A/N: Thanks everyone for sticking with me for so long. We are almost there... not quite yet, but almost. And as always the biggest THANKS TO HAZELMIST! Anyone who enjoyed reading this story should give her a shout out, because without her, this would have never happened.

CHAPTER 42

Hardy's sleep had been restless. Pippa's ghost drove him out of the bed before the sun was up. He hoped he hadn't woken anyone in the house. It was quiet and he padded into the kitchen. After he put the kettle on, he worked his way through the cabinets to find tea. Of course, it would be in the last one. Rubbing the back of his head, he stared at the selection for a while until he settled on chamomile.

"We have decaf too," Baxter yawned behind him.

Hardy spun around and sagged against the counter. Panting, he glared at Baxter who looked at him in bewilderment. Baxter grinned apologetically. "Sorry, Alec. I keep forgetting that you can be scared to death."

"Not funny, Ed. Not funny at all," Hardy groused and busied himself with preparing the tea.

"What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?"

Hardy shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." His back was turned to his friend which made evading the question easier.

"Emily mentioned you are having nightmares?"

Bollocks. What else had she told him? He poured the water into the mug and dunked the tea bag in it. The clear water changed to a pale yellow color. It made him shudder with disgust.

"I hate this," he muttered under his breath.

"It tastes better with honey in it," Baxter suggested, taking him literally on purpose. He placed the jar with the golden liquid next to Hardy's mug.

Hardy ignored the offer and blew on his tea, if one could call it that. He felt Baxter's eyes resting on him and he knew he had to give him an answer.

"I do," was his simple reply. Baxter frowned in confusion, but after he had replayed their conversation in his mind, recognition what Hardy was referring to dawned on him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" There was doubt in Baxter's voice. He knew Hardy too well.

"Not really, but I have a feeling you're going to bug me regardless," Hardy scoffed.

Baxter shrugged. "I'm not going to make you talk, Alec. You know my door is always open." He patted Hardy on the arm and started to leave.

"It's the river. I dream about finding Pippa," Hardy revealed, staring into his tea. His long fingers tapped the porcelain nervously. Small waves quivered through the yellow fluid, forming little craters like rain drops on the water. A weight was pulling on his arms. He squeezed his eyes shut and a shiver ran down his spine.

Baxter halted. With his back to Hardy, he said, "Hm. I wondered if that's what it was." He paused, then continued quietly, "I used to dream of Emma in her grave. Every night while she was in hospital and for months after. I've never told her." His shoulders slumped.

"Do you still get them? Those dreams?" Hardy wanted to know. Baxter turned around. His eyes were dark.

"Very rarely. They disappeared when she got better." There was a strain in his voice.

"I want them to go away, Ed. I'm so tired. I can't sleep because I drown every night and then...," he trailed off before he could share that Pippa's ghost turned into Daisy. He sagged onto a chair.

Baxter sat next to him and asked gently, "Does it affect your heart?"

Hardy nodded and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes.

"Maybe you could use those sleeping pills Emily gave you?"

"I tried. It makes it worse because I can't wake up. I get stuck in it and when I finally come to, I'm exhausted and beaten," he admitted, defeat ringing in his words.

"Have you thought about talking to someone? A professional?" Baxter suggested carefully.

Hardy shook his head.

"I could recommend someone who helped me."

Hardy looked up in surprise. "You went to therapy?" His words echoed his disbelief. He would never have pegged Baxter to have done that.

"Yup. Louise made me go. I am grateful I did. It helped me deal with Emma's illness and also with how to be a better parent. Not to shelter her and protect her from everything. I won't lie, it wasn't easy, but it was worth it. Think about it." Baxter smiled and stood. His hand found its way onto Hardy's shoulder. "I'm going back to bed, MacMillan has plans for me in the morning. You should try the same. At least rest, even if you can't sleep."

Before he left the kitchen, he addressed Hardy again. "It will get better. It might take a while, but it will. Have courage, Alec."

