A/N: Thanks again for reading, commenting and not throwing things at me. You might after this chapter though. Forgive me for the beginning, maybe the grapes will make up for it… (or not because it's not what you guys are expecting). And forgive me for any crackiness and slight OOC… I was having too much fun with this.

Chapter 4

"It's Rather… Blue"

The next few days went by far too slowly for Hardy's taste. He hated the new medications. His default reaction to all pills - nausea - was worse than usual. The doctor tried to comfort him, telling him that this wasn't unusual initially, but that it should get better. As expected the diuretics made him go to the bathroom too frequently and soon the nurses were just as disgruntled with him as he was when he called them in every half hour.

Duncan's only comment over his dissatisfaction was what else was new, followed by excessive teasing about being a wimp, but when Hardy doubled over with abdominal pain and started vomiting profusely on the third day of treatment, he stopped joking.

When Hardy tried to hit him because he was convinced Duncan was coming to drown him in the river once and for all, Duncan was mortified. And when Hardy hugged the pillow the next moment, crying that he was sorry that he couldn't rescue Daisy in time, Duncan could only stand by in horror watching the medical team deal with the digoxin intoxication, shocked and for once in his life at a loss for words.

As the cardiologist had cautioned, the heart failure medication was a tricky one to handle. For lack of better words, the doctor had explained, Hardy got poisoned. His body's brisk reaction to the diuretics had led to a drop of the potassium level in his blood buying him a sudden encounter with the toxic side effects of digoxin. The hallucinations were a rare complication but apparently not unheard of.

Later that night, Duncan was sitting at Hardy's bedside holding his friend's hand. Hardy was better but still somewhat confused.

"Did ya bring grapes again?" Hardy's voice was rough with sleep and his words were slurred.

"What? Why would I do that?" Duncan asked, puzzled by the question.

"Stop fussing, Millah," Hardy mumbled, eyes closed.

Duncan's ears perked up. Hardy had told him about his colleague Ellie Miller, who was the only person in Broadchurch that Hardy had formed some form of bond with. Unfortunately it had turned out that her husband was the killer in Hardy's last case. Duncan had asked his friend, if he liked Ellie Miller and the vehement response that she was just a colleague and nothing else was confirmation enough that this woman indeed meant more to Hardy than he wanted to admit.

"Why'd ya run away to Devon, Millah? I miss you," Hardy murmured, squeezing Duncan's hand.

Duncan grinned. For a heartbeat he considered faking a response but then didn't. That really wouldn't be fair. On the other hand…

"Do you now?" he replied, deliberately shifting his pitch up and doing his best to rid his voice of the Scottish accent.

"Mmm," Hardy hummed, tugging Duncan's hand closer. "'M sorry abo't Joe. And Tom. Know how much it hurts when your kid doesn't want to talk to you…" he trailed off, stifling a sob.

Duncan ran his hand through Hardy's hair. "It's all right, Alec. Daisy will come around."

"I hope so, Millah, got nothing else left," Hardy mumbled, rolling over and still holding on to Duncan's hand. "Tom's a good lad, he loves you, just needs time."

Duncan was contemplating his next move, when a soft snoring noise relieved him from having to pretend to be the only person that Hardy had developed any connection with since the events surrounding the Sandbrook case had rendered him such a lonely man. Duncan carefully extracted his hand from his sleeping friend's grip, trailing his fingers over Hardy's gaunt cheeks. His eyes rested on Hardy's thin shape, heart aching.

When Geena had showed him the letter from the solicitor he had been shocked, seeking an explanation for what the hell was going on with Hardy. As soon as he saw him in the hotel a few days ago, he knew. His friend was falling apart, just as much as his life already had. And as always Hardy wasn't able to ask for help to stop the steep downfall. Duncan wiped off a single tear and resolutely sniffed, determined to catch his friend and put him back on his feet - kicking and screaming if necessary.

Hardy woke the next morning and had no recollection of their nightly conversation. Duncan offered to get him some fruit from the store, grapes perhaps. Hardy only squinted his eyes but didn't say a word.

When Duncan was almost out the door, he turned around and said, "So you miss Ellie Miller, ey? We should talk about that."

He was still chuckling at Hardy's gaping mouth and dumbfounded face when the elevator doors closed on him.

Eventually, they found the right combination of drugs and Hardy had to admit, he felt better than he had in weeks. He was less exhausted, his nights became more restful and when Duncan took him back to the Traders he was actually able to walk up the stairs to his room without falling over.

He was sitting on his bed when Duncan stuck the newspaper under his nose.

"This one looks promising. What do you think? We could go take a look at it tomorrow," Duncan said, pointing out the advertisement enthusiastically.

Hardy squinted at the print and fished out his glasses. He was still skeptical about finding a place to live, but Duncan wouldn't listen to any of his excuses.

"If you say so," he muttered and dropped the paper.

Duncan handed him a bottle of water, a banana and the paper bag he'd picked up for him from the pharmacy. Hardy eyed the yellow fruit.

"What's that for? I'm not hungry."

