A/N: Thanks everyone who is still around reading this saga... we are getting closer to where this part will end, but not quite yet. Thanks you, HAZELMIST, for the insanely fast turnaround of this chapter... I owe you a lot and then some more. We can join Liz in yelling at Tess and Dave... and then there is Duncan ;-)

CHAPTER 39

Liz MacMillan's piercing eyes didn't leave the two detectives in front of her. She had debated if she wanted to see them together or separately, but in the end had decided to deal with them at the same time. She had also invited CS John Fairbanks, the head of their local Directorate for Professional Standards. It wasn't an official hearing, but there was no way she'd have that conversation without him around.

"DS Henchard, DS Thompson, you both know CS Fairbanks." All three nodded at each other.

Hardy's wife was holding her head high whereas her lover – MacMillan spat the word even in her thoughts – was a pitiful display of misery. MacMillan straightened out their personnel folders in front of her. Her hand absentmindedly found a pencil to play with. She took her time to let them steep in their anticipation.

"I want to preface this with stating that this is not an official hearing of internal affairs. That will come later after a thorough investigation can take place. I did have to meet with you today though to inform you of the arrangements that are being made for your respective transfers," she began.

Thompson's head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Transfer?"

Tess stayed calm, her face unreadable. It dawned on MacMillan that she hadn't shared Baxter's plan with Thompson.

"Yes, detective sergeant, a transfer. What did you think was going to happen? A promotion?" she said sharply. It had slipped her tongue before she could hold back. She cursed herself for letting her emotions shine through her usually tight grip. Bloody Alec Hardy.

"I didn't really...," Thompson mumbled and then fell silent under MacMillan's glare.

She was losing her patience quickly. "Let's not beat around the bush here. The two of you majorly fucked up. And I see myself forced to use this kind of language as there are no proper words to describe my utmost disgust for what you have done. I've been in the force for over three decades and I've seen many officers getting it on, married ones and unmarried ones. It doesn't matter. It generally ended in issues of favoritism and bad mouthing each other if it went bad. That's not what bothers me." She took in a deep breath, tightly gripping that pencil.

"But the degree of lapse of professionalism and breach of all standards of conduct that the two of you have displayed is in a different league. You left evidence – worse, evidence that you knew to be crucial to your case – unattended in a public parking garage while you had sexual intercourse," she continued full of contempt.

Their faces had turned red. Thompson was huddled in on himself and Tess had finally dropped her cocky demeanor, hanging her head in shame. MacMillan shot a glance to Fairbanks who seemed to be enjoying the show. With a nod, he gave her the go ahead to proceed with what he knew she needed to say. She hadn't even started yet. She stood, walked around her desk and perched herself opposite them.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she shouted in their faces. They jumped and MacMillan picked up steam.

"I've asked around – this hasn't happened to any of the other Chief's in the region. I can't tell you how disappointed I am in you." The word might have well been underscored by a slap on their now pale cheeks.

"And I'm really trying very, very hard to put my anger aside. Nobody who works for me has ever done such a thing. You've not only broken every oath that you ever made as a police officer, you've not only violated the trust that these families and the society at large puts in you, you've not only let your whole team down, no - you have personally offended and insulted me with your disregard for all proper behavior," she threw at them. She had started pacing in circles sometime in the middle of her rant and she stopped right in front of them again. They hadn't moved, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Do you have anything to say for yourselves?" she demanded.

Thompson shook his head. But Tess looked up with a fire in her blue eyes. "Maybe if we had had proper leadership during this investigation, this wouldn't have been our only vital evidence," she challenged.

It took MacMillan a few heartbeats and measured breaths to get her voice back. The heated rage that had been burning in her turned to ice. She stepped up to face Hardy's wife.

"Are you implying that DI Hardy didn't do his job right? Because if you are, I would think twice about it. I've had enough time to take a careful look at this case since I heard about your unforgivable mistake. From what it looks like, he was the only one who made a dent in the investigation and moved the case toward closure. I have no indication that either you or DS Thompson contributed anything meaningful. The only thing you did do was destroy everything," MacMillan stated calmly.

"He was unfit for duty," Tess countered. "He wasn't present when we searched the car."