Hardy stared after him. Then he picked up his tired body and trudged back to the guest room. He laid on the bed, gaze fixed on the ceiling. No tiles to count. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes. Courage wasn't easy to find if there wasn't anything to draw it from. He'd still have to see proof that it was indeed going to get better. But he was willing to believe in the light at the end of the tunnel, whatever that light might turn out to be.

Baxter had barely sat down behind his desk when someone knocked at his door. He half-yawned and half-growled "Come in." Hardy's poor sleep habits had left him tired.

Craig Murphy walked in and took a chair. His legs as always seemed too long for his body and he twisted them awkwardly around themselves. Nervously, he tugged on his bow tie.

"Murphy, what's bugging you?" Baxter sighed. Why he had to be cursed with two taciturn and awkward detectives was a mystery to him. At least the one in front of him wasn't quite as much of a grouch as the one that was currently sleeping in his guest room.

"Sir, remember when you had me look into the hacking of the Glasgow police database?" Murphy began slowly.

Baxter nodded and was dreading where this would go.

Murphy shook his shaggy hair out of his pasty face. "Erm... so Alistair Murray and I sort of... erm... we sort of put a track on DI Hardy's case files and other files that might relate to him." He squirmed in his seat.

Baxter sat up. "You did what?" he questioned sharply.

"Don't get upset. It's a good thing we did." Murphy's pale cheeks flushed. Baxter wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or excitement. Knowing his nerdy IT specialist, it was probably the latter.

"Why?" Baxter wanted to pull his hair out. Now not only did he have to contest with a hacker, but also with his own staff spying on themselves.

"Because someone's done the same!" Murphy announced with unabashed glee. "We found it. We didn't get the person, but we discovered the tracking malware. And we got rid of it." He was proud of his achievement.

Baxter leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Are you telling me someone was stalking my DI the whole time he's been working here?" Suddenly, he felt very old.

"No. Not the whole time. But certainly for the past two or so years."

Something popped up in Baxter's mind. "How much information did they get about the current investigation?"

"Quite a bit I would say. Whatever has been put into the database already, especially when it came from Hardy."

"Could they have known things about Lee Ashworth's arrest procedures?"

"Absolutely." Murphy seemed certain.

"Is it feasible to assume that they knew that Ashworth wasn't charged until almost seventy-two hours after he was arrested?" he wanted to know.

"It's very likely. Are you thinking about the information leak to the press?" Murphy was more in tune with the current events than Baxter would have given him credit for.

Baxter nodded. "Yes." He reached for his phone and dialed MacMillan's office.

"Liz? It's Ed. Have you put anything electronically in the personnel files of Hardy and the other two?"

"Good morning to you too, Ed. Nice to hear from you. And no I haven't. Why?" She sounded indignant.

"Don't. We might have a security breach," he stated curtly.

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end. Then she inhaled deeply. "Is that how this despicable woman who calls herself a journalist got her information?" She was quick to pick up on things.

"Possibly. I have one of my best IT guys here who found that Hardy's files have been followed for at least the last two years."

"Excuse me?" she snapped.

"Do you want to come down to my office and join our conversation?" Baxter offered innocently. He could picture her pressing her lips together and cursing the day she'd hired Alec Hardy.

"I'll be there in five minutes. Don't go anywhere." She hung up.

Murphy looked at him with wide eyes. "Chief MacMillan is coming here? To talk to me?"

"Yes, Murphy. Don't have a heart attack over it. She doesn't bite."

Murphy gave him a desperate stare. "Oh yes, sir, she does," he croaked.

Baxter grinned. If he could only tell what he'd witnessed over the last few days, MacMillan would never live it down and her reputation would be ruined forever. By the time MacMillan had made it to his office, Murphy was a nervous wreck. He had adjusted his bow tie about a dozen times and his leg was bouncing up and down at a rate that made Baxter want to put a steadying hand on it.

MacMillan entered the room and Murphy jumped to attention. Baxter suppressed a smile and greeted his superior. Murphy stammered through a "Good morning ma'am" which earned him a raised eyebrow. His pasty complexion paled even more.

