Resurrecting my fangirling tumblr just to get this off my chest.
I only cought up with Supernatural during the first lockdown. I had watched until season 11ish and then for some reason left it there. So I binged the remaining seasons over the lockdown and cought up.
I can't really say I was a hardcore Destiel shipper. I mean, it was clear that their bond was special and a few scenes were just ridiculously NOT platonic/ brotherly. So my point of view was that all the destiel shippers have a lot of ground to stand on and if I was given something solid I could ship them as well.
And then 15x18 comes and I am now browsing destiel tags and fanfiction.
SPN fandom and original destiel shippers, I take my hat off to you. You are the true believers and you managed to wish this into existence. I am so proud of you.
Ellie Miller is left to go on her honeymoon alone after a devastating secret about her fiance comes to light - halfway through the wedding ceremony. Sitting in St Pancras International in London waiting for her train, she runs into none other than her uni rival/best friend Alec Hardy, on the run from his own recent heartbreak.
They decide to make use of Ellie’s pre-paid trip, rekindling their friendship and escaping real life; yet, it turns out their years at uni are the hardest to outrun.
Based on this prompt from @timepetalscollective
Chapters will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday. Beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma
Masterlist | AO3
---
Ellie Miller sat slumped over a table for two, picking at her unappetizing, healthy breakfast wrap as she waited for her train. She still had twenty minutes before she could begin boarding, and despite having already made the effort of getting into London, wasn’t even certain she would be on the train when it pulled out.
In fact, she might be quite happy to remain at this table forever. No one who knew her, no one to bother her, offer advice or sympathy, scold or belittle her. She might, if she was lucky, never have to hear her own name ever again.
“Millah?”
Spoke too soon, she thought bitterly, eyes slipping closed and turning her head away from the direction of the voice, hoping whoever it was would believe they were mistaken and continue on.
“The hell are you doing?”
Her eyes snapped open as her table jostled, and sure enough, it was exactly who she’d suspected (feared) now in front of her.
“Fuck off.”
While most men would cower at her vitriolic tone and icy stare, Alec Hardy had been her rival for top of the class at uni, and was therefore all but immune to her intimidation tactics. Being a Scot, he probably considers that a friendly greeting, she rolled her eyes.
He’d helped himself to the chair opposite her, folding his arms on the table and leaning towards her, that curious look in his eye that said he thought he was on the scent of something. “Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine? I thought I was the grumpy one. I distinctly remember you ordering it to be so.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and despite her irritation, hers quirked in response.
“What’re you doing here?”
“Running away. You?”
“The same.”
Staring down at her sad breakfast, she could no longer stomach the thought, and pushed it across the table at her one-time schoolmate. “Here, it’s rabbit food, you’ll like it.”
Hardy made a face, poking at it, before shrugging. “Thanks.” He took a bite, grimacing as he chewed, and gingerly set it back down. “You know attempted murder’s a crime, don’t you?”
“You should arrest the bloke in the shop then, ‘cause he promised me it was good.”
That got her a soft laugh, and they sat in silence for a minute, not quite meeting each other’s eye.
“So, how long has it been?” he eventually asked, brow furrowing as if trying to do the math himself and getting nowhere.
“Eight years?” She hadn’t seen him since graduation – or more specifically, the morning after graduation. Involuntarily, her cheeks flushed at the memory.
Hardy froze for just a moment. “Right,” he said, perfectly neutrally, the moment growing more awkward by the second as they both tried to pretend everything was normal.
“What’re you running from?” Ellie asked, just to change the subject, before wincing.
“My girlfriend was having an affair with one of our coworkers, I decked him in the middle of the bullpen, and am now on forced vacation.” He rolled his eyes, slumping down in his chair. “I’d been working thirty-six hours straight so they let me off with just a warning, but strongly suggested I take the next two weeks off.”
Ellie hummed in sympathy, cuddling her coffee cup to her chest to resist the temptation to reach out to him. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Me too.” He paused a moment, before glancing up with a wry grin. “It was a shitty punch, didn’t even break his nose.”
She laughed, some of her tension easing, though it reappeared instantly when he continued speaking.
“What about you? What’re you running from?”
“Eurostar, London to Paris, now boarding. This is the first call for Eurostar to Paris.”
That was her, but she ignored the announcement to confess, “Yesterday was my wedding day. Halfway through the ceremony, my husband-to-be was arrested on child porn charges.”
“Shit.” Hardy’s eyes went wide, and let off a low whistle. “Shit. Sorry, yeah, that’s worse.”
“It’s not a competition,” she tried to laugh, lower lip wobbling. Don’t cry. Whatever you do, do not cry in front of Hardy. “But, thanks. Anyway, I’m off on our honeymoon alone. Maybe. Where are you headed, though? Where’re you spending your time off?”
He shook his head, shrugging. “I was just going to buy the cheapest ticket and see where it took me. Anywhere but here, you know?”
“You could come with me,” slipped out before she even thought about it, cheeks flaming as she realized what she’d said.
“What?”
“I have two tickets,” she explained, ignoring the little voice saying what’re you doing? Wouldn’t you rather be alone? “Everything’s paid for, and I promise not to ask about your ex if you don’t ask about mine.”
“Second call for Eurostar to Paris. All passengers please make their way to Track Two for boarding.”
Hardy stared at her, a slightly incredulous expression on his face, but after a moment, he shrugged. “What the hell. If you’re sure, why not?”
