A/N: I apologize for the delay. I was busy with "Down By The River". Also, as this story is drawing closer to its end, I'm having a really hard time letting go. A big, big THANK YOU to HAZELMIST for being my beta/editor and friend – I would be nothing without her support. The shit plan is being set in motion...

CHAPTER 38

Walking into CID had never felt harder than on that day. Baxter and MacMillan had agreed that he'd be the one to talk to his staff while she would stand back. But not after talking to DC Swenson and the three SOCO team members.

When he entered the main room, it fell silent instantly. People dropped what they were doing and all eyes were on him. Baxter was eerily reminded of that Monday only a week ago, when Hardy had been the center of attention.

"Everyone, please listen," he shouted. Not that there was a real need to raise his voice. "I'll have an announcement to make in a little while. Please go on as usual until then." The response was silence. He searched the crowd for DC Swenson. He gestured her to come to his office together with Liz MacMillan.

"Sir, how's DI Hardy?" was the first thing that she wanted to know as soon as his door had closed. Baxter and MacMillan exchanged a glance.

"Alive," Baxter grunted. He took his place behind his desk, whereas MacMillan lingered at the door. Swenson's gaze flicked back and forth between the two. She was clutching a folder and seemed unsure of what to do with herself.

"Would you sit down please, Swenson," Baxter sighed. She did and placed the file on his desk. He frowned at it.

"What's this?" he asked impatiently. He didn't want to be bothered with anything but the task at hand.

"It's Carlisle's forensics' report on DS Henchard's car." There was an undertone in her voice that made his ears perk up. He felt MacMillan's gaze rest on him. She'd heard it too.

"And?" he drawled, mirroring her questioning tone.

"I think you should get him in here. And the others too," Swenson suggested. Baxter squinted at her and reached for his phone. He called the three men that he needed to convince anyway to be part of this insane plan. They waited in an awkward silence until Smith, Burke and Carlisle joined them.

His office felt crowded and the thick air was stifling Baxter. He resisted the urge to loosen his tie.

"DC Swenson says you wanted to share something about the report on the break-in of DS Henchard's car?" Baxter addressed Steve Carlisle who was leaning against the wall.

"The back door window on the driver's side was smashed in. The glass shard pattern confirms that it was indeed broken in from the outside. DS Henchard reported she had the bag with the evidence in the back seat and that the bag was taken. She states that they found the car unlocked, the alarm sounding. The car stereo had been removed. We only found a few fingerprints," Carlisle concluded.

"So, basically we know it was broken into, things were stolen, but nothing else," Baxter summarized with disappointment. He should have known that it wouldn't lead to anything, but there was always the glimmer of hope.

Carlisle straightened and fixed his eyes on Baxter. "You don't understand, sir. We found no fingerprints of DS Thompson whatsoever. There were very few of DS Henchard, mainly on the driver's side door handle, the gear stick and the steering wheel. There were none of DI Hardy or their daughter. Someone wiped that car clean which is a bit unusual for a quick smash and grab."

Baxter cocked his head, a puzzled expression creeping onto his face. "What are you trying to imply?"

"The stereo was also removed very carefully as if not to damage the interior. From what we can tell from the timing between the alarm going off and DS Henchard reaching her car, it could have been possible to take the stereo, but it's very hard to believe there was enough time to wipe down the whole car. And DC Swenson here questioned the hotel staff very carefully about the order of events."

Baxter shot a surprised glance at a blushing Swenson and then locked eyes with MacMillan.

"Are you suggesting DS Henchard and DS Thompson are lying?" MacMillan asked, her voice cold as ice.

"Ma'am, we're not suggesting anything. That is your department. We can only tell you what possible conclusions we can draw from the evidence we see," Smith spoke up for his team. "Is a smash and grab a plausible explanation? Definitely. Does the evidence leave room for another explanation? Absolutely."

MacMillan's jaw clenched and her eyes were ablaze. Baxter wouldn't want to be in Tess' or Thompson's shoes when she was going to talk to them this afternoon. But then they deserved everything they had coming their way.