"Go on, Murphy, tell her what you told me," Baxter ordered him. MacMillan had taken a seat and gave Murphy a measured look. Murphy complied and began to stammer along. As soon as he was thrown into his familiar environment of virtual clouds, bits and bytes, he was able to formulate proper sentences, raving over a hacker's abilities that had given Baxter more than one headache already.

"Ed, why am I only hearing about this incident in Glasgow now?" MacMillan questioned Baxter. She had stolen one of his pencils and was tapping it on his desk.

"I didn't think it warranted your involvement at the time. After all, it didn't happen in our database. At least we didn't think so," Baxter explained. It was a poor excuse. She raised her eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Ma'am, we didn't have any indication that our files had been compromised. Alistair and I checked on it. We didn't find any traces of the hacker until we specifically put tabs on anything that had been touched by DI Hardy. Nothing came up until a few days ago. Someone had looked into the current investigation." Murphy was back in his element.

"Can you tell what information they garnered?" MacMillan asked, tightly grasping the pencil.

"As far as we can tell, it was only what had been put in electronically so far. There is DI Hardy's documentation up until last Wednesday. It seems that most of the other officers haven't transferred their findings yet. No forensics reports have been touched. But it appears that the hacker was interested in some of the booking procedures as well," Murphy shared with them.

MacMillan sighed. "Have you stopped it?"

Murphy nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, ma'am. Alistair and I were able to close off all the access points and improve our security. I have already discussed further steps with our IT department that's on it as well. I've been going back through DI Hardy's history to see which cases might have been compromised."

"Good job, Murphy. I want you to give me a full report. In writing, not electronically for now. Please keep this confidential. If you could continue to look into what other files, including personnel files, could have been accessed that would be very helpful. This was excellent work," she concluded.

Murphy beamed and Baxter excused him to leave.

As soon as the door closed, MacMillan turned to him. Scowling, she hissed, "What the hell, Ed? Why didn't you tell me about this? I had no clue that they hacked the fucking Glasgow police database to get to Hardy's old case. I thought the bloody journalist did some digging, but not this."

Baxter squirmed under her glare. "To be honest with you, there was so much else going on that I didn't pay too much attention to it. I never thought that it would in any way become pertinent to this investigation." It was a lame excuse but the truth.

"Jesus. What is it with this man and the drama?" She shook her head in disbelief. Baxter blankly stared ahead and shrugged.

"His best friend told me he used to recite Hamlet in school. In a nightdress with a monkey skull," he shared Duncan's story with MacMillan. Her eyes grew wide, then she blinked and took in a deep breath.

"That says it all," she muttered.

They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

"What are we going to do about it?" Baxter asked eventually.

She tugged on her suit jacket and resolutely put down the stolen pencil. "Murphy said they put an end to it. Hardy has to close out his part of the documentation without any room for doubt or question. And that includes putting it into our database."

Baxter tilted his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "I take it you spoke to Barnstein about the possibility of Hardy not being available to testify in a trial?" he inquired quietly.

She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "He emphasized the need to make sure we have it all written down." She looked up and a wry smile played over her face. "He nearly had a heart attack when I implied that Hardy might not be around. It was amusing, I have to admit."

Baxter had a hard time imagining the ever level-headed and dignified CPS prosecutor losing his composure. But he could also understand why Barnstein would be so upset. Missing the main police force prosecution witness often was a death sentence for a trial, not to mention the fact that they had lost a key piece of evidence. Fuck.

Baxter groaned. "Ashworth's never going to be convicted, is he?"

MacMillan gave him a pained look. They were both aware of the painful reality.

"Maybe he's going to plead guilty?" she suggested doubtfully.

Baxter snorted. "Right. He hasn't even confessed."

Her fingers had found the pencil again. She was drawing little stick figures on one of the file folders on Baxter's desk. They were all hangmen.

"How's Hardy?" she wanted to know. She tried to make it sound like a casual question and failed miserably.

