A/N: Thank you for all the comments on the previous chapter. And a special thanks to all the guest commenters who left a note on the previous chapter or any of the other ones – I wish there was a way to reply directly. Hardy's day continues… and so does the heart ache. Also, we meet "What's-the-point-of-you" Craig again ;-)

CHAPTER 22

Baxter found Hardy in the park. He had guessed correctly, assuming that Hardy couldn't have gone far. He had tried calling Hardy until Swenson told him that Hardy's mobile was ringing in his office. It was in Hardy's coat pocket, together with a bunch of pills. Baxter's worry was immediate and he felt compelled to go looking for his friend.

He slowed down, taking in the man in front of him. Hardy was sitting sideways on the bench, long legs folded up. His arms were wrapped around his knees and his head was hanging down. Baxter approached Hardy and took a seat next to him. Hardy didn't stir and kept his back to him.

"Alec? Are you okay?" Baxter asked gently, placing a hand on his friend's back.

Hardy shook his head and sniffed.

"No. I'm not," he pressed through clenched teeth.

Hardy's words surprised Baxter as his friend wasn't one for admitting to distress easily. It must have hit him harder than Baxter expected. Tess had been vicious and if he hadn't known that Hardy's relationship had its challenges as of late, he would have been rather taken aback. Come to think of it, he still was, despite being privy to Hardy's marital issues.

"I'm sorry. She was quite the bitch, if you don't mind me saying."

Hardy unfolded his long legs, moaning a bit. "'S my fault. I provoked her," he sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face.

Baxter highly doubted that, but then he hadn't been there for the whole thing.

"How did it start?" Baxter inquired against his better judgement. He really shouldn't get involved.

Hardy snorted. "A fucking coffee stain… that's how it started."

"A coffee stain?" Baxter scrunched up his face. What the hell was going on with Hardy? Was he cracking under the pressure of the case?

"Don't look at me like that, Ed," Hardy snapped at him. "There was a smudge on the map and I yelled at Thompson for it. Tess had nothing better to do than scold me like a school boy about it. Unfortunately for her I wasn't in the mood to tolerate her usual horseshit and I called her out on it. She didn't appreciate that to say the least."

Hardy didn't have to say more. It wasn't the first time that Tess had lashed out when being reminded that her husband was her boss. He had never seen them fall apart like this though. And for Tess to drag in their personal life, and their daughter of all things, was overstepping a boundary that Hardy upheld strictly. It still was concerning though that he would lose his temper over something so insignificant like a smudge on a map. It worried Baxter more than he was willing to admit.

He handed Hardy his coat. "Here. Your phone and pills are in there. Thought you might want those when you go and arrest Lee Ashworth."

Hardy's gaze whipped up. "We've got the warrant?"

Baxter nodded and pulled the paperwork out of his jacket pocket. He held it out to Hardy who stared at the envelope, without even reaching for it.

"What's wrong Alec? This is what you wanted."

Hardy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasped hands dangling between his legs. He didn't look at his boss when he said, no emotion in his voice,

"Let Tess and Thompson do it. My peace offering."

"What? Why? He's your suspect, you did all the work. Tess' accusations are bullshit and you know it."

Baxter was baffled. This had never happened before. He scrutinized Hardy and when he noted the ever so slight flinch of pain in his friend's face he knew what was going on. Clever, Hardy, but not good enough, Baxter thought.

"Is your heart bothering you?" They were back to interrogation.

Hardy shook his head and tried to stand up. His face grew a shade whiter and Baxter had to catch Hardy's arm that was blindly reaching for support. Hardy slumped back on the bench, taking in some slow breaths.

"That's it. I'm putting you on leave," Baxter stated angrily. He was done with his DI's games.

Hardy's lack of protest reinforced his decision. This man wasn't able to take care of himself, so he would make sure he'd do what was best for him. He was about to get up when Hardy's words held him back.

"Promise me to put him behind bars. Can you do that for me, please? I couldn't live with myself if we couldn't close this case," Hardy said, barely audible. His eyes were watery and he was kneading his thighs. He pushed himself up and muttered under his breath, "I guess I'm done here."

He shrugged his coat on. A pill packet fell out. Hardy froze, staring at it. "You know, one of the doctors said to me that I'm lucky that I made it this far. If this is how it's going to be, I think maybe I wasn't," Hardy uttered, voice flat and hollow.