“Excellent!” Ellie chirped, jumping up and grabbing her luggage. “Shall we go, then?”
-
As soon as they found seats and settled in, Ellie fell asleep against the window, leaving Alec alone with his thoughts as he watched the countryside fly past.
Eight years, he wondered, slightly amazed. Has it really been that long? In some ways, it did feel that way – it felt like ages since she’d been a part of his life, and it had been jarring, going from seeing her near every day to never again. They’d had a complicated friendship while in school to say the least, one that barely even qualified for the word ‘friendship’, but it was the best description he had.
In other ways, it felt like only yesterday they were antagonizing each other, fighting for top of the class and trying to out-perform each other. In the moment, he hadn’t realized how much fun it was to have her for a sparring partner. For as much as they would argue, it never felt like fighting.
Focusing on her reflection in the window, he considered the utter coincidence that they had both ended up at St Pancras’ on the same morning wanting to run away from their relationship problems. He wouldn’t go so far as to say it was fate, given he didn’t really believe in the concept, but he also didn’t believe in coincidences after so long as a detective, and yet running into her had to be one.
If nothing else, this will be a memorable trip.
-
Doubts plagued Ellie as soon as the train began to move, and she quickly feigned sleep to avoid any conversation.
Apparently she feigned a bit too well, because the next thing she knew Hardy was gently shaking her shoulder.
“We’re here,” he said quietly, and she sat up, yawning and brushing the hair from her face, horrified to find a bit of crusted drool on the side of her mouth, which she tried to frantically swipe away as they shuffled off the train into Paris’ famed Gare du Nord dragging their luggage behind them.
“Now what?” Hardy asked when they came to a stop in a relatively quiet, out of the way corner, and Ellie let go of her suitcase to dig through her purse for the folder she’d made with all the arrangements.
Yawning again, she re-committed the hotel address to memory before safely storing the documents. “Taxi to the hotel.” She reached for her suitcase again, only to find his hand already there.
“I got this,” he shook his head, “you just lead the way.”
Feeling disoriented for so many reasons that had nothing to do with the foreign country or language, she led him through the train station and out onto the street, joining the queue for a taxi. Thankfully it moved quickly, and soon enough, they were settled in a cab and winding their way through Paris.
“Look at this,” she murmured, staring out the window at the architecture flying by. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” They didn’t pass any famous sites on the way, but Ellie wasn’t bothered; she’d be seeing them soon enough.
On the plus side, I’ll actually get to accomplish my itinerary instead of staying in bed all day, she thought wryly, focusing on Hardy’s reflection in the glass. He was looking out the other window, which was probably for the best. She was still more than a bit stunned at his presence, but after the chaos of the previous twenty-four hours, it was low on the ‘shock’ factor. And he’s certainly not going to ask me about Joe.
The thought of her former fiancé hurt, but she couldn’t quite muster the energy to cry – she’d spent the entire night doing that, curled up alone in her bed, sobbing why? over and over.
She’d hadn’t gotten an answer.
The driver cleared his throat, and she realized they had arrived at their hotel. Situated on the north side of the Seine directly across from the Île de la Cité, it offered an amazing view of the city, and was conveniently located for walking to all the top sights.
“Merci,” Ellie said, but before she could pull out her money, a few notes crossed in front of her nose, and she turned to find Hardy with his arm outstretched.
“I got it,” he shrugged, gesturing his head for her to climb out. He followed quickly, unloading their suitcases from the back, and with a final check, they sent the cab off and headed into the hotel. Again, he grabbed her suitcase before she could, sending her ahead.
I don’t remember him being such a gentleman, she thought, before pasting on a bright smile and checking them in with her admittedly rusty French.
Within moments she was handed two plastic room keys with a cheery Felicitations!, and with a nod, she led him back towards the lifts.
They rode in silence, smiling awkwardly at each other, but thankfully it was a short trip and they quickly spilled out into the hallway. It wasn’t until she opened the door that Ellie remembered she had booked the premiere honeymoon package.
“Shit,” she muttered, holding open the door as she stared inside, Hardy looking over her shoulder. It was a romantic’s dream, but at the moment, the vision just made Ellie want to throw up. “Oh, fuck.”
It was a fairly decent sized room for Paris, a small bathroom immediately on the right before opening up into the main area. A desk and chair sat under the window, offering a view of Paris and in the distance, the towers of Notre-Dame rose above the rooftops.
The main feature, of course, given that it was the honeymoon suite, was the bed.
“Am I losing my mind,” Hardy asked from behind her, “or is that bed really heart-shaped?”
It was, with a delicate canopy to boot. Loose rose petals covered scarlet sheets, while battery-operated white candles were arranged on every flat surface, giving the room a romantic glow despite the lack of real flame. A bottle of champagne sat nestled in an ice bucket next to the desk, two flutes ready nearby.
“Uh huh,” she said faintly, finally moving forward enough to enter the room and letting him in behind her, neither paying any mind to the door slamming shut behind them.
He coughed, shifting his weight. “This is cozy.”
“This was a terrible idea.” Tears welled in Ellie’s eyes, and she had to viciously bite her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “This whole thing. I never should’ve come – what was I thinking? Oh, fuck.”
“Hey, Miller, it’s okay,” Hardy fumbled, patting her back, only pushing her closer to tears.
“Just give me a minute,” she sniffled, turning into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her before letting her emotions go.
-
Left alone in the entryway, Alec looked around the room with a frown. Doing his best to ignore the sobbing from the bathroom he stepped further into the main area, crossing his arms as he took it in.