Baxter took in a deep breath. The next part of this conversation wasn't going to be easy.

"We didn't only call you into this office to discuss the report. Chief MacMillan and I need your cooperation with this matter at hand. I would ask for you to hear me out first before commenting or posing questions," Baxter began the painful process.

"All of you know what happened last Thursday. DS Henchard and DS Thompson took the evidence and stopped at the hotel where the pendant was taken. I will share with you what we will put in the official report and what I will tell CID staff. I will also explain to you why I, Chief MacMillan and DI Hardy hope for your understanding. We can't force you to go along with it and we won't try, but we'd urge you to."

The three men and Swenson exchanged uneasy glances.

Baxter was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He'd gone over his speech, but now that he was attempting to seal the deal he'd made with Hardy, it seemed almost unbearable.

"DI Hardy is the SIO on this investigation. As such he feels very strongly about taking the responsibility for what happened." He paused when all four of them gasped.

Carlisle crossed his arms over his chest, Smith's mouth gaped open, Swenson turned bright red and Burke blurted out what all of them were thinking. "That's utter horseshit. Why on earth would he do that? He wasn't even there."

Baxter squirmed in his seat. He tugged on his shirt collar. There was sweat pooling on his forehead. He hated having to do this. "You've all worked with him. He always stands up for his team and takes accountability for team members' actions. He –"

"He clearly is not accountable for his wife cheating on him and fucking up the case while doing so," Burke interrupted Baxter, anger reverberating in his words. Baxter suppressed a cringe and finally ripped off the top button of his shirt.

Smith put a calming hand on Burke's shoulder. "Jimmy, I don't know what DI Hardy's reasons are, but maybe we should hear CS Baxter out." Smith's eyes bore through Baxter who felt trapped. Either he was going to tell them the truth and betray Hardy's confidentiality or he was going to lie to them and betray their trust in him.

"Ed, I think you need to give them full disclosure. They deserve to know if we want them to work with us," MacMillan said quietly but with conviction.

Baxter rubbed the bridge of his nose and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked into their expectant eyes and made a decision. He'd deal with Hardy later. The moment to admit the truth to himself had come.

"DI Hardy is seriously ill. It is unlikely that he will return to lead this team. His desire to take responsibility for what happened stems from the wish to protect his daughter from the fall out that her mother's mistake will cause. He especially feels the need to do so as he might not be able to take care of his daughter in the future. By taking the blame publically, his daughter and his wife can be kept out of the spotlight," he finished hoarsely.

He watched their faces change. Swenson was crying, Smith was shocked, Burke was livid, and Carlisle unreadable.

"But that's stupid," Burke blurted out.

"No it's not," Carlisle disagreed quietly. "I'd try to do anything to make sure my kid's taken care of if needed. Wouldn't you, Alvin?" he addressed his friend and longtime colleague. Smith nodded wordlessly, but Burke wasn't buying it.

"You guys are nuts. He wants to protect the very people who are responsible for the shit that happened because he thinks he might not be able to take care of his kid? It's not like he's dying."

Baxter couldn't hold back a choked noise. Burke's head snapped around and he stared at him with wide eyes. Baxter couldn't say it. However, to his surprise Swenson apparently could. Her tears were gone and her face was stern with determination.

"Jimmy, have you seen DI Hardy in the past weeks?" The young man shook his head. "He's been ill for a while and I believe what CS Baxter is trying to tell us is that he might not survive whatever disease he has. He's been in hospital since Friday," she revealed softly. Burke's mouth gaped open and Smith's fingers dug into the younger man's shoulder. Carlisle slowly moved his head up and down.

"That explains a lot. Thought he didn't look so hot these days. I blamed it on the stress of the case, but I guess I was wrong," Carlisle thought out loud. "Sir – ma'am," he turned to both of his superiors and continued, "If you want my confidentiality, you have it. I trust that you're doing the right thing. And I've always respected DI Hardy and what he stands for. I'll gladly help." The words were spoken with a sincerity that touched Baxter deeply.