Baxter swallowed. There had been a time when his daughter had spoken very similar words. It had been a very dark moment in their lives. It had taken a lot of patience and support for her to escape the bleakness surrounding her leukemia diagnosis. Maybe pressure and threats weren't what Hardy needed, maybe all he needed was a helping hand to guide him back to the path he knew and could walk.

Baxter stooped down and picked up the pills. He took Hardy's hand, placed them in his palm and closed his fingers around them. Then he found his friend's eyes and held his gaze.

"You know what. I trust you. I trust you to do the right thing and to know when to stop and ask for help. I trust you to finish this case and get justice for those girls. And if you need me to give you a hand, I'm here. For the case and for the heart as well."

He smiled at Hardy's stoic face that was so desperately trying to hide his emotions and failing spectacularly. Tears were glittering in Hardy's eyes and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Baxter put his hand on Hardy's shoulder and gently nudged him along.

"Come. Let's go back and get the bastard," he encouraged Hardy.

They had almost reached the exit to the park, when Hardy found his voice. His 'thank you' was mumbled and all that his shaken up state allowed him to say. Baxter took it for what it was, a sincere expression of gratitude from one of his best friends. He placed his arm around Hardy's shoulders and squeezed him, quick and hard.

When they returned, Hardy still sent Tess and Thompson to go after Ashworth. Yet again, Baxter found himself wondering how soon the day would come that he'd regret this decision.

A knock jolted Hardy awake. He had fallen asleep on his sofa, too tired to do anything else while waiting for Lee Ashworth to be brought in. He dragged himself to his feet and opened the door.

"Craig? What do you want?" he growled, unable to be civil.

Craig raised an eyebrow and tugged nervously on his bow tie.

"About that hacker job up in Glasgow –"

Before Craig could finish his sentence, Hardy had pulled him into his office and slammed the door shut behind him. Craig flinched.

"Can't you be a bit more discreet about this?" Hardy snarled at him.

Craig scrunched up his freckled nose. "Well, it's not like everybody doesn't know by now."

Hardy shot him a piercing glance, then sighed and plopped onto his chair. He gestured for Craig to do the same.

"I guess you're right. Sorry. It's been a bit tense," Hardy admitted.

Craig nodded. "Can only imagine. Wouldn't wanna be in your place these days. How's your daughter holding up?"

The question surprised Hardy but then those times that Daisy had met Craig the two always got along well. Usually at Hardy's expense, but he didn't mind the teasing and happy banter.

"Better than I am." The words came out of his mouth before he even thought about it.

Crag tilted his head. His eyes narrowed and he gave Hardy a worried look. "You know, if you need any help with something, I'll be glad to assist if I can. Not much to do for me in this case, but still."

"Thanks, Craig," Hardy mumbled, embarrassed by the sentiment behind Craig's words.

"Don't mention it." Craig paused and shifted in his chair. "So, about the Glasgow thing… I talked to the guy who initially thought it was a deliberate job. I think you know him, Alistair Murray."

"Murray's back there?" Hardy asked.

This was a pleasant surprise. He had met Murray in the academy and against all odds they had become friends. They had lost track of each other after he'd left Glasgow and Murray had decided to take a break from police work, sell all his belongings and sail around the world. The last time they'd talked, Hardy was drunk in a pub wittering on about how much he hated boats and why on earth one would want to live on one was beyond his ability to comprehend. Murray was equally drunk and made fun of him being a land lubber and a coward. He missed him ever since he'd waved goodbye from the shore while Murray was following his dream.

"Yup, that seems to be the case. He's really not that bad when it comes to computer stuff," Craig said nonchalantly.

Hardy hid a smile. Out of Craig's mouth those words were high praise. He had very high standards that most failed to meet, including Hardy himself who was what Craig called 'tech challenged'.

"We looked into the records and pulled up all the security protocols. It was really hard to trace what this person did. He used a very clever way of bypassing the firewall. To be honest with you, Alistair and I drooled a bit over it once we found it. Really elegant and smooth. Totally went around the MAC protocol, hijacked a couple of proxies and wrote this cuspy program to get whatever he wanted without leaving many footprints. Ultra kluge, if you ask me." The admiration in Craig's voice grated on Hardy's nerves. Not to mention that he seriously hated it when his tech staff got carried away with all the jargon.

"Can you not use tech babble with me," Hardy growled.

