office phone. He jumped up from his chair and stormed out of the door.

"Did you know that this journalist has been harassing the Gillespies?" Hardy yelled across the room, addressing Tess and Thompson who were sitting at their desks. They both looked up, surprise on their faces. He came to a halt in front of them, hands on his hips, heart racing with the anger that was boiling inside him.

"The family liaison officer just called me. Says this Karen White woman has been hanging around the estate and accosted Cate in the supermarket today. He wasn't there because he was at the house, but when Cate came home crying and all flustered he found out why. Seems she has been calling them as well. Did any of them ever mention it to you?"

Tess and Thompson exchanged a glance and shook their heads. She was the one who spoke. "No, nobody ever said anything. I assumed the press would be after them, but as we haven't had any issues with journalists showing up at their house, we thought maybe not this time."

Hardy snorted. "Really? You thought the bloody press would let go of a juicy story like this?" he snapped at them.

Tess' eyebrow went up. "Alec, there is no reason to yell at us. You didn't know either after all," she replied coldly. They glared at each other for a few moments. He hated it when she called him out on things, especially in front of everyone. Being his wife, she often overstepped her professional boundaries and at times was borderline disrespectful to his position as her boss.

With a low voice he growled at them, "I didn't know because you lot didn't do your jobs properly to stay on top of these things. Did you ever even ask the family about the press? Did you even think that this might become an issue?" Taking in their blank faces, he continued, "Thought so. Make sure that doesn't happen again. You two are the lead DS on this case and if you can't perform, I can find somebody else. Have I made myself clear?"

They both nodded and kept their mouths shut. They knew they had messed up and there wasn't much to argue about. He was sure that he would have to pay for this later at home. But for now, it was necessary. Everything that had been driving this investigation was coming from him and it was wearing him down. It wasn't that he couldn't do it by himself, but a complex case needed more than one set of eyes. Somewhere at the back of his brain, a nagging voice told him that this time around, he might soon have to hand over things anyways, if his heart continued to act like it had last night.

Without another word, he turned around to go back to his office. He closed the door behind him and shut the blinds. Then he laid down on his sofa. Last night's events still had a strong hold over him and the fatigue was too much to fight. He had a couple of hours before he expected Claire to come in, maybe he could rest a bit. He had just about drifted off, when a knock on his door jolted him awake and expectedly set off his already strained heart. With some effort he sat up, heart still pounding away, reminding him of what happened only a few hours ago.

When Baxter entered, Hardy cursed under his breath. This sure wasn't the most opportune time to have a chat with his very perceptive superior who happened to know him rather well. He desperately tried to calm himself down with moderate success.

If Baxter was surprised to find him on the sofa, he didn't let on. He squinted his eyes at him and sat down in one of the chairs, pulling it closer to where Hardy was sitting.

"I hear you're bringing in those neighbors for questioning and DNA sampling. Any reason to believe they are suspects?" he asked casually.

"Aye, the man, Lee Ashworth. We think he might be. The woman, Claire, we are not sure yet."

Baxter shifted in his chair, interest sparked. "What's your reasoning?"

Hardy chewed his lower lip. His boss wasn't that fond of hunches if there was no hard evidence to back them up. "He had access to the house, his fingerprints are everywhere. Pippa spent a lot of time with him. Lisa liked him too."

Baxter frowned. "That's really not a lot, Hardy. There must be something else."

Hardy squirmed on the sofa, dragged his hands over his face, and finally confessed. "Fine. It's a hunch. The way he's been acting, saying things. I asked him if he liked hanging out with the girls and when he spoke about Pippa he had guilt written all over his face. Tess and I both noted it."

Baxter interrupted him before he could go on, the furrow on his forehead getting deeper. "You know what I think about that. Can't build a murder investigation on gut feelings." He paused for a moment, looking him up and down. Then he sighed. "I should really not say this, but I've learned over time that your hunches seem to be rather accurate, so I'm willing to roll with it. Question them, get your evidence, so we can get the bastards who did this behind bars."

Hardy felt relieved that his boss had not shot him down right from the start. His heart rate had calmed down, but the tightness in his chest was still present, and before he could suppress the gesture, he found himself rubbing his sternum, face scrunched up. It didn't go unnoticed. Baxter leaned forward on his chair and scrutinized him.

"You alright?" Worry was making his voice sharp.

"'M fine." Hardy didn't volunteer more, not trusting himself. He made a point to relax his face and to breathe normally. It was hard, but he managed.

"Really? Because you sure could have fooled me. Noted that already this morning in the briefing. Thought you were going to fall over any moment. What's going on with you, Hardy? Every day you look more and more like shit."

"Oi, thanks for that. Very flattering." Hardy tried sarcasm to deflect but judging from Baxter's face it wasn't quite working. "I've been under the weather, maybe caught a stomach bug or something. Didn't sleep well last night." It was a lie and a bad one to say the least, but Pippa's ghost was sitting next to him, not allowing for the truth to come out.

