Undertow.

AU.

Boyd strutted back and forth across the office, trying to pace away his frustrations. Grace watched from the couch with her arms folded across her chest and a disapproving frown on her face. After five or so minutes he stopped and perched on the edge of his desk to face her. He mirrored Grace's own position, crossing his arms; Grace knew it was a defensive posture and she sighed.

"Grace I'm-"

"I don't want to hear it Boyd."

"I just-"

"You just what?" Grace stood up, beginning to pace herself, knowing she couldn't let her own anger show or she would be a hypocrite. She paused. "You need to get a hold of yourself Boyd. You can't keep flying off the rails like this."

"Grace I-"

"You lost control. Again. Again! And in front of that PC as well, if he had supported Hunt's claims you could be out of a job at best, arrested at worst. You can't keep doing this to suspects!"

Once again Boyd felt his anger rise. "A suspect! A suspect Grace? He is a murderer, a serial killer! He killed someone in broad daylight surrounded by fifteen people, my own DI, and he is still going to walk!"

"Stop shouting." Grace's voice was deep and sharp and Boyd new to stop, he didn't want to push her too far, not yet, anyway.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay. I just thought-"

"You didn't think Boyd and that's the problem with you!"

Boyd sighed. "Maybe you're right, I did lose control. I let my anger get the better of me."

"That's an understatement," Grace muttered.

"But, I do believe that if I had had more time, he would have talked. Given me something, anything. I was just pushing him, Grace. He was terrified, I think maybe if I had got him a bit more rattled he would have cracked a little and let something slip."

"Well he didn't."

"No. I didn't have enough time."

"So this is my fault?"

Boyd laughed slightly. "No Grace. That's not what I'm saying at all."

"Good. I'm going home. I suggest you do the same. Cool off. Come in tomorrow with a straight head, okay?"

For once, Grace noticed, it seemed he was listening to her. "Okay," he whispered, grabbing his jacket and shaking his head to himself slightly. Grace watched him leave, his head bowed slightly, his face looking drawn and tired.

"Spence," Boyd called out to him as he passed through the main operations room. "I want you back on Hunt. Don't let him out of your sight. Do alternate shifts with Stella. I don't want him unwatched, you hear me?"

"Sir," Spence nodded, grabbing his coat with one hand, his phone to coordinate his shifts with Stella in the other. "You going home?" It wasn't often that Boyd left the team first, but looking at him, Spence knew it was for the best that he took a short break from the case. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye," Body replied, half heartedly, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

* * *

"Stella, it's Spence. Where are you? Yeah, I'm coming to meet you, I'll take you off… four hours, yeah, that sounds good. Yep, okay, see you soon." Spence hung up and rushed from the building, Grace watched and then slowly turned the lights out of hers and Boyd's offices before leaving herself, locking up the cold case unit front door as she left. With a long sigh she headed towards her car, hoping things regarding the case would look a little brighter in the morning.

* * *

Boyd unlocked his front door and headed inside the dark house. He left the lights off, except for the small kitchen area where he poured himself a drink, knowing he needed something to help him relax. He sat down at the small kitchen table and sipped on his drink, running the days events through his mind. It was Hunt. It had to be Hunt. How could they prove it? Boyd slammed his empty glass on the table, they couldn't wait for somebody else to die.

Reaching for the scotch he poured himself another taller measure and gulped it down quickly, enjoying the burn as it rushed down his throat. He rubbed the empty glass over his forehead as he thought about Grace. Was she over reacting about his actions in the changing room? Boyd knew he had lost his temper, but he didn't think he had gone that far. He hadn't drowned Hunt, and he hadn't intended to either. He just wanted to, what? Scare him? Yes. Teach him a lesson? Yes. Was that such a bad thing? Grace certainly thought so. Needing a distraction Boyd reached over and turned on the radio before pouring himself a third, and, he decided, final drink as he tried to focus on the music. All he knew was that Grace was disappointed in him, and for some reason that didn't feel good.

* * *

Spence took over from Stella on watch of Hunt. Surveillance was tedious but Spencer was certain he wasn't going to miss Hunt again when he next struck out. Slouched down in his seat watching the house Spence sat up suddenly as he saw the front door open slightly and a figure dressed in black creep down the driveway and into his car. The lights were on. Was that Hunt's poor attempt at a diversion?

Spence followed Hunt for over thirty minutes. The man seemed to be going in circles and it was frustrating. The near deserted streets made it hard to be covert, Spence was sure he had been spotted. His suspicions were soon confirmed when the car ahead suddenly lurched forwards and turned down a side ally, speeding away. Spence followed, swearing under his breath, a car chase was not what he wanted to get involved in. He drove down the ally, cursed again as the suspects car, 500 yards away, suddenly switched off its lights. Spence knew he had to slow his speed, in fear of hitting something else. He reached the end of the ally, coming to a two way junction. There were no street lights. Shit. Left of right? Spence strained in the darkness but could see nothing either way. Taking a gamble, Spence took a left, speed dialling Stella on hands free at the same time.