"Seriously? Do you need someone to babysit your every move? Are you that incompetent, DS Henchard, that you can't properly conduct a car search?" MacMillan spat at her.

Tess stayed quiet.

MacMillan expelled some air through her nose. "Not so cocky now, ey? Don't get me wrong. Do I think DI Hardy should have disclosed his health problems earlier? Yes. Do I think this unduly influenced this investigation? No."

"Oh, so he gets away with his usual bullshit whereas we get –"

"Oh, for God's sake, will you shut up," MacMillan yelled, interrupting Tess' self-righteous tirade. "Your husband, DS Henchard, is the only reason why you're even sitting on this chair and not on the street," MacMillan snarled. "CS Baxter and I would have kicked you off the force immediately, if it hadn't been for his dying wish – " She stopped herself from revealing more than she already had when she saw Fairbanks' horrified look. Thompson's head whipped up and his incredulous gaze fixed on Tess.

"Tess? What's going on? You told me he has some health issues, but you never said he's dying," Thompson asked, apparently genuinely shocked.

Tess wasn't listening to him, locking eyes with MacMillan. The belligerent fire was gone, and to her surprise MacMillan saw sorrow looking back at her. "He didn't tell me. I never knew until it was too late," she said, a deep sadness reverberating in her voice. "I didn't want for this to happen. I didn't want to hurt him like this. He's a good man and I'm so sorry." A few tears ran down her cheeks.

MacMillan nearly believed her remorse. "If you're sorry, then why did you agree to his plan?" she asked quietly. She could forgive a broken marriage, she could forgive an affair, but what she couldn't forgive was the fact that this woman knowingly let her husband ruin his career and his life over her own mistake, dying wish or not. It was unredeemable.

Tess held her gaze, but didn't answer.

"I thought so," was all that MacMillan said, her disdain obvious in her cold voice. Tired of their faces, she sat back down behind her desk. There was one more thing she had to question them about.

She picked up one of the folders and showed it to them. "This is the forensics' report on the break-in of your car DS Henchard. Is there anything you would like to share with me before I tell you what I'm thinking?" she queried sharply.

Tess and Thompson exchanged a quick glance which was confirmation enough for MacMillan.

"Did you alter the crime scene before SOCO could take a closer look?" she demanded to know.

They didn't say anything.

"Answer me! Or so help me God, I'll throw you out on the street right here and now!" she shouted, finally losing her last shred of patience.

Tess lifted her eyes and dared to look at her furious Chief. "No."

MacMillan threw the folder on the desk and hit the wood hard with her hand. "Nonsense. Do you think I'm an imbecile? I can read a forensics' report. There were no fingerprints of DS Thompson in your vehicle. What happened to them? Who wiped down the fucking car? And don't you dare lie to me, because if you do it'll be the last thing you'll ever say in this room," she threatened.

"I did," Thompson spoke up for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. He couldn't make eye contact, but he continued to speak. "We panicked when Baxter told us he was sending SOCO over to look at the car. Whoever broke into the car only took the plastic bag with the evidence, nothing else. It made what happened look even worse. So we thought –"

"I don't think you were thinking at all," MacMillan interrupted him roughly. "You realize that you might have destroyed our only opportunity to find any clues who could have taken the pendant? This clearly wasn't a quick smash and grab, it was a deliberate act to gain possession of key evidence."

"Are you going to put that in the case file?" Tess questioned anxiously. MacMillan shot her a piercing glare. They both knew that if she did, the public version of things wouldn't hold up and nobody would believe that Hardy was to blame. They had reached a stalemate.

"I don't know yet. Maybe a better place would be your personnel files," MacMillan replied, enjoying Tess reddening angry face. She hadn't decided yet what to do with the information. Carlisle's full report could only be interpreted one way and she now had the admission in her hands. She hadn't decided yet if she was going to share it with Baxter who seemed to be getting too close emotionally. For now she'd keep it to herself, but she wasn't going to reveal that to them.

It was time to end this sorry charade. She sat up straight and proceeded with the official business.