Baxter raised his brow and was eyeing him suspiciously. "A stomach bug? Seriously Hardy, next you're telling me your dog ate your homework. You've got to do better than that."

"'M fine, Ed. Just a little worn out. That's all. The weekend didn't really help. I'll make sure to get some rest tonight. That should do it, no?" Hardy was hoping he could appease him with showing that he was going to take care of himself.

Baxter looked at him for a long time, face impassive. Eventually he got up. "I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but if you're not better by tomorrow, I'm taking you off this case until your 'stomach bug' has blown over."

"You can't do that, Ed," Hardy said quietly. "Tess and Dave Thompson didn't even know that the press was hunting down the Gillespies. Any development we had so far came from my end. I don't think they would be able to run this by themselves. I'm the most experienced officer for the job and you know it. If we want to catch these bastards, you've got me or nothing." He was dead serious. He never had been that straightforward about his abilities and didn't really want to toot his own horn, but he felt he had no choice.

"That might be the case, Alec, but as I've told you before, you need to be able to last till the end. Otherwise all your talents are no good. And right now I'm not so sure about what's going on with you. I'm willing to watch it a bit longer, but I'm giving you a fair warning. I'm always there to back you up but you have to work with me, is that clear?" Baxter was as serious as Hardy had been.

"Very clear, sir," Hardy acknowledged. Baxter gave him a quick nod and closed the door behind him. Hardy slumped back onto the sofa, eyes falling shut. He didn't stir until another knock jerked him awake. His heart paused between beats way too long for his comfort, but then decided to cooperate and faithfully thud along in a steady rhythm. He cursed under his breath, got up and answered his door.

"What?" he barked at the DC Swenson who ducked before she let him know that Claire Ripley had been brought into an interrogation room.

It took him until he was about to open the door to register that Claire had given a different last name. Wondering why, he entered the room and Claire turned around, a smile beaming over her face as soon as she saw him.

"DI Hardy, how lovely to see you. I didn't expect you here. Seems rather a privilege to have the lead investigator take my DNA sample." She looked up at him, eyes wide and sparkly. Tess' angry accusations of him flirting with her came to his mind and he made an effort to keep his face as neutral as he could.

"I had some more questions. But we should do the sample first. Did you eat or drink anything in the last hour?" he asked while uncapping the swab that had been placed on the table by his staff.

She shook her head and licked her lips before she opened her mouth. When he leaned in to get the sample, she brushed over his arm, leaving him rather uncomfortable with the scenario. He wished he had taken another officer with him. He labeled the swab and placed it in the evidence bag, taking more time than he needed. The sound of a movement behind him made him turn around. She was right there, yet again invading his personal space.

"Lee was really upset that you guys showed up at his work. He wasn't very pleased when he found out I had given you the address." Her voice just had the slightest quiver in it and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with a hint of fear. Hardy wasn't sure if this was an act or if she really was afraid of her husband. This was the second time she hinted at his temper.

"Mrs. Ashworth, is there something you want to tell me about your husband?" he probed carefully.

"It's Claire Ripley actually. I don't go by my married name. Don't like it. It's his not mine." She was rather adamant about it. "And besides, I told you to call me Claire." Her hand came to rest on his elbow again. He took a step back, gently brushing it off.

"Claire, if you're worried about him or your safety, you can trust me." His voice was soft. "We have ways to protect you, if needed."

She stared at him wide eyed, but didn't volunteer any information. Maybe this was just a game after all. If the flirting didn't work on him, then the woman in danger might. He couldn't be sure, but he was well aware of his tendency to quickly assume the protector role for the female sex. It had gotten him into trouble in the past with Tess, one reason why they now made such a point of not letting on that they were married.

She lowered her eyes, giving him a coy smile. "How gallant of you to offer me protection. Never knew that the police employed decent men. But I'm okay. Lee and I are a family and we take care of each other. He would never hurt me, not intentionally." She frowned, appearing lost in her own thoughts. Hardy noted with interest her choice of words. His gut told him there was more to this story than what she let on. He just hadn't found the right way to get her to talk. She blinked and her face brightened up. The moment was gone.

"Anyways, you said, you had some more questions?" Her tone had changed and she was all chipper again.

Hardy beckoned her to sit down and took the chair opposite her. He was glad to have the table between them, not needing to fight off the unwelcomed physical contact she seemed to be so eager to make.

"Would you mind, if we got your official written statement of what you told me and DS Henchard about the evening of April 14th for the records? If you feel more comfortable you could have a solicitor present. We offer this to everyone who is making an official statement." Hardy kept his face and voice neutral. This was routine procedure and he didn't want her to know that he didn't quite believe her.

