Disclaimer: I do not own the copyright for Waking The Dead or its characters – all rights belong to the BBC – who incidentally should just bring it back!

Content: Boyd and Grace - Season 8 Spoilers

Rating: K

Thanks as always for reading – I really hope you enjoy.

This is dedicated to Joodiff with immeasurable thanks for her encouragement, help, support, immense patience and comma fairy-dust. You have taught me so so much my friend. *huge hugs*

Take My Life

I heard myself speak the words and in that moment I meant them more than I have ever meant anything I have said before. No - the moment only gave occasion for their utterance, but seeing her lying here, so vulnerable, hooked up to machines and drips I know without a doubt that I would gladly say the same thing at any given time and mean every single word.

Her hand looks so small and fragile lost in the expanse of mine and it feels unnervingly cold. She hasn't stirred, not since the blue gowned nurses wheeled her back into the ward and told me that she is doing as well as could be expected. I mean that's all they could tell me? Three hours of surgery, another hour in recovery and all they can say is she's as well as expected? Obviously they don't know Grace because if they did they would know that this is certainly not what I expect of her.

The Grace I know is feisty, headstrong, ridiculously obstinate, and she never, ever shuts up. The number of times I have longed for her to be quiet for just a few minutes, yet right now I'd give anything to have her nag me, rile me, irritate me - laugh with me. No this stillness is not what is expected of Grace. She's fearless, proven time and time again. She will defiantly look straight into my eyes and stand up to me while the rest of the world backs down. She never surrenders. Not Grace, that's not her way. She fights, forgives, sulks and absolves. I suppose she's a bit like a terrier in that respect, once her teeth are in there is no letting go, though she'd kill me for that analogy. Probably best not to tell her.

But the terrier is too still, too silent, looks too fragile, and I am reminded of just how close the shadow has fallen. I know she will fight this with all the tenacity that I expect of her. She won't let me down. She never does. I also know that I will be with her every step of the way. An unexplainable urge makes me reach out to her and I am relishing the feel of her skin beneath my fingers as they softly stroke her forehead. If I'm honest it's not quite unexplainable. I know what's happening – what has already happened – of course I do. Heaven knows I've been fighting it for long enough, but I know. It complicates everything, changes everything, but right now I don't care. There is only one thing that matters and that's that the surgeons have done their job and Grace beats this thing. I wonder what she would say if she woke to find me caressing her forehead? I could probably side-step the issue, infer that she was having a bit of a nightmare and I was only trying to calm her. I'm not sure she would buy that but she's still on morphine so I think I could convince her that it was all perfectly innocent. Except ….. oh God help me ….. I don't want her to think it innocent, not anymore.

I came too damn close to losing her. For one sickening, heart-wrenching moment I thought she had gone, that I had failed to protect her. She asked me to walk away, I saw the pleading in her eyes but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't let go, not even for her. If I had known then what I know now, just what a sick, twisted, evil bitch Linda Cummings was I wouldn't have hesitated to leave her to rot in her own warped world. But not me, not Peter Boyd. I had to take her on didn't I; prove to her and the rest of the world that I wasn't afraid. And until she took Grace I wasn't.

It was then the game shifted, the rules were ripped up and tossed aside. The biggest mistake I made was that I underestimated Linda. Not in how deranged or perverse she was, of that there was no doubt, but that she had realised before anyone else what the most important thing in my life was and then she took it. Somehow something that I had carefully hidden for more years that I care to admit was completely evident to her. To hurt me, you hurt Grace. I can take pretty much anything life throws at me. Over the years I've hardened, and almost expect to feel pain daily, its presence is a comfort. But this pain was different. Harboured amidst the fear and loss was the sting of regret. The regret that I never told her how I felt or how much she meant to me. I mean, I had the perfect opportunity when I visited her in hospital; instead we did what we always do and slipped into the comfortable confines of discussing work.

For years we have danced around feelings and desires completely avoiding anything that is real and of meaning. Our feelings hidden in a million pointless arguments. Nothing of worth ever reaching the surface or finding a voice. Once or twice we have been close. Very close. I swear she feels it too. I have seen her look at me with such intensity that the atmosphere is instantly charged, yet one or both of us inevitably pull back afraid of where it may lead. Still beats the hell out of me why. The number of times I have wanted to reach for her, hold her, kiss her and yet I just couldn't bring myself to take that final step.

