As one of Daisy's best friends in Broadchurch, you tended to find yourself hanging around the Hardy household very frequently. Especially after the photo incident, she'd glommed onto you like a suction cup to a smooth surface. You were hardly ever apart.

As a result, you saw a lot more of her father, too. Weekend mornings, evening dinners, your birthday, Daisy's... You really did see them a lot.

So much so that Mr. Hardy began to feel like your dad, too.

Your biological father had never been in your life. He'd left your family when you were a toddler, and you'd never seen him again. So you'd started to see every man as a father figure. Your Year 4 Scout leader. Year 7 science teacher. The local pastor. Every man was a dad in disguise.

But this time was different. Really, it was. DI Hardy would smile at you like he did at Daisy, call you 'kiddo' like he did her, watch out for you on the streets and treat you like you were his own. It was... nice. Comforting.

When you went to Daisy's house to celebrate her birthday, he offered to take your coat, and you nodded, shrugging it off with a casual "Thanks, Dad."

Record scratch. Freeze frame. Oops. Did he notice? One look up at his face said yes.

"Um... Sorry—"

"Don't be," he said, awkwardly reaching to pat your back. "It's ah, okay if ye see me like a dad. Ye're around here enough, anyway."