Work Text:
Fall, 2017
Alec Hardy in a pub was as awkward a sight as Ellie could’ve ever imagined and more. He was perched on a bar stool with his shoulders hunched up around his ears and his long coat spread out and his elbows splayed on either side to make it look as uninviting as possible to sit next to him.
But when he saw Ellie, he nodded at the stool to his left and tucked his elbow into his side to make room. He pushed a beer towards her and said, “Alright, Miller?” before drinking from his own.
“You know the point of going to the pub with the people you work is to get to know them,” she said, gesturing at their coworkers sitting in a booth on the other side of the room, a couple of whom were eyeing them suspiciously. “Why’re you over here?”
He scowled. “I don’t want t’get t’know them. If I did, I would’ve done it by now.”
“So why come at all?”
“‘Cause you wouldn’t stop asking.”
She snorted and took a swig of her beer. “Bollocks. I ask you to do things all the time and you don’t do any of them.”
“Like what?”
“Say ‘hello’ before barking out orders, pause between questions, be less of a knob …”
“Yeah, got it. D’you want me here or not?”
“Course I do,” she said automatically, then was surprised she meant it. She certainly hadn’t gone to sit down with any of their coworkers either; she’d made a beeline to Hardy. She decided not overthink it, shrugging dismissively and looking around. “You play darts?”
His eyebrows lifted up. “Um, yeah?”
“Any good?”
“Not bad.”
She took another pull of her beer, then pointed to the corner. “C’mon then. Let’s see it. Winner gets the next round.”
It turned out they were more or less an equal match, so she was elated when, after trading off games for a couple hours, she managed to win two in a row, crowing and cheering as Hardy tried to frown but looked amused instead.
She quickly realized two things, once she wasn’t focused on the game anymore. First, that their coworkers had left at some point and she hadn’t noticed them go. And second, that she wasn’t sorry, because this was somehow the most fun she’d ever had at the pub. Playing darts with Hardy. Or beating Hardy at darts, probably, but still.
“You’re buying me chips, too,” she told him when she was done celebrating, and he rolled his eyes but got them for her anyway, and she even got him to eat a few.
*
Spring, 2018
Right now it was supposed to be lunchtime. Actually, lunch should’ve been over two hours ago; right now was really the last time to have lunch before they started bumping up against the end of the day.
Instead of eating, Hardy was droning on about tractors. Usually he hated these kinds of cases, but one stolen tractor had turned into several stolen tractors and not one sighting of whoever was stealing them, which was enough to have him invested. And usually she could use going home to Daisy as a reason to keep him to normal-ish schedules, but his daughter was doing a summer program in Glasgow and Hardy had become increasingly more difficult to reign in without her.
It was exhausting, even more so because Broadchurch was becoming more than the sleepy seaside town it had always been. A fashion brand that was based a few miles away had gone global and set up its headquarters in the town limits. The local population had increased twenty percent in the last year and a half in response to the influx of jobs, and it didn’t look to be stopping anytime soon. More people and the clash between new residents and old had meant more cases, and it was wearing Ellie down. It was wearing Hardy down, too, but he was either too stubborn or too distracted to admit it and it was driving Ellie slowly mad, and dear God, he was still talking about bloody tractors.
“Do we think that the tractors are being targeted by proximity and our thief lives nearby, or is there some kind of personal motivation? Because the pattern feels too sporadic to me, especially for someone who keeps getting in and out unnoticed, and I think - hey, where’re you going?”
Ellie stopped gathering her bag and jacket to glare at him. “Lunch.”
“Really?” He looked at his phone, squinted at it, then scrunched up his nose when he saw the time. “Alright, then. But make it quick, and pick up the transcript of the witness statements on your way back, will you? I want to look over them again.”
She glared at him some more over her shoulder as she left, but he was buried in papers again and didn’t seem to notice.
Twenty minutes later she stormed back in the office and threw a bag on the desk, took two sandwiches out of it and slapped one in front of Hardy, who was standing behind it, working on the board. He looked at her over his glasses in confusion and she glowered back at him.
“Sit!” she commanded.
“What do you think you’re doing, we have witness statements to -“
She pointed at the chair, her face set in stone, and after a brief battle of wills in which they tried to stare at each other as intensely as possible, Hardy gave a frustrated little huff and sunk into the desk chair.
She nodded firmly at the sandwich. “Now eat.”
