Title: In the darkest of places.
Author: Metalfan616
Characters: Boyd, Grace, Mel, Spencer, Frankie
Pairing: Boyd/Mel
Rating: T (for violence and very mild language)
Synopsis: An AU fic. The events of a case bring Boyd and Mel closer.
Spoilers: Season 1 episode A Simple Sacrifice
No matter how quickly the streets and houses flashed past, it still seemed that they weren't moving fast enough. The sirens blaring in the background seemed like a pained scream in her ears and she put her foot down on the accelerator urging the car forwards with a muttered mixture of curses and encouragement.
"Easy Mel, we won't be much use if we don't get there in one piece," Spencer said with a small note of panic in his voice.
Mel glanced over to see him gripping the car door, white knuckled. He gave her a pointed look and she eased off the accelerator a little, her body tense as she jerked the car around another corner and prayed that they reached Boyd in time.
When she had first looked down at the computer screen in Grace's office it had taken a second or two for her to process what she was seeing, then Dixon had plunged the knife into Boyd's side and without hesitation Mel had gone for the car, trusting that Spencer would call for backup. She had been on autopilot in that moment, doing what her police training told her to do. Now, with time to think as the seconds ticked by and they drew closer to Dixon's residence, she was begin to process things differently.
The man that she was desperately trying to reach was not a faceless, nameless victim. He was not simply a call out on a case or a human being who would create paperwork for her. He was Boyd, he was her boss, he was someone she knew, someone she could put a voice to and a personality and now that she allowed herself to admit it, someone she cared about. He was also the man who, when she had been in kidnapped by a suspect, had found her wrapped in a coarse blanket in the back of a skip, who had gently removed the tape from her mouth and held her in his arms, reassuring her that she would be alright. And that had changed everything for her.
When she had first met her boss she hadn't felt much for him either way. He was loud, over bearing, but occasionally caring. And he had a sense of humour which was more than could be said for her last employer. But she had seen something more that day as she had slowly opened her eyes and met his.
"He's going to be alright, you know?"
Mel glanced over at Spencer again to find him looking at her closely. She shifted uncomfortably in the car seat, wondering if he could read something of her thoughts in her stiff posture.
"I hope so, Spence."
He gave her a grim smile of support which Mel returned. They were almost there, almost. She prayed Boyd was still breathing.
A searing heat. That was what it felt like, Boyd decided as he fought to keep his eyes open and his lungs drawing in air with each gasping breath. His vision seemed to be blurring, growing darker and he was struggling to make out the sound of Grace's voice as she spoke to him. He felt as if he were underwater, everything muffled, everything strange.
And then the iron grip that had been holding him upright in the chair disappeared and he felt himself slumping backwards. Dixon's footsteps echoed through his mind as he ran up the stairs to meet the armed police team battering down the door. Boyd shut his eyes against the pain and concentrated on his breathing, determined that he wasn't going to die in the basement of an obsessive killer like this. He could feel his body seeming to grow cold and fought against the urge to go to sleep. Images were swimming behind his eyes, faces from the past, and some from the present, cases that he had always known would haunt him till his dying die.
Somewhere in the background he could hear gunshots and then voices, voices he recognised. Spencer and Mel, he realised before the act of piecing together thoughts became too difficult. Vaguely, he felt hands upon his shoulders and a voice carrying a note of panic within it next to his ear whispering words that were supposed to be reassuring.
"Sir? Sir?"
The hands that had been on his shoulders moved to his face to tilt his head up. They were small and gentle and he felt a desperate surging force somewhere within him screaming at him to open his eyes.
"Boyd?" the voice tried, the note of panic within it clawing its way closer to the surface and threatening to overcome the forced tone of calm.
"Spence, where are the paramedics?"
"I'm going to find out. Keep talking to him."
Boyd felt himself slip forwards slightly as the hands holding him up on one side were removed and footsteps announced that someone had left the room. An arm slipped around his back, helping to hold him steady and he almost felt ready to go to sleep despite the voice in the back of his mind urging him to open up his eyes and keep taking breaths.
