Chapter Text
The night was pretty chilly, and it was already late so there weren’t any people outside. The full moon was prowling, the mild breeze brushing his face every now and then. Everything was quiet, eerily so, but he could swear there was a sound of steps from time to time. He made nothing of it – it was a lively evening. As much as Broadchurch was usually a peaceful town even after dark, you could still stumble into pub-goers and the like.
In hindsight, ignoring it had been a mistake.
He woke up confused, curled up, in a very tiny space that made his heart swell with panic. His hands were bound behind his back, and he was sure there must have been some kind of bag over his head because he couldn’t see anything and it was hard to breathe. There was no air and not because he was getting claustrophobic.
He was very uncomfortable and quite sure he was in some sort of car. A trunk. He could feel the vehicle moving, every bump in the road making him jump and hit his head or knees. The space was too small for him. He tried the ropes but they wouldn’t really budge. Then, he attempted to get the bag off but it turned out to be fruitless, as well. It was only a waste of energy.
His head throbbed faintly, but he could remember what happened. He was at Miller’s, she had invited him for dinner like she sometimes did when she was feeling particularly lonely in the house. He had agreed because he understood it more than anyone could. Daisy was gone for a week, having travelled to London with her friends. Ever since she started college, Hardy saw her less and less. It was depressing.
Besides, he actually enjoyed dinners with Ellie and her family (not that he would ever admit it). They had grown really close after Joe’s trial and solving Sandbrook. It’d been years since then, and the thought would normally fill him with joy, but the road was extremely bumpy, and he still couldn’t take a proper breath. He was abducted right after leaving Miller’s house while he was turning the corner. Someone attacked him – it was a man, he was sure. Alec tried to fight him off, but he never was an excellent fighter. Once he was pushed on the ground and his head met the pavement, it was over. Now he could feel the dampness of his hair, and the blood coating the side of his face.
After a while, finally, the car came to a stop. Alec tried one last time to get rid of the ropes with no success and held his breath when he heard the trunk open. Deciding not to move much, he waited for his kidnapper’s next action. Soon enough, a rough hand grabbed his arm tightly, making him wince, and he was pushed out of the car, landing on his knees as his legs gave way. They ached after being bent for so long.
He didn’t have much time to adjust to the new situation, for the same hands pushed him upwards and forced to go on. He was breathing heavily at this point, stumbling every few seconds because of the bag over his head. The man who had taken him didn’t say a word, did not even make a single sound. He was gripping Hardy’s arm so tightly that the detective was sure it was going to leave bruises.
He didn’t know how long the walk really took as he was too focused on stepping the right way not to fall, but something told him it wasn’t such far distance. Once they stopped and he was roughly pushed onto something that resembled a chair, he groaned. His hands and ankles got tied up to it before he even realised what was happening.
Then, the bag was gone, and he could finally take a full breath. The air felt cold against his skin, and he slowly opened his eyes to see only darkness. He blinked a few times and once his sight adjusted, his focus travelled to the silhouette looming over him. His blood froze right there on the spot and body tensed in both disgust and fear. He would recognise this man everywhere.
There, right in front of him, stood no other than Joe Miller. He was glaring daggers at him, his bald head hidden under a black beanie, his hands trembling with that unconcealed desire for violence that worried Hardy to no end.
“You’re back.” Alec said, surprised by the croak in his voice. The headache was slowly fading, and he could gather more and more thoughts around his hopeless situation.
“You didn’t think I would just stay away, did you? My entire life is in Broadchurch.”
“Was.”
“What?” Joe frowned, and Alec took a deep breath before finding his eyes in the darkness, locking his gaze on the man’s.
“Your entire life was in Broadchurch.”
He should have seen the slap coming but somehow, he didn’t. It hurt, though, and echo of the contact reverberated in the room. It was when his head, forced by the blow, went to the side that he noticed where exactly he was. It was a shed of sorts, old and dirty, having been probably abandoned for years. Almost antic tools were hanging on the wooden walls, and cobwebs littered every corner of it. A spider was walking down the table opposite him. From this angle he couldn’t see much, but he could tell Joe’s belongings lay on it. A phone, a wallet, and a knife.
Hardy wondered if he still had his own phone in his pocket but figured Joe would have got rid of it. He wasn’t stupid and he knew how the police worked. Which didn’t help his situation in the slightest. For all he knew, he wasn’t even in Broadchurch anymore.
“Shut up. Shut up. It’s because of you, all of it. I had a life, and you destroyed it.”
“You did it to yourself, Joe, and we both know it.”
Joe’s hands curled in fists. His eyes watched him cautiously, a shadow of fury and hatred passing through them.
“I did nothing,” he shook his head, crouched down in front of the chair to take a closer look at the bound detective. “The jury found me innocent. I’m innocent.”
Hardy blinked, suddenly uncomfortable under the searing glare of his captor. Joe’s eyes reflected sheer madness. It was so much different from when he had met him the first time. Back then, he looked like a human. Like a loving husband and a decent father. A part of him even thought they might become friends one day. How wrong could he be?