"Same for me," Smith fell in line. He turned his attention to his younger colleague. "Jimmy?" Burke could only nod, a sign of how shaken he was.

Baxter's gaze wandered over to Swenson. She had been staring at her lap, fidgeting with some imaginary dust on her skirt. She looked up and her watery eyes were so sad that it was hard to take. "I'll do whatever you need me to," she muttered, her voice shaky.

MacMillan sighed in relief. "Thank you for your cooperation. Needless to say that this conversation has to stay in this room. I would ask you to submit the report about the break-in directly to me so I can deal with it properly. CS Baxter will make his announcement shortly. I want to assure you that DS Thompson and DS Henchard will have to answer for their actions, even if the public knowledge of this case will be somewhat...," – she hesitated for the briefest of moments – "... limited. DI Hardy will be very grateful when he learns of your support," she ended quietly. Their task was done.

There was a shuffle and the group slowly filtered out of Baxter's room. MacMillan stayed behind.

"He owes you, Ed. Big time."

Baxter looked into her unfathomable eyes. "I don't think he'll get a chance to make good for his debt," he stated glumly. He leaned heavily onto his desk and clasped his hands.

"Let's hope, he'll surprise all of us," she replied and brushed her fingers over his shoulder. "It's time to make your announcement," she reminded him. He groaned and passed his fingers over his face.

MacMillan's lips curled up into a small smile. Baxter squinted at her. "If you tell me again, it was me that wanted to hire him, I don't know what I'll do," he growled, utterly exasperated.

She chuckled and held out her hand to help him up. "You might have wanted to hire him, but it was me who made the final decision. I don't regret it."

Baxter took her hand and moved his tired body. "Thank you, Liz. He owes you too. And so do I."

She huffed and hurried out of his room. Baxter grinned. Apparently her soft spot for Hardy was rubbing off on him. He'd take that as a first installment on Hardy's debt.

Baxter's eyes wandered over the faces in front of him. On paper it might be his team, but in reality it was Hardy's. He had carefully picked each and every one of them and for the most part he had chosen wisely. There had never been any major issues until last week when Hardy's judgment was put into question by the one person in his life he would have never expected it from. It was maddening.

Baxter shoved all anger aside. It wouldn't help him, he needed to stay calm and composed. He couldn't hesitate or falter, if they wanted this to work out.

"Thank you everyone for your hard work these past weeks. This team has worked together exceptionally well under great pressure. And your diligence and persistence was rewarded with apprehending the guilty party. Our suspect Lee Ashworth was arrested last week and charged in connection with the murder of Pippa Gillespie and the disappearance of Lisa Newbery."

Baxter paused. There was a wave of excitement going around the room. He let them have the brief moment of taking pleasure in their accomplishment. Swenson was staring at him with glassy eyes. Her usually happy face was stern and she looked older than she had last week. Baxter kept his gaze fixed on her.

"Normally, DI Hardy would be the one to make this announcement. He can't be here today, but he would be proud of his team," Baxter continued slowly. His eyes met Swenson's. Anger and sorrow were battling in them, and finally sorrow won. She dropped her gaze and hid her tears behind her long blond hair.

"As many of you are aware, we had a major breakthrough in the investigation this past Thursday. A search of Lee Ashworth's car produced a vital piece of evidence – Pippa Gillespie's pendant that she wore on the day she was killed."

There was an excited murmur in the crowd and many people smiled, enjoying what they thought was fantastic news. MacMillan who had been observing had stepped up to his side. It was time. He couldn't put it off any longer. The moment to destroy Hardy's career had come. He silently asked whoever was out there and willing to listen for forgiveness and proceeded to tell the whitest lie that he'd ever told.

"I am sorry to inform you that this piece of evidence was stolen out of a detective's civilian car and is not in police custody any more." The excited murmur turned into a louder chatter of disbelief and frustration. Baxter tried to shut it out as much as possible, fixing his eyes somewhere at the back of the room.