When Eve first told me that Grace had cancer it felt like a thousand white-hot daggers stabbing ruthlessly through my heart. So many emotions – fear, helplessness, hurt. The fact Grace felt she couldn't tell me herself cut deeper than I ever thought possible. I suppose though it must have been how she felt when I didn't confide in her about Luke. I didn't understand it then, but I do now, the realisation of which was swift and painful. My need to see her was overwhelming. I needed to find out for myself just what the hell was going on. Sitting with her in that hospital room, knowing what she was facing made me feel physically sick but my desire to protect her was met only with complete helplessness.

Frustration and anger rushed through my veins like a tidal wave. Why Grace? Every day I come into contact with the scum of the earth, why should something like this happen to someone as gentle and loving as Grace? Life is so screwed. I wanted to tell her then how I felt, let her know that I was so worried about her, cared for her, yet couldn't find the words to let her know. Why didn't I just tell her that? I hate frigging hindsight. Instead we both defaulted to our safe positions immersed in the case. It was like it always was, until …

When I felt her hand take mine my blood instantly became like electricity sending shivers cascading through every part of my body. Just that small gesture had the power to paralysis me, causing my thoughts and emotions to collide chaotically into one another. Except there was nothing small about this gesture was there? Grace does everything with purpose. For years we have kept a distance, no intimate contact, nothing that could be perceived as one wanting more than the other had to offer. This was Grace being fearless, letting me know that she was ready whenever I was. My hand stayed entwined with hers, the warmth of her fingers soothing my soul. And now it is my turn to hold her hand. My time to be fearless. I know that I am ready, no more running.

The time passes slowly, but finally day gives way to night. The faces of the nurses may have changed but they still wear the same benign smile as they come to check Grace's progress. I swear if one more person tells me she is doing as well as expected they might just find themselves in the ward next to her. I don't want to hear it. I want them to tell me she is doing better than expected, great in fact – because she is. She's already started fighting and they don't understand what that means, not the way that I do. When Grace starts fighting the world better watch out.

I have no idea how long I have been sleeping, but I suddenly become aware of movement beside me and look up expectantly. I can't prevent the smile that spreads across my face when my eyes lock with hers. She looks tired, but her smile is gentle and the most beautiful thing I think I've seen.

"Morning, how are you feeling?" I ask still smiling at her.

"Like I've been hit by a truck," she says wearily.

"That's understandable, Grace. Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you. Have you been here all night?"

I nod my head steadily in reply.

"Thank you," she simply whispers.

"For what?"

"Everything."

"I haven't done anything, Grace."

"You're here aren't you?"

"Well, I wasn't about to leave you on your own now was I, not after …" I falter unwilling to remind Grace once again of her ordeal, not that she is likely to forget.

"My own personal body guard eh?" she softly laughs.

"If that's what you want to call it." Her eyes hold mine and I'm entranced at just how deep and reflective they are.

"I heard what you said Boyd." Her voice is soft, but there is undoubted emotion embracing every word.

"Sorry?"

"To Linda, I heard what you said."

Her words hang in the air like Autumn mist and suddenly I can feel my heart quicken and pummel in my chest. I wonder briefly if she can hear how hard and fast it beats. I know instantly what she means. I can still hear the words echo in my mind.

'Take my life for Grace's life …Linda please ….'

"I said a lot of things to Linda, Grace," I reply cagily. Still she holds my gaze and I can see that there's something different blazing in her eyes. I know that she knows. Eyes so intense, so searching, I swear that she is reading my soul. I have to break the spell, look away as I'm unable to bear the weight of her scrutiny.

Her hand reaches for mine and as she closes her fingers lightly around it, my mind immediately drifts to another time, another hospital ward ….. before Linda. I feel her thumb trace gentle circles across my skin and I am tempted to simply close my eyes.

"Did you mean it?" her voice gently cuts through the silence.

"Mean what?" I shrug lifting my eyes to meet hers once again.

"What you said to Linda - did you mean it?"

Her voice is warm and does nothing to stop my thumping heart. I can't answer; the words refuse to make themselves heard. I can still feel the point of the needle indenting my skin, adrenalin pumping through my veins.

'Take my life for Grace's life …'

"Boyd, I need to know, did you mean it?" she persists.

"You know I did," my voice is no more than a whisper.

She shakes her head slowly, her sapphire eyes bleeding disbelief. "Why?"

Again I shrug, an action that appears to upset her because immediately she is riling up.

"Don't be so damn dismissive, Boyd - you were willing to trade your life for mine and all you can do is shrug?"