Craig's pasty face blushed. "Sorry, sir. Got a bit excited there. Whoever did this is a pro and really good at what he does. And when I say he, I'm only using it out of habit. Could have been a woman too. No indication either way. Most hackers are male, but that's changing."

Hardy hummed in agreement. There was one burning question on his mind. He didn't want to ask, but he had to.

"So… do you agree with Murray's theory that it was geared towards getting the Carter case file?"

"Absolutely." There was no hesitation in Craig's voice, only conviction.

Hardy rubbed his chin and sniffed. "Why're you guys so certain?" He desperately wanted it not to be true.

"Erm… how do I explain this to you? It was the way he approached it and what his search pathways were. And a few other things, like the rest of the stolen data were very random, no pattern. Considering how sophisticated everything else was, the haphazard collection of the other information made us wonder if he deliberately left a clue that he was after the Carter file. Hackers like to play games like that, so it's a possibility."

Hardy stared at Craig. He was profoundly uncomfortable with the news he had received. "Did you tell Baxter yet?"

"Yup, I gave him a written report. He seemed just as worried as you are. Not surprisingly so."

"Were you able to trace him back to an origin or a location?" Hardy asked, having little hope.

Craig shook his head. "Sorry, sir. We tried really hard but lost him very quickly. As I said, very crafty guy."

Hardy nodded, his mouth open. "Thanks, Craig. I appreciate it. I owe you one."

"It's all right. Let me know if I can be of further help." Craig stood and turned towards the door. "Oh, before I forget. Alistair said to tell you to give him a ring. He wants to show you – and I quote as he made me swear I would use the exact words – 'exhilarating footage of him crashing the waves'. He also mentioned I might need a bucket when I deliver the message. Why did he say that?"

Craig's face was puzzled and Hardy's was green with the thought of waves and boats. Craig tilted his head, stretched out his long leg and shoved the trashcan closer to Hardy's chair.

"I see. Not much of a boat person then, ey?" Craig commented.

Hardy shook his head, resisting the urge to cover his mouth with his hand. Craig left with a smirk on his face and Hardy just wanted to hide somewhere.

Locating Lee Ashworth was taking longer than expected. SOCO was at the Ashworth's house, supervised by Thompson, while Tess was looking for Lee. Apparently, neither Lee's wife nor his work colleagues at his last construction site had any knowledge of his whereabouts. Hardy felt trapped in his office. A walk sounded very appealing and for the second time that day, he ended up in the park, sitting on the same bench as he had a few hours earlier.

He twirled his phone in his hands until he finally had the courage to call back Duncan who was quick to answer.

"Alec. Your heart problem must be messing with your head. You're actually following instructions. Astonishing."

Hardy snorted into the phone and propped it between his shoulder and ear, fumbling to open the lunch box Daisy had given him.

"So, did you hear from your doctor?" There was doubt in Duncan's voice.

"Aye. Saw her this morning. Didn't go so well. She threatened to kick me out if I didn't get myself taken care of."

Duncan sniggered. "Ah, I wanna meet this lady. She sounds like a formidable person. Serves you right to be treated like a four-year-old if you don't listen to reason. When are you getting it done then?"

Hardy groaned. The idea of Duncan and Emily in the same room made him sweat.

"She gave me two days, scheduled it for Thursday." The last word rolled off of his tongue as if it was a bitter tasting fruit. He dreaded the day, knowing that after the study he'd have the final answer that he now was still able to shove into a dark corner of his mind.

"Shit. I can't do Thursday. Have to take Cory to London," Duncan replied. "Did you talk to Tess?"

Hardy stopped unpacking his lunch. "No," he said hesitantly.

"Alec, you have to tell her," Duncan urged him.

"And how am I supposed to do that? Either she cries or she's a total bitch to me. Yesterday she confiscated my driver's license and today we entertained the whole office with scratching each other's eyes out. That was fun." Hardy was shouting into the phone, letting his frustration get the better of him.

"I see," Duncan sighed. "Is there anyone else who can come with you? What about your boss, Baxter? You're friends, aren't you? And didn't you mention that he already knows about your heart condition?"

"He's gonna take me off the case if he finds out," Hardy blurted out.

"Seriously? That's your biggest concern? Don't you think your boss will figure it out anyway if you're gone for the day in the middle of a murder investigation? He's a smart man, he'll make the connection to your heart problem. You might as well be upfront about it," Duncan reasoned.