"The usual. Pretends to be fine but isn't," Baxter scoffed. She drew another stick figure, this time she added a heart. She crossed it out. Baxter was fascinated and wondered if she knew what she was doing. She seemed far away.

"Liz, what's going to happen if he makes it?" he questioned hesitantly. She broke the pencil tip. "He asked me if I'm going to fire him."

"What did you tell him?" She stared at the stick figures.

"That I want him to stay if he can, but that I don't have any jurisdiction over the decision that DPS will make."

Her eyes came up to meet his. "Neither do I. That's the whole idea about DPS. I see no reason for him to be kicked off the force though if his health allows him to continue working. We have to be careful not to start believing the lie. I think he might and I'm worried about it. Because he feels responsible for what happened, even if he isn't."

"Maybe you should tell him," Baxter said softly. She held his gaze and Baxter saw her emotions warring in her dark eyes.

"Am I getting too close?" she wondered, clutching the pencil tightly.

Baxter smiled, leaned forward and gently pried the pencil from her fingers. "We both did. And it's all right. We are human and it's okay to show that now and then." He drew another heart over her crossed out one. "We never know how we'll deal with true matters of the heart until we encounter them. The tricky part is to have enough courage to face them."

She stared at his drawing, then looked him straight in the eye and smiled. "You've got enough for two, Ed. I'll come to your house after work today to talk to Hardy."

They both stood and he held the door for her when she left. He leaned against it as soon as it had closed and a broad smile brightened up his face. He'd tamed the beast.

Rays of sun light fell into Baxter's living room. Hardy sat on the sofa, enjoying the warmth in his face. His eyes were closed, but he didn't have to open them to know who had come in and blocked the light from reaching him. He'd always recognize that smell of a spring meadow that accompanied Tess everywhere she went.

She'd called earlier to see if he needed anything and offered to bring over some clothes for him. He'd agreed, giving in to the irrational longing of wanting to see her.

"Alec? Are you awake?" she whispered insecurely. He opened his eyes. Her face was dark, obscured by her long hair falling into it. The sun threw a soft halo around her towering figure.

"Yup." He patted the spot next to him. "Wanna sit?" He probably shouldn't have expected her to take a seat there, but he was still disappointed when she plopped down opposite him.

"I left the bag with your stuff in the guest room. Louise let me in."

He nodded and tugged on his ear. "All right."

She was staring at him wide-eyed.

"What?" She didn't say anything. It was unnerving. "What?" he repeated, unable to hide his annoyed tone.

Her mouth twitched and she looked away, a tear running down her cheek. Hardy was confused by her reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly. Shoving away his own hurt feelings, he struggled to his feet. He collapsed heavily onto the armrest of the easy chair, barely able to hold his balance. His hand found its way to her back. He didn't dare wipe her cheek like he wanted to.

"Love, please, what's the matter?" The term of endearment had slipped his tongue, but she didn't seem to mind. He wasn't sure why she was crying.

She turned around and raised her hand. She didn't finish the motion, just shy from caressing his face.

"Did I say something?" he wondered, taking her hand that was hovering in midair. She didn't pull away.

"Oh, Alec, you look –" She stopped abruptly.

And suddenly he knew what it was that had upset her. He'd seen it in the mirror this morning when he unsuccessfully attempted to shave. The vertigo had been too much to battle and he had given up before he had even started. Instead he had leaned on the sink and stared into his reflection, horrified by how awful he looked. The lines in his face were deep and the dark circles under his eyes hollowed out his features. But what was the most jarring was his grey color, contrasted by the red angry scabbing wound on his neck. It had been frightening in the dim light of the bathroom, let alone in bright sunlight.

He averted his face, still holding her hand. He didn't want her to see him like that. He didn't want her pity. She squeezed his fingers tightly.

Eventually, her tears ebbed away and she spoke, "Are you feeling any better?" It seemed ironic for her to ask, considering her reaction to his appearance.

"Sort of," he answered with a shrug. He pried his hand away from hers and stumbled to his spot on the sofa, unable to stand the closeness any longer.

"When do you want to talk to Daisy?"