She didn't answer for a while. He studied her face which was impassive until there was a tiny frown, quickly hidden by a smile, which appeared a little forced. Then she shook her head. He was surprised. He didn't expect her to refuse. She didn't really have a reason, unless she hadn't been telling the truth.

"Why not, Claire?" he asked softly, leaning in, placing his palms on the table. He could play games too. If she wanted a protector, he could give her one. She batted her lashes and then looked at him, her green eyes moist.

She avoided answering him and asked instead, "Can I leave now, please?"

He nodded, mouth slightly open. "Of course. I can't make you give a statement." He stood. When she was almost out the door, he held her back, gently placing his hand on her elbow.

"If you need help, Claire, here's my mobile." He scribbled his number on the back of his card and handed it to her. "Anytime, don't hesitate." She smiled at him and made sure to brush his fingers when she took the piece of paper from him.

"Thank you, Alec."

He watched her leave, leaning against the wall. He let out a long breath and scrubbed his face with his hands. Why did he get the impression that he had just been trapped in a cat-and-mouse game? And worse, who was the cat and who the mouse?

He stared at his lunch box. He hadn't seen Daisy this morning after Tess had let him sleep in and taken her to school. He read her note, trying not to get too soppy.

Dad,

Missed you this morning. Mum said to let you sleep and I agree with her. I should give you a bollocking for not taking care of yourself but then I know, you really suck at that. As a punishment for not being good, you'll only get healthy foods today. Except for the scone – you gotta have some treat, no? Hope to see you tonight. Love you, Daisy

Of course he did get soppy and had to hold back some exhausted tears. He wished the day was ending already and he could go home, spend time with his family. He never realized how much this part of his life balanced out the stress and exhaustion that his job brought with it until now when it seemed to be utterly missing. The past ten days had taken out so much of him and it was far from being over. It was only just the beginning. He ate the carrots and half of the turkey sandwich and left the scone as a reward for after his pills. He had been more and more reluctant to take them as they made him feel nauseated and at times rather drowsy. And it wasn't like they were helping that much, at least not the past day or so. His heart still hadn't settled down, not beating regularly for now going on more than 24 hours and he could feel the toll this was taking on his body. Begrudgingly he admitted to himself that Baxter might be right about having to take him off the case, if he didn't recover from his 'stomach bug' quickly enough. He hoped that Emily Abbott would have some answers for him this afternoon.

But before he could go to his appointment, he had to get a statement out of Lee Ashworth. Whatever Claire's game was, without getting more evidence that Lee might be a valid suspect, they couldn't move forward with the case. The lack of anything tangible that would hold up in court was driving him bonkers. One victim found in the water, the other one missing, no murder scene and no witnesses. A nightmare for anyone, even the most skilled investigators.

He fished out his pills, popped them out of their various blister packets and swallowed them with one big gulp. He leaned back in his chair, eyes wandering to the ceiling. His faulty heart was pounding in his ears and despite knowing better he listened to it until every skipped beat echoed louder and louder through his mind and every pause became more and more silent and he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to scream but couldn't in the confined office space. He jumped to his feet and paced to the window, pressing his forehead against the cold surface of the glass, desperate to calm himself down. Anger over the unfairness of life and anxiety about his future were building up inside him and in the end they won. He punched the wall next to his window, focusing on the sudden pain in his knuckles to distract him from everything else. It only worked so much, but enough so that he could regain some composure.

When DC Swenson came to tell him that Lee Ashworth was here, she couldn't have found a more stoic Alec Hardy. He had locked away all the unruly emotions, deep, deep inside him, somewhere close to the memory of his mother. He was under no illusion that they would come back to haunt him at the most inopportune moment, but for now he had found tranquility, however fragile it might be. It wasn't the best thing he could do, but it sure was the only one.

He asked DC Swenson to come along with him, preferring to have a witness around. Tess and Dave Thompson were out questioning people about the stalker that had been called in by what tallied up to now four witnesses.

He took a moment to focus before he walked into the room. Lee Ashworth was sitting on a chair, broad shoulders squared and legs firmly planted on the ground. His face was stern but did not betray any other emotion.

"Thank you for coming by, Mr. Ashworth," Hardy opened the conversation. Lee just glared at him. Hardy wasn't fazed and continued with the official business. He stated date, time, location and Ashworth's name and moved on to introduce DC Swenson and himself again for the sake of the tape.

"Mr. Ashworth the purpose of this interview is that we would like to record your official statement about the events of the evening of April 14th. You will receive a written copy for your review and signature which will then be placed with the case files. We also have a warrant to obtain a DNA sample. There are no charges being made against you but you may be called as a witness in court. You do not need a solicitor but if you feel like one should be present, the police force has public solicitors at your disposal."