“Miller -“
“Don’t you dare. Our caseload has doubled and you’re running yourself ragged. You can’t be there for Daisy and do your job if you don’t take care of yourself. It’s ridiculous that I have tell you this because you are a grown adult who already ran yourself down so much you need a pacemaker, but apparently you need to hear it so let me be clear.” She put both of her hands on the desk - the left one gingerly so she didn’t squish her sandwich - leaned forward and fixed her suspect-breaking stare on him. “From now on, you take lunch breaks. If we are not dealing with a time sensitive issue, you go home at normal hours and you sleep. Is that understood?”
“I’m your boss!”
She scoffed, unimpressed and unmoved. “And?”
Hardy blinked up at her like he was seeing her for the first time, then slowly picked up the sandwich and took a bite. He chewed for a minute, then made a face. “I don’t like pickles.”
She didn’t dignify that with a response, collapsing on the couch so she could unwrap her own sandwich.
The last thing she expected was a quiet, “Thank you.”
That made her stop and raise her eyebrows. “What’s that?”
“I said, thank you,” he repeated, not meeting her gaze. “You’re right. I have Daisy to think of, so I need to … adjust.”
She nodded approvingly. “Well, then. You’re welcome.”
He nodded back, then took another bite of his sandwich and frowned. “Seriously, I hate pickles.”
“Pick them off.”
“I’ll still be able to taste them.”
“Shut up and eat.”
*
Winter, 2019
The only excuse she could up with, when she thought about it later, was that they were both drunk. Okay, not very much, maybe a drink or two past their limit, Hardy’s limit being especially low since the surgery, and they’d both been eating - well, Ellie had, Hardy had just stolen a few of her chips. So maybe more tipsy than drunk.
But they certainly weren’t entirely sober.
Possibly also relevant, they’d finally closed their first murder case since Danny’s last week - no one they knew this time, thank God - and tonight, with the paperwork filed, statements given, and the press finally starting to disperse, it was like they’d let go of the breath they’d been holding for the last month.
They were in the pub until closing and were now walking side-by-side, him making sure she got to her street before he headed home himself. She bumped into him as she walked, giggling. “You’re happy.”
“Don’t be daft,” he said with a derisive snort, but he was grinning. Actually, visibly grinning. She couldn’t stop looking at it, not sure when she’d see it again.
“You are, look at you,” she cooed, teasing and sincere all at once. “You’re practically glowing. If I knew finally beating me at darts would do all this …”
“Shut up, Miller,” he growled, but then he undercut it by laughing. It was more of a squawk, really, like he’d forgotten how laughing was supposed to work, or possibly was too drunk to do it properly, but it was funny. She liked his weird squawking laugh.
Honestly, she was very pleased with him in general these days. The case had been different enough that it hadn’t brought up too many bad memories - a woman, not a boy; a jealous relative looking for inheritance, nothing like Joe - but the fact of there being another murder case, the pressure of being under that scrutiny, of people bringing Joe and Danny up at press conferences … it had worn on her. And while most of Hardy’s attempts at support had been useless as usual, he had kept her occupied, listen to her rant, and made her cup after cup after cup of tea. She’d been practically swimming in tea. It reminded her that even if he was terrible at showing it, Hardy cared about her. That at the worst moments of her life, she could count on him to have her back.
“Enjoy your victory, because it won’t be happening again anytime soon.” She giggled some more before stopping abruptly, her shoulder knocking into Hardy, and pointed at the street they were passing. “Wait, this is me.”
“You good t’go the rest of the way by yourself?”
“Walk a hundred yards to my own house? Think I can make it.”
He looked down at her, not quite smiling anymore, but one of the corners of his mouth was turned up, and his eyes were dancing in the lamplight. “Have I told you that you were excellent on this case, Miller?”
“Not exactly, but I’ve learned to read between the lines.” She beamed at him. “You didn’t do too badly, either.”
He tipped his head in a gesture of modest agreement, and it was pretty similar to the usual banter and signs of reluctant friendship between them, so she was quite unprepared for him to say, “You’re my favorite person to work with.”
Which was very nice and a little too much to deal with when the outline of him was fuzzy from beer and lack of sleep, so after a few seconds of gaping, she deflected with, “I know, you don’t talk to anybody else.”
“No, I mean … anyone I’ve worked with. Before I came here, or … ever. You’re my favorite.”
“Oh,” she said, for lack of anything else to say. She wanted to tell him something equally as nice, because obviously he was her favorite, too, but she couldn’t think of how to do it. Not when he was looking at her like that.
He stepped forward, his expression heartbreakingly nervous. She gulped before taking a small step into him.
She leaned up.
He leaned down.
They both closed their eyes.
Then their heads clunked together.
“For God’s sake, Miller!”
