A/N: Thanks everyone for their comments. The story goes on... *eyes stack of tissue boxes; sighs and gets more*

CHAPTER 32

There was a knock on Baxter's door. He didn't want to see anyone but considering that he was the only senior officer left, he probably shouldn't be fussy.

"Come in," he shouted, disgruntlement audible.

DC Swenson stuck her head in. "Sir, could I have a word with you, please?"

Baxter waved for her to come in. She stepped through the door and stayed there, shuffling her feet insecurely. Her eyes flitted from his desk to the wall, then to him, and back to his desk.

"What is it, Swenson?" Baxter sighed at the sight of his timid junior detective.

"Erm… I was wondering… I mean… I was trying to…" She faltered, too nervous to produce a proper sentence. Baxter pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Swenson, out with it," he growled, patience wearing thin. She shrunk in front of him but then straightened up and looked him in the eye.

"Sir, who's leading the investigation now? I mean, DS Henchard and Thompson left and DI Hardy hasn't been to work in two days. The pendant never made it here and –"

"How do you know about that?" Baxter interrupted her roughly. There was a tight knot in his stomach. Her face was red, but she was still looking at him intently.

"Sir, I was there when we searched the car. DS Henchard took the evidence, but when I went to check the forensics log this morning to update the paperwork on the case file, it was never noted as brought in and catalogued. I was going to ask her but then she stormed out and –"

"Who else did you talk to about this?" Baxter inquired carefully, voice low. He couldn't let this information get out. If the press were to catch wind of it, they'd be done for. The whole case would be done for.

"Nobody. I came to you, sir." Her words were as quiet as his. Her bright eyes held his piercing gaze, not even blinking once. No wonder she had earned Hardy's respect.

"Sit down please," he ordered, gesturing to a chair. She lowered herself across from him, her scrutinizing stare unwavering.

"How many people participated in the car search yesterday?" he wanted to know.

She tilted her head and squinted at him. After a few heartbeats, she answered, "There were DS Henchard and Thompson and myself from CID, and then Burke, Smith and Carlisle from SOCO."

Four people besides Tess and Thompson. Baxter rubbed his chin. Maybe it could be contained. "How many people know we found the pendant besides those that you've named?" he questioned pensively.

"I'd say most people in CID do. Or at least they heard that we found something significant yesterday. Don't know about SOCO and forensics," she said. Then, after a pause, she added anxiously, "Sir, what happened?"

Baxter stared at her. He wrung his hands, trying to come up with a good answer. There wasn't one.

"The evidence was stolen. We don't have it any more," Baxter stated stiffly.

Her mouth gaped open and her hand came up to cover it. "Holy fuck," she muttered behind her fingers.

"Precisely," Baxter agreed wholeheartedly. They sat in silence for a while until she spoke.

"Sir, is DI Hardy all right?" Her voice was soft.

"What?" Baxter's head whipped up and his burning eyes found hers.

She bit down on her lip and her face turned a crimson shade again. "I was wondering because when I realized that the pendant was missing, I reviewed the CID security cameras. I saw DS Henchard come here and go to DI Hardy's office. A while later DI Hardy walked in, well, more like limped in. They were in there for a while. Then she left and he came out shortly after." She paused and took in a deep breath. "He staggered through CID until he more or less fell through your door. You showed up early in the morning, went to your office and then after some time came out, dragging DI Hardy along with you. He looked awful." There was the tiniest quiver in her voice when she said the last words.

Baxter couldn't believe that she would make the effort of reviewing the CID security footage after she noted that their vital evidence was missing. It was a smart move and Baxter made a mental note to keep Swenson on his radar for promotion. He understood why Hardy thought she was a good detective.

"Sir, he's ill, isn't he? I asked him about it a couple nights ago but he didn't let on. I'm worried about him," she confessed shyly.

Baxter closed his eyes briefly, trying to shed the image of his friend lying still on the hospital bed. It didn't quite work. When he opened his eyes to Swenson's concerned face, he buckled.