"DS Thompson, effective as of May 15th 2012 you will be joining the uniformed forces in the rank of police constable. Until then you will be suspended and placed on unpaid leave." Thompson's face was stoic and he accepted his punishment with a nod.

"DS Henchard, effective as of May 15th 2012 you will be joining the 'Drug and Fraud' task force of South Mercia Constabulary in the rank of police constable. Until –"

"That's not what Baxter said. He said I'd stay detective," Tess interrupted her.

"That might have been what he said, but it's not his decision. Why should Thompson here be stripped off his rank and you shouldn't?" MacMillan challenged her. Tess pressed her lips together.

"Right. Both of you will lose your detective privileges. You may be eligible to be reinstituted at a later point in time, but that will be up to the DPS committee. For now this is what's going to happen. DS Henchard you are also suspended and put on unpaid leave until May 15th," MacMillan ended her sentencing. In her eyes, the punishment wasn't harsh enough, but she had agreed to go along with the plan and she'd honored the deal.

"You're dismissed," she barked and they couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Fairbanks stayed behind as she had expected him to.

"Now, that went well," he said sarcastically.

MacMillan huffed. "Don't start. I wanted to sack them but...," she trailed off.

Fairbanks plopped onto a chair and found her eyes. "Is he really dying? You could have warned me," he grumbled.

"It looks like it," she sighed.

"Since when did you turn all mushy, Liz?" Fairbanks teased her.

"Since the bloody wanker tried to die on me when I was talking to him this morning in the hospital," she admitted with a sheepish glance. She'd known Fairbanks since the academy.

"Liar. You've always had a soft spot for the obstinate git. I remember when you asked for my opinion when Baxter wanted to make him DI. You were all excited about the idea, but you were afraid your judgement might be clouded because you liked him. You were so bewildered by the concept that you could like one of your subordinates. It was rather comical, to tell you the truth." Fairbanks grinned.

"Ach, stop it, John," she demanded weakly, smiling herself.

"It's all right, Liz. You know, you can be human too. No need to be the ice queen all the time. Hardy could use your support right now." He rubbed his hand over his balding head. "And I better start thinking about who I'm going to put on all those DPS committees. All three will need one. And Baxter too, you realize that?" he sighed. "What a mess. Did you talk to the CPS prosecutor?"

"Yeah. He was not amused to put it mildly. He's willing to uphold the charge and go for trial, but he has serious doubt about the outcome," MacMillan shared. Her ears were still ringing from the shouting that had taken place earlier today. Philippe Barnstein was one of the best barristers in the county, but even his talents had limits. He promised he'd try though. She couldn't hope for more. When she'd mentioned that her SIO might not be around for the trial, he'd almost lost it and had laid into her to make sure all his documentation was pristine. After her visit with Hardy earlier, she hoped that he'd been smart enough to put his affairs in order before going for that procedure. She made a mental note to have Baxter look into it.

"I'll schedule their hearings for the end of May. We'll see about Hardy. Did you suspend him as well?" Fairbanks wanted to know.

"No. Baxter had put him on medical leave for the day of the procedure and has never taken him off since then. I told the staff he was on leave, nothing further. It's up to their interpretation," she explained.

"Jesus. I really hope this isn't going to come and bite us all in the butt one day, more than it already has. If the press finds out, we're all in deep shit. I can see the headlines – Police hushes up major failure in murder case."

"We're not hushing anything up. Everything that is documented in the case file and the personnel files is correct. The responsible officers will be held accountable. And the dying boss will be made the scapegoat," she added sardonically.

"He wants that though, Liz. And you agreed to it," Fairbanks reminded her.

"I know," she groaned. "Doesn't mean I'm not mad about it."

Fairbanks shrugged. Then he stood, ready to leave. "You know, the three of you should probably think of a plan B."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked confused.

"What happens if he doesn't die? Have you thought about that?" he questioned, nodded at her, and left.

MacMillan's mouth gaped open. Shit. They hadn't. And knowing Hardy, he'd survive out of mere spite. They were screwed.

Baxter was walking over to the hospital. He'd thought the fresh air would be nice, but as soon as he heard his name being called by several people, he knew he had made a mistake.