“You killed Danny, Joe. Everyone knows it. They won’t ever let you go back.”
“And whose fault is that?!” he hissed, jumping to his feet and reaching for Hardy’s throat. Alec tensed, but the grip didn’t tighten. It was just a light touch, as if Joe stopped himself the last moment. A similar sudden outburst had been what finished Danny’s short life. “Who was the one to have dug under me, arrested me and brought me to court?!”
They kept staring at each other – with Joe’s hand on Alec’s neck. Everything was silent apart from Miller’s erratic breaths. Hardy didn’t let his worry show on his face, wouldn’t give this man satisfaction. It wasn’t really that he was scared of him, per se. It was just bloody inconvenient, and the unpredictability of his captor stressed him out a bit. Such criminals were the worst. If Joe was in his right mind, perhaps Alec could reason, talk some sense into him. Only he wasn’t. He looked almost insane. Like he lost touch with reality. Nothing would get through to him at the moment.
“Excuse me, but are we forgetting about the fact you confessed to me? It’s on the tape.”
“No, no,” Joe shook his head frantically once more, letting go of Hardy’s neck, to the latter’s relief. “The judge excluded this from your evidence. It, it didn’t count. It doesn’t matter. I’m not that man, and I didn’t do anything wrong. I helped Danny. We were friends, and you don’t hurt friends.”
“You don’t kill friends, either,” Hardy pushed, aware of possible consequences. He wondered what time it was and how long it would take someone to notice his absence. Daisy wasn’t at home, and Ellie was probably sleeping at the moment. She would see in the morning that he was gone, but did he have so much time? He didn’t really know Joe’s intentions and their possible outcome. “Face it, Joe. You’re a child-murderer, and nobody wants you back.”
Another slap, this time fully expected. More painful, too. It made him cry out even though he tried not to. Then, before he could get any sort of breather, another hit came. And another, and another.
“I am not a bad man, you hear me?!” each word was a separate punch, and after two times it was hard for him to keep quiet. “I’d never hurt a child, it was just hugs and nothing more!”
Alec opened his mouth to say something, but his breath was ragged, and there was blood flooding his mouth. He could taste it on his tongue. His ears were ringing, too. It was not smart to rile Joe up like this, but he couldn’t help it. His frustration and anger at this man for putting both the Latimers and Ellie’s family through so much trauma was still there. All that pain could have been easily avoided if Joe had had decency to plead guilty.
A hand gripped his hair, pulled at it so Alec had to face him. Pain blurred most of his view, but he managed to focus on those eyes screaming of madness and vengeance. For the first time, he found himself scared. Joe Miller wasn’t a sane person. He had lost himself, and Alec was at his mercy now.
“Just hugs.” He whispered to his ear, his warm breath hitting Hardy’s skin, making him shudder. He was too close.
“Why?” he began, licking his lips to get rid of the blood there. He tried not to lose the eye-contact, but it was hard with his head throbbing and heart beating way too fast. “Why drag me here? If it had only been about revenge, you could have already killed me.”
Joe laughed, letting go of his hair and allowing his chin to drop. He started walking in circles, but Alec wasn’t looking at him.
“You’re a detective here, aren’t you?” hands fell on Alec’s shoulders, making him immediately tense. He didn’t flinch, though. “You tell me.” Again, this breath upon his skin, the voice whispering into his ear. He closed his eyes but opened them a second later.
“You need me for something.” he swallowed, flexing his hands to see if the bonds were still as strong. Not as much anymore, but now he also had his ankles tied up, and Joe was observing his every move.
Joe grunted some sort of response that Alec interpreted as agreement. His hand ran down the detective’s face gently, and he made an instinctive move to get away. Being touched by this man, no matter how tenderly, burnt his skin. It disgusted him to no end.
“You took everything away from me,” Joe began quietly, stepping away to stand in front of him. There was a grin on his face although it wasn’t joyful. Something about it screamed trouble and Alec would get away if he wasn’t bound to that cursed chair. “And there’s this one thing I don’t understand,” he crouched down, his hand landing on Hardy’s knee. “What does she see in you?”
And Alec understood it almost immediately. It wasn’t about him, not really. It was not about revenge, either. Something in his stomach turned, and he held back an urge to grimace. He decided to stay silent, trying his best to ignore the man’s piercing glare. If eyes were a window to one’s soul, then Joe Miller must have lost his own, or never had it in the first place.
“Ellie always said she loved me,” the hand went up to his thigh. Alec squirmed. “And then, then you appeared. She claimed she hated you, and I believed her. I was a good husband. I cooked her meals, I took care of our children, I supported her after you’d stolen her job. And still,” he exhaled shakily, the fingers digging in the fabric of Hardy’s trousers. “Still it wasn’t enough. How long have you been shagging my wife?”
“We’ve never had sex, Joe,” he tried to keep his voice calm and steady, afraid of setting him off. “We work together, that’s all.”
“Well, the court case proved it a lie!” Joe screamed unexpectedly, this time making him flinch. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his shoulders. Their faces were inches from each other, and Hardy held his breath for a second, glaring at him, eyes widening and lips parted.
