Note: This story takes place after the seventh series episode "Skin" but before the events of "Wounds".
Disclaimer: Waking the Dead and its characters belong entirely to the BBC. I just enjoy taking them out of their comfort zones but I promise to return them as I found them :)
Peter Boyd sat at his desk, dark eyes unfocussed in the half-light, mind completely lost in thought. Luke's pale face swam insistent before him, pupil-less eyes imploring, tears streaking through the dirt across his cheeks. Dad, I've taken too much... His son's tragic words echoed through Boyd's memory, guilt threatening to crush his chest, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to force the sensation to the pit of his gut. How did I let it come to this? He thought, bleakly, How did I let you down so badly that this is what your life has become? He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat at once too constrictive, hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
"Boyd?"
He had been completely unaware that someone had entered the room and he blinked at the soft, familiar voice, looking up to face her. Grace Foley stood in front of his desk, a small red bag held loosely between her fingers.
"Yeah?" He asked gruffly, clearing his throat in an attempt to assuage the anguish in his voice, desperate not to let her hear it.
Grace took a small step forward, wordlessly placing her parcel onto his desk, tiny smile flickering across her delicate features before she began to slowly withdraw. Scowling, Boyd reached towards the bag, the unexpectedness of her actions confusing him, and he called after her as he began to open the string clasp of the paper container. "Grace?"
Grace turned at the sound of her name, registering the puzzlement in his expression as he frowned up at her from his seat. She shrugged, careful to keep her tone light as she looked at him. "Happy birthday." She said simply, watching his mouth fall open slightly at her words before exiting the room and moving back towards her own office.
Boyd let his eyes fall closed as he recalled their conversation from several days previously.
"You don't know when my birthday is..."
"Well, actually, yes I do."
"Not that I ever get anything for it..."
Oh, Grace. For once, he allowed the sentimentality he always associated with her to wash over him, her sensitivity and kindness overwhelming him, a renewed sense of guilt filling his chest as he pondered his recent form. Why the hell does she put up with me? With effort, he pushed the thought away, feeling a slight smile tug at his lips as he pulled the first item from the bag; a copy of Grace's latest book, on grief and coping mechanisms, and he stood up from his chair and walked towards her office, leaning against the door frame and raising his eyebrows at her in question.
"What?" She asked finally, after several moments had gone by, the sound of her ticking clock almost deafening in the quiet of the room.
He held up the book towards her. "You trying to tell me something?" He asked, amusement flickering subtly in his dark eyes.
Grace shrugged. "Only that you should read more than the newspaper every once in a while."
He nodded thoughtfully. "You know this author, then? She any good?"
Her lips quirked upwards at his teasing tone. "I do, as a matter of fact...and, yes, she's very good."
"So I can trust it's not all a load of psycho-babble mumbo-jumbo?"
Grace couldn't stop the sudden stab of pain in her chest but she forced a smile. "Well, it depends on your perspective, doesn't it? If you generally think psychology is all a load of mumbo-jumbo, there's probably no point in even starting it."
He sighed, the subtext of her words and the hurt in her sapphire eyes causing his stomach to churn once more with regret, and he stepped fully into the room, dropping heavily onto the couch which stood against the wall.
"You don't have to read it, Boyd. I won't be offended." Her voice was quiet as she watched him from the safety of her desk, observing the intense sadness in his obsidian eyes, the tensed hunch of his broad shoulders.
"Wouldn't that be like looking a gift horse in the mouth?" He replied, attempting to lighten the atmosphere once more but aware that he was probably fighting a losing battle. "I always thought that was considered bad form."
She rewarded him with a small smile. "Depends on the horse. This particular one's old enough and ugly enough to take it."
You could never be either of those things, Grace...He allowed himself a lop-sided smile at the thought, one which he would never voice. Instead, he said simply, "Well...thanks, Grace. I promise to at least give it a try."
"I suppose I can't ask for more than that."
He smiled as he placed the book onto the seat beside him, reaching once more into the bag in his lap to retrieve the next item within. His eyebrows curved up at her as he pulled out a small bottle of cologne.