"Who's car was it?" an angry voice asked over the commotion.

Baxter hesitated for the briefest of moments. His hand fisted into his trousers. And at the very last moment, he knew he couldn't do it. He dropped his gaze to the floor and closed his eyes. They snapped open when he heard Liz MacMillan's voice right next to him.

"DI Hardy as the senior investigating officer will take full responsibility for the loss of the pendant. The car in question is registered under his name. He has been placed on leave," she stated bluntly.

The room fell dead silent. A row of stunned and incredulous faces stared back at Baxter and MacMillan.

"DI Hardy wasn't even at the search. His wife and DS Thompson took the pendant from where it was found back to the station. How can he be responsible?" someone asked. Baxter's head whipped into the direction the question had come from. He had no idea who had posed it.

"That is correct. DS Henchard and Thompson were initially in the possession of the pendant," MacMillan conceded carefully.

"And then what happened?" another question came. Baxter cursed Hardy and his shit plan. So much for not needing to explain the how and why. Hardy should have known his team better. They wouldn't swallow this easily. Not the least because they were loyal to him. A simple explanation of stating he was the senior officer and would take the blame wasn't good enough, just as Baxter had feared.

MacMillan shot Baxter a glare, prompting him to involve himself. He cleared his voice and embarked on the harebrained explanation they had come up with.

"DS Henchard notified DI Hardy of the find. On the way back to the station DS Henchard and Thompson stopped in a hotel. The evidence was left unattended in the car and was subsequently stolen." Baxter stuck to what they had agreed upon to document in the case file which obviously didn't put Hardy anywhere near that pendant.

"So they fucked up. How does that make DI Hardy responsible then?" someone argued defiantly. Others seconded the question.

Baxter had a choice. Either he couldn't give them a full explanation, and let the disgruntlement fester, or he could tell them what happened. Or he could lie.

"DI Hardy is taking responsibility because it happened under his watch. Ultimately, he has to answer for all of your actions. He's your boss. That's how chain of command works and that's all the explanation you need," MacMillan answered, putting all her authority into her words.

"So he's going to be blamed for something he didn't do?" "How's that fair?" "This is fucking stupid. Tess and Dave messed it up not him." "No, you don't get it. He's protecting his wife. I've always said he's favoring her." "Does that mean Ashworth is going to walk?" "Don't you see that they are hiding something?" "Do you really think we are going to buy this bullshit? "How could they be so irresponsible?" "Are they getting punished?" "Is Hardy getting punished?" "Where the fuck is Hardy anyway?"

The room erupted into a heated argument and Baxter could see factions forming slowly. There were the ones who felt it was unjust for Hardy to be blamed even if he was the supervising officer, there were the ones who complained about favoritism, and then there were the ones that clearly figured out that this wasn't the full story.

"Quiet!" MacMillan shouted after she had given the team a few minutes to vent. Everyone stopped and stared at her.

"I can see you all are very upset and shocked. Unfortunately, I don't really care about that right now. This is a police force and not a support group, and as such we have to conduct ourselves properly. This investigation is still ongoing and needs proper closure and proceedings. I expect every one of you to do their job. If I hear any – and I repeat any – gossip about this, you will be held accountable for it. Nothing goes out to the press, do you hear me?" She paused, waiting for the crowd's acknowledgment. She wasn't done yet though.

"Rest assured, I will know if you talked because besides the people in this room no one knows about what happened. If we want to stand any chance of a proper trial against Ashworth, you all need to keep your mouths shut. You owe it to the families to uphold police standards and give them at a least a chance to receive justice for their loved ones. CS Baxter will take over the lead and everything goes through him from now on. Nothing – absolutely nothing – that was said here today leaves this room. Have I made myself clear?"

Even Baxter was intimidated by the fierceness and authority that was exuding from Liz MacMillan. The crowd murmured a collective yes. Many faces were angry, others were subdued and a few were sad. Baxter's gaze searched for Swenson. Her expression was unreadable and her usually bright eyes were clouded. She was the first to storm out when MacMillan finally released them. Baxter let her go, wishing he could follow her and run away from it all.