Deciding to try damage control, he cleaned up the rose petals and shut off the candles, doing his best to remove the more romantic overtones. Not that he could do anything about the shape of the bed.
Glancing towards the bathroom door he saw no indication she would soon be emerging and investigated the room a little, pulling open drawers and closet doors to see what they were working with.
No evidence of a sleep sofa meant they would have to share the bed, and he grimaced at the thought. Not that he didn’t think they could do so without incident, but more because he feared it would absolutely send her over the edge.
Eyeing the champagne, he decided to open it – it came with the room, and maybe a little alcohol would ease the tension.
Not too much, the little voice in the back of his mind warned as he popped open the bottle, the last thing either of us needs is a repeat of graduation night.
He kindly told the voice to get stuffed. Just as he finished pouring the second glass the bathroom door opened, and he held out one of the flutes towards Ellie, hoping she wouldn’t take it the wrong way.
I am SO GLAD they never turned the relationship between Ellie and Alec into a romance, it was such a pure friendship until thE END THANK YOU CHRIS CHIBNALL
In response to this prompt from this list, sent a very long time ago now, but after giving in and asking my beta for help (the lovely @stupidsatsuma!) I was finally able to come up with something.
Rated PG-13 for occasional bad language.
AO3
---
Ellie trudged up the path to Hardy’s with a yawn, thinking of the lovely dream from which her alarm had thrown her. The specifics were fuzzy now, but she had a vague, calming sense of… peace. Of being on vacation with someone she loved, of no responsibilities other than choosing where to go for meals.
A stark contrast to the chaos getting the boys up for school had been; she’d ultimately had to leave them to her father’s care to make it to Hardy’s on time.
She was so lost in her thoughts that it wasn’t until she was on the patio she realized that the sliding glass door was open, and what was more, Hardy was talking.
How could he already know I’m here? she wondered, only to reach the doorway and find him with his back to her, speaking to an empty room. He was already dressed, ready to go but for his suit jacket, and stood with one hand on his hip, the other in front of him where he could peer down at the writing.
It was a pose she was greatly familiar with, though usually a room full of detectives stared back at him, rather than his furniture.
“Who can tell me what the most important job is, for police?”
Ellie leaned silently against the door frame, watching him watch the empty room.
“You are aware that walls aren’t people, right?” she finally commented, when he didn’t continue. “They can’t actually answer.”
“Ellie!” Hardy spun around, eyes widening as he caught sight of her. “Bloody- is it already seven? Sorry, just a moment.” He folded the paper up and tucked it away, shrugging on his jacket and hurrying to the desk for his briefcase. “Can you…” he asked vaguely, waving towards the kitchen, and she fetched the two prepared travel thermoses full of tea, pausing to remove the lid from ‘hers’ and take a few, greedy gulps, sighing softly as even just the smell of the caffeine started to work on her.
“Let’s go,” he barked, gesturing her towards the door with his trademark impatient scowl, and she moved, rolling her eyes and replacing the lid.
“All right, all right, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Ellie sighed, eyeing him speculatively as he locked the door and they started back down to her car. “Can I ask-”
“No.”
-
They traveled an hour out of town towards Bristol for what turned out to be a five minute interview. Back in the car and on the way back to town, Hardy spent rather longer than usual complaining about the wasted time.
“All I’m saying is-”
“What were you doing?” Ellie interrupted around minute twenty-three, unable to take another second of his bitching.
“What?”
She took her eyes off the road long enough to give him her best don’t be thick with me glare – bringing the day’s total up to every significant male in her life. And it’s only half eight. “What were you doing when I found you at your house?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does if you’ve gone barmy. Honestly, why were you asking your walls what our most important job is?”
Hardy grumbled for a moment, sinking deeper in his seat, but she waited him out. “I was practicing,” he finally said quietly.
“Practicing?”
“For tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Ellie ran quickly through their upcoming work events, and came up with nothing other than a few budget meetings and a semi-annual sexual harassment seminar where she would have to listen for days afterwards as he ranted about stupid people unable to keep their hands to themselves. “What’s tomorrow?”
His exasperated gaze burned a hole in the side of her head, making her flush. “The thing, tomorrow,” he said vaguely. “For Fred’s class.”
“What?” She nearly slammed on the breaks in surprise, just managing to keep the car under control. “What thing for Fred’s class? What are you talking about?!”
“You don’t know?” Hardy sounded surprised, but she barely noticed, frantically trying to recall anything related to Hardy, Fred, or Fred’s class. “Sorry, Miller, I thought you did.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ellie said through gritted teeth, failing miserably at keeping the hurt feelings away. “Explain. Now.”
He shifted next to her, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke carefully. “Last week, when Fred came to visit you at lunch, he wanted to talk to me, remember?”
He waited for her to nod, which she did, only vaguely remembering the instance. For reasons unknown to her, her younger son had taken a shining to her partner, and found him absolutely hilarious.
“Anyway, what he wanted was… his class is doing a career day, and he’s asked me to come in and speak. I was practicing my spiel when you arrived this morning.”
A lay-by was only a few yards ahead and she pulled in hard, having to stop and put the car into park before closing her eyes and leaning her forehead on the wheel, fighting back nausea and horror. Why didn’t he ask me? her heart cried, aching, as she tried not to cry in front of Hardy. Why didn’t he want me?