"He's not well. I took him to A&E this morning and he's in hospital now. He's quite ill," Baxter revealed reluctantly. He watched her face pale and her eyes moisten. "Please don't tell anyone. He wouldn't want that," Baxter requested quietly.

"Of course not. You don't need to worry, sir," she was quick to reassure him. There was another silent moment between the two. Again it was her who spoke first.

"You know, Burke, Smith and Carlisle are good coppers. They can keep things quiet if you know what I mean. Maybe you should talk to them, get them in one room and come up with a plan. I'll be happy to be there as well." She gave him an expectant look.

Baxter leaned back on his chair and searched her face. She seemed sincere about her suggestion. It wasn't the worst idea. Maybe he could at least control how the story would get out. He was under no illusion that sooner or later the news would leak and the press would have a field day with it. He dreaded the moment already. It was such a colossal screw up that, if they were all to come out of this with their jobs, they should consider themselves the luckiest people on earth. Not that Tess or Thompson deserved to keep their jobs. By no means. He was thinking of Hardy and himself.

"Fine. Get them together and let me know when you're ready. And I'm taking over the lead of the investigation, you'll be my second in command," he said, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get on it." Her eagerness was endearing and her smile when he named her his deputy didn't go unnoticed. Before she opened the door, she turned around.

"Is he going to be all right?" She didn't need to specify who she was talking about.

"Honestly, I don't know," Baxter sighed, giving in to the need to share the glum news.

"Would you mind telling him that I hope he'll get better soon? I'll be thinking of him," she said, with a red face that looked so worried that it hurt Baxter.

"I will," he promised solemnly. He hoped he'd get a chance to do so.

Baxter scrutinized the faces of the forensics staff in front of him. Alvin Smith and Steve Carlisle were senior members of SOCO and had seen a lot while being on the force for years. James Burke was young but Baxter had heard he was loyal to his two older colleagues. DC Swenson was leaning on the wall in the corner of the room, arms crossed over her chest, and quietly observing the scene.

Baxter cleared his throat. "Thanks for coming. I called you here because I need your cooperation with a delicate matter."

The three men exchanged a glance. Surprisingly, Burke came forward as their spokesperson.

"Sir, is it about the pendant? It's missing," he stated matter-of-factly.

Baxter felt Swenson's eyes on him. "Your assumption is correct. I was notified this morning by the SIO, DI Hardy, that the evidence has been stolen from a police officer's civilian car." He paused to see their reactions.

Burke's face pulled into an angry scowl, but Smith and Carlisle stayed impassive, waiting to see what was coming next.

"How's that even possible? Tess and Dave took the pendant and were going to bring it back to the station. What the fuck did they do?" Burke questioned angrily.

Smith leaned forward and put a hand on Burke's arm. "Jimmy, let him finish," he ordered the younger man quietly, but his eyes never left Baxter's face.

Baxter didn't have much more to say, unless he wanted to reveal the full extent of the sad story. He hesitated, having a hard time with admitting to Hardy being cuckolded by his own subordinate. He pressed his lips into a thin line, staying silent.

"Sir, what happened? If you want us to help you deal with the situation, you have to be more forthcoming," Swenson urged him.

He looked up at her, remembering how she had spoken out for Hardy that morning after the slanderous article in the newspaper. That had only been four days ago. The world had changed since then.

"Before I'm going to share confidential information with you, I want to preface that the intention of this meeting is not to hush things up, but to save what we can of the investigation. Can I count on your discretion and to keep things inside this room?" Baxter asked, eyes wandering from one to the other. They all nodded.

With a heavy heart, he continued, "DS Henchard and DS Thompson stopped on their way to the station. They left DS Henchard's car in a parking garage of a hotel with the evidence inside, unattended. The car was broken into and the evidence was taken."

Burke was the first to pose the question that was on all their minds. "And why would they do such a stupid thing?" he asked, voice low.

Baxter squirmed in his chair. He tugged on his shirt collar, feeling hot and uncomfortable.