Hardy chewed on his lip and fidgeted with the chipped wood of the bench. It was infuriating. If he'd had the courage to talk to his wife, this didn't need to be an issue. It was also childish, but after this morning's altercation he was even less willing to share with her. His eyes fell on Daisy's note that she had left for him in the lunch box.

Dad,

Don't forget to eat your growing food before dessert. There is cake. Yesterday was nice. I'm sorry about the way it ended. I'm sure Mum will come around once she calms down.

Love you,
Daisy

P.S. I'm worried about you. Promise to take care yourself. Please!

Hardy stared at Daisy's curly writing and her words from the morning echoed through his mind.

"I'm a horrible father," he muttered into the phone, not realizing he was thinking out loud.

"What? Have you gone completely mad? Why would you say that? You're the most devoted father I've ever seen and you'd do anything for this little girl." Duncan sounded almost offended.

"She's not little any more. Certainly big enough to notice her parents argue all the time," Hardy sighed. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He resisted the urge of burying his head under his arms, trying to keep it together.

There was silence on the other side. When Duncan spoke again, his voice was warm. "Alec, you and Tess are nothing like your parents. You are not like them. You're not like your father who couldn't give enough emotional support to his family and was disengaged. I've never met your mother, so I can't comment, but if anything you've taken on her loving and caring side. Don't do this to yourself and think that you're doing to Daisy what they did to you. Please?"

"And how is it different? I'm fucking hiding a serious health problem just like my mother did and I'm not taking care of it," Hardy spat into the phone. They both knew what he'd left out, that his mother had died taking her own life, succumbing to the untreated depression. If he'd died before he could even get the pacemaker, his path would have been awfully close to his mother's. He shuddered with the thought.

Rubbing the back of his head, he continued with his rant. "This morning Daisy asked me why we argue all the time and it hurt, Duncan. I had no answer for her 'cause there isn't a good one. My child is trying to comfort me, telling me she's worried about me and all I can do is stay silent. I hate it."

"Then fucking change it, Alec. Go and tell your family what's going on with you. Tell your boss the full truth and get the help you need. You're being stupid about this and you know it. You have a couple more days to sort yourself out. Don't waste them," Duncan urged him.

Of course his friend was right. He really needed to put aside his fears and…

"DI Hardy? Can I talk to you?"

Hardy's head snapped up. He squinted against the sun and recognized Claire Ripley's angry face. He sucked in a quick breath and sat up straight.

"Claire. What're you doing here?" His Scottish accent was thick with the surprise and the profoundly unsettling feeling that she must have followed him in order to find him here.

"Alec? Everything okay? You sound a bit rattled." Duncan's worried voice reminded him that he was still on the phone with his friend.

"'M fine. It's work. Gotta go." He hung up before giving Duncan a chance to say more. He looked up again to face a steaming Claire Ripley.

"Why are you looking for my husband?" Claire demanded to know. "And why are there a bunch of people in haze mat suits tearing my house upside down?"

She was towering over him, casting a shadow and making him blink against the light that was framing her. Hardy weighed his words carefully. He wasn't quite willing to tell her the reason but he needed her cooperation. He pocketed his mobile and stood slowly, bracing himself against the vertigo he'd had the entire day.

"Where is he, Claire?" he asked, avoiding answering her questions.

"Why would I tell you? If he finds out that I'm even talking to you, I'm in deep shit." There was a tremble in her voice.

"Then why are you here, hm? Because I think you want us to find him. Am I right?" He was irritated and she could tell. His exhaustion wasn't helping and he was getting tired of her games.

"They kicked me out of my house, Alec," she complained angrily.

Hardy shrugged, not feeling much compassion. "Standard procedure. We have a search warrant."

They stared each other down, a battle of the wills. He resisted the urge to blink and close out the spinning world around him. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold out, but he'd be damned if he gave in first. He didn't need to.

Suddenly, she crumbled. Her body slumped down on the bench and tears were running down her cheeks. It sure wasn't the reaction Hardy had expected. Too much emotion too quickly for it to be genuine, at least in Hardy's opinion. He sat down next to her, glad he didn't have to stand any longer. She covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking with the sobs. It was hard to watch how distressed she was. Maybe he was wrong and she wasn't pretending after all?

"Claire, what happened?" His voice was soft and after a split second of debating with himself, he brushed her elbow with his hand.

She trained her big watery eyes on him, lips quivering. Then she rolled back the sleeve of her blouse. Hardy sucked in some air and stared at the ugly yellow-purple bruises. They formed the shape of fingers. It must have been a vice like grip to leave such marks and Hardy's stomach was heating up with anger.