"Boyd? Come on, you've got to open your eyes. Please."
Mel could feel desperation overcoming everything else within her as Boyd's eyelids flickered. He was trying, she could see that much, but he had lost a lot of blood. The crimson stains spreading over his shirt were terrifying and turning her stomach. The site of blood never usually bothered her, it was a part of the job, simply something she dealt with efficiently and overcame. But now she couldn't seem to force her eyes away from it.
She felt Boyd move slightly in her arms and glanced down at his face. His head had lolled against her shoulder as she held him and even under the strange blue lights of the room she could see just how pale he had grown. It did nothing to dispel her fear.
"Peter?" she tried and felt him move again, his eyes struggling to open once more.
Boyd could hear her clearly now. She was saying his name, his first name, over and over. Desperate to show her that he wasn't ready to give up yet he opened his eyes finally.
Mel choked back a sob of relief as she met his eyes, pressing a kiss against his hair as he had done for her before. It was a sensation that visited her in her sleep often, as vivid and comforting as the nightmares that preceded it were terrifying.
"Mel?"
His voice was hoarse and so quiet that even with his head resting against her shoulder, Mel could barely make out what he was saying.
"You're going to be alright, I promise. Spencer's gone to get the paramedics and they're going to help you. You're going to be alright, you're going to be alright," Mel repeated, unsure of exactly who she was trying to reassure.
She was running one hand across his face, pushing the hair out of his eyes, terrified as much by the sudden rush of emotions within her as by Boyd's state. She'd never felt so helpless in her life, completely paralyzed by shock. Everything within her was screaming to do something, anything, to keep him with her.
"Come on Peter, you've got to keep fighting."
"I'm . . . I'm, try . . . trying."
His voice was sounding weaker and his breathing had become increasingly shallow. Boyd gasped with the shock of the pain as he tried to move slightly, his hand now gripping Mel's. His vision was growing increasingly dark around the edges until he could only see what was directly in front of him, Mel's scared face.
"Thank you, Mel."
Mel found she was fighting back tears and prayed that Spencer and the paramedics were on their way. She knew she had to keep Boyd talking, had to keep him conscious.
"What for?"
His eyes had slipped closed again and Mel pressed her hand against his face to try and get him to reply.
"For . . . for . . ."
"Boyd?"
Mel leaned in closer to try and hear his breathing and his hand slipped away from hers.
"Peter?"
There was no sound, no slight flutter of breath.
"Oh god. Boyd, come on."
Mel could feel the slow trickle of warm tears against her face but didn't care. He wasn't breathing.
"Spence!" she yelled, hearing heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. "Spence, he's not breathing, he's not-"
"It's alright, Mel. The paramedics are here."
Spencer wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her away from Boyd as the two paramedics moved him onto a stretcher and tried to get him breathing again.
"How long has been unconscious?" one asked, directing his question at Mel.
"Not long. Less than a minute."
Mel was shaking and gripping Spencer's arm tightly as they stood in the room, her eyes fixed upon the scene before her. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, blurring together. The blood upon his shirt was clear now that he was laid out on the stretcher, long fingers of crimson creeping further across it. Mel forced her gaze to his face. They'd put an oxygen mask on him now and she realised that someone was talking. She tried to focus on the words.
"He's breathing again."
Mel felt a weight lifted off her chest but the sickening worry within her didn't ease up. She felt a gentle squeeze on her arm and then Spencer was leading her out of the room, up the stairs and into the light outside. The paramedics had gone ahead of them and were loading Boyd on the stretcher up into the back of a waiting ambulance. The armed response unit were still around, watching the scene with a detached sympathy.
"Is anyone coming with him?" one of the paramedics asked and Spencer gave Mel a nudge forward.
"She is."
Mel glanced over at him and he gave her a small smile but didn't say anything more, instead helping her up into the ambulance to sit beside Boyd.
"I'll pick up the others and meet you at the hospital. If anything happens before we get there . . ."