Things had been set in motion and time couldn't be turned back. Baxter's only hope was that one day, the truth would come out and people could understand what Hardy really did out of love for the one person that meant more to him than everything else in his life.

Hardy stirred. His mind was slowly coming back from a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep. His eyelids were heavy and they fluttered shut again as soon as he had opened them.

"DI Hardy?"

A soft voice filtered through his consciousness. It was vaguely familiar, although he couldn't place it.

"Sir? Are you awake?"

Hardy forced his eyes open. When things racked into focus, DC Swenson's worried face greeted him.

"Swenson?" he moaned. "What the hell are you doing here?" His face heated up with embarrassment and so did hers.

"Erm... thought I'd come by and say hello. Figured you might be bored," she said insecurely.

He squinted at her and nervously tugged on his blanket. He didn't want to think about how woefully unprofessional he looked right now.

"Why do you even know I'm here?" he asked, puzzled and slightly annoyed. "Did Baxter –"

"No, sir," she interjected quickly. She bit her lip and fidgeted with the seam of her blouse. "CS Baxter didn't tell me much. I saw..." She hesitated and looked up. "I saw the surveillance tape, the one from CID. The night you and your wife came to the office. I also saw what happened the next morning. When CS Baxter took you to the hospital."

Hardy's mouth fell open. For God's sake – there was a bloody tape of the worst night of his life. And she had seen it. Whereas he could barely remember anything of what she talked about. It was infuriating.

"Fuck," he grunted, utterly frustrated and feeling out of control.

"I'm sorry, sir," she apologized sincerely. "I didn't want to intrude. I only looked at it because of the missing penda –"

"What?" he croaked. Unbelievable, this was getting worse by the second. His eyes bore into her. She steadily held his gaze, something else shining through.

"Sir, it is done. CS Baxter and Chief MacMillan told the team," she stated quietly.

He stared at her wide-eyed. "What did you say?" He had to be sure. He propped his body up on his shaky arm and leaned closer toward her.

"They told the team that the pendant was lost and that you would take responsibility for it," she explained with a flat voice. He didn't notice that her eyes were glittering.

He fell back onto his pillow, suddenly all tension gone from his tired body. A wave of relief washed over him, taking his defenses with it. He closed his eyes and sucked in a few shuddering breaths. Soon enough they turned into violent sobs. He draped his arm over his eyes in a desperate attempt to hide his emotions.

"She's going to be fine, she's going to be fine," he repeated over and over again, his voice hoarse from crying.

A warm hand came to rest on his arm, and he remembered he wasn't alone in the room. Peering out from under his elbow, he looked at Swenson. Her face was puffy and tear stained. He moved and she quickly pulled her hand away.

Their eyes met and that was all Hardy needed to see. She knew. How, he had no idea, but the sorrow that looked back at him said it all.

"It's all right, Swenson. I'll be fine. Please don't be sad because of your grouchy bastard boss," he soothed with his Scottish lilt turned soft. It was hard to see her like this. He didn't want her to be sorry for him, he wasn't worth it and he said so. He didn't quite expect her reaction.

"You know what, you are a fucking grouchy bastard," she exploded in his face. "How can you say that? How can you say that you're not worth being sorry for? You're one of the bravest and most honorable men that I know and yet, here you are, being all stupid and a total fucking moron –" She suddenly stopped, her face turning pale. She swallowed hard and her eyes were so wide they almost popped out of their sockets. There was an awkward moment of silence. Hardy stared at the ceiling tiles, not sure how he should react.

"Did I call you stupid and a moron?" she asked, utterly mortified.

Hardy suppressed a grin. "Yup."

"And a bastard?" she added.

"A fucking grouchy bastard, to be precise," Hardy corrected her, biting down on his lip.

"Right," she expelled together with a deep sigh.