“Oi, that was you, you prick!”
“How did your teeth get my nose?”
“I don’t know, how did you get your nose in my mouth?!?”
Abruptly the yelling stopped and a stark quiet settled between them instead. It finally dawned on Ellie what they were about to do and from the way Hardy’s eyes widened, he had suddenly come to terms with it as well.
“Right,” she said lamely, then winced.
“Yeah,” he said in return, frozen like a deer in headlights. Then he nodded sharply. “See you tomorrow, Miller.”
And he took off down the street, stupid black coat sweeping behind him.
“Night,” she called after him, then winced again, because she’d rhymed. “Knob,” she muttered vindictively, before trudging up the road to her house.
The next day, Hardy didn’t meet her eyes. He was unnervingly polite, or at the very least not waspish and rude like usual, and he let her go home at a normal hour.
The day after that, he made her tea again, looking all hangdog and uncomfortable; so she took it and told him to stop being a twat, he looked mildly offended, and things progressed as normal from there.
She chalked it up to alcohol and loneliness and the fact that she’d somehow narrowed her social circle to her kids, Beth, and her boss.
So she signed up for Tinder and went to a few local singles nights, and didn’t think about big brown eyes and that Scottish accent that was rather lovely, when he wasn’t snapping at her.
It took her two months to go on a date. It took two more to go on a second date. She ended up seeing a nice man named George who lived in Bridport for almost five months, someone who didn’t know much about the Latimer case and who wore comfy sweaters and had a quick wit. She liked him, but she had to end it when she realized he wanted something more than casual and she couldn’t quite convince herself she wanted the same.
She never introduced him to Hardy, never mentioned him to her boss at all, but she thought he was more distant during those almost five months. And a few weeks after she and George broke up, Hardy invited her to the pub for the first time, and when she won at darts, he smiled.
*
Summer, 2020
“Did you follow up with Jones about the -"
“Bracelet, yes, I did.”
“And did you ask Brian if -"
“They found prints on the glass, yeah, he'll have the report in by end of day.”
“Good, so did -"
“God, you are such a nag! How are you worse over the phone than when you’re hovering over my shoulder?”
“Sorry for being thorough!”
“Oh, because I’m not?”
“I’m bored,” he said petulantly instead of answering the question. She didn’t need to see him to know how he was slumped over in one of his chairs, scowling and sulking. “How’m I s’posed to stay home for two bloody weeks? I need to work.”
“You need to make sure you aren’t infected, ‘specially in your condition.”
“It’s not a - I had the surgery, I’m fine!”
“You’re a stroppy big child, that’s what you are. You’re worse than Fred.”
“I’m a child because I want to work?”
“You’re a child because you’re acting like a worldwide pandemic happened to inconvenience you specifically.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, barely stopping herself from thumping her head down on his desk. She had to work from his office with him gone, to keep her as removed as possible from the few other people still in the station, and she found it disorienting. Sitting in his chair, not having him to bounce ideas off of. It wouldn’t be completely off the mark to say that she missed him.
She was also perhaps the tiniest bit worried about him. He’d only been in the room with the possibly infected suspect for a few minutes, he’d worn a mask and never made physical contact, and he’d shown no symptoms in four days. But his heart … he’d almost died, a few times, and she didn’t want him taking any chances.
He sighed loudly in her ear before changing the subject. “Have you check your e-mails today?”
“Seriously? I swear, you think I forget to breathe if you’re not around to remind me.”
“No, it’s not … trust me, check it now.”
“Fine!” Annoyance built on top of worry and she almost threw her laptop trying to pick it up and open it. She opened up the browser and looked at the subject line of the newest message. Then looked again. Then again.
Hardy cleared his throat. “Miller? You still there?”
“Yes,” she said faintly. “I think … I’ve got something. An e-mail. About my job.”
“D'you now?” he asked, not sounding surprised at all.
She opened it up and felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest, it was thumping around in there so hard. “I’ve been promoted. Detective Inspector.”
“Good for you.”
Something other than overwhelming giddy joy clicked inside her brain and she shot up straight in her - his - chair, suddenly livid. “You’re leaving! Again! That's what this is about!”
“That’s not -"
“Daisy’s graduated, so you’re leaving. Unbelievable! You wanker, it’s been four years since you’ve come back, we’ve worked together for four years, and now in the middle of a pandemic, you’re just going to up and leave! Where are you even going?”
“Miller, would you just -"
“You can’t keep ping-ponging around England every couple years, y’know. Are you going to Scotland? Do you even like Scotland? Wait, how come you’ve never talked about Scotland?"