"I'll call," Mel said, and Spencer nodded. She saw him turn and jog to the car they had arrived in before the ambulance doors were slammed shut and they were moving, the siren screaming away in the background.
The journey to the hospital seemed to drag. Mel held Boyd's hand tight in hers as they drove, keeping her eyes on his face and trying to block out the words of the paramedics around her. She didn't need to hear Boyd's stats to now that he wasn't doing well.
Twice before they reached the hospital he stopped breathing. And twice she gripped his hand tighter willing him to come back, not to leave yet. It was the same pattern each time, after a flurry of activity from the paramedics he would breathe again, and she would give a quiet sigh of relief and continue to count the seconds until they would come to a stop.
"We're here."
The siren cut off suddenly and the ambulance doors were flung open. Mel jumped out and moved aside quickly so that the paramedics could begin to carefully manoeuvre the stretcher out. All around her was a rush of confusion as other critical patients were rushed through double doors and into the white corridors of the hospital. She followed helplessly as Boyd was wheeled inside, the paramedics talking rapidly to the doctor that joined them. A young nurse appeared at Mel's side as they moved further down the corridor.
"You need to stay here."
Mel kept walking a few paces until she realised what the nurse had said.
"I'll take you through to a seating area," she continued. Mel nodded, too numb to speak and simply followed the woman away down another corridor lit by harsh, sterile strip lights that hurt her eyes.
With a few words of comfort and the reassurance that Mel would be informed as soon as Boyd was out of surgery, the nurse left. Mel took a seat. Leaning her head back against the wall, she wrapped her arms around herself to try and stop the shaking and shut her eyes against her surroundings. That didn't help. The image of Boyd, pale faced and in pain, slumped in her arms, immediately burst before her. She opened her eyes again and tried to focus on her surroundings instead. There was a coffee machine opposite but she didn't think she could stomach anything at the moment.
Spencer arrived after only ten minutes or so, clearly having rushed to get there. His arrival was announced by his gruff voice demanding that he be told where Boyd was and then the voice of Grace quietly telling him to calm down. A harassed looking nurse led the two of them followed by Frankie down the corridor to where Mel was sat, ashen faced.
"How's he doing?" Frankie asked, as Grace took a seat beside Mel. Spencer stayed standing, pacing in front of them.
Mel found she couldn't speak for a moment and the others remained silent, waiting for her to reply. Eventually Mel took a deep breath and tried to wipe away the tears that she realised were still tracing their way slowly down her face.
"I don't know. But he stopped breathing a few times."
Mel felt a reassuring hand placed on hers and glanced over at Grace who tried to give her a reassuring smile.
"Right come on Spence," Frankie said, "I need you to come and help me bully some information out of someone. We'll be back soon."
She rose from her seat beside Mel, and Spencer, looking relieved to have something to do, followed her back down the corridor.
"He'll be alright you know. Boyd's a stubborn git. He wouldn't let a little thing like this get in the way of work."
Mel gave a small smile in reply to Grace's words and nodded.
"You did well, keeping him going earlier," Grace said, and then in reply to Mel's look of surprise added, "the web cam. It was still working when you got there."
Mel thought she should offer some sort of rational explanation for her behaviour upon reaching the scene, but she felt so numb and so cold that she couldn't think of the words and merely glanced up at the older woman beside her. Grace's face was a picture of understanding as she patted Mel's hand comfortingly.
"Did . . . did Frankie . . ."
"See anything? No, no she wasn't in the room."
Mel nodded and took a deep breath, running her hands over her face to clear the moisture from her cheeks. She closed her eyes briefly, the same image of Boyd swimming there for a moment in the darkness, before she quickly opened them again.
"I thought we wouldn't make it in time. There was so much blood and he couldn't breath. He sounded so . . . broken, so defeated."
"But you did get there. That's the important thing, Mel. You were there and you kept him going and if anything is going to have given him a will to fight, it will have been you."
Mel had time to give a small, grateful smile of thanks before Spencer and Frankie came marching back down the corridor with the news that Boyd was still in surgery.