* * *

Boyd finished his third drink and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Why did this case seem to be taking so much out of him? He switched the radio off, knowing sleep was the only thing that could save him from his thoughts. If only I don't dream. Boyd screwed the cap back onto the scotch, he fancied another but knew if he had any more he'd pay for it tomorrow.

The stairs felt steep as he climbed them to his room, unfastening his tie and shrugging his jacket off as he did so. He draped them over the top of the banister and then stopped. What was that sound he could hear? Was it… Boyd looked down and noticed the wetness of his carpet. He took two steps across the landing towards the bathroom and froze, watching, feeling slightly stunned, as water overflowed from the bathtub, the taps twisted on full blast.

* * *

"Stella?" She sounded sleepy, but Spence gave her no time to come round. "I think I lost him. In the car. He took off and had no lights on. I'm still looking, but so far, nothing."

Spence heard some grumbling in French before a still groggy English response. "Where are you?"

Spence looked around for a sign. "I'm on Camden Street." He'd been driving round in circles for the last fifteen minutes before he got away, he knew he had a tail."

"Hang on a minute," she instructed, and Spence grew frustrated. "Why? Look, we need to hit the streets and find him, if Boyd finds out I lost him again-"

"Shit!" Rumpled paper could be heard down the line.

"Stella what is it? Are you okay?" After Mel, Spence would always overreact and panic over Stella, even when their was no need.

"I'm looking at the map. The area he has been working in, the outer circle-"

"What about it?"

"You're way past it. This isn't how he operates. He has left his zone."

"Well what's outside the zone?"

Stella mumbled to herself a few minutes. "Shit. Shit. Spence? The only thing that I can see, and remember it could be totally irrelevant, and it probably doesn't mean any-"

"Just tell me your hunch Stell."

"Boyd. His home, its three miles from where you are."

"What?" Suddenly it all made sense. Spencer remembered his first conversation with Hunt. His ramblings. "I never forget," he had said. He had been a man hell bent on revenge against a system he believed had falsely imprisoned him. Today, Boyd had nearly drowned him. He hated water. He hated the system. Boyd. Shit.

"I think you're right," Spence murmured, "its against his profile, because this isn't his usual 'trip.' He's not getting off, he's getting revenge."

"I'll call Boyd."

Spence hit the gas. "I'm heading their now. Call Grace as well, I'll check out the scene before bringing in armed backup if we need it."

* * *

Wishing he had a gun to draw, Boyd readied himself and stepped into the bathroom. Nothing. He reached over and turned the two taps off, wondering what was going on. Was this supposed to be some kind of a joke? As he turned to leave a figure ran towards him, lashing out with both fists and grabbing at Boyd's upper arms, pushing him backwards. Surprised, Boyd tried to steel himself but the force from Hunt's run was too strong and Boyd felt the back of his legs hit the side of the bath before he fell backwards into the water, Hunt holding him down against the floor of the tub.

Boyd held his breath as he struggled to push against the weight pinning him down in the water. He tried to push up against Hunt's chest but it had no effect. Bubbles of water escaped from his mouth as he felt his strength begin to waver from the struggle. With eyes squinting through the water Boyd reached an arm out and managed to punch Hunt on the side of the head. It was enough. Hunt was caught off guard and Boyd managed to push his head from the water for a fraction of a second, barely snatching half a breath before an incensed Hunt shoved him down with more force, both hands now grabbing Boyd's head and slamming it against the bottom of the bath. Boyd ignored the pain and again tried to push out. Under the water he couldn't hear Hunt's laughter, his taunts, Boyd could only hear the water rushing through his ears.

Suddenly Hunt released him. Boyd didn't miss the opportunity, he sat up and coughed and spluttered up water, gasping for breath as Steven watched him, a smile on his lips. "Not so big and strong now, are you, mister police man." He lurched towards Boyd again, grabbing him by his soaked shirt collar and threw his body back under the water, catching Boyd's head against the taps as he did so. Under the water, Boyd held his breath once more, his head ached with a sharp throb, he opened his eyes and could see blood mixing into the water. He pushed against Hunt, but he was too weak to fight him. Desperate for air, angry at Hunt and angry at himself for provoking Hunt, Boyd tried another tactic. Instead of pushing against the body that pinned him beneath the water, Boyd grabbed at Hunt's shirt and tugged as hard as he could, pulling the body towards him.

The attack was unexpected. Hunt felt himself fall towards the water and panicked. Boyd used the change to grab a fistful of Hunt's hair, pulling his head underwater as he scrambled to pull himself out at the same time. Hunt was terrified and shocked, but also furious. His surprise didn't last long. Once more Boyd gasped and coughed for breath as he managed to pull himself out of the bath and onto the tiled floor. He tried to get to his feet but his legs failed him. He crawled away from the room, towards the landing, but Hunt wasn't far behind.