“Hey, hey, hey,” Hardy said softly, soothingly, resting his palm between her shoulder blades. He didn’t rub, let his hand just sit there, but it helped to anchor her. “He couldn’t ask a family member, Miller, otherwise he’d have asked you – he told me so. It’s all right.”
“What?” To her horror she sniffled, but he didn’t comment except to hand her an honest-to-God handkerchief.
“He wanted to ask you but it couldn’t be a relative,” he repeated. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell you about it at all, but that’s why he didn’t ask.”
Ellie chanced a peek at him, only to find the most caring, sympathetic expression she’d ever seen on him – possibly even more so than It was Joe. “Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped without heat, pressing her lips tightly together.
“Sorry.” His expression didn’t change, though he removed his hand, and she gave an involuntary moue of regret at the loss of the warm touch.
“Not your fault, I suppose.”
“That’s a change.” His lips twitched, and she reluctantly smiled back.
Clearing her throat she straightened up, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to ease some tension there. “Erm, sorry about…” she gestured, leaving the sentence unfinished, but as always, he knew what she meant.
“S’all right. D’you want me to drive back?”
Ellie gave two slow blinks in surprise, jaw dropping. “That’s the first time you’ve ever offered that!”
“Well?”
“Oh, don’t be stupid,” she scoffed, putting the car in drive and checking her mirrors. “The day I let you drive will be the day the world ends.”
She pulled out, snickering, and after a moment, Hardy groaned. “I told you, I have no relation to that bloody actor,” he insisted, as he had often had to do. “Besides, you’re hardly driving a Bentley.”
“I note you’re not denying being a demon,” Ellie teased, but he only huffed, crossing his arms and sitting back.
To keep from getting lost in her thoughts she turned on the radio, and it only took two notes to recognize the song. For the second time in fifteen minutes she nearly crashed the car, this time because of laughter, but managed to keep control and sing along with the music.
”Oooh, you make me live, now, honey!”
The rest of the ride back to Broadchurch, Hardy sulked.
-
At half-nine the next morning, he stopped at her desk and crossed his arms.
“D’you need something?” Ellie asked without looking up from the training video she was watching.
“Time to go.”
“Go where?”
Hardy sighed heavily. “Please, can we not do twenty fucking questions again? Won’t I get plenty of that soon enough?”
“Oh. Oh! Erm, have a good time, then,” she paused the video to smile up politely at him, wondering if he could see the dark circles under her eyes, would know that she’d cried herself to sleep the previous evening.
He nodded but didn’t move, just staring at her expectantly.
She stared back, raising her eyebrows. “Did you need something?”
“Time to go,” he repeated, giving his trademark woe is me heavy sigh when she didn’t move. “C’mon, shake a leg.”
“Why am I going?” Ellie asked stiffly, wondering if he was being deliberately cruel. It wasn’t like him, though she knew if they polled the entire office, she would be the only one to think he didn’t have a cruel, nasty bone in his body. At least, not for anyone other than murderers and the like. Even then, it was more about justice for victims than hatred for criminals.
“You’re my partner.” Hardy said it so matter-of-factly, with a casual shrug, that a little bit of the pain her heart eased. “I can’t talk about my job without you – you’re half of it.”
The balloon of her hurt popped like that, deflating, and she couldn’t help a smile. “Well, if you insist.”
-
A half-dozen other family friends of Fred’s classmates had been pressed into presenting as well, but Ellie was the only guest, and stood at the back of the classroom watching.
It had been gratifying when she walked in and Fred all but tackled her, shrieking with glee to see her, and she smiled even wider to see his greeting to Hardy had been significantly tamer, though still more enthusiastic than he was at others, taking him by the hand and tugging him to the front of the room.
She’d had a vague idea before, but now, watching him interact with a classroom full of six-year-olds, it was clear that Hardy was a natural with children. He talked with them, not at them, keeping them engaged for the entire ten-minute presentation. Despite the heaviness of the crimes they typically investigated in CID he kept it relevant and age-appropriate, and the kids loved it, shouting out questions and answers to the point where the teacher and other guest presenters looked fairly irritated.
Eventually he was cut off, returning to the back of the room to stand next to Ellie and watch the next guest drone on about insurance.
“You did well,” Ellie murmured, earning a pleased, hopeful smile from him.
“D’you really think so? I mean, I would certainly hope. I don’t want to embarrass him,” he whispered back, glancing around, and she had to grin at how many of the children smiled at him and he waved back.
In an uncharacteristic show of affection given that their relationship was built on insults and distance, she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Really.” Ellie smiled up at him, seeming to short-circuit his brain – his expression froze before going soft and thoughtful.
It wasn’t until they walked out of the school that she realized they were still holding hands, when they had to let go to get into the car.
“So, back to the office?”
Hardy cocked his head, surprising her with, “Why don’t we get lunch first?”
-
They ended up at a little roadside café, taking a few minutes first to stare at the menu.
Once ordered, though, Ellie felt a weird vibe, inexplicably nervous. It’s just Hardy, she reminded herself sternly, but the butterflies in her gut refused to leave.
“So-” they started at the same time, laughing softly as the tension seemingly broke.
“Go ahead,” Hardy encouraged, folding his arms on the tabletop and leaning forward.
She grinned back, matching his posture. “I was just going to say, you did very well. The kids loved you, though none more than Fred.” Her son had looked positively enamored, and she was looking forward to his recap that night at home.