"CS Baxter? Can you confirm that you've arrested a subject in the Sandbrook murders?"

"CS Baxter? Is it true that you've charged Lee Ashworth, the neighbor of the Gillespies?"

"CS Baxter? We heard through sources that you've taken over the investigation. Can you confirm and what are the reasons?"

He ignored all of them and kept his head down. In his mind he went over the best times to schedule an official press conference. He had to talk to MacMillan first and see what her conversation with the CPS prosecutor had yielded. They couldn't keep them at bay for much longer though. He successfully left them behind only to bump into Karen White around the corner.

"Oh, CS Baxter, just the person I hoped to see. I can't seem to get a hold of DI Hardy. He promised me an interview once you charged Ashworth. Where has he been?" Karen White asked, feigning innocence.

Baxter put all his effort into avoiding to look over to the hospital across the street. He would never forgive himself if he gave away what had happened to Hardy.

"Ms. White, correct?" He faked ignorance to buy himself some time. Of course he knew all too well who she was.

"Yes, Karen White with the Daily Herald. You're a bad liar, CS Baxter. I'm sure you've read my byline. The whole town has," she said with a smug smile. "So, where is Hardy? Or should I ask you instead about Ashworth? I heard a rumor that you have taken over the investigation."

Baxter remained silent. Better not to say anything, she'd twist around his words regardless of what came out of his mouth. She looked him up and down.

"Oh, so you're the silent type. Well, I can wait. But not for very much longer. Tell Hardy that if he doesn't talk to me by tomorrow, I consider our deal off and he'll have to see what happens next," she continued with a put on sweetness that sickened Baxter.

"Are you threatening me or DI Hardy? Because –"

Her laughter interrupted him. "You are all the same, CS Baxter. Always pulling the 'don't-threaten-the-police' card. It's rather disappointing, to be honest with you, that you can't think of something else. We could work together so well, if you lot would be a bit more cooperative."

"Oh, like you did with DI Hardy? Digging out his past and scaring his child for no better reason than wanting to have a story. You disgust me. I have nothing to say to you," Baxter hissed and left her standing there. He walked quickly past the hospital, and only doubled back once he was sure that she hadn't followed him. If anyone could find out the truth about what had happened and ruin their plan, it would be that woman. Yet again he worried who was feeding her information from within the police force and he hoped that that person would keep their mouth shut.

On the way up to the cardiac ICU, he made an effort to relax his face and not to let any of his anxiety about the press show in his expression. There was no reason to put any more stress on Hardy. He wasn't expecting to be welcomed by rumbling laughter. And even less so by a nearly smiling Hardy.

"You must be Ed Baxter," a booming Scottish voice greeted him. "You know how I can tell? You've got that haggard 'I've-been-hanging-out-with-the-brooding-wanker-too-much' look on your face. He does that to people." Duncan stood and clasped an astonished Baxter's shoulder tightly.

"Seriously, Duncan? Did you have to say that?" Hardy complained, shooting a guilty glance at Baxter. Baxter scrutinized him. He looked better. His cheeks had some color and a weight seemed to have been lifted off of him. Baxter's eyes wandered to the monitor where a steady heartbeat crawled over the screen. A small smile crept onto his face.

"Alec, MacMillan and I –"

"I know. Swenson came by and told me," Hardy said quickly before Baxter could elaborate. His wide hazel eyes expressed his gratitude more than words ever could have. He reached out with his hand and Baxter took it. Hardy squeezed it firmly.

"Thank you," Hardy said sincerely and smiled for the first time in days.

"Now, now, Alec. Be careful. That smile could get stuck on your face and then what do we do?" Duncan teased. Hardy rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Did you tell him I was here?" Hardy questioned Baxter.

"Yup."

"Why?" There was enough exasperation in those three letters to last a lifetime.

"Because he needed to tell someone about your stupid idea," Duncan budged in.

Hardy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Again, why?"

"Because it's a shit plan and because you're a moron," Duncan continued insulting his oldest friend.

"Why don't you just leave? Don't you have your kids to take care of?" Hardy grumbled.

"Nope. Geena is more than happy to watch them while I get the pleasure of yelling at you. She told me to make sure to yell extra loudly," Duncan replied with a smirk.