“I’m not leaving, for fuck’s sake!”
“Then what -"
“I convinced the Chief Super that in the wake of the increased population and the current international crisis, Broadchurch should have two Detective Inspectors. And she agreed.”
Something warm filled Ellie, like a good cup of tea. “You did that?”
“Well, you’re always banging on about the stupid job I stole. Now you’ve got it and you can shut up about it.”
“Do we have to share an office?” she asked, looking around the space with new eyes.
“I’m not leaving it, so yeah, probably. You work in there all the time anyway.”
“I like the couch.”
“If you want to keep it, by all means.”
“No, I’ll get a desk,” she backpedaled, grinning softly to herself. “We’ll work less cases together now.”
“We’ll work less small cases together, we don’t have anyone else senior enough to work the big ones. You never liked me breathing down your neck anyway.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” she said, because the breathing down her neck part she wouldn’t miss, but the rest of it …
She was saved from having to say as much to him because something else immediately occurred to her. “Hang on, did you somehow arrange for me to find out now so I wouldn’t make you go out and celebrate with me?”
“I might be infected,” he said with a very unsubtle cough, “and the pubs are closed down anyway.”
“In a week and a half you’re coming ‘round for dinner. Uh-uh,” she tutted, no-nonsense, as Hardy started to protest, “you’re not getting out of it, don’t even try. We’ll have fish and chips.”
She laughed when he grumbled.
Then she glanced at the clock and swore. “Alright, enough of you. I’ve got ten minutes to finish my lunch before I have to get back to it. Stop calling me and relax.”
“I’m not good at relaxing.”
“I am painfully aware of that.”
“Miller?”
“What?”
“Congratulations. It’s well deserved.”
She smiled widely, the reality really sinking it at last. That she had the job she’d always wanted. That Hardy had listened and put in a word for her. “I know. But thanks. And, well … thanks.”
“Go on, get back to work.” He sounded embarrassed but also pleased, although he immediately hung up, probably so she wouldn’t try thanking him again.
A few days later, when the euphoria of her promotion had worn off a bit and the continued lack of symptoms from Hardy made it more likely that he was going to be fine and back to irk her in person soon enough, it occurred to her that this meant that Hardy wasn’t her boss anymore. That he’d found a way to have them work together without any power imbalance that could, say, affect a personal relationship outside the office.
It probably didn’t mean anything. No reason to read into it. No reason at all.
*
Winter, 2021
Ellie didn’t notice it was morning until the light grew bright enough to press through the slats of the station's blinds. She rubbed her eyes and groaned, throwing the pages of numbers she’d been staring at for the last several hours onto her desk. “We worked all night.”
Hardy glanced up from his own pages, looking utterly unbothered, the same mix of disheveled and posh he always was. “Yeah, seems we did.”
“You’re a bad influence,” she complained, unfairly. She was aware she’d let herself slip into bad habits since Tom went off to university. She knew she’d have to stop moping eventually, but it was so easy to let herself be distracted by a case. And by Hardy.
Yawning and stretching, she wandered into the office kitchen, grabbed a couple frozen breakfast sandwiches and popping them into the microwave. It probably wasn’t a good sign that she was so prepared for a full night at the station. She needed to find something else to do to get her out more. Maybe she should join a bookclub or something. Or the pub did trivia nights sometime, maybe she could get a team together. Brian could do science, Beth could do classics, Ellie’d do history, she wasn’t half bad at history. She had no idea what Hardy could do, or if being on the team at all would be a step too far for him even now that he went to the pub every other month or so, but she could probably wear him down if she tried.
These were the kind of aimless thoughts in her head, with a too hot bite of microwaved egg and sausage in her mouth, when her phone rang.
Five minutes later, she walked into their shared office in a daze. She pushed the extra breakfast sandwich into Hardy’s hand and he took it with a blustery sigh, but no protest. Then he looked her over and raised his eyebrows. “What’s the matter with you?”
Her mouth felt dry as sand, and she had to swallow a couple times before she could answer. “They found Joe.”
Hardy frowned, confused. “What d’you mean found?”
“Um. Apparently he worked in Liverpool, erm, on the docks, near the docks, I don’t know. Security, of all things. They found him in the water this morning.”
“Ah,” Hardy said delicately, his face filled with painful understanding.
“Is that all you’re going to say?”
“Is there something else you want me to say? Because I’ll say it, I’m just … I’m not sure what you need to hear.”
