A/N: Published 12/04/2015

A NEW FRIEND

"Babysit?" Hardy raised an eyebrow at Miller. "Babysit?" he repeated the word like it was not part of his vocabulary.

"Yes, Babysit, Hardy. Not for long, I can pick Fred up at ten." Ellie said.

"Babysit?" Hardy repeated, running his hands through his hair. He looked at Ellie as if she was completely insane.

"Oh come on, Hardy. You have a daughter of your own, don't you?"

"Yes, but Daisy's fifteen. There's no – no crying," Hardy looked very uncomfortable.

"or what do you call them? Cots, or bottles, or… Can't you get your sister to take care of him?"

"Don't you listen? Lucy's coming with me to see my Mum. Tom's at a friend for a sleepover. Besides, I think it'll do you good to take care of Freddie."

Hardy raised an eyebrow at Ellie. "Now, Miller…"

"No." she said, cutting him off. Their eyes met, a grin spread across her face.

"I'll drop him of at four. And I'll make your life easy, I'll bring you dinner." She got up from the couch, smiling.

"Miller!" He called. She grabbed her orange windbreaker and skipped out the door.

"At four, Hardy!"

Hardy was, in all honesty, nervous.

Kids, and babies had never really liked him, and he had never really liked them either.

Daisy was, of course, a big exception. She was a dream baby. To bed at six, only woke at six the next morning. He wondered what a baby with Miller's genetics could get up to. Ellie was mostly happy, cheerful and sarcastic – all the time, but she was always good at getting her way. She once even threatened him by saying she'd piss in a cup and throw it at him.

All afternoon he was trying to focus on the Sandbrook files. As much as he tried to focus, his thoughts kept on sailing to the two year old that he was going to have to take care of. He used all his brain power on excuses to get out of the job, but could not find any that Miller would actually believe.

After all, why was he so nervous? 'It's just a little boy.' He thought.

It had been a long while since he took care of a baby. Fifteen years to be exact. And a boy! He had no idea. Daisy was so easy to entertain. He would spend hours after work talking to her, dressing and undressing dolls. He wondered how on earth he was going to entertain a boy.

Hardy paced up and down his room, cup of tea in the one hand, BlackBerry in the other, trying to think of a good excuse.

And yes, at exactly four o' clock, Ellie trotted back into his little blue shack. She had the toddler on her hips and a little red baby bag.

"Hello Hardy."

Hardy looked up from sipping at his cup of earl grey tea. His gaze shifted from Ellie to the little toddler. The curly-haired little boy had just had a bath and he was wearing Spiderman pyjamas. And normal person would think this is adorable, but goose bumps ran down Hardy's neck.

"Now, Miller, let me explain. I can't –"

"Don't even start. Everything you need is in this bag."

Ellie held up the red bag and chucked it at Hardy, who caught it just before it hit his face.

"There's a Tupperware of lasagne for you and some yoghurt for Freddie. He drinks the milk just before he goes to sleep."

"But Miller –"

"I think I forgot to pack a spoon, but hell, you should have a spoon, right?"

"Miller –"

"Oh and Freddie can't sleep without his blue blanket, by the way."

"Miller, please, let me just –"

"Hardy," She cut him off one final time, "you'll be fine. Besides, Freddie's easy. He really tiered anyway. Tom was playing football with him all afternoon."

She dropped the little two year old boy on Hardy's floor and kissed him on the head.

"Okay, Lucy's waiting in the car. I'll be back at ten!"

Ellie knelled down at her little boy, talking in her uncle Alec voice: "Goodbye, Freddie! Have fun, and eat your yogurt, okay."

She stood up and slipped out of the door, shouting: "Good luck, Hardy!"

And just as quick as she came, she left. Hardy cursed himself under his breath. Why didn't he just stand up to Miller? He could have warned her about what would happen if he had another heart attack. Nobody to come save his skin then. And a poor old abandoned Fred.

Hardy focused on the little boy in front of him. He smiled uncomfortably at the boy, and Fred looked up at Hardy with two very big blue eyes.

"Hello. You must be wee Fred."

The boy just looked stared at Hardy, looking confused.

"My name is Hardy, okay. I'm a friend of your mum's." Hardy used his soft, inside voice. And together, the two awkwardly stared at each other for a long while.

Hardy had no clue how to entertain the kid. He didn't have a TV, or any child friendly books. Hardy tried to imagine reading Fred one of his Jack Reacher books, all about crime and being bad-ass. Fred could not even talk yet, so how was he supposed to understand murder?

Murder. The word echoed in Hardy's mind. Someday Fred will have to find out what his father did. More goose bumps down his back.

But the more the two year old looked at Hardy, the more panicky he got.

What was he going to do…

Instead, as a desperate attempt to stop looking into those blue eyes, Hardy opened the red baby bag, and to his surprise, the little boy walked over and sat down next to him on the couch. Hardy paused, wondering what the boy was doing, until Fred's fat little hands dug inside the messy bag. The boy concentrated hard to pick up a Tupperware, and handed it to Hardy.

"Why thank you, Fred." Hardy said, inspecting the lasagna that Ellie had given him.

To Hardy's surprise, the boy smiled up at his new friend. He handed Hardy some strawberry yogurt and a milk bottle

"Thank you again, Fred."