“It was horseshit,” he choked out. “We’d never had an affaire. Your lawyers made it all up so a bastard like you could go free.”
“No, no, the trial uncovered the truth. They found me innocent, and it’s true. So your affair must be, too. Tell me, Alec, how do I get her back?”
“You don’t.”
“Tell me!” this time, no punch came. Instead, Joe pushed the chair so hard that it went down and broke to pieces. He wanted to use this opportunity to get rid of the ropes and run but before he could blink, there was a hard kick to his stomach. He gasped, and it repeated. “You bloody bastard, how do I get my family back?!”
Hardy coughed as more kicks came. They weren’t aimed at anything in particular – Joe kept on beating him for the sake of it. His stomach, ribs, back, anything that could hurt. He couldn’t even protect his face because his hands were still bound behind his back, though the bindings loosened now that he had a close meeting with the floor.
He didn’t count seconds (or minutes?) until Joe stopped and grabbed him by the hair. Alec cried out and tried to catch his breath, but the dull ache turned into agony and he could focus only on the pain all over his bones.
“I wanted to visit them today, you know?” the voice came quite muffled. “I, I wanted to see Ellie and my kids, talk things out and make her see that I’m innocent. But then I saw you leaving our house, all poshed up and happy, and I couldn’t stand it. You provoked me to do this.” The grip disappeared, and Hardy fell to the floor with a thud and another gasp of pain. He didn’t have strength to try escaping.
“You won’t,” he breathed in, his lungs burning and eyes filling with tears. “You won’t ever get them back, you bastard. Let me go, leave and never come back because they’ll find me, and they’ll catch you. And after that, the jury will make a different decision. I promise you that.”
“You think?” Joe spat, grabbing a knife from the table. “I will kill you even if you don’t tell me how to make them accept me. Maybe I’ll stand more of a chance when my rival is gone.”
Alec did not waste his breath on explaining that he was not, in any way, a rival to getting Ellie back. There was no point, Joe wouldn’t listen anyway. He had created his own reality and any argument threatening to ruin it would get pushed back. If something, it could only make things worse, and he couldn’t take another beating. Not now. If he held on for longer, his chance of survival would increase.
He sat up, wincing as his ribs screamed at the movement. They might have been broken. Blood was dripping from his face onto the floor, and his every bone ached like it was being crushed. It was hard to breathe or think straight. He had to, though, his mind and words were the only thing which could get him out. He needed to change his tactics.
“Do you really believe that killing me will solve anything? They hate you because they’re certain you already murdered someone.” He spoke, but his voice came out very weak and creaky. It was still difficult to take a full breath. It hurt. Now he was sure his ribs had suffered a lot from the assault.
“But I didn’t,” Joe curled his fist, the other squeezed the knife tightly. Hardy could see his knuckles turn white. Carefully, he distanced himself from the man as far as he could until his back hit the wall. “I didn’t.”
“Okay,” he nodded, watching the blade. It was shining in the orange glow of the lightbulb hanging above them. “Okay, you didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t hurt Danny. But if you hurt me, no one will believe you.”
“They won’t know. No body, no crime,” it was hard to argue with it, and Hardy knew his situation was getting more and more hopeless. Joe was crazy but also smart. He wouldn’t allow anyone to find his corpse. Especially if they were far away from the town. Even if he was found, he had no ID on himself. It would take time for strange police officers to discover who he was. “They don’t even know I’ve been to town.”
“Joe, I promise you if Ellie finds out I’m dead, she won’t rest until she catches the person responsible. You won’t get away with it, she won’t let you. And then, you will lose her forever.” He already did a long time ago, but there was no need to remind him of it. Hardy felt he was getting somewhere.
“So you’re saying I still have a chance?” the question came. It was filled with doubt and uncertainty, but at least Joe loosened the grip on the knife.
“If you let me go.”
It looked like he actually considered it for a few long moments. His eyes flickered from the blade to Alec’s face, his body tense and still. He bit his lip, almost put the knife back on the table, but then something in him flipped, like there was a switch that got turned on. Joe let out something akin to a groan, only it was angrier. Next thing Alec knew, he was pressed against the wall, the knife at his neck. He could feel it touch his skin, deep enough to cut.
Blood trickled down his neck. His Adam’s apple bopped as he found Joe Miller’s eyes. They were dark and wide.
“You’re a manipulative liar!” he hissed, spitting on Hardy’s face on accident. His free hand grabbed his shirt and shook him. The detective winced. “You don’t really believe what you’ve just told me, do you? You don’t think I’m innocent.”
He stayed silent, watching his abductor. The man’s face was all red at this point and fury rolled off him in thick waves.
“Answer me, for God’s sake!” he screamed, pushing the blade deeper. Alec gasped this time, the cut making more blood flow. It stung. Looking into Joe’s eyes, he knew lying wouldn’t be a good idea. Not anymore. He saw through him, called his bluff, and there was no way to change his mind.
There were a few beats of silence before he opened his mouth and whispered:
“No. No, I don’t.”