Grace shrugged her slender shoulders, feeling a hot blush start to rise into her cheeks. She had hesitated over this particular aspect of his gift, concerned that she was stepping over a line with such a personal item. At the last second she'd thrown caution to the wind and hastily purchased it, dropping it into the gift bag along with the book before she could change her mind once more.
"What's the message here, then, Grace?" He was saying, amusement lacing his voice. "Not only am I illiterate but I also have personal hygiene issues?"
She smiled. "Now you're threatening to make that gift horse bolt, you know."
"Never to be seen again?"
"If you carry on like this, at any rate."
His face creased with a smile and Grace felt her heart lighten as she watched the expression warm his eyes. "Thanks, Grace."
"You're very welcome."
They sat in silence for a few moments then, a stark contrast to their normal interactions of late, each savouring the almost eerie stillness of the office, abandoned as it had been earlier in the evening by the junior members of the Squad. Momentarily, Grace took a breath to speak once more.
"So, are you doing anything tonight, then?" She asked. "Celebrate being one year closer to collecting your pension?"
Boyd groaned loudly. "That's something to celebrate, is it?"
"It beats the alternative, Boyd."
"Yeah, well, that's a point of view..."
Frowning at his tone and the implication behind his words, Grace rose from her chair and moved to sit beside him on the couch, careful to keep a respectful distance between them despite wanting desperately to touch him.
"What's going on?" She asked softly, knowing her question was headed for somewhat dangerous territory but unable to stop the words forming on her lips, anxiety nagging in her stomach.
"What do you mean?" He replied stonily, his gaze fixed in front of him, unwilling to meet her eyes.
She sighed. "I told you before, you don't have to tell me but..."
"So don't ask me then."
"I'm concerned, Boyd, all right? I'm concerned about you."
He gave a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling slowly, his dark eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before opening again. "There's no need."
"Well, I think there is. You're clinically depressed, anyone can see that..."
"Grace..."
"...and, if you won't talk to me, I understand but...there must be someone who..."
He looked at her. "I'm fine."
She held his gaze steadily, ignoring the words that she knew were a lie. "Can you not talk to Sarah?"
He sighed once more, the air rattling noisily in his chest, and he stood up from the couch to pace in front of her, suddenly needing a physical outlet for his frustration. "I don't want to talk about Sarah..." He said gruffly, unable to suppress the defensive edge in his voice.
Grace blinked. "I didn't ask you if you wanted to talk about her..."
"...not with anyone but especially not with you."
She frowned, her eyebrows knitting together as she watched him stride back and forth in her line of sight. "What do you mean by that?"
He ran an irritated hand through his hair and then across his face. "Nothing. I didn't mean anything by it, I just...it's personal, Grace."
Grace held up her palms towards him. "Well, that's why I asked if you could talk to her about...whatever this 'personal' thing is. I...I mean, she's your...she should be the first person you naturally turn to if you..."
Boyd stopped pacing and leaned back against her desk, his arms folding across his chest, her words fading and hanging in the air between them. Grace held his gaze momentarily before dropping her eyes to her lap. He let the silence elongate between them before speaking again. "I can't talk to her about this, Grace." His voice was barely audible, the words catching in his throat as he forced them past his vocal chords.
"Why not?" Her tone matched his, her voice soft, pushing the ache in her chest away as she spoke. "I'm sure she'd want to share it, Boyd, she'd want to help. She...she's obviously in love with you..."
"Don't."
"It's true, isn't it?"
He tried to ignore the melancholic resignation in her voice. "It's beside the point. I still can't talk to her about it, she...wouldn't understand."
Grace searched his eyes for a moment before replying. "Would I?"
A ghost of a smile flickered over his face. "Probably."
"So, try me, then."
He gave a shaky sigh as he reacted to the gentleness of her words, his whole body shuddering, pain constricting his features and Grace stood up, moving towards him, instinctively reaching out a hand to touch his arm but catching herself before their bodies could connect. "Is it Luke?"
