A/N: Well...hello. Welcome to my first fanfic in the WtD-realm. I hope you'll enjoy it here. This is sort of a sequel to shadowsamurai83's recent story "How Am I Supposed To Live" - which I was kindly allowed to continue. The story takes place about 7-8 months later...and things...well...I guess, you'll have to read. Thank you to shadowsamurai83 for the beta, GraceBe and Minzmaus for the encouragement.

Disclaimer: I really own nothing.

Almost There

Chapter 1

She stared at the file without really reading it. The words and figures swam into each other so that she could hardly make out what they said. If she were honest with herself, she should take a vacation, leave the office earlier. But what would she do then?

Go on a date she wasn't overly interested in and therefore hurting somebody who didn't deserve it? Or hide out at home, pretending to relax while she was basically moping?

Moving North and taking this job had sounded like a good idea at the time - the only idea considering the state she had been in. But now, months later, she wasn't sure whether the idea had really been as good as she had thought at the time.

The two cases she was finishing hadn't been that taxing, surprisingly easy considering, and she knew it would raise her reputation even more, if that was possible.

From outside her office she could hear her assistant and her secretary tease each other, unwinding a little after the tense emotions of the last days.

It was always like that when they had acute cases that demanded her to travel abroad and interview people. Still, they had been lucky. The two boys had been caught before they could go through with their plans and now that they would receive the attention they had planned on attracting, and would hopefully recover.

"Tim?" Grace called outside for her assistant.

The young man stuck his head inside her office for a moment. "Yes, boss?"

"Don't call me boss, that's somebody else."

"You are my boss, boss," he shot back with a cocky grin, making her shake her head.

"Did Mr. Frydenlund specify what area they wanted to be mainly covered in my report? It looks superficial to me. Just the usual words."

Tim shrugged. "Entirely possible that they just want a general report to use in party politics. Maybe they have elections coming up and need some material to prove their point." That was one of the unpleasant aspects of their work and he knew it riled Grace up to be so vague, so she stepped on no political toe. It seemed so pointless to do all the work they did do and then pull back when it came to crunch time. "Won't help that boy, Raynor, or any other like him."

Frustration evident in her voice, Grace shook her head. Staring at the file a moment longer, she threw it down on her desk in annoyance. "We're not getting anywhere with this. At least not until I had some decent lunch and found out whether I can go to the Reds' match on Saturday." Looking up, she gave her assistant a small smile. "Ask Marcia if she's game for lunch too."

"Shall I ask her to football as well?"

"I'm not taking her or you, young man. I'm going all by myself!"

Turning around and passing the lunch announcement on, Tim inwardly shook his head. That was exactly the problem with his boss, her preference for solitude. Always working, always alone. That couldn't be healthy.

He had gotten to know his boss a little over the last months and what he saw made him worry. She wasn't exactly unsociable. In fact, he knew that the day after the Reds won, she was usually in a good mood, but good mood for Grace Foley was still fairly cool compared to what generally fell into the category. Upon her arrival, he had been told that this was the specialist their group had been dreaming to hire for years. The Home Office had demanded a closer association with their group in payment for this specialist. Seeing her work, he knew why.

The woman was brilliant, the way she picked up clues and puzzled them together almost magically at times, and her skill in talking to the kids and getting them to open up was unequalled. Unsurprisingly, there was rumour going around the US Secret Service was going to offer a staggering sum of money to hire her.

Professionally, the woman was incredible. On a personal level, he had his doubts.

"Come on, Tim. We'll have finished our meal by the time you get your behind to the pub." That was Marcia egging him on. She usually had a better connection to their boss than he had, and he sometimes wondered why that was. Maybe it was the imposing figure of her 5'10 or her flaming red hair. Maybe it was the fact that...he didn't really know, just sometimes he got the feeling that Dr. Foley looked at him as if she saw somebody else, but he couldn't say for sure who it was.

"Tim??? Food!!!!" Marcia nagged, both women standing in the door, already in their coats.

Making a soothing gesture, he moved to join them, deeper thoughts about the woman that was his superior shoved aside. It would be a slow day for the rest of the afternoon, writing up reports and finding citations. The usual thing, nothing really earth-shaking.

And as always when he left the office, he gave a short prayer that no new case would crop up.

*

He hadn't really thought much about this job, just accepted it, surprised that they even considered taking him back on. They had even given him his old rank, though he wasn't leading a unit this time. That would have been too much to ask for, he knew. Hell, this seemed like more than he could have asked for.

Being back on British soil was to a point embarrassing, a little like having marched out with trumpets playing and coming back with your tail between your legs. If somebody came to mock him, he couldn't even blame them. It would probably not stop him from shouting at them, but what did that matter?

Peter Boyd was back in London, working and single. And hell-bent on putting a few things right. That was easier said than done, he knew, due to the fact that some people reacted coolly while others still played Houdini.

There had been a meeting for drinks a few weeks ago with Stella and Eve which had gone over surprisingly well. It surprised him, but they seemed to be genuinely pleased to see him. Spencer was another matter, but at least he now talked when they were in the same room.

It might have had something to do with CCU being reformed shortly after he left for America, the Commissioner stating that with their two main faces out, they could hardly continue the game. Instead, they had turned it into some sort of a special unit, basically being on call constantly. No regular cases, but jumping in when nobody else wanted it. While solving those cases, the commendations were frequent, making Spencer just a few cases shy of another promotion, but on a policing level, it was a frustrating situation. Still, so short before a promotion Spence couldn't exactly hold a grudge, could he?