Never, he screamed inside. He longed to see her, but he didn't want to have that conversation "Dunno," he mumbled.

"She will be home from school early tomorrow. Or we could do it on the weekend?" Tess proposed hesitantly.

Hardy gave up avoiding the inevitable. "Tomorrow is fine. I can come to the house."

"All right. Two o'clock?"

He nodded in defeat.

"Alec, I think I need to tell her something before then."

"What? Why? I thought we agreed –"

"If she sees you like this without any word of warning, I'm not sure how she'll react," Tess explained cautiously. Her eyes rested on him, taking in his battered body. She was right. He hated to acknowledge it.

"Fine," he sighed, dragging his hands over his gaunt face. "What do you want to say to her?"

"I could mention the accident and that you got a bit beaten up," she suggested.

"A bit beaten up, ey?" He huffed. "That's an understatement," he added with a grunt.

"Yeah, it is," Tess sighed. Their eyes met. She'd said she didn't hate him. Maybe he could believe her.

She stood. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" Her hand brushed over his shoulder and he clambered to his feet.

"I'll walk you out."

She gave him a questioning look but didn't object. Their goodbye was silent and his gaze lingered on her car until it disappeared around the corner. On the doorstep, he suddenly felt stifled by being inside. He snatched his coat from the hook and shrugged it on with a moan.

"I'm going for a walk," he shouted into the general direction that he assumed Louise was at. Before she could prevent him from leaving he was out the door.

The sun was hitting his shoulders while he slowly made his way down the block. It was the first time he'd challenged his body to that much activity. He regretted it quickly. By the time he had made it to the end of the street, his heart was thudding up to his neck and the pain in his chest took his breath away. He slumped against a fence. His legs gave out and he couldn't prevent himself from sliding down onto the pavement.

It only took Louise five minutes to figure out that he'd escaped. She found him when he struggled to get up.

"Here you are," she greeted him kindly and helped him to his feet. Then she led him back to their house and into his room. She settled him on the bed, puffing up the pillows just like Emma had the day before. When he was comfortable, she handed him his pills and a glass of water.

Grinning, she said, "Ed said you're a flight risk. That was pretty good. I wouldn't have thought you'd get that far."

Hardy snorted, but then grinned as well. "It was, wasn't it?"

She laughed and ruffled his hair. "Take a nap, you look spent."

"Yes, mum," he replied and closed his eyes obediently.

Hardy stared at the newspaper. His finger smeared over the drop of his decaf tea that had fallen on the article and soaked through the flimsy paper. With great satisfaction, he rubbed away Karen White's smug grin on the picture that accompanied her byline. She had wreaked havoc with the information that Baxter had released during the press conference the day prior. How she had found out about the three detectives being taken off the case was a mystery to him. Whoever had sung should be kicked off the force. The horrendous piece of writing was full of accusations. Hardy had to admit it, Karen White had outdone herself. If he hadn't been a part of this whole mess, he might've believed her lies. She alluded to mistakes being made during the investigation, citing the fact that the CS was now in charge and the previous senior officers had disappeared as her proof. She questioned the integrity of the police force and if they had apprehended the right suspect. It was infuriating and Hardy crumpled up the article with his long fingers.

A knock made him look up. He'd been resting since his short walk after Tess had left. Baxter leaned against the door frame and scrutinized Hardy. He must have just come back from work.

"Louise said you went out?"

Hardy nodded and willed his tired body to get up.

"How did it go?" Hardy wasn't sure if Baxter referred to his ill-fated walk or the conversation with Tess. Either way, the answer was the same.

"Don't ask," Hardy growled. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the dizzy spell to subside.

"I see," Baxter said drily. "You have a visitor."

Hardy's head snapped up and he frowned. He couldn't think of anyone he'd wanted to see besides his daughter. But that wasn't going to happen, not until the next day when he and Tess were planning on telling Daisy they were separating.

"Liz MacMillan wants to talk to you."