"They're not giving us much to go on at the moment," Frankie said, frustration clear in her voice. She sat down heavily in a vacant chair beside Mel and muttered a thank you as Spencer passed her a coffee.
"Flashing a badge didn't help much either," Spencer added, holding a coffee out to Mel. She accepted reluctantly and sipped gingerly at the hot liquid, hoping her stomach would hold out. "Just seemed to get them more irritable if anything."
"So what do we do now?" Grace asked as Spencer finally stopped his pacing and took a seat.
"We wait," Mel replied.
The four of them sat together in the corridor for well over an hour, watching as the other people in the waiting room came and went. Every now and then a doctor would appear to give news to another of the few groups waiting on a critical patient. Each of the four of them would glance up, on edge, waiting to hear the news, only to realise it was not for them. Mel found herself constantly on edge, anxious to know and then suddenly desperate not to. What if it wasn't what they all wanted to hear? What if Boyd hadn't made it?
Eventually a young doctor strode into the waiting area and headed in their direction. Spencer jumped to his feet immediately to meet the doctor, shaking his hand briefly before getting right to the point.
"How is he?"
"In short, doing well. Detective Superintendent Boyd was very lucky; the knife missed any major organs. He suffered some heavy blood loss but he got here in enough time for us to be able to help him. He's currently sedated and resting."
Mel felt a sudden rush of relief at the news. She tuned out the voice of the doctor as he went into greater detail of Boyd's injuries to Frankie who was asking questions and translating the medical jargon for the others. Instead, she concentrated on her breathing and overcoming the sudden light-headedness she felt as the adrenalin that had been keeping her going for the past hour seemed to melt away. He was alive.
"You can go in and see him, but it will a few hours before he regains consciousness most likely," the doctor was saying. Grace thanked him for his information as he relayed Boyd's room number to them and then strode away, back to the hundreds of other patients that needed his help.
Mel followed behind Frankie and Spencer who were striding purposefully towards Boyd's room. Door's flashed passed and windows with curtains drawn. The hallways were full of human traffic, everyone with a job to do and a mind focused on a task, but Mel found herself suddenly feeling lost, swimming in a sea of emotions and ideas that she didn't understand and barely recognised within her head. What would she see when she walked in that room?
The team halted outside of a door, no different from any other lining the busy corridor. Spencer seemed to take a deep breath and Mel felt Grace's comforting hand resting once again upon her arm before the four of them stepped inside.
Boyd was lying in a bed in the centre of the room, his head propped up by pillows. He was still unconscious and hooked up to various machines displaying readouts that Frankie was casting a critical eye over. His face was pale and drawn but he was clearly breathing which offered Mel some comfort as she stood beside his bed staring down at him.
"What have you gotten yourself into, Boyd?" Grace said quietly as she surveyed with a sad smile her colleague lying in the bed.
"A bloody mess, that's what," Spencer muttered, pulling up a chair and offering it to Grace. She sat, placing her handbag on her lap and folding her hands across it as the others congregated around her in silence.
For half an hour they managed to stay together, before the inevitable barrage of phone calls from senior police officers and paperwork that needed writing up finally began to weigh upon their minds. The team organised to work in shifts, allowing two of them at a time to keep a vigil together as they waited for Boyd to regain consciousness. Sitting there as a pair wasn't discussed out loud, but all four knew that it would be too awkward and too depressing to sit in the room alone watching him sleep on, machines beeping in the background as they monitored his heart rate.
Later on that night, Mel found her eyes beginning to close as she sat in a chair beside Boyd's bed. She shuffled in the chair, switching position as she struggled to keep her eyes open, desperate not to fall asleep in case Boyd chose that moment to awaken.
She and Grace had arrived half an hour previously to relieve Frankie and Spencer, both of whom had looked desperate for sleep but instead had returned to the office. In Boyd's absence there were important case notes that needed wrapping up immediately and they had Boyd's superiors breathing down their necks for a quick result.
"Mel, get some rest," Grace said quietly as she noticed her younger colleague's eyes fluttering closed yet again.
"I can't, Grace. He might wake up."