He rattled down the standard instructions, never losing sight of Ashworth's eyes. He was signaling DC Swenson to go ahead and obtain the DNA sample. Ashworth denied that he ate or drank anything within the last hour and the DC went ahead with her task. He glared at Hardy over Swenson shoulder. Hardy kept his face impassive, not giving the man anything to go by. To his question if he wanted a solicitor, Ashworth declined.

Once they were done with the formalities, Hardy began the interview. "Mr. Ashworth, can you please describe to me what you were doing on Saturday April 14th in the afternoon and evening." He leaned back on his chair, one hand resting on the table which separated them.

Ashworth hesitated a moment, then spoke, voice level. "I was laying down a floor in a church, then made a supply run on my way home, worked on the floor in our living room and when I was done for the day, I went straight to shower like I always do after work. Claire was next door doing Cate's hair for the wedding. When she came back, she said she really wanted to go out for dinner, but I was tired and didn't want to, so we decided to stay in. We had dinner, watched telly and then went to bed kinda early."

"When did you come home exactly?"

"Dunno. I think maybe around quarter 'till five or maybe five." He shrugged his shoulders.

"What did you have for dinner?" Hardy peeked at his notes from when talking to Claire.

"I think it was chicken with potatoes, and salad." Claire had said they had steak with potatoes. Could just be a lapse in memory or not, Hardy was mindful to not bank more on it. He put effort into not changing his expression or body language.

"You said you watched telly. What was on that night?" Maybe Ashworth's memory would be better this time.

His answer came fast, almost too fast. "BBC news, then 'The Voice'. Claire really likes the show." That was almost verbatim from what his wife had said.

"When did you go to bed?"

Lee shifted in his chair. "I think around 10:30 or 11 pm. We were both tired." Yet again a match with his wife's statement. Hardy's eye fell on one of his notes. Claire had said they both wanted to stay in. He was very clear about that Claire had wanted to go out. Another possible discrepancy. Maybe this was actually getting him somewhere.

"Did you notice anything unusual that evening? Either outside or inside the house? Noises? People? Anything?" Hardy wanted to see if he was going to repeat his words from when he met him the first time. Ashworth didn't and Hardy smiled inwardly.

"I heard the girls talk and maybe their telly. It's not very soundproof that place," he replied promptly.

Hardy leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Is that so, Mr. Ashworth? Because when I asked you before you said that you didn't hear anything, that it was completely quiet the whole evening? What is it then, can't be both, can it?" Hardy's eyes didn't leave Ashworth for one split second.

Ashworth sat up straighter and blinked a few times, before answering. "It was quiet in the sense of that there was nothing out of the ordinary. I didn't really think to mention the usual noises."

Not a bad lie, but nevertheless a lie. Hardy allowed his eyebrow to rise. "Interesting, Mr. Ashworth, very interesting. The usual noises is rather different from nothing at all, wouldn't you say so?"

Ashworth's face was now sporting a frown. "I don't know what you're trying to get at here, but I didn't hear anything and I have nothing to do with this."

"Nobody is accusing you of anything, Mr. Ashworth. I'm just pointing something out. What was your relationship with Lisa Newbery?" Hardy sprung the question at him and it had the expected effect.

Ashworth was visibly thrown off, pressing his lips together and squinting at Hardy. "I have nothing to do with Lisa. She babysits Pippa and is often at their house. I've seen her around, nothing more," he stated, rather defensively. This was quite a different response from the day prior. Ashworth was way more neutral this time. Hardy decided to pry a bit more.

"Her mother says different. She says you were flirting with her, flattering her a lot," Hardy threw at him, voice sharper now, Scottish accent creeping in more.

Ashworth was getting angry. "That's bollocks. I did no such thing. I'm a married man and not interested in teenagers," he scoffed.

"Right." Hardy leaned back in his chair again, quickly contemplating his next move. He assumed that Ashworth would probably lose patience soon and he couldn't hold him back if he wanted to leave.

"What about Pippa then? What's your connection there?" He was hoping for another slip of composure like it had happened the other day, but luck didn't grant it to him. Ashworth's face was entirely neutral when he replied. His eyes darted to the ground and then steadily held Hardy's.

"I used to help out with driving her around. She was a busy girl. I liked her, she was fun to be around. I miss her, I think." The last words were sad and Hardy was almost convinced that he did. For the moment he didn't have much to add. What he needed to do was find more evidence and get Claire to make an official statement.

"Is there anything else you wanted to tell us, Mr. Ashworth?" He shook his head. "Alright then. Once we transcribe it, you'll get a copy of the statement to review and sign, as I said. For the tape, interview terminated at 2:37 pm."

Lee couldn't get out fast enough, leaving without saying goodbye or another look at the detectives. Hardy had Swenson deal with the tape and the sample. Back in his office he called forensics himself telling them to put a rush on the two DNA samples and specifically running them against whatever they got from the hair specimen. He wanted results by Friday.