"Ach," Hardy huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the ceiling tiles.

Baxter looked back and forth between the two. It was thoroughly entertaining. It seemed that Duncan had won.

"Ed, do you have my phone," Hardy asked out of the blue.

"Yeah, I do. Why?"

"Give it to me," Hardy demanded with a frown.

"What? No. You're not supposed to –"

"I don't care. It's a myth anyway. Mobiles don't do anything to the equipment. I need to get in touch with Daisy. I've never been out of touch for this long. We at least text, even when I'm at work," Hardy explained.

"Alec, I'm not going to –"

"Ed! Phone! Now!" Hardy barked, holding out his hand. It trembled slightly.

"Fine." He fished the mobile out of his pocket and slapped it into Hardy's palm.

Hardy greedily pulled it closer and squinted at the screen. "Fuck. Where are my glasses?" he muttered, utterly annoyed.

Baxter had no idea and he said so. Hardy cursed and tossed the phone onto the blanket. Baxter picked it up.

"Do you want me to –"

"God, no. I'm not going to have you send fake messages to my daughter," Hardy refused with horror.

"You might not have a choice," Duncan chimed in, an amused smile on his face.

"Ach, stop being a smart arse and help me find the bloody glasses instead," Hardy threw back at him.

Eventually they found them in Hardy's suit jacket, smooshed and crooked from the chest compressions that had saved Hardy's life. Baxter suppressed a chuckle when Hardy put them on. He looked ridiculous, but happy when he could finally go over all the missed messages that Daisy had left.

Duncan pulled Baxter aside and out of the room, leaving Hardy to his task. As soon as they had stepped behind the curtained glass door, Duncan's face changed completely. Gone was the cheery demeanor and light-hearted expression, replaced by barely hidden shock and fear.

"Ed, what the hell happened to him? You told me he had a cardiac arrest. This is different. He looks like he's not only on, but well past death's doorstep," Duncan whispered frantically.

"What did you think 'he's dying' meant? Did you think I was joking?" Baxter hissed back, glaring at him with his steely eyes.

"Well, he does get a wee bit dramatic at times," Duncan sighed.

"A bit? Do you have any idea what he has done to me in the past days?" Baxter was close to losing his composure again.

Duncan squinted at him. "No, and by the look of you, I don't think I want to."

"Ha! You wanna know what happened to him? I'll tell you," Baxter blurted out. There was no holding back now. "It's not only his god damn heart stopping at any given moment. Oh, no. It gets better. He pulled out his central line from his neck because he wanted to escape, the bloody idiot. He was bleeding to death right in front of me. I was literally sitting in his fucking blood, for crying out loud. He did that after he'd said he didn't want to live any more. And then every time he made me talk about that shit plan of his he tried to die on me. Every. Single. Fucking. Time." Baxter panted and stared at Duncan with wild eyes.

Duncan took a step closer, put his large arm around Baxter's shaking shoulders, and said, "Told you, a wee bit dramatic. He used to recite Hamlet in his nightdress at school. He'd stolen the skull from the science lab. Always going for the angst. I guess he still does."

Baxter's mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Hardy was wearing a nightdress as a lad?"

Duncan raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Aye."

"And he stole a bloody skull?"

"Well, it wasn't bloody. More like old and dusty. Might have been some sort of monkey and not even human."

"Wee Alec Hardy was reciting Hamlet in a nightdress with a monkey skull?"

Duncan nodded vigorously. Baxter tried to shake the image of a forty-something-year-old Alec Hardy in a hospital gown, clinging onto the IV pole and muttering "To be or not to be". He couldn't and somewhere deep inside him laughter grew until it burst out and shook his whole body, tears welling up.

When he had settled down, Duncan was eyeing him with a serious face.

"Now, that we've got that out of your system, would you care to elaborate on what you said about that he doesn't want to live any more? Because frankly, that scared the shit out of me."