“I don’t know either,” she said with an empty laugh, her eyes pricking with tears. She hated that. She’d mourned the husband she thought she’d had long ago; the death of the evil man he’d actually been shouldn’t affect her like this. “God, what am I going to tell Tom? He finally got to leave all of this behind, and now …”
“I’m sorry.”
“Fred doesn’t even remember him. I’ve told him, as much as I can, but it’s not … and people are going to start talking again. I have to make sure he understands. As much as I’ve ever understood it.” She took a watery breath and wiped angrily at her eyes. “Shit! Oh, and they aren’t sure … they don’t know if foul play was involved yet. Told them I was here all night so you’ll probably get a call for my alibi. Peterson was here most of the night too, wasn’t she? Because we probably shouldn’t rely on only you after the last trial, but then there’s CCTV, isn’t there? You don’t think it was anyone we know, do you? Not Mark or … I don’t know, anyone else I might be connected to, because -"
“Miller.” Hardy’s voice was gentler than she’d ever heard it. She had to turn so she wasn’t facing him, because the look of compassion on his face was going to break her.
“I can’t get dragged into this again,” she said to the wall, her fingers plucking at her breakfast sandwich uselessly. “I can’t let my sons go through this again, I can’t watch my world fall apart because of him again. I won’t.”
She heard Hardy get out of his chair, felt the slightest of touches on her elbow. “Go home, Miller. Get some sleep so you’re ready to talk to Fred when he gets out of school. I’ll get in touch with the team at Liverpool, make sure they keep me as up-to-date as they can. Whenever I hear something, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes again before turning towards him. “I’ll take that hug now.”
His eyebrows pinched together. “Sorry, what?”
“The hug you tried to give me after the trial.” She held her arms open expectantly. Usually she’d be the one insisting they didn’t, but she was exhausted and she needed it; Lucy was in a different city and Beth wasn’t an option under the circumstances, so it was him or nothing.
It was as weird as she’d always thought it would be, at least at first. Hardy awkwardly hovered around her more than actually embracing her, like he was trying to accomplish it with as little touching as possible. But she was too desperate for comfort to care, so she huffed and buried her face into his shoulder anyway, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her upright. And in return he, an inch at a time, softened around her, pulling his arms closer and resting his scratchy chin on her forehead. He smelled good, which she already knew from his hovering tendencies, and it was so comforting, something clean and warm; and he was warm, when she felt so cold inside.
She went home and slept, grateful now for the many nights of little sleep followed by spending over twenty-four hours awake that made her knock out like a light as soon as she slipped into bed. When she woke up, there were two texts from Hardy:
You can do this, Miller
And then:
Take tomorrow off as well
She smiled tiredly and texted back, This you doing supportive coworker?
The texts had been a couple hours old, so she hadn’t been expecting a response anytime soon, but three little dots showed up immediately, followed by, No good?
Not bad, she admitted, before the sound of the door opening downstairs pulled her thoughts away from Hardy and his improved comforting skills.
The next week, she deleted the dating apps and decided not to sort through the many complicated reasons why. She did sign them up for trivia.
*
Spring, 2022
“She’s too young.”
Ellie couldn’t exactly disagree, but she felt the need to protest on Chloe’s behalf. “She’s twenty-three, Beth. She’ll be twenty-four next month. That’s older than you were.”
Beth gave her an unimpressed look from over cup of tea. “And how’d that go for me?”
“Fair enough.” Ellie leaned back in her chair and looked around Beth’s backyard aimlessly, listening with one ear to the happy sounds of Lizzie and Chloe playing football in the field beyond the fence. “Hardy told me he married his wife when he was nearly thirty. I don’t think waiting ’til you’re older guarantees anything.”
“Not helpful, El.”
“Sorry, I’m trying, I really am. But it’s weird for me, too. I remember helping Mark teach Chloe how to kick a football.”
“You did?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“But you’re terrible at football.”
“Yes, and now you know why your daughter didn't go into sports.”
Beth laughed, clear and loud, and Ellie joined her with a chuckle. Joking about their shared past was delicate, even after all this time; it felt good, being able to laugh about it.
Still, she didn’t want to push, so she changed the subject to something that she knew would definitely divert Beth’s attention. “Is she inviting Hardy to the wedding?”
“Daisy’s a bridesmaid, so yeah, I think so. Why?”
“If she didn’t, I thought I might ask him. To go with me, I mean. I might, uh … I might still ask him.”
She tried to look casual while also staring at her lap, but she still saw Beth’s face twist as she tried to digest that through her periphery. “Because you want back-up, for Mark, or the rest of the town? Or … no, you mean …”
Ellie's cheeks heated up as Beth blinked rapidly.