And slowly the toddler unpacked the entire bag, handing everything to Hardy. Each time Hardy thanked him – not knowing what else to say. Fred passed him toys, nappy bags, books with titles like 'The Gruffalo' and 'Don't worry, Alfie', tiny Fred-sized jackets, and a plastic packet full of teabags – which Hardy guessed Ellie used.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

The toddler looked up a Hardy, confused again.

"It's okay, I don't really like talking either."

The toddler frowned at Hardy.

"Sorry you must be like your mum. You want to talk to me, don't you?"

The toddler placed a truck in his hands, and continued unpacking.

"Do you play tennis?" Hardy asked, as Fred handed him a tennis ball.

Fred shook his head and, with a lot of concentration, said his first word of the day: "Tom!"

"Does your brother play tennis?"

Fred nodded, putting a pair of rolled up socks on Hardy's lap.

And so they continued, until Fred reached the end of the bag, squealing in excitement.

"What is it?" Hardy asked, unsure of what could possibly make him so happy.

"Boots!" Fred enthused, holing two orange rain boots in the air.

"Oh, wow they're orange!" Hardy laughed. Miller's love for orange things was properly reflected in her son's bag. Fred had all sorts of orange things in his bag. An orange truck, a whole set of orange LEGOs and now little orange boots for Fred.

Fred smiled widely, very happy that Hardy was impressed with his boots. The boy took off his slippers, and started putting on his boots.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Hardy questioned. Fred put on his left boot on his right foot.

"Let me help you there, Fred. You don't want to go walking around with your shoes wrong." Hardy but the little boots on and Fred got up from the couch. Fred jumped up and down, showing off his boots. Hardy smiled.

The boy looked at him with those eyes again, and walked away to the kitchen.

"Oi, where are you going?"

Fred wandered around Hardy's house with his fancy boots, and Hardy followed him, like a lost puppy.

Fred giggled as he started running away from Hardy. He ran up and down the living room and jumped onto the couch again, thinking he was hilarious. The toddler ran until he reached the door, stopping and looking back at Hardy, his eyes begging.

"What? Do you want to go outside?"

"Yes!" Fred said, chanted, once again, impressed with himself for talking.

"Do you want to walk?"

"Yes!"

"I'll get my coat. Wait before you run off." Hardy said, walking to his desk and downing a pill with his last bit of tea.

"I also like walking, especially at this time of the day. It's nice, the sun sets and the stars come out. You know what? Forget lasagne and yoghurt! We can get ourselves ice-cream, if you like. Or fish and chips. We'll walk to the pier and you can feed the gulls."

Hardy grabbed his coat and returned to a completely infatuated two year old. Fred looked up at Hardy, blue eyes glinting.

"What? What did I do?" Hardy asked, looked confronted.

Ellie never let Fred outside if they had pyjamas on. Fred was just happy to see another face. He was so used to his mother, aunt, brother and child-minder. This new friend a little strange, he talked to himself – and he did talk funny, for that matter. He talked with a growl, and he rolled his r's. His new friend also had hair on his face, and he always wore black. His mom was always pretty annoyed with him, but she seemed less sad when he was around. But Hardy did seem honest, and besides, he did whatever Fred wanted him to.

"What's gotten into you, wee Fred?" The toddler continued smiling. Hardy opened the door and the child ran outside, pulling Hardy by the hand outside. For the first time in months, Hardy was running. And he was smiling. And he was laughing.

Ellie walked up to the blue shack. She was satisfied as she checked the time on her phone: 10:03. That is truly what you'd call ten-ish, Hardy can't snap at her for being late.

Ellie pulled open the door of the house. She scanned the room. On the couch was a mountain of things from Fred's bag. She noticed that neither Hardy's lasagna, Fred's yogurt, or the milk had been consumed.

What the hell was wrong with Hardy? He never ate anything she offered! But Fred's yogurt and milk also lay there. Did he also not eat?

Where was Fred anyway? The lights were on, but there was no sight of Hardy or Fred.

"Hardy?" she called softly. She walked through his shack, spotting the pair of them on her way past the kitchen.

Hardy was lying flat on the couch, sleeping with his mouth open. Fred lied flat on his chest, curled up like a cat. The toddler exhaled slowly, his breathes synchronized with Hardy's.

Ellie stared in amazement. She forced back a fit of giggles. Hardy looked so funny with his head tilted off the edge of the couch and his long, thin, hairy legs dangling off the other end.

Fred looked like an angle. His golden locks flapped up and down with every big breath Hardy took.

Ellie then realised, that she needed to go home. With Fred.

Did she really want to ruin this picture? They looked so peaceful.

Instead, she made herself a cup of tea, with her own teabags from Fred's bag. She was not going to use Hardy's Earl Grey.

Then she sat on the couch opposite where Hardy and Fred was sleeping. She watched them as she sipped her tea.

They both looked so at peace. How on earth was she supposed to wake them up? Fred was defiantly not going to go back to sleep if she woke him now, and she knew for a fact that Hardy was extra grumpy when he was tiered.

So instead, Ellie fetched the duvet off Hardy's bed and covered Fred and Hardy in it.

She dug through Hardy's cupboard, of course not finding another blanket at all.

She sat on the couch, watching them, discovering she was sitting on Fred's blue blanket. She covered herself in it. Fred never went to sleep without it. She wondered how Hardy had gotten Fred asleep without it.

Ellie sat and watched them, until she flicked the light off. Soon, a week's worth of not sleeping got the better of her, and her eyes fluttered closed too.