Boyd felt Hunt's boot land on his back and tried not to yelp with pain as he turned to face his attacker. Stay away from the water, Boyd ordered himself, stay away from the water and you might have a chance. Hunt pounced at him and the two men fell onto the carpeted landing. Hunt landed three stunning blows to Boyd's face and Boyd felt his head begin to spin. Not now, he warned himself, not bloody now. Hunt swung again and Boyd moved from beneath him, using the momentum to climb onto Hunt and return a blow. The victory was short lived, Hunt's fear and need for control and revenge was too much. Boyd's blow seemed to glance off of his chin. Hunt began to laugh as he climbed to his feet, and Boyd did the same. The two men began to circle each other, but Steven quickly pounced again.

Failing to move fast enough, Boyd felt Hunt's knee smash into his stomach, and winded, he dropped to his knees. Hunt stood tall and smirked, fists clenched at his side. "Time to say night night," he taunted, before kicking out, the sole of his shoe crashing into the side of Boyd's face. The blow was too much, Boyd dropped to his side, gasping both for breath and struggling to cope with the pain he felt stir within him. Shit, he thought, shit, what the hell can I do? Hunt moved over and Boyd felt his cold, wet and slippery hands circle his neck.

"No," he gasped, "you do this and you're locked up for life, there's no going back." Negotiation was all Boyd could muster.

Hunt just laughed again. Then he began to squeeze. Boyd coughed and tried to pull away from the hands that were strangling him, but Hunt was too strong, he batted them away with ease. Boyd felt his vision begin to waver. Darkness was looming in, coming to take him away. No, Boyd thought, not now. Not like this. His anger wasn't enough to save him, consciousness was leaving him fast. Against his will, Boyd felt his eyes begin to close.

"Police, move away, now!"

Boyd wondered if he was hallucinating. Hunt froze and stared down at Spencer, two stairs away from him and calmly pointing a gun in his direction. Hunt carried on squeezing, laughing with manic glee as he did so. Boyd was still, Hunt was killing him. Spence didn't hesitate, he fired twice. Hunt dropped onto Boyd, neither man moved. Armed officers passed Spence on the stairs and checked Hunt's pulse before dragging the body away. Spence crouched down by Boyd and did the same. He felt a pulse. It wasn't strong, but it was something.

"I need a medic here now, I need a medic here now!" Spencer bellowed, making some of the officers jump. Boyd stirred, groaning out loud as he tried to move. "Don't move, a medic's coming."

Boyd rolled onto his side, using one hand to press against the throbbing in his stomach. "I'm fine," he grumbled, his speech slurred. Spencer shook his head. "Don't even go there. You're covered in blood and you just came very close to death."

Boyd nodded, then coughed as he tried to speak. He waited a beat before trying again. "I know. Thank you, Spencer."

Spencer allowed a hint of a smile to flicker in his eyes. "You're welcome."

* * *

Three days later, Boyd walked through the Cold Case Unit and headed towards his office, hoping to go unnoticed. "Sir," Spence nodded as he passed, and Boyd nodded his head in return. Stella rushed towards him with a cup of coffee which he was grateful for. "Thanks," he muttered, and she scuttled back to her desk. Reaching his office, Boyd felt relief sweep over him as he closed the door and headed towards his desk undisturbed. He did not want anybody's concern and definitely not their well wishes.

"Hey."

Boyd's head shot up. Grace was seated on his couch, smiling warmly at him. He wondered how he had managed not to notice her as he'd passed through the room. "How are you?"

Boyd tried to smile. "Fine and dandy, thank you."

"Hmmm," she pondered over her cup of tea. "You don't look fine. In fact, with those stitches on your face and that gauze pad on the back of your head, never mind the bruises, I'd say you look like crap."

"I'm fine," he snapped, not wanting to think about how bad he looked.

"And with the way you're sitting straight like that, one arm bracing your side, I'd say you've got some sore, maybe even broken ribs, to tell you the truth."

"Just bruised," he said lightly. Without thinking, he added, "not that you care. I'm guessing this is your way of saying I told you so?"

Grace looked surprised. "Peter, a serial killer broke into your home, tried, and nearly succeeded in killing you. And you think I'm going to say I told you so?"

Boyd looked sheepish. "I deserved it. I provoked him."

"Boyd, what you did in the locker room, it was very different from what happened in your home."

"But as I said Grace, I provoked it. I'm not going to sit here feeling sorry for myself when I brought it on myself."

Grace made a small tutting sound. "It doesn't work like that. And there's a big difference between scaring somebody and viciously trying to murder another person!"

Boyd nodded his head slightly. "At least we don't have to worry about him going round and killing anybody else."

Grace agreed. "Though," she muttered as an after thought, "it would have been interesting to talk to him. We didn't really understand what made him tick, why he needed the water."

"Doesn't matter, he doesn't need it anymore."

"No, I guess not."

Boyd sighed, rested his head against his chin and then moved it again when he felt a dull ache begin to spread. "I think I'm going to go home, maybe catch up on some sleep before we get a new case in."

Grace smiled. "I think that's a good idea."

She watched as he carefully pulled his coat back on, trying not to wince. Their eyes met as he passed and he smiled. "Thanks."

Grace shrugged her shoulders. "For what?"

"I don't know. Just… thanks."

"Okay," Grace said, "then you're welcome."

"Good." With that he was gone.

* * *

You may notice I like putting Boyd in peril!

Hope this was okay, and thanks for reading J