He nodded, swallowing the emotion pressing against his throat before speaking again. "How did you know?"
She gave him a small smile. "I'm a parent too, remember?"
"Eve didn't say anything?"
"No." She took a small step closer to him, watching him struggle to conceal the intense emotions that were bubbling just beneath the surface of his control. "Have you found him, Boyd?"
He blinked to clear his suddenly blurred vision, dropping his gaze to the floor. "Yeah."
"And?" She kept her voice low, acutely aware of his innate difficulties in expressing his feelings, particularly where his son was concerned.
"And I...I think I may have...well and truly fucked it up this time."
"Oh, Boyd, I'm sure that's not..."
He gave a sharp, humourless laugh, cutting off her words. "As if I haven't fucked things up with him enough times already."
She was quiet, letting him regain a semblance of control over his self-directed anger before speaking again. "What happened?"
Boyd took a deep breath, the air shuddering from his body as he released it, squeezing his eyes closed as he re-lived the recent memory. "He...I found him with another boy, he was...they were...Luke was...on his knees..." He broke off, sighing loudly with frustration, the anguish in his chest crushing the words as they tried to form in his throat.
Grace felt an empathetic stab of pain envelope her and she closed her eyes momentarily in an attempt to compose herself. "Was he...selling himself?"
"Yeah. For drugs, I think. Heroin."
She took a shaky breath. "Oh, God, Boyd..."
"I completely lost it, Grace." His voice cracked suddenly, his chest heaving as he choked down the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. "If Luke hadn't stopped me, I'm pretty sure I would've killed the boy he was with..."
"No, Boyd." She spoke firmly, trying to reassure him. "No..."
"I just...I saw red..."
"Well, of course you did. I would've felt the same if my son was in that situation."
"You wouldn't have half throttled a young lad and threatened to push him out of a window, though, would you. Whatever the circumstances."
His tone was flat, despondent and Grace was unable to stop herself from laying her palm against his bicep, her thumb rubbing soothing circles against his shirt. "It's natural, Boyd, the instinctive need to protect your child. It can be so powerful it can make you do things you might otherwise never have thought possible..."
"Well, whatever. What I did scared Luke so badly that he...he...that I lost him again."
Grace squeezed his arm once more, desperately wanting to comfort him in his distress. "And you haven't heard from him since?"
He shook his head slowly. "I didn't hear from him for two weeks and then he rang to say he'd...overdosed..."
She stepped imperceptibly closer to him, bringing her other hand to touch his other arm, fighting her instinct to embrace him. "What happened?" She asked gently.
"Someone found him, took him to hospital. His psychiatrist talked me into having him sectioned."
"And now you're, what? Questioning the wisdom of that decision?"
He sighed deeply, heavily, the weight of his actions pressing against his shoulders. "I don't know, Grace. I have no idea what to do for the best anymore, not where Luke's concerned."
"The best you can do, clichéd as it sounds...is to be there for him...to let him know that you're not giving up on him, no matter what happens."
He closed his eyes, fighting the headache that was rapidly forming behind them. "And what if I can't do that, Grace? What if I do what I've always done and let everything else get in the way?"
"It won't happen, Boyd. It's different this time."
"If I fuck it up again...oh, God...if he kills himself..."
The anguish in his voice was at once too much for Grace and she slid her hands to his face, her fingertips tracing the outline of his jaw, the pads of her thumbs stroking his cheeks. "Boyd," She whispered, "listen to me. Whatever happens...you're not to blame, all right?"
"I've let him down...all his life. Whatever happens, I'm the only one to blame, Grace."
"You can't do this to yourself. You're going to have a nervous breakdown if you carry on like this."
"Well, maybe that's what I deserve."
"You don't really mean that."
"Why not?"
"Because if you think like that...you're no good to yourself. And you're certainly no good to Luke."