"In which case I'll wake you," Grace assured her.
Mel looked distinctly uncomfortable for a second as she fixed her gaze on Boyd's face. There had been no change in his condition which the doctors had repeatedly assured them all was not something to be concerned about. This did little to assuage their fears.
"If I go to sleep, I'll dream, Grace," Mel said and Grace gave her an understanding look. "And I know exactly what I'll dream about," Mel continued. "Because I can't get it out of my head now. I know it'll only get worse if I try and rest."
"Well," Grace said, with a sigh, "let's at least get you another dose of caffeine."
"I could do with a coffee as well, if you're feeling generous," a hoarse voice said, causing both women to jump in shock.
"Boyd!" they said in unison.
"The one and only," Boyd muttered, grimacing as he tried to sit upright in bed. Mel leant over to help him out and he thanked her quietly.
"How do you feel?" Grace asked once he was more comfortable, receiving a typical sarcastic look in reply.
"Like I got stabbed however many hours ago it was. What is the time by the way?"
"Midnight," Grace replied and Boyd frowned in surprise. "You've been unconscious since surgery."
Boyd fell silent for awhile, his face surprisingly calm as he took this information in. Mel hovered at his side, unsure of how to act now that he was awake. She wondered how much he could remember of the moments after she and Spencer arrived but didn't dare ask him so soon after he had awoken. It was traumatic enough thinking about herself and she didn't want to force him to think about the attack just yet.
"So, any permanent damage done?" Boyd asked.
His voice had a forced offhand tone to it that Grace saw through immediately but didn't question. We all have our coping mechanisms, she reasoned.
"No, you were exceedingly lucky by all accounts. I'll get a doctor and they can talk you through everything." Grace rose from her seat, noting Mel's expression as she did so. "One sugar or two, Mel?"
"Sorry?"
Mel looked up in surprise at Grace.
"In your coffee. One sugar or two?"
"Err, one, thanks."
"I'm afraid there'll be no coffee for the patient," Grace added and Boyd groaned irritably but returned the smile she sent at him as she stepped out of the room leaving Mel and Boyd alone in a heavy silence.
"Where're Spence and Frankie?" Boyd asked eventually. Mel struggled to keep eye contact with him as she replied, knowing that they'd have to address the issue of the aftermath of his attack soon enough.
"They're at the office. We've been taking shifts here so that we can get through the work."
"It's good to know I've got such a dedicated team," Boyd said with a smile. Mel nodded and was surprised when Boyd reached out for her hand, grasping it on top of the crumpled white bed sheets.
"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.
Mel opened her mouth to reply with an automatic response that she was fine, but Boyd gave her a look that clearly conveyed that he wanted the truth.
"Pretty shaken up to be honest," she said eventually. "I can't stop replaying it all over in my mind."
Boyd nodded agreement and ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face which looked considerably less peaceful than it had when he'd been sleeping. His brow was furrowed but Mel couldn't be sure what it was he was trying to puzzle out.
"It felt like I was being burned, from the inside," he said eventually, eyes not meeting hers. "And then I couldn't focus on anything really. I could hear Grace for awhile and then the burning stopped and . . . I've never felt so cold as I did then. Everything just seemed to shut off in me. I wanted to open my eyes but they seemed so heavy and I didn't feel like I had control over my own body anymore."
Mel kept her eyes on his face as he spoke, playing the scene out step by step in her mind, her own emotions mixing with those that Boyd described.
"And then I could hear you, feel you supporting me."
His eyes were back on hers once more. The light in them now couldn't make Mel forget how dark and desperate they had seemed back in the basement room a few hours before, but they held her gaze steadily and she suddenly felt relief wash over her as she finally realised that he would be alright now.
Ignoring any sense of protocol or rank, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, feeling an arm slip around her shoulders in response.
"You were trying to say something . . . before you blacked out," Mel said, her voice muffled by the fabric of the thin hospital gown he was wearing. Boyd leant his head against hers and sighed heavily, not willing to break the embrace as he replied.