He was getting ready to sneak out for his appointment with Emily Abbott when there was a knock. Plucking his glasses off his nose, he looked up. Tess was leaning against the doorframe, her slender body lit up by the sunlight filtering through the window. She was smiling at him. His memory tricked him and he was taken back almost twenty years ago to when he had seen Tess for the first time. She had been leaning against a doorframe just like now, congratulating him on passing the detective exam. He had been smitten the moment he had laid eyes on her, fumbling his answer like a teenaged boy would have, and she smiled at him just like now. He blinked and the memory was gone. She had stepped up to his desk.

"Where did you go, Alec? You were miles away and look at that daft smile on your face," she teased him.

"'S nothing, just remembering something," he muttered, blushing

"I see." Her voice carried the smile that was still on her face. "DC Swenson told me how well you did with Ashworth. She seemed rather impressed."

"Ach, nonsense. I didn't do anything special. He did it to himself. He was lying and a few things in his statement don't quite match Claire's." He didn't like compliments, they made him feel rather embarrassed.

"Did she make an official statement?"

Hardy shook his head. "She refused. Odd. She also hinted again at not feeling safe with her husband."

"Do you want us to work on getting her back tomorrow for a written statement?"

"We have to, especially after what Ashworth said. Just wish we could catch her before she can talk to him," he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He caught the time and realized he really needed to leave. He got up, shrugging on his jacket, slinging his coat over his arm.

"You're leaving?" Tess asked, her expression confused.

"Yup, got something to pick up for Daisy's birthday." The lie slipped off his lips way too easily for his taste.

"Didn't you do this yesterday already?" she quizzed him.

"Gotta go back, get something fixed." Like his dodgy heart. "I'll be home for dinner, I hope." He avoided her eyes, not sure if he was convincing enough.

"Alright. I'll see you later then, got a late shift today." She was turning to the door and he let her go ahead of him. He was closing his office door, when she quietly addressed him.

"Alec?" He looked up, catching something in her voice. It was that smile again that had reminded him of the past. "Good work with Ashworth."

Before he could say something, even if he'd known what to, she turned and quickly walked off towards her desk. He stared after her, daft smile returned to his bright red face, heart fluttering in is chest just like it had so many years ago.

Emily was worried about seeing Alec Hardy today. He was one of her sickest patients who unfortunately seemed to have so little insight into the severity of his illness. At least this time he had not skipped the appointment. She picked up his chart and took a look at his numbers. She frowned. He had lost weight since he was discharged from the hospital, not a good sign. The nurse had noted a normal heart rate but had scribbled 'VERY IRREGULAR!' next to it. She noted the date of the last attack that he had mentioned in the nurse's brief history. It was last night. She took in a deep breath and opened the door to the exam room.

He looked awful. She knew she couldn't hide her initial reaction from reflecting in her face and she wasn't even trying to.

"Jesus, Alec. What happened?" she blurted out before she could hold herself back. He looked up at her, and when their eyes met she knew that something had profoundly changed since their last meeting. He had been emotionally shaken on that day after pulling out the dead girl's body from the water, but this was different. There was a haunted look to his eyes, not to mention the exhaustion that she could also read in the rest of his body.

He dropped his gaze to the floor and didn't say anything. His hands were clasped, dangling down between his knees, fingers weaving and unweaving constantly. His normally neatly combed hair was falling into his face, covering his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak, but then stayed silent. Emily sighed inwardly. This wasn't going to be easy, but then she had known that right from the moment when she met him for the first time in A&E, being literally worried sick over his daughter.

She walked up to him, pulling her stethoscope off her neck and began to examine him. His rhythm was all over the place and his way too fast thready pulse didn't exactly inspire confidence in her that his heart was doing an adequate job. His breathing was labored but his lungs sounded clear and she was content with that, reassuring her that her worry that his body might show signs of early failure of the ailing organ in his chest was unfounded. At least for now.

He still hadn't said a word, she would need to coax it out of him. She made him lie down and started placing the ECG stickers on him, a task she preferred doing herself. Most cardiologists just let their staff do it. She, however, saw it as an opportunity to spend more time with the patients to talk. She scrutinized the rhythm strip and frowned again.

"Not good then, ey?" he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and low. She found his eyes that betrayed his casual tone. He was scared and that was more worrisome than anything else.

"No, Alec. It's not good. But I think you knew that already, didn't you?" He nodded, mouth slightly open. His fringe had fallen to the side and revealed a fading bruise above his right eyebrow.

She brushed her fingers over it and he turned his face away. "Alec, what happened to your head?"

Maybe she could get him talking. He squirmed on the exam table. He took in a deep breath, let it out and finally found enough courage to tell his tale. Slowly and with a lot of pauses.

"I… I had a nightmare, about the river. It was rather… disturbing. When I woke up, I thought I was drowning… was very disoriented and sort of tripped over my own feet… fell on the coffee table in my living room… bashed my head on it. Think I might have had a mild concussion." He stared at the ceiling, avoiding her gaze.