“Wow,” her friend finally said, still looking like she’d been hit over the head with a frying pan. “Since when?”
“Now? Always? Not really sure. We almost kissed once, ages ago. Never talked about it. I don’t think I was sure until last year that I … y’know. Was sure I wanted to go for it. I’ve just never figured out how.”
Beth sat back, crossing her arms. “Huh. Never would’ve pegged it. He’s so different from …”
Her voice died out and she flinched, drawing her arms closer around chest, like she was warding herself. Ellie smiled sadly. “That’s part of the appeal, honestly.”
“Yeah,” Beth said faintly. Then she straightened up determinedly. “Talk to me.”
“Beth, we don’t -”
“No, really. Even if it’s about … I’ll tell you if it’s too much, but I want to know.”
“Okay.” She took a breath, tried to think how to put it into words. “I married a man who could make friends with anyone. Everyone loved him. Seemed like such a good thing at the time. Never occurred to me that you can’t be a particularly authentic person and be universally liked. That the kind of man who can make everyone he meets adore him is probably very good at hiding parts of himself.”
“So you picked someone with no friends instead? Aside from you.”
“Exactly,” she said with a brief grin, before sobering. “He hides things from me, too - less, now, but he still will if he thinks it’ll help a case or I’ll annoy him somehow. But he is utterly, frustratingly himself. I know him. I’m sure of that. And somehow I let him know me, too. I mean, during the trial, they said …”
Beth’s face went distant; not cold, exactly, but more closed off than before. “I remember.”
Ellie swallowed. “Right. It wasn’t true, just so you … sorry, anyway,” she cut herself off, seeing from the jut of Beth’s chin that she was entering uncomfortable territory, “we just talked. But I went to him because he didn’t see me any differently. He never doubted that I didn’t know or judged me for not seeing it. And I understand why everyone else wondered, of course I do, but … it meant everything to me that he didn’t.”
Her friend appraised her for a moment before laughing quietly. “Drives you crazy though.”
“You have no idea,” she said with feeling, meaning it in all possible ways.
“I’ll make sure you’re at the same table as him,” her friend promised with a smirk. “It’ll be entertaining.”
“Oh, good, happy to help.”
“You will.” Beth’s eyes went sad and she took a sharp breath. “I wish Danny was going to be there. It’s … I can deal with it most days, but things like this … he should be here. He should’ve seen his sister get married.”
“I know,” Ellie said sadly, and reached out and covered Beth’s hand with her own.
They sat there, in the yard where Danny used to play, listening to Chloe and Lizzie out in the field behind them, and past and present twisted up in a knot for a few painful moments.
It would never be gone - the pain they’d gone through, the things they’d lost, the cracks in their friendship that they’d had to mend. And it was good to acknowledge that sometimes.
But it was also good to move forward. Like Chloe was doing. Like Ellie hoped to do.
So she said, “Do you think I’m any better at football now?”
“El, you are good at a lot of things, but no, I really don’t.”
She gasped in fake outrage and stood up. “C’mon, then, let’s see what you've got.”
Beth followed her out the gate into the field. “Fine, but then we’re going to talk more about Hardy.”
“Like what?”
“Like what you’re gonna wear to the wedding. What do y’think he’d even like?”
“I don’t know, he’s seen me in just about everything I own.”
They reached the girls, Lizzie now perched on Chloe’s shoulders, both of them giggling madly. Beth smiled sweetly at the sight of them, before her expression took on a wicked edge. “Chlo’, what d’you think Ellie should wear to catch Hardy’s eye?”
Her daughter’s brow wrinkled. “Why would she - oh, my God, you’re kidding! You and shit-face?”
“How did you even -”
“Not in front of your sister!”
“He wears ties all the time, maybe try that,” Chloe offered with a new round of giggles.
“Nope, I’m ignoring you both. We’re playing football now.” Ellie reached up and lifted Lizzie off of Chloe’s shoulders. “Want to be on my team, Liz?”
“Yeah, I’m on Auntie Ellie’s team!” Lizzie crowed, not all aware of what a disadvantage that was going to be for her.
They played in the field for the rest of the afternoon, making new memories.
*
Summer, 2022
Being at Chloe Latimer’s wedding was surreal, to say the least. It was beautiful, tents set up in the field, fairy lights draped around poles, making everything look magical. Beth was glowing as she hoisted Lizzie on her hip and watched Chloe danced with her new husband.
And as Ellie watched her friend watch her daughter, she was assaulted by a memory from almost ten years ago, in this same field.