"Did Lee do this to you?" he asked quietly, failing at keeping his voice neutral.

She nodded and pulled down the sleeve. She cradled the arm and rocked slowly back and forth on the bench. It was painful to watch. Hardy ached to give comfort to this hurt woman, but he had to maintain professional boundaries.

"Why did he do this?"

"He found out I came to see you on Friday. He wanted to know what I said. When I told him it's none of his business he got mad at me," she said, eyes down cast.

"Did he hit you?" Hardy moved closer to her.

She shook her head. "No. I wanted to leave but he didn't let me. Pushed me against a wall and gripped my arm to hold me back." Tears were dripping down her cheeks.

Hardy felt guilty. She had indicated multiple times that her husband might behave violently towards her and Hardy had doubted it all along. Now he couldn't deny it any longer. He was angry at himself, he should have believed her. His hand found its way back onto her arm.

"Claire, you could press charges against him, if you'd like," he suggested gently, knowing she wouldn't.

She just stared ahead, silently.

"Or you could tell me what really happened that night the girls disappeared," he added, fully aware how manipulative this was.

"He'll kill me, if I do," she breathed.

"Not if we have him in custody. Not if he gets convicted and put in prison. Claire, if you have any reason at all to think that he could have murdered those girls, you have to tell me. We can protect you from him. I can protect you," he emphasized.

"He's working in the old manor, the one that's down south." She didn't look at him.

"Darkwood Manor?" he confirmed while pulling out his mobile.

"If that's what it's called," Claire muttered under her breath. Hardy busied himself texting Tess where to find Lee Ashworth, holding his mobile at arm's length, way too distracted to find his glasses. When he looked up, Claire was already fifty yards down the gravel path. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his lunch that he had never touched and hurried after her. By the time he reached her, he was so out of breath, he could barely speak.

"Claire, wait." He latched onto her arm, more to steady himself than to actually hold her back. She flinched and he realized it was the arm with the bruise. He quickly retracted his hand.

"'M sorry. Did I hurt you?" His ears were burning.

"No. It's okay."

"Come to the station with me and make an official statement about what happened that night," he pleaded more than asked. "I promise you, I will take care of you. He won't hurt you again."

"I can't do that. Not as long as he's out there."

"You realize that one of the things that keeps him out of prison is the fact that you said you were with him that night," Hardy argued.

"Arrest him and I'll think about it," Claire stated firmly, all vulnerability gone. She turned and walked away, much too briskly for Hardy to follow. He didn't need to. They were playing games again and she had tossed the ball back into his field. His turn to make a move.

A/N: So, throughout this process of writing my various stories my google search history has been rather eclectic. Here are just some of the things I've been "researching": a place to have a great wedding somewhere in the southwest of the UK (Cardiff Castle); what movies opened in the week of April 26th in the UK (The Avengers indeed did open then); moon phases in the UK (don't ask why, I got a tad bit obsessive); South Mercia Police force (turns out they don't exists); hacker slang and firewalls (I was worried I'd get blacklisted at some point); forensic hair specimen (a multiple page FBI document is a really boring thing to read, just saying); what other veggie or fruit than bananas have a high potassium content (spinach and avocado for those interested); arrest procedures in the UK (it's complicated, sigh); is digoxin contraindicated in Long QT syndrome (now that was a wild goose chase, I can only tell you); does Glasgow have a river (it does and that made my writer's heart very happy); the exact times of sunset and sundown in the UK southwest coast during May/June of 2014 (because how much time did Alec really spend wandering alone on those cliffs); Scottish boys and girls names, as well as last names (Duncan has a big family); and last but not least endless searches about correct spelling and grammar (and I'm still none the wiser – sigh). My "research" time was further taken up by many very motivated and repeated viewings of Broadchurch S1 and S2, as well as the occasional reference to the printed material. And that had NOTHING to do with ogling DT, ladies and gentlemen, no absolutely not. Also I might have counted out 59 days from Danny's death to find out what exact day Hardy arrested Joe and when he had his cardiac arrest on Briar Cliff. Might have done that more than once, just to be safe. And no, I'm not obsessive-compulsive in any form or way.

And why I added this AN I'm not sure, but I thought I should somehow mention that I didn't just make up Craig's tech babble but those slang words are actually language that's being used by certain people.