“I enjoyed it.” His tone said he was surprised, a wistful quality to it she didn’t immediately understand. “I had to do the same for Daisy, once, when she was… oh, a wee bit older than he is. Her classmates seemed to enjoy my presentation, but Daisy…” he trailed off, staring down at his hands, an old sadness clear on his face. “She was embarrassed, said I didn’t do it right. That I’d made her the laughingstock of the class. Tess, she went to the presentation too but didn’t speak, agreed. They both thought I was shit.”
Ellie’s heart broke for him. She was brutally aware of what it felt like to be rejected by your child, and once again felt anger at Tess on his behalf. “I’m sorry. Is that why you were so nervous?” Unthinkingly she reached out her hand, putting it halfway across the table, surprised when he settled his on top.
“Yeah.” After a moment he rallied, looking up again and smiling. “Never mind, all in the past. But, really, I’m pleased he was satisfied.”
“Well, I was certainly was happy,” she teased, trying to concentrate through the warmth of his hand on hers. “You said some awfully nice things about your partner – she sounds great.”
Hardy kept looking at her, the heat of his gaze almost enough to make her uncomfortable. “She’s one of the best detectives I’ve ever met,” he said truthfully.
Ellie’s eyes widened, cheeks burning, and she dropped her eyes to stare at the tabletop. “Don’t exaggerate,” she mumbled.
“It’s true. She’s also the best friend that I’ve ever had.”
Unbidden, the lyrics to the song from yesterday flashed through her mind – on the surface it was a nice song about friendship, though one only had to listen to the lyrics to realize it was a love song.
Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had/I've been with you such a long time/You're my sunshine and I want you to know/That my feelings are true/I really love you/Oh, you're my best friend
Peeking up at him from below her lashes, she found him watching her, a strange peace on his face. Like that her nerves disappeared, and for the first time since Joe’s arrest, she had a clear vision of her future, of what she wanted life to look like.
“You help restore my faith,” she said softly, tentatively, “whenever this world is cruel to me.”
Hardy’s expression lit like the sun, a dazzling smile appearing, and she waited with bated breath to see if her message was received, and possibly, maybe returned.
“I know I’ve gone off and left a couple times now,” he replied slowly, hand pressing hers into the table, “but I seem to keep coming back to you.”
For the second time in as many days tears pricked at her eyes, though this time, they were of happiness.
“You’re my best friend.”
It was awkward, with the table between them, but they managed to meet in the middle and share a sweet kiss, one that promised many more.
So, many many moons ago I received several ‘drunk/hungover Hardy’ fic prompts, including from but not limited to @hardycanyounot. Thank you very much for the prompt, and this is what I was eventually able to come up with! My beta (the lovely @stupidsatsuma) can vouch that I struggled with this fic.
Rated: T (mostly for alcohol mention/consumption, though only by adults)
The moment Ellie Miller opened her front door, she knew someone was in her house. Throwing out an arm to keep Fred from darting around her, she gave Tom the high sign to take his brother back to the car and lock themselves inside. As they crept away from the house, she pulled out her mobile and started to dial.
“S’at you, Millah?”
Her partner’s unmistakable burr came from the direction of her sitting room, and she groaned quietly, tension mostly easing as she cancelled the call to him and pocketed the device.
“You alone?”
“Course I’m alone, if I’m not with you I’m always bloody alone,” he grumbled, and she knew the coast was clear, relatively speaking. His apparently sourer-than-usual mood promised to be a minefield though.
Leaning out the door she waved to the boys, gesturing for them to come in.
“What’s going on?” Tom asked as soon as he was in range, and she smiled apologetically for the worry still in his eye. At sixteen he’d already been through more shit than was reasonable, yet he mostly soldiered on without complaining. Michael Lucas’ arrest had apparently been the stark come-to-Jesus moment he’d needed to course-correct; he’d been on his best behavior ever since.
“It’s just DI Hardy, I didn’t know he was stopping by. Everything’s all right. Why don’t you go upstairs and start your homework, yeah?”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll keep my door open.”
Still smiling, she waited by the foot of the stairs until both boys were out of sight before letting the grin fall. Spinning on her heel she marched into her dark sitting room, throwing on the light. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
What greeted her was a sad sight. Hardy, suit somehow more rumpled than usual, was splayed out on her couch, limbs akimbo. His overcoat and suit jacket were dumped on the armchair, shoes abandoned in front of the coffee table, and he was drinking out of a glass bottle hidden in a brown paper bag.
“Had nowhere else to go,” he lamented, taking another swig.
“How’d you even get in?” Clearing a pile of old newspaper from the end of the coffee table, she perched on it in front of his head as she took in his miserable appearance.
“Key.”
“You don’t have a spare key.”
“Made myself one ages ago.” He paused for a mouthful, and from this close she could tell it was scotch. Fitting. A scotch-soused Scot on my sofa. Say that five times fast.
“You made yourself a copy of my house key?”
Hardy turned his head to stare at her, hand holding the bottle dangling off the couch. “I’m fairly certain I’m the one plastered, so are you going deaf or something, Miller? I just said that. Why’re you repeating me?”
“Well, that’s enough of that.” It was easy enough to pluck the bottle from his limp fingers, and even his yelp of dismay was weak. She took a large gulp of the liquid.
“No- Millah ‘m sorry, please.” Big, sad brown eyes pleaded with her, but she was unmoved, locating the cap and screwing it back on before setting it on the floor behind her, far out of his reach.
“Absolutely not. Hardy, what in the hell are you doing drunk in my sitting room at half three in the afternoon?”