"And you brought her here? Whatever happened to she doesn't do house calls?" Hardy was upset. He didn't feel up to talking to his Chief, especially not in his jeans and old jumper. He hadn't shaved and his hair was an unruly mop, sticking up in all directions. He raked his fingers through his auburn fringe and scratched at his scalp.

"Alec, she's seen you half naked already. I doubt she cares if you're not wearing a suit," Baxter sighed.

"Oh, thanks for reminding me," Hardy grumbled, his ears burning with embarrassment. Baxter grinned and beckoned him to come along. Hardy struggled to his feet and obediently padded after him into the living room where Liz MacMillan was waiting for him.

She stood when she saw him. "You look better, Hardy. Glad to see that Baxter's hospitality is doing wonders for you."

Hardy ducked his head and mumbled, "I guess so, ma'am." On cue the vertigo that had plagued him all day returned. He teetered and he would have fallen on top off her, if Baxter hadn't swiftly caught his arm and dragged him onto the sofa. Hardy stole a glance at MacMillan who was valiantly hiding her concerned face.

"'M sorry," he muttered, feeling horrified by his own weakness.

"It's all right, you're recovering. I should apologize for bothering you," she said, a softness in her voice that Hardy hadn't heard before. Their eyes met and he saw the same sentiment there.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" he asked, straightening up and self-consciously tugging on his jumper.

"I looked at the case file. It seems that you mostly brought your documentation in order before you took leave for that procedure. Am I correct in that assumption?" Her eyebrow went up with the question and her fingers fidgeted with her purse.

Hardy suppressed a grin and the urge to hand her a pencil, her usual toy of choice to keep herself busy when she was discussing something that bugged her.

"Yes, ma'am. I made sure to bring my things in order before the cardiac cath. I have not looked at anything since then." It was a stupid thing to point out, considering that he had been in the cardiac ICU until the day prior. He felt so inadequate though that he hadn't been able to finish the job and had ultimately caused the case to fall apart.

Baxter and MacMillan exchanged a quick glance. Baxter dropped his gaze to study his fingernails, a sure sign that he was uneasy. MacMillan took in a deep breath.

"I talked to the CPS prosecutor. Taking into account the issues we have, he strongly recommended for specifically your documentation to be pristine. We can't afford to have any gaps or mistakes in there." MacMillan practically implored him and Baxter nodded his head vigorously.

Hardy tilted his head and squinted at them. "Is that so? Has my documentation ever raised any concern?" he asked, very well knowing what they were implying. It had nothing to do with his thoroughness, but much more with the possibility of him not being around for the trial.

"No, no, Alec. That's not it," Baxter jumped in quickly. "Nobody is accusing you of not doing a good job, but…," he trailed off, squirming in his seat. This time, MacMillan nodded her agreement.

Hardy didn't know if he should laugh or cry. It was almost entertaining watching them suffer through this conversation. He decided it was time to relieve them of their pain.

"Why don't you just say that you need me to make sure I documented everything, so that if I don't make it to the trial you will have all my work in writing?" he stated drily.

He might as well have slapped them. MacMillan turned pale and Baxter bright red. Somewhere inside him, he took a small pleasure in the fact that he'd rendered his ever witty superiors speechless. It was a puny victory, considering the price he was paying for it.

"Alec, that's not what we meant." Baxter finally found his words again.

"It's fine, Ed. I know what needs to be done and I will take care of it. It's my fault that we are in this situation and I –"

"No, DI Hardy. It isn't," MacMillan interrupted him firmly. Her face had regained color and she was back to her usual self. Their eyes met. "This is not your fault. I want to be very clear about my point of view here. Despite whatever we came up with for the public, the loss of the pendant has nothing to do with you and this is how things will be handled internally. You are not suspended at this point and you will get a fair hearing with DPS. I'm not kicking you out," she stated, more passionately than Hardy had ever heard her.