"I wanted to say thank you."
He leant back a way so he could see her face. On the surface she seemed calm, but behind her eyes Boyd thought he could see the same turmoil he was experiencing. His mind was racing through everything he had felt whilst slumped in her arms, bleeding and cold and thinking that he was living out the last few moments of life. In those last, painful moments he had felt a clarity that he knew he might never experience again, and it had prompted the words that he had tried to say to her. That he had now, miraculously, been given a second chance to say.
"Thank you for being there right at that second and for trying to keep me going. Thank you for forgiving me every time I rage and rant. Thank you for everything, Mel," he finished quietly, his words muted out as her lips pressed against his.
For a split second after Mel closed her eyes and kissed him, she was back in the basement room and Boyd was bleeding in her arms, before the sensation of him kissing her back and the warmth of having her arms around him, overcame the fear. Without words, Boyd reassured her that he would be alright.
There was a sudden soft knock at the door and then Grace stepped into the room seconds after Mel and Boyd drew apart. She was carrying a coffee and followed by a doctor clutching at a chart. Mel caught the ghost of a smirk upon Grace's face as the older woman handed her the cup of steaming, black liquid and took a seat beside Boyd who was looking a little flushed. Mel knew she was blushing slightly, as Grace's knowing smile grew.
"Well Mr Boyd, you seem to have made quite the recovery," the doctor stated in a cheery tone, either oblivious to or ignoring the looks passing between the three other people in the room. "We'll need to keep you in for observation for a day or so, but then you should be free to go home. I suggest you take at least a week off work to rest."
Boyd, who had been working hard not to let his gaze keep wandering over to Mel, suddenly snapped to attention at that.
"If I've made a full recovery, surely it'd be alright to get back to the office. There's stuff that needs sorting out and-"
Boyd's protest was cut off by Grace.
"I'm sure we can manage without you for a few days. We've wrapped things up nicely."
Boyd opened his mouth to continue the argument but his colleague got there first.
"Anyway, you might find some use for a little time off. Catch up with old friends and newer ones."
Grace's hints hit the mark and Boyd began to turn a faint shade of red but he dropped the issue immediately.
"Right," the doctor chipped in, smiling down at his patient, "now that's settled, I'll write you a prescription for some pain killers and leave you to get some rest."
Once the doctor had left a thick silence descended upon the room. Grace was still smiling, watching with amusement as both Boyd and Mel struggled to come up with anything to say to fill the quiet.
"Oh for goodness sake you two, anyone would think we were back in high school and you'd been caught behind the bike sheds," Grace said, unable to suppress a laugh.
She rose from her seat beside the bed and gathered up her handbag.
"I'll go and give the others the news that you're awake and clearly feeling fine. Get some rest, both of you."
"Thanks Grace," Mel said as Grace headed out the door, giving the two of them a last smile as she went.
Mel glanced up at Boyd to find his gaze resting on her, a faint smile playing about his face. Despite his earlier paleness, he was looking well and she couldn't help but grin in return.
"Well, that told us, I suppose," he said, chuckling and sliding over so that Mel could sit beside him on the bed.
"Are you going to take some time off work then?" she asked.
Boyd looked thoughtful as he rested his head against hers. His side ached dully now that the painkillers had kicked in and he was beginning to feel drowsy again, but he didn't feel he had to fight it. There was no fear now that he might now wake up if he allowed his eyes to close.
"I can think of a few reasons why I might want to," he said finally, turning to Mel who he could see was beginning to drift off to sleep beside him. "I might get bored by myself though."
She smiled wrapped her smaller hand in his.
"You don't have to spend it on your own."
When Grace arrived early the next morning with Frankie and Spencer in tow to check on Boyd, she was unsurprised to find Mel fast asleep beside him. With a smile she manoeuvred her two astonished colleagues, mouthing wordlessly at each other in shock, out of the room to allow Mel and Boyd to continue sleeping.
AN: Thanks for reading; that took a lot longer to write than I expected it to. I'd really appreciate a review and any constructive criticism you could give. Cheers.