Baxter sobered up quickly. "He didn't try to kill himself, if that's what you're thinking. But his doctor and I both believe that he's not in a good place right now. And –"

"That's the understatement of the year. Not in a good place? Are you listening to yourself? He's so ill that he might die soon, his wife is cheating on him, the case that's been haunting him after he pulled a dead girl out of a river and almost drowned is entirely screwed up, and you say he's not in a good place? He's in fucking hell, that's where he is, and that's probably putting it mildly."

Duncan was fuming.

"I've known him since we were teenagers. That man in there..." – he stabbed his finger at the glass door – "... isn't the man I know. He's broken, a shadow of his former self, and ready to snap any minute. I couldn't get him to look at me for the first hour I was in there. I had to yell at him to acknowledge I was there and that he better talk to me before I slapped him. I saw him three weeks ago at my wedding, he was dancing with his daughter and now look at him! He can't even sit up without falling over, he's so weak. It's killing me to see him like that. I..." Duncan's voice finally broke and ended his desperate rant. Angry tears moistened his fiery green eyes and his lips were quivering.

Baxter dropped his gaze. "I know," was all he could get out.

"I want to kill her," Duncan pressed through gritted teeth.

Baxter couldn't look at him.

"I get now why you said you can't go along with this fucking insane plan of his. I better not bump into Tess anytime soon because I'm not sure what I would do to her," Duncan continued to vent his fury.

"It's not about that though. Remember what you said? It's about supporting Alec. Believe it or not, he looks better, like he's relieved. More at peace. He had to do this. I can't do anything else to help him, but I at least could do that," Baxter said quietly, finally finding the courage to look at Duncan.

Duncan took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Fuck." He kicked the floor.

"Has he talked to you? I mean really talked?" Baxter wanted to know.

Duncan shook his head. "No. I couldn't get anything out of him besides the fact that he needs to protect Daisy."

Baxter nodded slowly. "Yeah, he's even more closed off than usual. It worries me that he's shutting everyone out. He opened up a bit with Emily, his doctor, but not really."

"He might simply need time. It's hard for him to express what's going on behind those eyes. He was never any good at it," Duncan sighed.

"No shit," Baxter commented and joined in on the sigh.

They looked at each other, two men united by the worry over their friend.

"Can you promise me something, Ed? Don't leave him alone. Don't let him go off and brood. That has never resulted in anything good. I know what I'm talking about. Please," Duncan pleaded.

"I won't. But you know how he is. If he gets stubborn about it, I can't get to him. I'll try my best though. I promise," Baxter vowed.

"That's all I want. And I will do my part," Duncan stated with a nod. "Should we go back inside? He's had enough time to play with his phone."

Baxter agreed. When they opened the door, they were greeted by the sight of a peacefully sleeping Hardy, one hand fisted around the mobile, the other slung around a pillow. He had a faint smile on his face.

"You think Daisy is going to fix him?" Baxter wondered aloud.

"If anyone can fix him, then it's her," Duncan replied hopefully.

"It's a steep task for that little girl," Baxter voiced what they were both thinking.

"Aye. But she's got his stubborn soul. If they stick together, they'll get through it," Duncan reaffirmed his belief.

"Can you stay a bit longer? Maybe he'll talk to you." Baxter could use an ally.

Duncan smiled and tucked the blanket tighter around Hardy. "I'll stay. You go deal with your investigation and the fall out. I'll stay with the bloody idiot."

"Thanks Duncan. I owe you."

"No, Ed. You've done so much already. You don't owe anything. If anything, I owe you for taking care of him. He's like a brother to me and if I had lost him...," he trailed off, his face full of sorrow again.

Baxter placed his hand on Duncan's back. "He'll make it. He's too stubborn to die."

Duncan huffed. "If that's so, you better come up with a plan B."

"A plan B? What's that supposed to mean?" Baxter was confused.

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Have you thought about what happens if he doesn't die?"

Baxter's mouth gaped open. Shit. They hadn't. And knowing Hardy, he'd survive out of mere spite. They were screwed.

A/N: About the pendant theft... I thought about the inconsistency in the show for a long time and how I wanted to approach it. This is what I came up with. It will be addressed again in OBS... I hope for now it's satisfying enough. It was a tough one to address (and either Chibnall is going to have a brilliant explanation for it or someone should get yelled at for not picking up on it).