All in all, and he'd desperately avoid to say it out loud, Boyd felt better now than he had felt in months. Being back was good. Doing real police work again was good. Having finished with his attempt at a relationship that he had known deep down would lead to nothing felt good. The only thing that didn't, and bothered the bollocks out of him in fact, was Grace. Grace and her disappearing act. Grace and her last words. Grace and the look on her face just before. Grace and her taking everything to the very end when she bloody shouldn't. Grace and...

Grace.

He'd even gone so far as to track down her children and ask about her whereabouts. Frosty didn't begin to describe that encounter. Naturally, it had led to nothing.

Suppressing a groan, he looked up from the file on his desk. Reading it had been a pretence anyway.

A sudden commotion by the door caught his attention and his eyes narrowed. The AC who had entered motioned for Boyd and DCS Clayton to follow and as they went, Boyd couldn't suppress a twinge of nervousness.

*

Sitting in his chair, Spencer Jordan tried to absorb the information they'd just been given. He wanted to think it through before the next briefing. This case was already giving him a headache.

Normally, he would have jumped up and down in joy. A case like this could shorten his way to promotion considerably and do something really good for the safety of the city. However, it left him uneasy to think just how much emotion, how much danger, and unfortunately how much politics would be involved. Worse, though, if they failed, then Britain would have its heartache right in the middle of the capital.

*

As expected the afternoon drudged on considerably as Grace tried to put something actually useful into her report on the Norwegian case. If it hadn't been for a pleasant lunch with easy conversation and the chance to brag about her favourite football team, things would be much more difficult.

Tim could be a really charming man when he wanted to be and his attempt to catch the ladies' attention by being a clown was indeed amusing. Not because he was overly funny. More because he failed so spectacularly at it.

Now, though, she had been called into the director's office, which felt a bit like being back in school and going to receive detention, and it made her uneasy. It wasn't that she disliked the director, quite the contrary. He was a good looking and charming man.

"Grace, good to see. I'm glad you came so quickly. You didn't cut your lunch break short for this, did you?"

She tried to give him her brightest smile, covering up her unease. Jeremy Bartlett was a charismatic director, easily capable of acquiring funds and reputation for his group, but at times he could be what Boyd would have called a slimy, arsey tosser. Sometimes, she couldn't help but agree.

She didn't mind that he flirted with her, considered it as part of his working style and personality. He did have another woman on his arm every week and they all had something in common: brunette, thin, busty and barely 30. Therefore, she didn't take his flirting seriously. Besides, she was the star of his team - expensively acquired - and he had left no doubt that he intended to keep his 'star' happy.

Though it galled her, his usual calls on her included the reception of a somewhat

condescending pat on the head for being such a good girl, or to be insistently reminded just how much her work affected political interests. She despised both, making this a definite downside to her job.

"It's alright, Mr. Bartlett. We were finished anyway. What is the matter?"

"Grace, Grace, I told you so often to call me Jeremy. Mr. Bartlett seems so formal and we are such a close-knit group here." He gave her his most winning and charming smile, ignoring her obvious reluctance to reciprocate. The woman was really a piece of work. Fascinating though.

She nodded only briefly, trying to appear more open. "I don't think, Jeremy," she put extra-emphasis on the name and sweetened it with an even brighter smile, "that you've called me in to discuss team-dynamics. If you call me in personally, then there is an important development. Am I right?"

"Impressive, Grace." He smiled again. "I'm constantly amazed by your abilities as are all of our 'customers,' if you will. Everybody sings your praise and I can only agree. But...." He paused for dramatic effect. "You are correct. There is a new case that we've been informed of and I'm afraid it is even more sensitive than most cases we deal with."

Her interest piqued, Grace leaned forward. "I see. Can you give me details?"

Bartlett opened the file in front of him, pretending to go over the information. It was a bit of a show since the facts had already been imprinted in his brain. This case could make or break his organisation. Knighthood or public laughing stock.

"London Metropolitan Police has come across strong hints that a massacre is planned on one of London's more prestigious public schools. Chat protocols suggest that somebody plans to enter St. Anthony's Academy in Kensington and use firearms to kill as many pupils and staff as he can hit."

While her face showed only mild shock, it was like a stone was weighing down on her. "I see," she managed after a moment. "Do they have a time frame?"

Bartlett sighed and looked at the file again. "The readings suggest a timeframe of the next two weeks but they assume it is actually going to happen within the next seven to eight days."

Grace nodded numbly. This was her area of expertise, since she had come to work with the organization some eight months ago. She should be prepared and professionally she was. But London...

Cases abroad were one thing. It was easy to keep professional distance there. It wasn't close to home, really, and rationalizing a case was much easier. But this...

And London...so much of her own history...and so many things she didn't want to face yet. So many people, she wasn't sure she'd be able to see again.

"Grace." Bartlett's tone of voice had taken on a somewhat desperate note and she looked up into his eyes. "London Metropolitan Police requested our assistance and the Commissioner, as well as Home Office, made it clear that they want you specifically. You're required to show up in London tomorrow, Grace. And you know as well as I do that failure is not an option."

* * *

Thank you for reading. Since I am new at this fandom, comments would be greatly appreciated.