"When was that?" she asked softly, not letting on to how worried this made her.

"Saturday morning. More or less spent the whole weekend in bed until I felt better."

"Hm. And how did your heart take that stress?" she inquired carefully. Besides her rising suspicion that the near drowning that he experienced and the rather horrific circumstances were affecting him more than he let on, she was genuinely worried about the potential danger nightmares and sudden arousal from sleep posed to his tenuous health.

He glared at her. "What do you think? It's been shit. I've been popping these pills like smarties, it hasn't slowed down for the last two days and last night I thought I was going to die in my own bed because it just didn't stop until it really stopped. That was fun," he spat out, anger and fear making his Scottish accent thicker than usual. She was taken aback by the sudden outburst, not expecting him to be this volatile. Yet another sign of how fragile he was right now. He was breathing harder and his hand wandered to his chest, rubbing it absentmindedly. She pressed the record button on the ECG again. When she saw the result, she hoped her nurses had checked the defibrillator this morning.

He snorted when she couldn't hide the worry on her face. "Ha, see? Give me my pants, will you please? The stupid pills are in my pockets." He was panting, when she handed him his clothes. He fished out the medication and swallowed it dry, not even asking for water.

"How often have you been taking those?" she asked while she was looking through her cabinet for an additional medication to give him to break what looked to her like a sustained arrhythmia episode. She probably should admit him to the hospital, but what use would that do besides create more paperwork when he was going to sign himself out at the first opportunity?

"Dunno. Several times a day I guess. I've been good about the other meds. Feels like they're not working though." He gave her a sideways glance, and confessed quietly, "It's been getting worse not better. I'm scared, Emily." His voice was trembling with his last words.

She helped him sit up and left her hand on his shoulder. She handed him the additional pills which he swallowed obediently. "Alec, we really need to set a date for that EP study so that we can move forward with the pacemaker. The medication can only do so much. It's like putting a band aid on a stab wound. It won't stop the bleeding until it gets properly taken care of. And until you get that pacemaker, you're at a real risk of having another serious attack which – and I hate to put it that way – could be your last."

He shook his head. "It has to be after the case is done. There is too much at stake," he argued.

"Alec, I'm going to be very frank with you. The only thing that's at stake here is your life. If you don't stop and take care of yourself, this case will kill you. From what you're telling me, it already has affected you to an extent that is making me extremely worried about you. It would be irresponsible of me to let you go on like this." She was trying to keep her frustration with him out of her voice, only moderately successful.

"I can't, Emily. I have to finish this case. You didn't see her." Anguish was lacing his voice and he scrubbed his face down with his hands. "I see her every night now, she comes to haunt me in my dreams. I pull her out of the river and sometimes it's not her, it's Daisy." His voice broke, tears choking him up. He was struggling to compose himself. "I can't let that go. I owe it to these families to get whoever did this. I owe it to myself. Please just help me get through this and then I'll do anything you want me to." His eyes were pleading with her, seeking permission to go on with this insanity.

She studied his face for a long time, fighting with herself and her own demons. It wasn't that she didn't understand him and his need to finish what he started, but she also knew it was going to seriously harm him, if not kill him. On the other hand, she had the very distinct feeling that if he didn't get to solve this case, it would damage him in a very different way.

When she took out her prescription pad to make some desperate changes to his medications, he let out a sigh of relief. She sure hoped that he was as quick with reaching conclusions for his case as he was with reading her.

"You have to promise me to call me, if these don't make it better. And I want to see you back in a weeks' time at the latest. Try to get as much proper rest as you can. Don't skip meals, try to take breaks and if things are getting to you don't keep it to yourself," she urged him when she handed him the prescriptions and new instructions of what to take when and how often.

He nodded and smiled timidly. "I will try my best."

"How did your wife handle your attack last night? Did she know what to do? I could call her and…"

"Don't. She doesn't know yet," he was quick to interject.

Before she could hold herself back, she burst out, almost yelling at him, "Alec! She needs to know. She might be the only thing standing between you and dying of a sudden cardiac arrest. Why does that not go into your stubborn head?" She sucked in a deep breath and continued more calmly, "What I mean is that if you're collapsing at home, she needs to know what's going on and what to do. And even simple things like not startling you out of sleep are important information for her and your daughter to have."

She sighed when she saw his stricken face. "I know it must be hard, but you can't go on like this. You need help and your family will take care of you, right?"

"We haven't really been on the best terms lately. Also, I can't tell her because she would make sure I won't work anymore," he very quietly admitted. His eyes were clouded by deep sorrow and Emily felt for him.

"Please, just tell her. Hiding things won't make anything better. It will just drive you apart even more." Remembering her brief run in with his wife at the hospital, she was wondering if it wasn't only Alec who was good at keeping things a secret, but maybe also his wife's lack of interest in what was going on with her husband that made it so much easier for him to hide a serious illness from her.