He gave a sudden sob, unable to contain the grief he'd held tightly in his chest for what seemed like a lifetime and he felt the tears begin to fall unbounded down his face, trickling in rivers onto Grace's hands, his own hands moving to her waist to steady himself, at once unstable on his feet.
"Let's sit down, Peter, all right?" Her voice was gentle, the only sound he was aware of above the thumping of his heart and the pounding in his skull and he let her lead him to the couch and settle him onto the soft cushions while she reached over to her coffee table to retrieve a box of tissues. He nodded his thanks as she pressed one into his hand, watching as he dried his eyes, his broad chest shuddering with the effort of bringing his emotions back under control. Instinctively, she reached out to touch him, her palm rubbing comforting circles across his upper back, trying to keep her mind from dwelling on the undeniably sensuous experience of feeling his muscles beneath her fingertips. After several moments, once she felt the worst of his anguish had passed, Grace took a breath to speak again.
"Okay?" She asked quietly, her hand still lingering on his back, resisting the urge to stroke the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
He blew out his breath, forcing her to retrieve her arm as he leaned back against the couch, his head dropping backwards as he stared at the ceiling. "No. Not really."
She slid closer beside him, mirroring the position of his body, her arm and thigh flush against his. "You know if there's anything I can do...if you have any questions about Luke's treatment or his progress...you've only got to ask."
He gave a small smile, flicking his eyes sideways to acknowledge her offer, warmth seeping into his chest. "Thanks, Grace. I really...I appreciate that."
They sat together in a companionable silence for a few moments then, Boyd finding himself unexpectedly comforted by the regular rhythm of her breathing beside him. Without conscious thought, he reached over and took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers together in her lap, keeping his gaze on the ceiling before letting his eyes drift closed. Grace gasped softly in surprise at his actions but she didn't resist, taking a breath to calm the sudden fluttering in her stomach and allowing her own eyes to close. After several moments, she spoke once more, although she kept her eyes closed as her voice filled the silence in the room.
"Boyd…" She murmured gently, a deliberate tenderness in her tone so as not to break the spell that seemed to have descended over them.
"Hmm?" He replied, his voice thick as if with sleep, its timbre resonating through his chest.
"You should go home. Get some rest."
He stirred beside her although kept his hand firmly in hers. "I've got work to do…" He began but she cut him off abruptly with a sharp shake of her head.
"It'll wait."
"Grace…" He sounded weary, his attempt at protest force of habit rather than born of genuine intent.
"I mean it. You need to go home."
He sighed heavily, resignation settling about his shoulders, both unwilling and unable to fight her further. "Fine."
"And at least try to sleep."
He gave her a sideways glance. "All right, Grace. You don't need to nag me."
"Well, actually, I think I do, from time to time."
"Don't tell me. It's to save me from myself." His dark eyes had momentarily regained a semblance of their usual spark as he gently teased her.
Grace gave a slight smile, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. "I wouldn't have put it in quite such melodramatic terms…"
"But?"
"But it's true. Sometimes you need reminding that you're only human…"
He gave a conciliatory shrug. "Yeah, well..."
Grace rose to her feet then, pulling him up with her and walking towards her office door, their hands still clasped, neither willing to disrupt their uncharacteristic physical intimacy. He smiled as he looked down at the petite woman standing opposite him.
"This a subtle hint, Grace? You trying to get rid of me?"
"Look, if I don't force you out the door, chances are you'll revert to form and head back to your own office..."
"The thought hadn't even entered my head..."
She regarded him with her head on one side, her cobalt eyes narrowing. "Of course not."
His smile widened as he bent down to brush his lips gently across her cheek, enjoying the sensation of her soft skin against his mouth before pulling back to look at her. "Goodnight, Grace."
Grace felt her heart lighten at his unexpected action, the warmth in his dark eyes. "Night, Boyd. Sleep well."
"I'll do my best."
He squeezed her hand a final time before separating their bodies and walking from the room. The anxiety over Luke was still churning in his stomach, the ever-present worry constricting his heart but somehow...somehow she had managed to lighten the burden. And he knew she was the only one who would always continue to do so.
FIN