"How could you not know?”
Turning her gaze to Mark was no less emotionally complicated. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d moved away. He looked no less haunted than when she’d last seen him, and she tried so hard not to wonder, was it because he had finally killed Joe? Or was it because he had lost his chance? The autopsy had been inconclusive and the case had dried up months ago, so all she was left with was questions. She was trying to put them away, to never worry about Joe again, but it was a lot more difficult when his potential killer was stepping up for his father-daughter dance a few yards away.
“Wine?”
She turned behind her to see Hardy offering her a fresh glass, which she took gratefully. “Yes, please.”
“Looked like you could used it,” he observed as he sat back down in the chair next to her. She hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to ask him to be her date, but Beth had sat them next to each other as promised, and he hadn’t talked to anyone else at their table anyway, so it was close enough. She hadn't worn a tie after all, but she had gone for a necklace in a similar silhouette to one, and then ignored the Latimer women's knowing looks about it.
She rolled her eyes at him anyway, on principle. “Thanks very much.”
“Just saying. You’re handling this well.”
She wanted to protest, say there wasn’t anything to handle, but there was no way Hardy wouldn’t see right through it, so she drank her wine instead. She looked at Chloe again, spinning around the floor with Mark, radiant in her gown. “Are you ready for Daisy to be the one doing this?”
“Trying to give me heart failure again, Miller?”
She almost choked on her wine, then glowered at him. “Not funny.”
“Didn’t say it was. Daisy’s only had the one girlfriend, she’s just starting to think about her career, I hope this is still ages away.”
“Yeah, same with Tom. But Chloe does look thrilled, doesn’t she?”
“I hope so. She deserves it.”
He sounded so hopeful in that moment that it threw her. She was used to cynical Hardy and determined Hardy and Hardy-on-the-hunt, and even compassionate Hardy. But this was something else. “You alright?”
He shrugged, looking almost bashful. “I never got to see the part after the investigation ends, before. The part where people rebuild, put their lives back together. Where they find their way again.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
His eyes looked a bit misty as he nodded. “Aye, it is.”
The song changed, Mark and Chloe stepped away from each other, and the wedding guests began to fill the dance floor. Ellie had been psyching herself up for this moment all night, but now that it was here, she found she was entirely calm as she stood up and held out her hand to Hardy.
He stared at it for a moment before comprehension and then trepidation flashed over his face. “I don’t dance.”
“‘Course you don’t. C’mon, it’s a slow song, you’ll be fine.”
The music and the chatter of the other wedding guests seemed to fade to a dull buzz as she waited, still serene beyond explanation. Slowly, he reached out and put his hand in hers, and she rewarded him by rubbing her thumb along his wrist before tugging him out of his chair.
She pulled him onto the floor, and then put her hand free hand on his shoulder. His eyebrows pinched as he gingerly cradled her back, and when she pressed herself close, she could feel his heart pounding.
Their dancing might be more accurately called moderately coordinated swaying, but moderate coordination was more than she’d been expecting, if she was honest. She couldn’t imagine when the last time Hardy had led someone around a dance floor had been, but his footing was sure, and his hold on her grew stronger as they went. If the next song had been another slow one, she could’ve stayed longer.
But as a pounding beat began to emanate from the speakers, she decided to quit while they were ahead. She did a quick check to make sure Fred was sufficiently occupied by her dad, then she led Hardy off the floor as easily as she’d led him on, then took him across the back of the field and off into an empty street.
“Where are we going?” he finally asked as they emerged into the lamplight. “Isn’t Beth going to wonder where you’ve gone?”
“Doubt it,” she said blithely, slowly down so they were walking side-by-side.
Hardy looked down at their linked hands. “Miller …”
“You’re going to be weird about this, aren’t you?”
He didn’t bother to pretend to not know what she was implying, at least. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I mean, we work together.”
“Bollocks.”
“It’s a legitimate concern!”
“If you cared about workplace harmony you’d try being nice to everyone.”
“This again. You’re not friends with all of the new ones either, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“At least I know their names, and that's not the point.”
“I might not stay.”
“You will. Even if it weren’t for me, Daisy’s made connections” She gestured back towards the distant twinkling lights of the wedding with her other hand, where Daisy was no doubt dancing with Chloe and the other two bridesmaids, who Ellie was pretty sure were also friends of hers. “I thought about you, you know, those two years you were gone.”
“You did? Why didn’t y’tell me?”