"Does it need saying?" Swenson hissed from her spot in the corner. Her face was cloudy and her blue eyes were stormy. Baxter had to admit, seeing soft and timid DC Swenson like that was unsettling.

"No, it doesn't," Carlisle grunted, speaking for the first time. Baxter knew him as a man of few words. "Where is the car? Have we taken a look at it?" Carlisle added, falling back on familiar territory to ease the tension.

Carlisle had a valid point that Baxter hadn't even thought about. He must be getting old. Or maybe he could claim dragging Hardy's half-dead body to A&E as sufficient distraction to have forgotten such a basic thing as securing the crime scene.

"I don't know. I assume DS Henchard is driving around with it or maybe took it to a shop," Baxter speculated.

"She shouldn't. We need to take a look at it, see if we can find anything that might help us identify the perpetrator," Carlisle said firmly.

Without hesitation, Baxter pulled out his phone and called Tess. This time, she picked up promptly.

"Tess, where is your car now?" he barked into the speaker, skipping over all formalities.

"In my driveway. Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"Don't move it or touch it. I will send forensics over to have them take a look at it," he let her know and hung up before she had a chance to talk back.

"It's at their house. She's expecting you." Baxter heard the disgust in his voice when he mentioned her. He wanted to be more professional but couldn't. It was too much to ask at that very moment.

Carlisle acknowledged him with a nod. "We'll keep it quiet. We don't gossip," he assured Baxter.

"I appreciate it. And so will DI Hardy." It was Baxter's only admission to the fact that his friend had been utterly humiliated by his wife. "I will deal with CPS and the chief. Thank you for your cooperation."

The three men got up and made their way to the door. Smith was slow to leave, clearly having something on his mind. "Sir, where's DI Hardy? Haven't seen him in two days. It's not his usual style to stay away from the action. If he'd been there…," he trailed off.

Baxter could feel the color leave his face. Before he could open his mouth, Swenson growled, "He's been taken ill. And you better not go around and tell people he didn't do his job right."

"Oh, god no. I never would," Smith replied aghast. "He's the most professional police officer I've ever met, I didn't want to imply anything. It's just that people have been talking. There was a rumor that there's something wrong with him, considering the way he's been looking lately. Also, the uniforms say he's been using them to drive him around. And one of the housekeeping staff said he found him one morning in his office having something like a heart attack. He got worried. That bloke's wife cleans our house. So, she asked my wife about it who then asked me. People like to gossip, you know. I stayed out of it, but it did make me wonder." Smith gave them a sheepish glance which was met with a blank stare by Baxter.

Baxter appeared calm on the outside when he spoke, while a storm was raging within. "I would appreciate it if you could refrain from discussing DI Hardy's private life in public. Whatever aspect of it. I understand that a police station is a breeding ground for rumors but if anything of this leaks to the press, all hell will break loose and we won't stand a chance of getting Ashworth convicted. Do you follow me?"

"Absolutely, sir. That's exactly why I didn't talk to my wife about it. You can count on my discretion," Smith reassured him. "Oh, and if you see DI Hardy, please tell him I hope he'll be better soon." With that Smith left.

Baxter dragged his hands down his face and muttered a heartfelt "Fuck."

"Precisely," Swenson imitated his own answer from a few hours ago. "I think that went well though. They'll cooperate. Now all we have to do is to come up with a solid plan. I'm confident we can fix this," she added, attempting to sound optimistic. She failed.

"Swenson, this is a nightmare," Baxter sighed. "I already told CPS yesterday that we had the pendant. It's a cornerstone of pressing charges against Ashworth. If we can't find the damn thing – and you now our chances are slim – we're in a very bad position. I'm going to talk to the Chief Constable after this because I can't keep it to myself, it's too big of a deal. It's not only Tess and Thompson's heads that are going to roll, Hardy and I are going to take a hit as well."

"But that's ridiculous. The two of you didn't do anything wrong," Swenson blurted out. Baxter's gaze rested on her flushed face. She was so young and clearly naïve if she thought that Hardy and he wouldn't have to pay a price for the mistake of their subordinates.

