Title: Fragile

Author: TartanLioness

Summary: Life goes on. There is still work to do, cases to solve. There are still families with questions that need answering. But Peter Boyd doesn't care. Angst.

AN: This is quite angsty, I think, so tissue warning!

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Life goes on. There is still work to do, cases to solve. There are still families with questions that need answering. And now, Peter Boyd can do one of two things. He can completely ignore the cases, the work, the families and all the questions and allow himself to grieve. He can almost hear Grace's voice as he sits in his darkened office; don't push it away, Boyd. You need to deal with your grief. You need to let it out.

But that is not what Peter Boyd does. Peter Boyd does the other thing: he always has. He buries himself in work. But work no longer gives him any comfort; it only serves to remind him of her. When reading a file, he'll tell himself to remember to mention something to Grace… only to realise the next moment that he won't be able to. When he fetches coffee, he thinks about bringing her some, until he realises with a start that her office is dark and empty and acknowledges that she isn't there to drink coffee with him and the fault is his.

Not finding any comfort in his job anymore and not wanting to go home and face the pain, Boyd feels at a loss. He feels restless and uneasy. He doesn't know where to turn anymore. He sighs and hides his face in his hands.

A shot rings out, shattering the eerie silence in the fog and Boyd ducks instinctively before looking around. Eyeing the shooter, he sets off after him, trusting Grace to stay where she is and not unnecessarily endanger herself. It doesn't take long for him to realise, however, that age is catching up with him. He isn't as fast anymore as he has been and his stamina isn't as great. Disappointed and angry, he has to see the shooter disappear out of his sight. Boyd rests his hands on his thighs, bending over slightly trying to catch his breath.

"Damnit," he swears as he slowly walks back to the spot he's left Grace. He is still berating himself, as well as planning the next step in the investigation when he notices that Grace has, indeed, moved. His eyes widen. How can he not have noticed that? How can he have gone off without checking?

Grace is lying on the wet grass, her head facing away from him and her hair is mattered with dew. Boyd runs to her, his worst fears surfacing as he gently turns Grace over to look at him. Her eyes are closed and his hand comes back wet, with her blood all over it.

"Oh, god," he whispers. Then urgently, "Grace!" His fingers slip to her neck and he locates a pulse, although faint. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he slaps her face gently, hoping to wake her. Her eyes flutter open. Boyd tries to smile reassuringly at her as he pulls out his mobile and urgently phones for an ambulance, quickly explaining the seriousness of the situation.

With the knowledge that an ambulance is on the way, Boyd presses his hand against the bullet wound in Grace's chest, smiling apologetically at the wince of pain on her face, and trying desperately to hide the panic he felt. There is just too much blood. Clearly the bullet has missed her heart or she wouldn't be alive now, but this is serious. Very serious. Boyd curses his police training for making him run after the shooter like that, forgetting that he isn't with a highly trained officer but indeed with a civilian under his protection.

Boyd frowns with concentration and frustration. He tries his best to stop the blood, but it just keeps seeping through his fingers. Grace has gone completely pale and her breathing has turned shallow with the exertion of staying conscious. At least her eyes are still open, Boyd tries to console himself. She is looking at him intently, seeming to focus on him and only him. It is a survival technique, he knows. Focus on one thing and keep your focus there, away from the pain.

"Boyd," Grace whispers hoarsely. Boyd tries to shush her, tries to tell her to save her strength but she continues, undeterred, "Please tell my children what happened. Tell them everything; you can't hide things from them. And tell them I'm proud of them, yeah?"

"No, Grace," Boyd insists, sweat breaking out on his forehead with the exertion of stemming the blood. "You need to tell them that yourself. You're going to be okay."

"Boyd, promise me!" Grace is adamant. Boyd nods briefly.

"I promise, Grace. But you're going to be okay, do you hear me?"

Grace smiles weakly at him, knowing that that isn't true. She isn't going to be okay. For a moment, the urge to tell him everything is overwhelming and she has even opened her mouth to say it – to tell him that she loves him – before she thinks better of it. There is no point, is there? She isn't going to be okay. She is going to die. Telling Boyd that she loves him and would have liked to spend the rest of her life with him is perhaps tempting but it won't do any good to either of them. It will only make her death all the worse for him.

Boyd bites down tears. He isn't going to let Grace see him cry; he wants to be strong for her now, wants to be her tower of strength to lean on more than anything else. Wants her to live. The policeman in him tells him she isn't going to. There is too much blood. But he pushes that notion to the back of his head, unable or unwilling to consider it now. Another thought pops up in his head then, one he has had buried in the back of his head for far too long and which is now resurfacing. He loves Grace. He has known this for a long time, really. He wants to tell her. He has to tell her.

"Grace," he starts. Then he thinks better of it. Telling her he loves her, while very true, would be the same as admitting that she is probably not going to make it. He doesn't want to scare her. He doesn't want to admit to himself that she might die. Telling her is out of the question.

The tears spill over despite his efforts to keep them in. Even Peter Boyd – Mister Super Policeman – is human after all. A part of him worries that this will be the last time he will see her, but a larger part of his mind pushes the thought away, unable to deal with the terror of it.

Grace feels exhausted. The pain in her body is immense and she just wants it to end – but the pain in Boyd's eyes seems even worse than the physical pain. He knows she is dying, and he is trying so hard not to let her see it, but he knows and it terrifies him.

But even with all the pain, Grace is starting to feel a blissful darkness creep up on her. She isn't scared anymore. There is nothing to be afraid of, really. Boyd is there with her, right by her side and if she is going to die now, that is the way she wants it. It is selfish, of course: Boyd shouldn't have to face her death this way; seeing Mel die has been bad enough for him – but Grace needs his strong, reassuring hands and his I-won't-let-you-go attitude.

The darkness creeps closer and lures her with its calmness; she is tired now and the dark seems quiet and restful. She wants the dark.

Again the urge to tell Boyd about her feelings overwhelms her with a last effort, but she pushes it back and just says, "Take care, Peter," before succumbing to the dark, tranquil, sweet perfection permeating her mind.

TBC