He was silent, lost in his own thoughts. She squeezed his shoulder and smiled. He jerked, eyes focusing back on her. Then he got up slowly, the exhaustion in his face even more pronounced than when she had come into the room. Her hand slid up to his neck, checking his pulse. His heart had found a more regular beat and was stronger.

"Go home and rest. Your heart has been under a lot of strain these past couple of days, it should be better now," she gently encouraged him.

"Thanks, Emily. I will. I'm too worn out to go back to work anyways," he said tiredly, his voice gravelly. They walked out of the room together.

"I'll see you next week then. Call me if you need to, anytime. My staff can get you a taxi." One look at his guilty face was enough to realize that he was still driving. "Alec, you have to stop, you're going to kill yourself."

He smiled sheepishly at her. "So you've said. I'm fine. I'll get home safe, don't worry so much."

"Seriously? How could I not?" she retorted exasperated by his stubbornness.

He snorted and let out a short laugh, patted her on the arm and left. She was very relieved to find a text about an hour later, letting her know he made it home alright despite breaking at least five traffic laws, which he claimed was a new record for him. She smiled and berated herself once again for getting way too emotionally involved with this Scottish stubborn grumpy man who reminded her way too much of her father.

What Hardy didn't tell her in the text was that the reason why he broke the traffic laws was because he almost fell asleep at the wheel. The past two days had left him utterly exhausted. Work had been taxing and the fear induced by previous night's attack was having a tight grasp over him. Emily was right, he needed to take care of this problem, this was not sustainable. After he reached home, he decided to go for a walk to the nearest pharmacy to drop off his prescriptions and clear his head a little. It wasn't too far and he took his time, enjoying the feeling of the setting afternoon sun on his face. When he reached the store, he wasn't too out of breath and felt less cornered in than he had before.

He handed the prescriptions to the pharmacist and was glad to hear that he could wait for them. He sighed when he studied the new list of medications and the growing intricate schedule of when to take what. He took off his glasses, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was frighteningly complicated.

"Do you want me to go over this with you?" a young female pharmacist asked him kindly. She smiled encouragingly and before he could say anything she took the paper away from him. "Hm, quite a production there, sir. Let me see if I can make this a little more palatable for you. Wait here, I'll be right back." She winked at him and walked to the back of the store. He felt somewhat lost, not exactly knowing what to do with himself. People normally didn't do stuff for him voluntarily until he told them what to do. He paced awkwardly between the rows of over the counter medications and health paraphernalia until she came back.

"Here, I think this might be easier to follow and read." She handed him the paper and beamed up at him with a bright content smile. He fished his glasses out of his jacket pocket and looked at her work. His face brightened because it actually made sense to him what he was reading now. A wave of relief washed over him.

"See, thought so. Much better. I would recommend to keep this on you at all times. Also, I can recommend an app for your mobile that might be helpful to keep you on track," she added excitedly.

"An app?" he asked doubtfully. His face was wearing a deep frown. "I can barely set my alarm on my phone, let alone figure out an app." He made it sound like it was a contagious disease. She chuckled.

"You're funny. I bet if you put your mind to it you would do just fine. But you're one of those old-fashioned guys, I can tell. You probably still write letters," she teased.

"What's wrong with letters? What would all of our various Royal family members do if they couldn't lend their heads to postage stamps?" he growled. That made her laugh and Hardy smiled at her, feeling lighter than he had in days.

"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Let me check if your meds are ready. You could open up your own pharmacy with all of those."

He snorted. "Might need a career change soon anyways, so that's a start then," he replied sarcastically to which she just tilted her head and squinted her eyes at him.

When she handed him the paper bags, she said much more somber than before, "I recognized you from the papers, just didn't want to say anything. I would say I hope you don't put too much stress on yourself considering your heart condition, but that's probably a moot point, isn't it?" She paused and looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm gonna say it anyways though, don't put too much pressure on you. You want to catch those bastards after all." She smiled again, this time shyly.

Hardy didn't quite know what to say. Kindness and concern wasn't really what he had expected as soon as she had mentioned that she knew who he was. He took the paper bags and awkwardly stumbled through a 'thank you'. He had already turned away, when she addressed him again.

"DI Hardy, good luck. I think you need it. Don't let life win." She was dead serious now, all humor gone. She nodded at him and then answered a phone call. He stepped outside, walked half way down the block and stopped to take a few steadying breaths. He wasn't going to, he promised himself.

Tess was stuck with the late shift and therefore wasn't going to pick up Daisy from a friend's house until after she had finished. As much as he missed them, he was relieved to have some quiet time to himself. He rummaged through the fridge but nothing could stir his appetite. Regardless, he forced himself to eat some salad and bread with butter, but even that seemed too much for his permanently upset stomach. He consulted the new instruction sheet and took what seemed a ridiculous amount of pills. He would have to remember to take one more before going to bed.

