Title: Breaking point.
Pairing: Grace/Boyd
Rating: T
Summary: Set after the end of 'Wounds'. Major spoiler if you haven't seen the episode.
Author's notes: This version has been beta-ed. I'm eternally grateful to shadowsamurai83
Disclaimer: Waking the Dead belongs to the BBC. I'm taking them out for an excursion and promise to have them back by the end of the school day.
"Stay." Tired and drained after the worst day in his life, Boyd needed Grace's support more than ever. "Please. I need you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Grace nodded. For Peter to admit he'd needed her was a big step. Boyd was old school, a private man, never one to show his feelings, but she'd been pleased that he'd asked her to stay. It had been an indication of the hurt that he'd felt.
For the past three hours, she'd been by his side, supporting him after he'd heard the devastating news about Luke's overdose.
Eve had rung Grace with the terrible news and told her to get back to CCHQ as quickly as she could because Eve had known Boyd would need Grace's support. She realized the only one that could get through to Boyd would be Grace.
Grace had arrived to find Boyd sitting silently in his office, his head in his hands. As soon as he'd seen her he'd broken down and he'd cried in her arms. It broke her heart seeing him like that as he'd poured out his soul to her. All the suppressed guilt and grief he'd stored up over the years had flowed out. He'd clung to her like a limpet, clutching at her shirt as he'd sobbed uncontrollably.
After he'd cried himself out, they'd both known the worst part had yet to come.
Grace had driven him to the hospital to formerly identify Luke's body. Peter had barely said a word. Grief and sadness had been written all over his face. Grace had held his hand as the mortuary technician gently turned back the sheet that had covered Luke's head. Although the drugs and life on the streets had taken their toll on Luke, Grace could see the family resemblance to Boyd. He'd been a handsome lad. And she'd only hoped that whatever had driven Luke to this end, he was now at peace.
Peter had stared at his son's face for what seemed an eternity before he'd made the formal declaration that it was Luke.
For Grace, it had been very strange to be on the other side of this procedure, and her respect for the care and sensitivity of everyone involved had grown at the way they'd handled the next of kin. Peter's jaw had clenched as he tried to keep control, to be brave. They'd seen this response from so many parents seeing their deceased children.
Although Boyd hadn't confided in her, Grace had suspected that he'd found his missing son. His behaviour recently had pointed to that conclusion. How utterly gut wrenching it must have been for Peter to have lost Luke forever so soon after finding him again. She couldn't even contemplate the pain and loss that he'd been going through at the moment. The reason why he hadn't told her hadn't mattered. All she'd wanted to do was be here for him now.
After identifying the body and starting the paperwork, they'd driven to Boyd's place in Greenwich. And over a tea, Boyd had filled Grace in about finding Luke and everything that had happened.
"Do you need anything else?" Grace asked, then looked to see where she'd put her handbag. She'd thought he might want to be alone.
"Stay." Boyd ran his hand through his hair. "Please. I need you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted and drained but he had another unpleasant task to do. Boyd needed Grace to help him get through telling Luke's mother. "I've got to tell Mary."
Peter had only spoken about Mary once or twice in the time that they'd known each other. All Grace knew was that Mary had been Peter's wife and they'd separated and then divorced soon after Luke had disappeared. Obviously, they must be still in touch if he'd had her phone number.
Peter dialled Mary's number.
Grace again held his hand, supporting him.
"Hello, this is Peter Boyd. May I speak to Mary please?" After a brief pause, he spoke again. "Mary, it's Peter. I need to speak to you."
Grace watched as he closed his eyes. Mary must have guessed that it was about their son. This was not the kind of news that you told a mother over the telephone.
"Yes, Mary. It's about Luke." Nervously, he tugged at the hairs of his goatee. His emotions were close to the surface but he had to stay in control. "I'll be there in 15 minutes." He put the phone down, dreading what he'd have to do next and having no idea how he was going to tell Mary.
"Do you want me to come?" Grace was willing to do or be whatever he wanted. He was her friend. He'd saved her life before and now it was her turn to return the favour.
Peter nodded. "Do you mind?"
"No. I'm here for you, Peter." Grace stood up and got her handbag.
Peter smiled sadly. "Thank you, Grace." He meant it.
"It'll be all right, Peter." Grace embraced him, wrapping her arms round him, comforting him. After stroking his back, she stepped back. "Come on. I'll drive."
"It's number 25."
Grace parked the car outside the house. Boyd had stayed in the car, composing himself.
Grace knew this was going to be very difficult for him. He'd blamed himself for Luke running away, which eventually led to their marriage break up. Years ago when they first started working together, Peter had explained that Luke had grown up to be a very difficult teenager. At the time, Boyd had been in the regional crime squad, leaving very little time to be home to have any sort of proper relationship with his son. Mary had to deal with him, except for when Luke had gotten into trouble with the police.
Grace knew that this guilt had haunted him for a very long time. He hadn't dealt with it. But then how could he, when he had no idea where Luke was or if indeed if he was still alive? He lacked that horrid word that American psychologists liked so much - closure.
Peter sighed and got out of the car. He couldn't put it off any longer. He was about to face the woman he'd once loved to tell her that their son was dead. And he was to blame. He was sure she'd hate him even more for driving Luke to drugs that eventually led him to his death.
They walked up to the steps and rang the bell.
Mary opened the door.
Grace could see the shocked expression on her face. Peter's face. Mary could tell he'd been crying.