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he huffed, crossing his arms and staring up at the ceiling, and she rolled her eyes at his childishness.
“If you don’t want to talk, why are you here? You could’ve just gone to yours to sulk in silence.”
Hardy stayed silent, and the realization of why made her lips twitch, not that he saw it.
“Aah, I see.”
“See what?”
“You do want to talk about it!”
“No.”
She nodded vigorously, grinning at his sulk. “Yes you do, that’s why you’re here!”
“I don’t,” he denied miserably, “I just… didn’t want to be alone.”
Well, that explained why he was on her couch. Though he’d somewhat accepted Broadchurch as his home, he hadn’t exactly bonded with anyone else; now that Daisy was in London for uni, she was once again the extent of his social circle.
“Fair enough. Want a cuppa?”
By the time she returned with a tray he was sitting up straight, tie fixed and shoes on again. Settling on the sofa next to him, she handed him a pre-prepared cuppa with just a bit of milk. “There you go, just the way you like it.”
He accepted the mug gratefully, before opening the bottle of scotch she’d forgotten to take with her and adding a healthy dollop. “Want some?”
Ellie narrowed her eyes at him, glancing between his face, the bottle, and the closed sitting room door, before sighing. “Why not?”
He poured some into hers before replacing the lid, and they took a few mouthfuls of their doctored tea before she turned to him.
“Right. What’s going on?”
“Tess is getting married.” Hardy stared into his mug as if it held the answers to the universe. “To Dave, of fucking course. The DS she cheated on me with.”
Ellie blinked, surprised not to have to drag it out of him. He must really be devastated to actually tell me so easily. She’d known him for an entire month before finding out he had a daughter and ex-wife. “They deserve each other then.”
He snorted, lips twitching slightly before resuming their mournful droop. “Aye, I suppose. Still.”
“Are you still in love with her?” she asked quietly, hesitant of the answer. Privately she hoped the answer was no after everything Tess had put him through, but braced herself for a ‘yes’ even as she ignored the way the idea created a vise around her heart.
“No,” he reassured her, briefly meeting her eye, “it’s been a long time since I missed her, but… we were- I was happy. For a long time. And sometimes I wonder… if she was ever as happy as I was.”
Ellie sighed, leaning against the sofa back and curling her legs under her, nodding in agreement. “I know. It’s like… was any of it ever real? How did I not see it? When did it go wrong?”
His head jerked up, several expressions flying across his face before reluctant acceptance settled there. “Exactly.”
“You forgot,” she guessed, shaking her head fondly, “didn’t you?”
“I know yours was worse, but… betrayal is still betrayal.” Gaze dropping, he poured more of the scotch into his cup.
The ghost of a grin flitted across her lips – some days, just for a little while, she forgot too. She loved those days. “Erm, are you allowed to be drinking like that? With the pacemaker, I mean?”
“I’m fine.” He pulled a few mouthfuls directly from the bottle, and she couldn’t help but be slightly transfixed by how his throat worked as he swallowed. “Promise.”
“Good. You’ve already died on me enough times.”
They drank in silence, Hardy staring at the ground as she watched him brood. Once the tea was gone they kept passing the scotch back and forth, getting comfortably drunk together, though she was careful to moderate her own consumption, mindful of her children in the house.
Eventually he began to laugh, a strange, sad sound, as he settled his mug on the coffee table and put his head in his hands, hunching over.
“Hardy?” Ellie set hers down as well in favor of putting her hand on his back, rubbing softly in the hope of offering comfort. “What is it?”
“I don’t want to die alone.” His voice was muffled but she heard him well enough, eyebrows jumping up in surprise.
“What?”
“I don’t want to die alone,” he repeated, raising his head to stare at the bookshelf opposite him. “At least, I wish I had someone other than Daisy who would care.”
“I’m here,” Ellie reminded him sternly. “I would care. Do care.”
“Oh, come on,” he scoffed, waving his hand dismissively, “we both know you don’t love me the way I love you, and that you only care mostly because I’m here, in your life. If I hadn’t come back you’d have never thought of me again, and quite happily I imagine. Don’t patronize me.”
All Ellie could hear was a dull roaring in her ears, as she wondered wildly if she was hallucinating. “What?” Surely he didn’t say he loved her… Not like love-love. Romance and relationships and… stuff. Right?
“I don’t blame you,” Hardy said seriously, fighting valiantly to meet her eye, “I wouldn’t love me either under normal circumstances, let alone what I did to your family. This isn’t about that. Not really. No woman I’ve ever loved has loved me the way I did them, and I’ve accepted that. It just- in a moment like this, with Tess getting a new happy ever after with him, just pisses me right the fuck off.”
“Hardy- Alec-”
Before she could splutter anything else out, not that she had a clue as to what it might be, he slumped against the back of the couch and began to snore.
“Shit.” Moving him around to make sure he didn't suffocate before throwing a blanket over him, she watched him sleep for a minute trying to process what he'd just admitted.
“Now what?”
They were halfway through dinner when a loud groan emanated from the sitting room, and wiping her mouth with her napkin, Ellie rose from the table. “I’ll be right back,” she told her father and sons, detouring to the kitchen for a glass of water.
When she walked in Hardy was sitting up with his back to the sofa arm, legs splayed along the length of the couch, his head resting in his hands.
“All right?” she asked brusquely, holding out the glass as she sat on the table.
He groaned again, quieter this time, accepting the water with a muttered, “Thanks.”
She waited for him to finish before taking the glass back, setting it on the table next to her and folding her hands in her lap.