"Annie, listen to me and learn," he said softly, beckoning her to sit next to him. "When you're a senior officer, you're always responsible for what your team members do or don't. Why do you think Hardy is so tough on you lot all the time? Why do you think he is so hands on? Because he knows that whatever happens will fall back on him. Once DPS finds out that he wasn't there they will ask questions and then his health issues will come up, I have no doubt about it. And then they will ask me how come half the station seemed to have noted that their boss is ill and I let him continue to work the case? And they are right to ask those questions. We are all guilty in this. We all lose. But the people who really lose are the families if this bastard walks free. Do you understand?"

She stared at him with wide eyes, then nodded. "I do, sir."

"Good. Now go and see what the three of them can find in Tess' car." He sent her off to what he knew would be a wild goose chase, while he mentally prepared himself for the shit storm that was coming his way.

Chief Constable Liz MacMillan was the oddity in the South Mercia Police Constabulary. Despite it being the 21st century there were still very few women who had risen through the ranks as swiftly as her. Only a few years senior to Baxter, she had had a stellar career with no scandals attached or any obvious favoritism played. Her achievement was even more astounding because she was a decent human being, pleasant and very understanding. Unfortunately for the situation at hand, she was also a stickler for rules and held professionalism above anything.

He remembered coming to her before hiring Hardy almost a decade ago when she was still Assistant Chief Constable and discussing the Carter case with her. Only after painstakingly going through all reports, all the evidence and witness statements, and grilling Hardy for two hours, she was satisfied that there hadn't been a breach of conduct and that in fact Hardy had done a commendable job. Ever since then she had followed Hardy's career closely, and if Baxter didn't know better, he'd say she had a sweet spot for him.

Baxter mulled over his options, hovering around MacMillan's office until she finally stuck her head out.

"Ed, will you stop stalking my door and come in already? I've got plans this afternoon and by the look on your face, I get the feeling I might have to cancel," she said, vigorously waving her hand to make him come inside.

He loitered at the door while she retreated behind her large wooden Victorian desk. She peered at him over her glasses, rolled her eyes and told him to take a seat.

"Ed, why are you here? You only come to me if you've got a problem that you can't solve yourself. Which happens less often than a lunar eclipse. So out with it before I lose my patience," she ordered him.

Baxter scratched his chin and avoided her piercing eyes. "It's the murdered girls. We made an arrest and…," he trailed off, squirming under her gaze.

"Ed?" she growled. "Is this because of Hardy's past being dragged through the press?"

He shook his head. "No. I wish it was that simple. We arrested our main suspect with mostly circumstantial evidence. Hardy is convinced he killed at least the younger girl. Yesterday, we found and searched a car that the suspect had sold three days after the murders took place. We found a piece of jewelry, a pendant, that the girl was wearing the day she died." He paused, not wanting to continue with what he knew would send his boss over the edge.

"And?" She drew out the three letters, wary of what was to come. Her hand absentmindedly reached for a pencil.

"The officers who were taking the evidence back to the station left it unattended in a car. The car was broken into and the evidence was stolen," Baxter finished, anger barely hidden from his voice.

MacMillan took in a sharp breath. "What on earth compelled them to leave the evidence unattended?" she asked pointedly. She was twirling the pencil in her thin fingers.

Baxter felt his face turning red. "They stopped at a hotel and parked the car in the garage. They forgot the bag with the evidence in there when they left."

"Excuse me? They did what?" she cried out in disbelief.

Baxter pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting to hide badly. "They said they forgot to take it because they were distracted," Baxter muttered under his breath.

"Distracted? By what, for fuck's sake?" she hissed.

"Snogging," Baxter mumbled barely audible.

The pencil she'd been fidgeting with snapped in two pieces. Baxter dared to raise his gaze to face her. She was bright red and her dark brown eyes were glowing with anger. He'd never seen her like that before.

"Who?" was all she could press through clenched teeth.