They stood watching each other. Shock had set in and Mary was frozen to the spot.
Straight away, Grace realized that Mary knew it had to be bad news. "Mary, I'm Grace. Do you think we could come in?" Grace's calm tones seemed to stir both Mary and Peter.
"Uh? Sorry. Yes. Come in." Mary ushered them into the front room.
Grace introduced herself to Mary's partner, Greg, and then sat next to Peter, holding his hand.
After a deep breath, Peter started to speak, his voice hitched with emotion. "Mary, two weeks ago I found Luke."
Mary wasn't a fool. She knew it had to be something terrible for Peter to be affected so emotionally and part of her already knew the answer. "But?"
Peter explained everything, from the DNA hit, to finding Luke in the stairwell, to releasing him from the secure holding facility, to how Luke hadn't wanted Boyd to tell Mary until he'd sorted himself out, and finally to what had happened on that day.
"Are you sure?" It was a stupid question. Mary remembered how meticulous Peter was. He wouldn't make a mistake like that but she had to make sure, for her own peace of mind at the very least.
"Yes."
"Oh God." Mary looked distraught and turned to Greg, throwing herself into his arms as she cried her heart out.
Grace squeezed Boyd's hand, reassuring him. The hurt on his face was plain to see.
Seeing Mary cry was perhaps the straw that broke the camel's back. It was yet another pain that he'd caused. "I'm so sorry, Mary." Boyd bowed his head, feeling so guilty and full of regret for all the things that he hadn't done to help her or Luke. "It's all my fault."
Mary turned to face Peter and reacted quickly to what he'd said. She wasn't having any of it. Knowing that it wasn't true, she knelt before him, cupping his face. "Peter, please don't do this. You aren't the only one to blame. There were things we and Luke could've done but didn't."
Grace could only hope that Peter would believe her. There was only so much that a man could bear before he reached breaking point and Grace hoped that this wasn't it. He'd talked and cried which was a start, unlike what he'd done when Mel had died, when he'd hadn't even gone to her funeral and practically denied and repressed it all, throwing himself into his work until it all came to head just before the Lennon case.
Mary and Peter fell into each other's arms, hugging each other for dear life as they grieved for their son.
As the former husband and wife comforted each other, Greg and Grace made some tea. As they drank, they talked about the arrangements for the funeral.
"I'll give you a call when the coroner finishes the report."
"Okay."
As they were leaving, Mary hugged Grace and whispered into her ear, "Thank you for looking after Peter." Mary didn't know what the nature of their relationship was, but if Grace was here with him when he needed her so much, she must be someone special for Peter to let into his private life.
"Don't worry. I'll look after him." Grace would be there for Peter because that is what friends did. They look after each other. Grace knew Mary would be all right too. Greg seemed a nice bloke.
"Sit down." Grace walked into his kitchen and searched the cupboards and fridge for something light to cook for dinner. It was late. Boyd needed to eat something and she was hungry too. Grace wasn't above a bit of mothering when she needed to, as her kids would say.
Finding a bottle of wine, she opened it and poured a glass for both of them.
While he sipped the wine in silence lost in his own thoughts, Grace made a Spanish omelette which they then ate in companionable silence. Grace wasn't going to push Boyd. He'd already made so much of an effort.
They moved to the couch, bringing the bottle of wine with them.
It was time he cleared the air. After swallowing the last of his wine for a bit of Dutch courage, he resolved to put things right. At least this way, his son's death would accomplish something. "I'm sorry. For everything."
"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Peter."
Boyd shook his head. "Yes. I do. And I have for a very long time. I treated you like shit. Trod all over you. Denigrated and belittled you and your work. And you were absolutely right. About everything." He couldn't look at her. Looking back, he'd never been more ashamed of himself. "I took it out on you and I'm so sorry. I hope you can one day forgive me."
"I do forgive you." Grace placed her hand over his reassuringly. She already had forgiven him otherwise she wouldn't have come back after their spat. And although they hadn't spoken directly about it, somehow they'd come to an understanding which seemed to be working.
"I know I need help." Boyd had read a lot of Grace's textbooks after their fight and had been trying to use the self help steps that some of the books had suggested. But with Luke's death, he realized that he would need to get professional help.
"I can recommend some people you could talk to." As a psychologist, Grace was pleased with Peter's willingness to seek help. It was a major step in the right direction.
"Will you help me?" Peter asked, almost pleading.
"If that's what you want."
"You're the best and the only one I want to talk to." And she was. He'd thought he'd pushed her away after being so horrible to her but here she was helping him in his darkest hour.
"Thank you." Grace smiled back at him.
Feeling a little better, he relaxed under influence of the wine and Grace's company, and the quirky side of his personality came through. During their time working together, they'd come across some psychologists that were madder than the patients they were treating. Smiling weakly and running a finger over a scar on his left hand, courtesy of one of those loony psychologists, Dr Parke, Peter quipped, "At least, I know you won't stab me or try to shoot me."
Remembering the incidents with Charles Hoyle, Lucien Calvin and Raymond Parke, Grace laughed and with an eyebrow raised, she teased, "Are you quite sure about that?"
"Hmm … I think so."
"I don't come cheap."
"I know." Boyd groaned when he realised it would mean more trips to the more upmarket off licences. "Merlot or Shiraz?"
"Both."
"Okay." Rolling his eyes, he wondered if he'd need to take out a second mortgage to pay for all the wine.
The end.