"Doctor's order. To keep up your potassium. I have no interest in a repeat performance of the other day. Alternatively you could eat avocado or spinach."

Hardy scrunched up his nose. "Avocado?" Duncan waved the banana in front of his face and grinned. Hardy reached for it reluctantly.

"I'm not a child, you know," he growled while peeling it. Duncan huffed and handed him his pills.

"You could've fooled me," Duncan muttered under his breath.

"I heard that."

"Good. Because you were supposed to."

They scowled at each other while Hardy was idly nibbling the banana. Hardy grinned first.

"Ha, your turn to buy dinner. And don't you dare lash out at my food again, just because you can't eat it."

Hardy sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "No, I won't."

Then after a pause, he dropped his gaze and added quietly, "Thanks for coming down and helping me."

Next thing Hardy knew, he was squeezed against his friend's broad chest and tightly wrapped into strong arms.

"Just say the word, Alec, and I'm here," Duncan breathed into his ear.

When he let go of Hardy, there was an awkward silence where neither one of them quite knew what to say. Eventually Duncan broke it with a grin on his face that was growing wider by the second.

"About that Harvest Festival…"

Hardy threw the banana peel at Duncan.

Two days later, Duncan had dragged him all over bloody Broadchurch and Hardy had had enough. So had Duncan. They were shouting at each other, sitting on the same damn bench he had seen Ellie Miller the last time, the night they lit a beacon for Danny Latimer.

"It was a perfectly fine flat, Alec, nothing to complain about," Duncan admonished him.

"Yah, just that the landlord tried to babble my ear off with all his theories about the latest series of break-ins three towns over," Hardy snarled back.

"Really? That's why? What about the one before?" Duncan growled.

"No stairs. Remember?" Hardy spat.

"You're such a smart arse sometimes."

"So I've been told," Hardy murmured to himself.

Not too long ago. In a hospital bed, after he had yet again almost died. Not for the first time he wished he could have found better words that night on the bench to convince Ellie Miller not to leave Broadchurch. Maybe he should ring her and ask if he could move into her old house. At least nobody would bug him there. She would probably kill him if he suggested that and with a good reason. It was a horrid thought. On the other hand, it was her bloody husband's fault that he was out of a job and needed to find a new place to stay.

"Alec? Are you listening to me?" Duncan was tapping on his shoulder and Hardy startled out of his thoughts.

Duncan sighed. "There is a place down by that small river over there..." - he gestured vaguely towards the town - "... but I assume that close to the water is out of question."

Hardy let his gaze trail over the houses towards the river. It was mostly blocked from his view but he remembered from taking one of his many walks that it was a rather quiet spot. He pushed himself to his feet and held a hand out to Duncan who looked at him in surprise.

"Might as well take a look. At least we already know what I'd be complaining about."

It took them a while to get there as Hardy needed to take a few breaks to catch his breath. At least he was able to do it at all. A week ago he couldn't have. He didn't admit to Duncan that the long grass and reeds surrounding the small grouping of houses nestled along the riverbank were rather pretty. He used to enjoy rivers. Until he pulled out a dead child from one.

There was no direct access to the house and it took them a bit to find the entrance in the back. Another plus. Not easy to be bugged by nosey town's folk. The house - if you could call it that; the owner described it pretentiously as a chalet when it wasn't much more than a wooden shack - was blue. A very bright sky blue. It was placed at an odd angle to the river, giving room to a small clearing in the front which was littered with all kind of knick-knack.

"It's rather… blue." Duncan sounded disgruntled. Hardy hid a grin. Wouldn't that be entertaining if he decided to go with the one place that his friend didn't approve of?

When they opened the glass doors, the curtains billowed out in the sea breeze. Hardy brushed them aside and stepped into the tiny living room. It was crowded with random pieces of furniture. A small table with three chairs was placed right beneath the window, bathed in soft light. One glance at the sofa was enough to know that it was a chiropractor's dream - the business he could get out from people resting on the rickety old piece would last a lifetime. There was a small but neat kitchen with a wall-mounted table and a clean bathroom. Besides the miniscule bedroom, that was more or less it. The walls were decorated with kitschy paintings and photographs. All in all a place that any person with even the slightest bit of taste would probably run away from.

Hardy didn't. But then nobody ever thought he had taste anyway. His grin grew wider when he saw Duncan's scowl.

"I couldn't even fit onto that bed," Duncan growled quietly, trying to be not too impolite.

"You don't have to." Something in Hardy's voice made Duncan's head snap around. He squinted his eyes at Hardy.

"Don't tell me that you actually - "

"I'll take it," Hardy interrupted Duncan, turning to the owner. An hour and more paperwork than seemed reasonable later, Hardy was holding the keys to the little blue shack at the river.

The sun was setting and Hardy was sitting outside on a chair while Duncan was bringing in his few belongings from the hotel.

"You know, you might have been right…" Hardy trailed off.

"About what? That this place is shit? You wanted it. No backing -"

"No, Duncan. About finding a place to live, about making something my own again," Hardy interjected quietly.