"DS Tess Henchard and DS Dave Thompson," Baxter stated quietly.

"Hardy's wife?" All blood left her face and she turned pale.

"Yup," Baxter sighed.

"Jesus, what a fucking mess," she uttered. "How's Hardy taking it?"

It was Baxter's turn to lose color. "Not well," was all he could get out.

"Ed?" she prompted him, worry lacing the single word.

"Ma'am, DI Hardy is in hospital. He's recently been diagnosed with a serious heart condition. The stress of the case paired with the latest development put him over the edge and he's currently in SMUH's cardiac ICU," he confessed, banking on her caring about Hardy.

"Oh my god. Is he going to be all right?" she asked shocked.

"We don't know yet," he replied with a tremble in his voice.

MacMillan was quiet for a while and Baxter was sure she was assessing the information she had. Then she squinted at him, a question on her face. "You said, Hardy's health problem is recent. Did he know about it while he was working on the case?"

There was a reason why Liz MacMillan had the career she's had. Her sharp wit and astute reasoning skills were legendary and Baxter had feared she'd arrive at all the missing pieces quickly. Not that he didn't want to own up to his responsibilities in this mess, but it wasn't easy to admit to his shortcomings.

"Apparently he did, ma'am," he answered, intently studying the intricate wood carvings of her desk.

"Did you?" she continued her interrogation.

"Not until about a week ago. And I had no idea how serious it really was until yesterday when I accompanied him to a procedure. He –"

"Hold it right there. Both of you went to a doctor's appointment instead of supervising the car search?" she interrupted him incredulously.

Baxter stared at her wide-eyed and with no good explanation. If she put it that way, it did sound rather irresponsible.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? What were you thinking?" She jumped up from her chair and started pacing, circling her desk and him.

When he didn't say anything, she continued her rant, "I have no bloody idea why Hardy thought he needed to get this procedure done in the middle of such a high profile case. But I would have thought you'd have better judgement than that. Obviously he was healthy enough to work, otherwise you wouldn't have let –"

"Liz, he's dying," Baxter interrupted her not louder than a whisper.

She stopped and stood very still. Her eyes were boring through his, while he filled her in.

"He desperately needs a pacemaker but because of his disease it's a very risky thing to do. He wanted to finish the case first, but he got so ill that he couldn't wait any longer. He asked me to come with him because he never was able to ask his wife to do so." Baxter snorted in disgust, thinking about what Tess had been up to while Hardy was fighting for his life. "They couldn't complete the procedure because he was too ill and I took him home afterwards. This morning, when I came to my office I found him there. Tess had called him in to tell him about the pendant and I guess chose that moment to reveal her affair with her colleague. He couldn't take it. By the time I got him to A&E his heart had stopped. They got him back after almost five minutes. He hasn't woken up yet."

She was still standing in front of him, face pale and impassive. Her heavy breaths were the only give away of her emotions. Baxter ran his hands down his face.

"He's my friend, Liz, I couldn't let him down. I had to go with him. We both thought Tess was reliable. Turns out, we couldn't have been more mistaken. If I had had any idea what was going on between her and Thompson, I would have never let them work on anything together. It destroyed him, Liz," Baxter added, voice shaking and eyes filling with tears.

She lowered herself onto a chair next to him, one hand cupping her mouth, the other gently placed on his arm. They sat in silence until both had composed themselves. Eventually, she spoke.

"How many people know the exact details?" she asked.

Baxter took in a deep breath. "There's Tess and Thompson of course. Then DC Swenson from my team, and Burke, Smith and Carlisle from SOCO. They all know about the pendant being stolen from Tess' car. The four officers besides the guilty couple have a pretty clear idea why the car was left unattended."

"Hm," she grunted. "What have you done with them?"

"I suspended Tess and Thompson and took over the investigation. I talked to the SOCO team and Swenson. They are all cooperative in the sense of keeping it quiet for now. CPS knows we had the pendant and we used it to charge Ashworth. I haven't updated them yet, thought I should talk to you first."