"Just as well then that I'm not coming back anytime soon," Hardy stated sarcastically. He hoped to lighten the mood, but he'd accomplished the contrary. This time, it was her who completely lost composure. Big tears flowed down her cheeks and her shoulders shook with her violent sobs.

They had switched roles. Hardy realized it was his turn to provide comfort. Too mortified by the prospect he froze. If it had been Daisy, he'd hug her, but he was Swenson's boss. Words seemed so inadequate, but they were all that he had.

"Please, don't cry. I'm not dead yet," he tried to joke. To his surprise, it worked. She breathed in hard and calmed down some.

"That's not funny," she growled, shooting him a sideways glance.

"Seriously, Swenson? For my standards that's an outstanding effort at humor. You should give me credit for that. How can you be so cruel to a dying man?" he continued teasingly.

"Ach, sir. Stop it. You're too ghastly," she complained, her tears gone. Hardy's lips curled up to a small smile.

"You're not crying any more. That's all that matters," he said gently. His kind gaze rested on her, content that she was better. Her wide eyes looked back at him and he had no idea what was going on behind them.

"Sir, this might be a bit weird, but can I give you a hug?" she asked, bright red in her face.

Hardy was flabbergasted. "Why would you wanna do that?"

"Because I think you could use one and I'm not sure if someone gave you one since you've been in here," she explained matter-of-factly. He had to admit, there was some truth to it.

"In everyone's defense, I do have two broken ribs and that thing coming out from my neck," he said, not letting her out of his sight.

"Oh," she breathed.

A hug would be nice, he thought longingly. She was his subordinate though. And a woman. A much younger one on top of everything else. They looked at each other.

"Swenson, it's not a good idea. I'm your boss and –"

"Can you sit up?" she interrupted him with a new confidence in her voice.

"Erm... sort of," he said insecurely.

"Go on then. I'll help you," she encouraged him. He clumsily pushed himself up onto his elbows, and by the time she had pulled him up he was already in her arms. He panted and groaned in pain, but she didn't let go, until he relaxed against her body. She was warm and smelled of grapefruit and summer. When she embraced him gently, he forgot that this was utterly unprofessional and clearly breaching all rules of conduct. He wrapped his arm that wasn't hooked up to IVs around her back.

"Thank you, Swenson," he mumbled, his tired head resting on her shoulder.

"It's Annie, sir," she said.

"Thank you, Annie. And you don't need to call me sir any more," he added, trying desperately to hide the sadness in his voice.

She gently pushed him away so that she could look him in the eye. "I'm going to keep calling you sir because it means something to me. It means that you will be back and I don't want to stop thinking that," she admitted, a tear running down her cheek.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand. "All right. Sir it is then."

He said the words to give her hope, but oddly enough, they did the same for him. And with that tiny glimpse of hope, his body went limp and he couldn't hold himself up any longer. He slumped heavily onto her, too weak to even move the tiniest bit. Swenson's face swam out of focus and his mouth was like cotton when he tried to speak.

Swenson moved around him, put her arm under his lolling head and gently placed him back on his pillow. "Your daughter is safe. You don't need to fight any more. Time to sleep, sir."

He couldn't make out her face, but the warmth in her voice soothed his frayed mind. His eyes closed. No more fighting. Daisy would be fine. His heart could finally rest.

A/N: The last scene with Annie Swenson is dear to my heart... it's dedicated to IS who will never read this but who knows what it means to get a hug at the right time. Thanks for everything you've done for me!

About the car break-in... so, this was one of the last big puzzles to address... because as some of you might remember when Hardy talks to Olly and Maggie in S1 he clearly states everything was taken, including car stereo etc, but when we see it happen in S2 all that was taken was the plastic bag with the pendant. The next chapter will deal with this as well and later in OBS it will come up also. I have thought about this for a long time and I know other stories who were farther along in the timeline of the show have given their version of the events. There might be similarities, but only because we came to similar conclusions (frankly there are not that many options to explain it if you chose to do so).