"What do you want me to say, Grace, huh?"

"Well you could start by telling me why?"

Silence engulfs the room as we both hesitantly regard one another.

"Is it because you felt guilty? You blamed yourself for what Linda did and became reckless," she continues.

"Well I was to blame wasn't I?"

"And how do you work that out?"

"You asked me to walk away and I didn't."

"So it was guilt then? You blamed yourself and then stupidly believed that by playing the martyr you would somehow receive absolution."

"Is that what you think eh?"

"It's a classic case of guilt complex, Boyd."

"And that's your professional opinion is it because believe me, Grace, you couldn't be more wrong, you know that?" I hear the provocation infusing my tone as I speak. Fighting with Grace is the last thing I want to do today and yet I find myself unable to prevent it.

"Well what else can it be?"

Sometimes she is completely infuriating, and in my frustration I reply, "It hasn't crossed your mind for one minute that maybe I would rather have died myself than have Linda hurt even one hair on your head?"

I watch as a torrent of emotions fleet across her face until it is her turn to drop her gaze. "I was so scared, Boyd," her voice is low and trembling. Immediately I want to sweep her up in my embrace and protect her. Instinctively I squeeze her hand tighter.

"So was I, Grace. I just couldn't do what Linda asked; I couldn't bring myself to kill ….. My choices put your life in danger. I thought I'd sentenced you to death and that terrified me more than anything."

"No, you don't understand. Of course there was a part of me that was afraid because I genuinely believed Linda would eventually carry out her threat and kill me, but it was more than that. I was afraid for you."

"You thought that I would kill Penny?" I ask probingly.

She shakes her head firmly. "No you are not a killer."

"Linda thought I was."

"Linda was wrong, you proved that, Boyd."

"Did I?" I question, not totally convinced of the answer myself, but I know that is for another day and another inquest.

"I knew you would never kill Penny, but I was so frightened that you would plunge that needle into your own neck. You have been so distraught over Luke, all it would have taken was one moment of madness and ..."

"I would have, you know? If Linda would've made the trade, Grace, I would have done it," I answer honestly.

"And that is exactly what petrified me, Boyd, because I believe you, even though I still don't understand why."

"Don't you? Because I think we both know why, Grace, I think we have known for a very long time."

I hear her take a sharp intake of breath before she begins to speak again. "What are you saying?"

No more running away, no more supressing or denying. My time to be fearless. "I'm saying, Grace, that the only thing that has got me through these last two years is you and I would have rather died myself than have to live without you."

A small tear traces a silent path down her face. "Aww, Grace, don't do this please."

"I'm sorry I can't help it. It's not everyday someone is willing to die for you. No matter how misguided."

"Yea well it's not everyday someone you love is held by a psychopathic nutter is it?"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Linda ... She was a psychopathic..."

"No before that."

And it's done, she finally knows. Actually she probably knew light years before I did because Grace knows everything, but she is searching for reassurance or maybe she simply realises that I just need to finally admit it.

"Aww, Grace, you're not going to make me say it again are you?"

"Maybe I just need to hear it, Peter," she replies.

Too much has happened for me to back down and I suspect she knows that too. Everything that has gone before, the good, the bad, and the downright heart-breaking has led us to this point. Here and now. Grace and me. I fight to steady my breathing and slowly reach for her cheek. My fingers begin to gently trace the outline of her face.

"I thought I had lost you, Grace. I couldn't do what Linda asked; and because of that I thought I had lost you. Just imagining life without you was unbearable. I swear if I thought it would have saved your life I wouldn't have hesitated to stick that needle in my neck."

"And what kind of life would that have been for me, having to live for God knows how many years without you, knowing that it was because of me that you were no longer here?"

"Well it certainly would have been a quieter life wouldn't it?" I smile.

"It would have been no life at all, Boyd."

"You'd think we'd know better at our age wouldn't ya, Grace. I mean, time goes so quickly, surely we deserve some happiness."

"Yea I think we do, but I've a long fight ahead of me the last thing you need is to ….."

"Hey why don't you let me worry about the last thing I need alright?"

"I'm only trying to say that ….."

"I know what you're only trying to say, Grace, and it's totally irrelevant. I'm not going anywhere okay? You and me, we fight this together."

"It's not going to be easy are you sure you want …."

"I'm sure, Grace, in fact I've never been surer of anything in my life," and as I speak the words I know that they too are meant every bit as much as the ones I spoke to Linda.

Fin