It was Hardy's turn to be at a loss for words. He hadn't expected such a strong support on her part and it touched him. Resting his elbows on his knees, he hid his trembling hands between his legs and leaned forward. His eyes were covered by his hair and he didn't look at her. He didn't want her to see him tear up.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, choking up. The fear that they would discharge him had been great, despite his conviction that he was dying and the high likelihood of him being unable to return to his previous position. Hearing those words from her, receiving the reassurance that he'd still have at least that part of his life, was a light at the end of this never-ending tunnel his existence seemed to have become. It was something to keep him going.

They were silent until Baxter cleared his throat.

"Alec, you can use my remote access to go over the virtual files. Do that first and when you feel better, you can swing by the office and take care of the rest. I've dealt with everything since you've been out, so don't worry about that."

Hardy wiped down his face and looked up. MacMillan smiled at him fondly.

"You're a good man, Hardy. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." She stood up and rested her hand on his shoulder. He made an effort to get to his feet, but she pushed him down gently. "Stay and rest. Dear Ed here is more than capable of seeing me out." She gave him a quick pat and then left with Baxer trailing behind her.

Hardy leaned back onto the sofa and let out a long breath. He still had a job.

Baxter walked MacMillan to the door.

"He looks awful, Ed," she whispered as soon as they were out of earshot. Baxter glared at her.

"That's not exactly good bedside manners. He just survived a cardiac arrest and multiple resuscitations. What do you expect him to look like? A spring chicken?" Baxter hissed and dragged her away from the living room door.

"I'd thought he'd be better. I mean, he's out of the hospital," she argued.

"He's not supposed to be, Liz. The bloody idiot signed himself out. His doctor doesn't agree with it, but we figured we'd rather have him here than sitting alone and unsupervised in some hotel. It's the best we can do right now," Baxter explained hastily in a low voice.

"Is that why you don't want to tell him about the tracking thing?"

Baxter rolled his eyes. "What do you think? If I revealed that he's been stalked for at least a couple of years and the press is being fed information, how fast do you think I'd have to cart him back to the hospital?"

"Point taken. But you will tell him, right? He needs to know and probably his wife as well," MacMillan insisted.

"I'll deal with it when he's less fragile. He's got enough on his plate. They haven't even talked to their daughter yet."

"Oh." MacMillan's eyes narrowed. "I wonder what he will tell her. Poor girl. She's in for some heartache."

Baxter watched her face sadden and dropped his gaze. He stared at his feet, images of a happy laughing Daisy flickering through his mind. MacMillan's hand on his elbow brought him back to the present.

"Make sure he gets enough rest once he starts working on the files. He can't be trusted."

Baxter expelled some air through his nose. "He's a lost cause."

She found his eyes. "I hope not."

As always he held the door for her.

"Keep me in the loop this time, would you? No more secrets." He nodded and saw her off.

When he turned around, Hardy was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and watching him.

"Alec! How long have you been there?"

Hardy raised his eyebrows. "Long enough to see you bond with Liz MacMillan." A smirk danced over his haggard face. Then he turned serious. "Am I really a lost cause?"

Baxter quickly stepped toward his friend and put his arm around his shoulders. "No. You're not." Hardy shot him a doubtful glance. "You might be lost, but not a lost cause."

Hardy huffed and pushed off the door frame. He swayed a little and pulled a face. "I'm so done with this," he groaned, holding on to Baxter with a tight grasp. Baxter remained silent, a rock that Hardy could lean on. When the moment had passed, Hardy wordlessly trudged to the guest room.

"I'm going to sleep," he muttered, head hanging down. His shoulders caved in, giving him the air of utter despondency. Baxter's stomach clenched. Hardy's broken heart was breaking his. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but was at a loss for words. He watched the door close behind Hardy, his own spirits low. He took in a deep breath. Healing was a process. One day at a time. Tomorrow was another day.

A/N: We are getting very close to the end of this part of the story. I hope this chapter wasn't too anticlimactic. Hazelmist can attest to the fact that what follows isn't. Also, she has found a new ship - Liz/Pencil - which might be able to make up for the loss of Alec/Ceiling tiles. :-)

We are on the home stretch and I'm sad and excited at the same time. And also a little bit anxious. Thanks again to everyone who has been so supportive throughout this journey!