Duncan put down the suitcase and sat down on the stairs close to Hardy. He put his hand on Hardy's shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze without saying a word. They sat in amicable silence until Duncan's stomach growled.

A brief memory of long summer days at school flickered through Hardy's mind and he broke out in laughter.

"Some things never change, do they? We should go and feed you." He slowly clambered to his feet. He was tired and didn't really want to move much but a hungry Duncan wasn't something one wanted to risk.

Duncan pushed him gently back into the chair. "I'll tell you what, Alec. I'll go and get us some food. You stay and enjoy your new place."

Hardy rested his hand on his friend's and their eyes locked.

"Thank you. For taking care of me."

Duncan cleared his throat before he answered. "Don't mention it. You would have done the same." And he quickly left, hiding his emotions.

Hardy leaned back on the chair and closed his eyes. The warmth of the sun on his face made him feel more at peace than he had in a while. And for one tiny moment he allowed himself to hope that there was light at the end of the tunnel after all.

"You should get a pumpkin," Dunkin mumbled in between bites of his fish and chips.

"What?" Hardy's head snapped up. He had been preoccupied with stabbing a piece of avocado in his salad to death. By now it had turned into a mushy green lump and was even less appealing than before.

They were sitting on the steps of his new home. It was dark by now and the water in front of them glittered in the full moon's silvery rays. Light from inside let them see just enough to eat comfortably outside. It was chilly but Hardy didn't mind. Duncan had joked about lighting a candle but was quickly discouraged by Hardy's disgruntled expression.

"A pumpkin… you know carve it and make a lantern out of it." Duncan's face was dark but Hardy could very well picture the smirk that was brightening his friend's features.

"Carve it? Seriously? Are you out of your mind? This is England not New England, in case you should have forgotten," Hardy scoffed.

"Ahhh…" - Duncan wagged a finger at him - "Always such a hypocrite."

"I'm not a bloody hypocrite. Just because some greedy businessmen decided we have to adopt all American customs, doesn't mean I -"

"And who jumped through hoops to get Daisy that Princess Leia costume? I'm not even going to mention the debacle with the Darth Vader mask."

"Oi, it's wasn't my fault that that kid had never even heard of Star Wars. His mother should have told him I wasn't a bad guy," Hardy growled.

"Dare I remind you that Darth Vader sort of really is a bad guy?"

"Smart arse," Hardy snarled.

Duncan sniggered. "You ruined your daughter's first date."

"I did no such thing. The kid was a wimp, running away like that. Not my fault that he tripped over his stupid Ninja costume and got a bloody nose," Hardy pouted.

"He was six and you were wearing a black mask and cape, growling at him with a Scottish accent. What did you expect?"

"Daisy wasn't scared," Hardy grumbled defiantly.

Duncan snorted and shoved another chip in his mouth. "Daisy worships the ground you walk on," he replied, garbling the words around the food in his mouth.

"Not any more," Hardy muttered under his breath. He abruptly put the salad down and took two long steps to the waterfront, crossing his arms and staring out over the tranquil river. There were tears stinging his eyes, but he bit them back, chewing on his lower lip.

Duncan's hand came to rest on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

"She'll come around. Give her time." Duncan's attempt at comforting him wasn't working very well.

"She hasn't answered any of my calls, Duncan. I bet she's not even listening to the messages. I can't do this bloody surgery without ever talking to her again." He choked up.

This time he didn't shrug away the arm around his shoulders, welcoming the warmth of his friend's body that helped to keep the darkness at bay.

"I know, Alec." Duncan tugged him closer. "And when the time comes to get it done, we'll make sure you see her before. For now, just focus on getting better. Your body is tired and needs some time to heal. Take it easy for the next few weeks and then maybe by Christmas you'll be a new man."

Hardy nodded, despite having his doubts that he would have a quiet time like his friend proposed. Claire had left a dozen voicemails and even more texts over the past few days, despite knowing he wasn't available to cater to her every whim.

Duncan gently steered him back to the house and made him sit on the stairs again. The light from inside fell on Duncan's face and Hardy was surprised to see a mischievous grin curling up his lips. Duncan sat down and reached in the bag that he had brought the food in.

"Time for dessert." He turned and when Hardy saw what he was holding in his hands, his mouth fell open.

"Fancy some grapes?" The grin almost ripped Duncan's face apart.

A/N: A few weeks back I followed ktrose's adventures on a journey through DT's Britain… and when I saw her pictures of Alec Hardy's blue shack, I got all soppy and started thinking about how did he end up there? And how did he go from grouchy, pale faced "I'm a gonna pass out in the bathroom" (S1) Hardy to sort of softie, ashen faced "I'm a gonna die any moment but now I think it's finally time for the bloody pacemaker" (S2) Hardy? Part of my feeble attempt to answer to this oh-so important question will be revealed in a Christmas story which I have written but still has to wait a bit to be put out there… soon though.

The story is not done yet, but the next chapter might be delayed until after the weekend due to RL commitments of both author and trusty beta/editor (aka "what would I do without you"- Hazelmist)