“What happened?” Hardy asked, glancing over at her.
Ellie tilted her head in consideration, adopting a bright and louder-than-necessary tone as she said, “Well, I came home to find you drinking on my sofa, we talked a bit, you admitted you love me, and immediately passed out. That last bit was ninety minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry.” He sighed, rubbing at his temples, before his head jerked upright. “Wait, what?”
“Which part, the drinking part or the you saying you love me part?”
“The- the- the second one!” Spluttering, he looked as though he didn’t quite believe her, blinking quickly with unfocused eyes.
Keeping her expression bland, still uncertain of where her feelings lay, she merely shrugged. “Your exact words were to the effect of ‘I’- meaning me- ‘don’t love you the way you do me’. Or something.”
“Those were my exact words? As a detective shouldn’t you be better at taking statements?” he snarked, turning around to sit properly on the couch before briefly closing his eyes, holding up his hand to stop her retort. “Don’t- don’t answer that. Actually, don’t say anything. I’m going home, and we’ll never talk about this again.”
“Hardy-”
He stood, swaying briefly before getting his feet under him. “Good night.”
Ellie rose quickly, hurrying after him though she had no idea what to say to make him stay – didn’t even know if she wanted him to stay. Or to continue this conversation. “Hang on-”
“DI Hardy.” Tom appeared in the hallway then, just as Hardy fumbled open the front door.
“Hi, Tom.”
Her partner paused, watching her son carefully, and she suddenly remembered their few encounters over the years had all been some variation of painful, and she held her breath.
“We’re just having supper, there’s still plenty warm. D’you want to join us?” The teenager gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.
Ellie and Hardy shared a brief what the fuck? expression before he very slowly nodded.
“I’d hate to impose.”
“Not at all.” The two men faced off for a moment before her partner slowly shut the front door.
“Thank you.”
Tom led the way back to the dining room, continuing on to the kitchen to fix Hardy a plate while Ellie set a place for him between Fred and her father, who was at the other head of the table.
“Hi Alec,” Freddie chirped, ever the sociable one, and Hardy grinned even as he winced, likely feeling the effects of a wicked hangover.
“Hiya, Fred. What’s new?”
Ellie finished drying the last of the dishes and put the plate away, turning to the door only to be scared half to death by her father’s presence. “Dad! What are you doing there?” As always, he had a knack for disappearing until the chores were done, and she once again wished for the day when she didn’t need his free-but-expensive childminding, and could ship him off to Lucy.
“Why was he here?”
“Hardy? He got some difficult news, needed a friend.” She busied herself with cleaning the already spotless countertops, hoping he would think work remained and vanish again to avoid it.
“I don’t like him here in the house,” David said sternly.
Biting back a sigh, Ellie glanced back at him. “It’s my house, Dad, and he’s my partner – at work, I mean. He’s welcome.”
“He accused Tom of murder!”
“That was a long time ago, and that was mostly to- I don’t need to defend him to you!” What she would never, could never say, was that she had wondered too, had had the same questions as Hardy. Had thought, just for a moment, that her eleven-year-old was capable of such a thing.
Little did she know how much worse the truth was.
David huffed, giving her a glare that hadn’t worked at fifteen and certainly didn’t now at forty-two. “He’s a poor influence, on you and the boys.”
Ellie bit her tongue until she tasted blood, taking deep breaths to keep herself calm. “I absolutely disagree, and as their mother, it’s my call. I have to go make sure Tom’s homework is finished, and put Fred to bed. Good night.”
Holding her head high she swept past him, walking deliberately up the stairs to try to reign in her impulse to scream. If anyone was a bad influence on her children it was him, but trying to run the household on her single salary was draining her financially and energy-wise.
Tucking her anger away, she rapped on Tom’s door and waited for the ‘come in’. Once granted she stepped inside, watching him for a moment as he lay on his bed reading, holding up a finger in the universal one minute gesture.
“Hi,” he finally looked up, using a scrap of paper as a bookmark and sitting up. “What’s up?”
“Homework done?”
Tom nodded, eyes narrowing. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. It’s just- yes.” She nearly said I could kill Grandad, but had made it a conscious decision not to condone that sort of talk even in jest. Especially in moments where it wasn’t so ‘in jest’. “I thought it was nice of you, by the way, to invite Detective Hardy to stay for dinner.”
“I just figured he was already here,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “and you shouldn’t have to be stuck at work late to have dinner with your boyfriend.”
“Still, I thought it was- boyfriend?!”
Her son scoffed, giving her a look that clearly said I’m not stupid. “It’s been five years. You’re allowed to be happy. Though all your lectures on the importance of honesty seem a bit hypocritical, considering you’ve never said anything.”
“I- that’s not- we’re not-”
“It’s really okay,” Tom interrupted, laying down again and picking up his book, “and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just no sleepovers, yeah?”
And he returned to his book, ignoring her gaping mouth and feeble spluttering.
“Mummy! Storytime,” Fred called from his room. In a daze Ellie headed for him, trying to wrap her head around the idea that Tom was not bothered by the idea of her dating Hardy – not that she was or had any intention of ever doing that.
Really.
“Here.”
Ellie opened her eyes to see her husband standing above her, holding out one of the two fruity frozen drinks he held. “Thanks.” She took it as he settled on the lounge chair next to her, and they slurped in silence for a minute.
“I still don’t understand why we’re here,” he said once the drinks were half gone. “We live half a mile from the water, but traveled three thousand miles to sit on a beach looking at the same ocean we can see from the office.”