The sofa in the living room was tempting but he knew if he sat down he would never get up again. Before he could lose the last bit of energy, he fetched Daisy's present and searched through various closets until he found some wrapping paper. Bollocks. All they had was Christmas themed. He sighed and picked the one that had the least obnoxious combination of reindeers, fir trees and snowmen. He could already see Daisy bicker over this. She was very picky about how presents were supposed to look like. Hers were always perfect - neatly wrapped, matching color and ribbons with intricate bows and curly things that she meticulously arranged to astonishing symmetry. There hadn't been one birthday since she could talk that she had not complained about his poor wrapping skills. Luckily for him, what was inside the rejected paper job was usually making up for the poor presentation.

He opened the box with the necklace and looked at it again. The purple mouth blown glass beads were catching the light and the silver filigree was contrasting the darker shades of the colors. It was beautiful. Pleased with his present, he smiled. He couldn't give her the birthday party she wanted but at least he made sure she received a special and unique gift. He closed the lid of the box carefully and wrapped it meticulously. His bow was almost as symmetrical as Daisy's and he felt he had done a good job. He found the nice stationary on his desk and wrote a note.

My darling Daisy,

Many years ago on this day I witnessed a miracle. A tiny human being was born, with fuzzy reddish brown hair and wide sparkling eyes. When they placed you in my arms, I cried – I know, already soppy back then, incorrigible. Now thirteen years later I saw this tiny human being all grown up, dancing with me at a wedding, her long reddish brown hair framing a beautiful face, eyes still wide and sparkling and again I had tears in mine. I saw you in that gorgeous dress and wanted to find a gift that would make you shine even more, and I hope I did. And although you were not wearing it on that day, I also hope it may serve as a memory for this wonderful moment that I certainly will never forget.

Happy Birthday, Darling.

I love you, always.

Dad

He wiped at his eyes and placed the folded paper in the envelope. He took both things to the kitchen, placing them carefully at Daisy's spot on the table. He wanted to give the present to her in person but was afraid they might miss each other in the morning like they had frequently now this past week. He fussed over the best spot and how to prop the card against the box but eventually was satisfied.

As soon as he stepped back from the table, all the restless energy that had kept him going was leaving him at lightning speed and he could feel himself crash. He was unbelievably tired and in a way wanted nothing more but to sleep, but he dreaded the night and all that came with it. He wandered around in the empty house, aimlessly fidgeting over this and that, until he barely could stand upright anymore. He should just go to bed, but he was scared to do so by himself. It was silly and childish but so real, that it prevented him from finding any peace of mind. Eventually, he sat down at the kitchen table, just wanting to rest his tired body for a moment. He folded his arms on the wooden surface and put his head down. Before he knew it, his eyes were falling shut and he drifted off to sleep.

He was walking through a field of bluebells, the flower stems snapping loudly under his feet. The river was closing in and he could feel the pull already. Then he heard somebody calling his name. He turned around, but nobody was there. He walked on and when he felt a tap on his shoulder he jumped with the sudden scare. His eyes snapped open and his heart stuttered, causing what felt like a large hand squeezing his chest tightly. He gasped for air and moaned with the pain.

"Alec, are you okay?" somebody asked. He blinked, trying to get his bearings and finally was able to focus on Tess. He took in another shuddering breath and tried to speak. That didn't go so well and all that came out of him was more of a croak than anything.

"What's going on, Alec?" she asked, her voice sharp with anxiety. She brushed his fringe out of his face, running her fingers through his hair, the other hand placed on his shoulders. The physical touch helped him to ground himself and finally he was able to speak coherently.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Had another nightmare. You startled me, I think." He was still just staring ahead, until she lifted his chin and found his eyes. He didn't know what she saw in them, but if any of his inner turmoil was mirrored then she should believe him. His heart was still racing along and he idly wondered if he had missed his night time pills.

She let go of his chin and pulled up a chair next to him. "I'm worried, Alec. This is the second night in a row, that you're rather affected by this. Maybe you need to see somebody about it? First the panic attacks in the hospital and now these intense nightmares, that's not like you." She seemed genuinely worried and he felt bad that he hadn't told her what was really going on with him. If he were not so awfully tired, maybe this would have been a good opportunity. But he barely could keep himself awake, in fact his eyes kept falling shut even while she was talking.

She wasn't oblivious to his state. "Jesus Alec, one would think you haven't slept in a week." She was closer to the truth than she knew. It sure felt like that to him. "I'm taking you to bed, you can't even keep your eyes open. We'll talk more tomorrow. Come." And with that she dragged him to his feet and up the stairs to their room. She helped him get his pants and shirt off. He was asleep before she could even put a blanket over him.