“Because. It was too new, and too weird, and I was still stuck in all my own mess. Besides, you never answered my texts, you twat.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment, even while he frowned. “Fair enough.” He hesitated, then said, “I couldn’t … uh, I couldn’t talk to you because I was trying again with Tess and it was .... distracting.”
She grinned at him cheerily. “Aw, I was distracting.”
“Shut up.”
“No, I won’t, that’s adorable.”
He looked awed at how annoying he found her. “Christ, Miller, we’re going t’kill each other.”
“Oh, I’d say it’s about fifty-fifty, murder or live happily ever after.”
He laughed, quieter than he had when he was drunk. The skin around his eyes crinkled up and he looked … happy. Still concerned, but happy. She liked that look on him. She wanted to see it more often.
They stopped walking, standing alone on the corner near the trees, and she squeezed the hand she was still holding. “Look, I did the single parent thing, and I’m very good at it, but it’s lonely. And I tried dating, but … it’s you. I don’t entirely know why, but it is, and I’m not going to pretend it’s not anymore. Are you going to tell me it’s not the same for you?”
For a moment as he stared at her, she worried he would. That maybe she’d read everything wrong after all, somehow. But then he heaved a great sigh and said, “You know it is. I’m just …”
“Just what?”
“Daisy, my job, and you. Those are the only three things that are constant in my life now. Daisy might not come back after she’s done with university, and I’ll have to retire in another decade or two, and I … what if we don’t work?”
“Won’t change anything.” He shot her a deadpan look and she shook her head. “We’ve more or less hated each other and still became friends - best friends, really. You’ve left twice and somehow you keep coming back, and I don’t think it’s because you’ve learned to appreciate the ocean. Never even seen you wear sandals on the beach, not once. We’ve held each other together during the worst times of our lives, Alec. No matter what, we’ll figure it out.”
He stayed silent for a few seconds before saying, “People around here, they talk.”
“Since when do you care?”
“I don’t,” he said, in that soft way he had when he wanted to, when it mattered enough to him to be careful. “But you do. C’mon, you remember what they said during the trial about us, it’ll all come back up again. You have worked too hard to find your way here again, and I can’t be the reason you lose it. I don’t want that for you.”
“But I don’t care,” she said slowly, realizing it was true only as she said it. “I had to let go of being a part of the community the way I used to be a long time ago. I won’t let myself be defined by what this town thinks of me ever again. Beth knows it wasn’t true, so do my boys and your daughter, and that’s all that really matters. I won’t give up on something that could be good for me because of a few more rumors.”
He didn’t quite smile, but his posture eased, and his eyes brightened. “Am I good for you, Miller?”
“Don’t be smug,” she chastened, “I’m better for you.”
“No argument there.”
This time neither of them were drunk, and Hardy stayed still and waited for her to press up and kiss him, which was probably for the best. It was weird for a few seconds, dry lips and her on her toes and the wind picking up and starting to push at them; but then he got his hands on her waist and she held onto his arms, and he tilted his head just right, and she felt something, a shock or a spark that she hadn't felt in so long, that made her shiver and tighten her grip on him.
She pulled away briefly because there was one more thing she needed to make clear. “By the way, we’re not going to kill each other. I’d definitely be the one to kill you.”
“I always knew you’d be the death of me, Miller.”
*
Winter, 2023
Alec Hardy was never going to look comfortable in a pub. Ellie had come to expect this, even delight in it. It was never not funny to find him hovering on a stool like he was roosting, still not talking to any of their colleagues, except Brian about trivia sometimes. They still called him ‘shit-face’ so she could hardly blame him, even if it sounded almost fond these days. He was always going to be a grump, but he was their grump, and much easier to deal with now that he was sleeping and eating and … other things more regularly.
He perked up when he saw her, even as he grouched. “Why come here, Miller, we’ve our own house to drink in.”
She kissed him on the cheek and took the beer he offered gratefully. “We’ve just finished a long case and we’re celebrating, and if we go home we’ll just have another row about the Christmas decorations.”
“We already have the tree, we don’t need any -"
“See, this is exactly the fight we don’t need to have right now.”
“Alright, fair enough,” he conceded, eyeing the pub’s own decorations with a wary eye. “Darts then?”
“I’ll play you for lights in the bushes.”
“Done.” Hardy threw back his drink before sliding off the stool and giving her a quick kiss before making his way back to the board, Ellie trailing behind.
She won, and in spite of having to spend his weekend stringing lights around the house, he gave her a rare in-public smile.
Ellie decided that they'd never stop coming to the pub, never stop playing darts or doing trivia night or Hardy buying her chips. But still, she had to admit, the best part of the night was when they went home together.