"Christ, Ed, your team majorly fucked this up, you realize that, right?" she snarled. "Starting with your SIO hiding a life-threatening disease that clearly made him unfit for duty to two of your sergeants behaving in the most unprofessional way I've seen in a while. How on earth do you want me to fix this? And you know I'm not going to turn a blind eye on this. I can't. This is too outrageous." She was properly angry as she should be.

"I didn't come to you to sweep this under the rug. I wouldn't. As you said it's too outrageous. But I need your help with CPS and trying to salvage what we still can. I don't want the press to find out because if they do, Ashworth is guaranteed to walk free. If we keep it quiet and CPS is game we might have a chance to still convict him," Baxter argued. "I'm more than willing to take the overall responsibility for this failure, but I would appreciate it if we could keep Hardy out of it until we know if he's even going to make it out of the bloody hospital." His voice was breaking with the thought.

MacMillan looked at him for a long time, jaw twitching. Then she got up, walked around her desk and took her official spot.

"Fine. I'll talk to CPS. I have a good connection with the current prosecutor. He might be willing to uphold the charges and let it go to trial. I have no idea what will happen there, but at least we have to try to get him convicted. Henchard and Thompson stay suspended until further notice. You've got the weekend to come up with a suggestion for proper disciplinary actions. I have my own ideas but I want to see what your thoughts are. As for Hardy…," she paused and let out a deep sigh. "Let's see what happens before we discuss what to do with him. It doesn't sound like he's coming back anytime soon."

Baxter looked up into her sad face. "No. It doesn't," he agreed, defeat echoing in his words.

"I'll keep you updated." He stood up slowly, tired from the day and the responsibility he carried.

"Are you going back to the hospital?" she asked with a very different tone in her voice. He nodded.

"The poor man," MacMillan said. The sorrow underlying those three words was too much for Baxter to bear. He sucked in some air and covered his stinging eyes, desperately trying not to start bawling in front of his boss.

"It's all right, Ed." Her kind voice soothed him. She had come to stand next to him, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "He means a lot to you." She let out a quiet laugh. "I'm sort of sweet on him too and I know that you know that. It's hard to believe considering what a grumpy knob he usually is. But he's a good person and he cares. Too much at times, I think. He'll get through this and then we can both yell at him together for keeping his heart condition a secret. That's something to look forward to, right?" She tried to cheer him up and for a brief moment it worked.

He shot her a small smile and nodded again.

"When he wakes up, give him my best wishes, would you mind?" she asked shyly.

"I will. And thanks Liz."

"Don't mention it. Now go and keep the grouchy Scot company. He shouldn't be alone right now." She nudged him gently out of her office.

The heavy door closed behind him and Baxter leaned against it. The small smile he'd had on his face grew wider. Nobody would believe him that hardarse Chief Constable MacMillan just admitted to having a soft spot for hardarse DI Hardy. If it hadn't all been so miserable, it would be funny.

On the way to the hospital, Baxter called his wife to let her know she shouldn't wait for him with supper. He blurted the whole story out before she could even get a word in. When he was finally done, she remained silent for a while and then only said one thing.

"Alec is your friend. We will take care of him, no matter what happens. He won't be alone." Her voice was strong and loving, giving Baxter the strength to go on.

"Thank you, honey. I love you." He had never meant it more than tonight.

"I love you too, darling," Louise said softly before she hung up the phone.

Baxter sat in his car in the parking garage for more than ten minutes before he felt calm enough to go back into that hospital. The endless nights he had sat vigil at his daughter's bed had left a deep scar in his memories and he never wanted to set another foot into that building. He slowly climbed out of his seat, locked the doors and trudged through the busy hallways towards the cardiac ICU.

Hardy's room was dimly lit by the monitors, the green glow of the IV pumps and a night light over the head of the bed. The regular swooshing sounds of the ventilator contrasted by the beeping of Hardy's unnervingly irregular heartbeat served as an eerie soundtrack for Hardy's medication induced sleep.