“Because here I don’t have to cook, clean, or work,” Ellie said patiently, “there’s no children, no crime, no worries. And sexy men in swim trunks deliver alcohol to me.”
He lowered his sunglasses to give her an even stare. “You really telling me you’re not as bored as I am?”
“Not in the slightest. This is paradise.”
Her husband sighed heavily, setting his empty drink on the cocktail table between them and lowered the top of his lounger to stretch out, folding his hands across his stomach as he settled down for a nap. “We’re at least going to do the murder mystery dinner tonight, right?”
“Of course, dear.”
Ellie’s eyes snapped open, darting around wildly as she tried to reconcile her surroundings with the still-vivid image of her dream.
It felt so real.
Filled with restless energy she climbed out of bed, detouring to the bathroom before making a circuit of her house, checking on her sleeping sons and all the doors and windows to ensure they were locked before returning to bed, climbing in and sitting up against the headboard, adjusting the sheet over her just so.
Only once she was settled did she close her eyes to try to recall her dream. The details were fading fast, but she rather thought she’d been beachside at a luxury resort, soaking up the sun and letting it melt her troubles away, alone with her husband.
Her husband.
Ellie’s eyes snapped open, heart stopping for a moment before galloping off. Over the past five years she’d had dozens, hundreds of dreams of being married again, most at the beginning when her mind was still trying to reconcile her new reality with the peaceful happiness of the Disney trip just before- well, before. Because that was the defining moment in her life, wasn’t it?
There had been other such moments, of course. Before and after kids. Before and after becoming detective. Before and after my husband turned out to be a pedophilic childkiller.
But in those dreams, always, the man beside her was Joe – the man she’d married, the version of him she’d married. Kind, sweet, thoughtful Joe, who laughed at her jokes and treated her like a queen.
Tonight though… tonight was different.
Tonight, her leading man was none other than Alec Hardy.
I’m not in love with him though. Am I?
She thought about how much he’d annoyed her in the beginning, how thoroughly his presence had disrupted her life even before she knew the truth about Joe. She’d thought him a bully, a sullen job-stealing grump determined to humiliate her with his experience.
Now, of course, she knew that wasn’t the case, that his poorly-executed plan had been to make her a better detective, to prepare her for the next time such a terrible case arose. Now she knew how that gruff, cold, distant presentation was merely a front, battle armor to protect a soul that had been trampled on, bruised almost beyond repair. That inside of it beat a warm, caring heart that recognized it couldn’t change what had happened, but could instead devote itself to stopping it from happening again.
How funny, that in the end Joe turned out to be the heartless monster she thought Hardy was, while Hardy in truth was a decent, hardworking man who fought in the name of fairness, who cared so deeply he risked his health, his life, his family to bring killers to justice.
But did she love him?
It wasn’t like when she met Joe – no butterflies in her stomach, no gooey feeling if they happened to touch. He didn’t occupy every thought, she didn’t dream of the next time she’d see him.
And yet… he was a steady constant in her life. When she needed advice or just someone to listen, he was her first call. That had been Beth, once, but after Danny… They had repaired the break, but the scars remained – that bridge would never be the same. With Hardy though…
She knew him. Knew what made him tick – usually. Knew the simple things, like how he took his tea and that he despised pears for no good reason. And they were a team, a well oiled machine by now, able to communicate in fleeting glances, could practically read each other’s mind sometimes, especially but not exclusively while working.
But is it love?
Ellie huffed, determined to put it out of her mind and picking up the remote, flipping through the channels, never settling on anything for more than a minute. On her third pass through she stopped on a movie. Vaguely recognizing the older man in the shot, J something… R Ewing? No. JK Rowling? No, that’s the Harry Potter woman. was seated at a kitchen table working on some sort of mechanical repair. Leaving the channel on but reaching for her phone, Ellie was reading an email about a budget meeting when the girl on screen spoke somewhat forlornly.
“I just- I need to know that it’s possible that two people can stay happy together forever.”
Ellie’s head jerked up, blinking at the screen.
JK Simmons that’s it! sighed, and based on the nature of movies, she knew some sort of slightly-patronizing, revelation-inducing soppy quote was about to spring forth from his lips, and rolling her eyes, she fumbled for the remote.
“In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person is still going to think the sun shines out of your ass. That’s the kind of person that’s worth sticking with.”
Ellie’s heart stopped before taking off double-time, beating wildly. She must have moved on autopilot, because one moment she was staring at the screen and the next she was standing in front of the sliding glass door at Hardy’s, hand poised to knock.
Eleanor, what are you doing here? she asked herself, even as she watched her knuckles rap on the door without her permission. Go home.
Hardy appeared from the hallway then, yawning as he shuffled over and slid open the door. “Something wrong? Come to yell at me about something?”
She stared at him, taking in his sleep-rumpled hair and clothing. He wore a tight tee and track pants, eyes warm and soft and sleepy, a hint of a smile at his lips despite his greeting. For the first time, she looked at him and her belly swooped.
Reaching up she fisted his tee, pulling him down to her and pressing their lips together firmly. She only lingered long enough to taste mint and a hint of spice before pulling back, instinctively licking her lips to savor the taste. Pulling back just enough to speak, lips still close enough to brush with the slightest forward sway from either of them, she whispered as though the universe would doom them if she spoke any louder.
“I don’t know if I’m in love with you, but I sure as hell want to find out.”