His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open with the breathing tube sticking out to the side. There was an abundance of tape holding the tube in place, plastering his pale face. An unhealthy sheen of sweat covered his grey skin. His skinny figure was outlined underneath a white sheet. There was a large IV catheter sticking out from the right side of his neck and a multitude of tubes were snaking away from him to the IV pumps which were trickling who knows what into him.

Baxter stopped dead in his tracks at the door, taking in the whole picture. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and told himself, that it was going to be all right. He stepped closer and pulled up a chair with trembling fingers. At first, he didn't dare touch Hardy and he settled on watching his chest rise and fall with the artificial breaths that were being pushed into him. In a way, he looked peaceful in his slumber. But then Hardy's face twitched in pain. An alarm went off, the lights went on suddenly and a troop of hospital staff barged in. Emily Abbott walked in at the back of the group. She gave some quiet orders and people busied themselves around Hardy. Someone wheeled in the defibrillator and when whatever they were trying to do with medications didn't work, Emily Abbott sighed and grabbed the paddles. Hardy's heart rhythm returned to its questionable version of normal after only one shock this time.

People filtered out as quickly as they had come in, leaving Emily Abbott alone with Baxter at Hardy's side. She approached the still figure of her patient, put her hand over the outline of the burn mark that the defibrillator had left, and felt for the beat of the faulty organ in his chest.

"This was the third time since the morning that we had to do this." She shook her head and bit down on her lips in frustration. "I wish we would have done that bloody pacemaker insertion weeks ago. He wouldn't be where he is right now if I'd been more insisting."

Baxter brushed Hardy's matted fringe out of his face. "It's not your fault." His hand cupped Hardy's head and he looked down fondly on his friend. "There's a seriously stubborn soul inside this brain. He wasn't ready to listen until it was almost too late, not to me and not to you, Dr. Abbott."

"Call me Emily please," she said quietly, a shy smile on her face.

"Only if you call me Ed," he replied, smiling as well.

"Don't stay all night. He's not going to wake up yet. I'm not letting him until his heart settles down a bit, probably by tomorrow morning. You should be here when we take out the breathing tube. He could benefit from the support," she said with a sheepish glance at Baxter.

"I'll be there. I left my number at the desk. Please call me immediately if anything changes," he pleaded.

"Of course, Ed." She nodded reassuringly and excused herself.

Baxter sat down again and this time took Hardy's cold and clammy hand. He remembered the things Emma liked to hear about when he came to be with her on those lonely nights. She always wanted to know how his day had gone, the ordinary tales of the outside world instead of the sorrow stricken words that her father had in mind.

"Hi Alec, it's Ed," he began awkwardly. "Just came from work. It's been an odd day as you can probably imagine." His voice faltered for a moment. "I yelled the shit out of Thompson and Tess, for whatever it's worth. They are both suspended. Talked to the lads from SOCO. Reasonable men." He sighed. "Maybe I should retire, you know. I'm getting a bit rusty. They had to remind me to search Tess' car after the break in. I doubt they'll find anything useful but who knows."

He rubbed Hardy's palm. Then he smiled. "You should have seen Swenson. You'd be proud of her. She's rising to the occasion. She's a good copper like you said. Gotta give you that. She sends her well wishes. So does Alvin Smith and Chief MacMillan. They all want you to get better soon...," he trailed off, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

He hadn't been able to do it with his daughter then and he couldn't do it with Hardy now. The emotions were too overwhelming.

"Alec, I'm so sorry I didn't take better care of you," he cried quietly, giving in to his intense feeling of guilt. No matter what he had told Emily to console her, deep inside he knew that he should have been stronger, that he should have sent Hardy on medical leave right that moment he had witnessed him having an attack, that he should not have given in to the temptation of Hardy insisting on finishing the case. He had accused Tess of conveniently looking away, but was what he had done that much better? He didn't know.

He stayed until way past midnight. Hardy didn't have any other episodes and Baxter was grateful for that. He allowed himself the tiniest glimpse of hope when he drove off into the night.