"Fallout"

Grace Foley stared at the white envelope in her hand, turning it over and over in her fingers, feeling its crisp edges glide smoothly along her skin. She sighed heavily as she placed the envelope onto the desk in front of her and reached for her pen. Her slender fingers closed around the implement and hovered above the paper hesitantly, her mind churning as her body refused to obey its instructions. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep, calming breath before forcing the pen to meet the envelope, to mark his name across it. Oh God…Am I doing the right thing? She wondered, even as she stood and began to walk out of her office.

In less than five steps, she was at his office door, the angle-poise lamp from within flooding its light into the darkened space of the main meeting room. She could see him through the pane of glass, sitting behind his desk, papers strewn about him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he surveyed the remnants of their latest case. Grace took a breath and let it out slowly before knocking gently.

"Yeah?" His voice was a deep baritone, resonating through his chest.

She turned the handle and opened the door, taking a small step forward. Peter Boyd looked up at her over his reading glasses, his expression stony.

"What do you want?" He asked flatly.

Grace smiled sadly, his tone informing her instantly of his state of mind.

"Just to give you this." She held up the envelope, her fingers shaking slightly, before walking over to his desk and placing it in front of him.

"Which is what, exactly?"

"It's my notice, Boyd." She tried to force a smile but found she couldn't, the pain across her chest was too severe. "See you in the morning."

Grace turned and began to walk away from him, hearing him get up suddenly as she did so, the papers rustling as he placed his hands onto the desk with some force. He strode into the main office behind her.

"It's your what?!" He queried, the volume of his voice elevated slightly, his forehead creased in a frown.

She sighed and turned back to face him. "It's just a courtesy, Boyd. It's a copy of the letter I intend to send to my boss at the Home Office."

"What the hell's brought this on?!"

"Just…read it, would you? It's all in there."

He looked incredulous. "So that's it, is it? You suddenly decide to resign and I get your explanation in a letter?!"

Grace felt the tension she had been experiencing all day increase across her shoulders. "You're not my boss, Boyd…"

"Almost six years of working together, don't you think you owe me more than that?!"

She shook her head angrily. "I don't owe you anything!"

"For God's sake, just tell me what this is about, Grace!" He was shouting now, his loud voice echoing in the gloom of the empty space.

"That's your bloody problem, isn't it?! You think shouting me down will get me to tell you…"

"I'm not shouting…!"

"Well, it won't. I'm not one of your suspects, Boyd, you can't just raise your voice or slap me about and expect me to open up to you!"

His mouth fell open in shock, his eyebrows raised. "You don't really think I'd hit you…"

She shook her head, exasperated. "Of course not! It was just figurative…"

He paused briefly and when he spoke again it was softer. "Just tell me, would you? Please? I think I've got a right to know."

Grace sighed, her chest tightening at the expression in his dark eyes. "It's…it's not just one thing…"

"All right…"

"And it's not sudden, either. I've been thinking about it for a while."

"But you didn't feel the need to mention it to me."

"I didn't feel the need to tell you every time I felt a conflicting emotion about my future within this team, no."

"You could have said something, Grace. Then maybe this wouldn't have seemed so out of the blue to me."

"I'm giving you the heads-up now. I didn't have to give you that letter at all, remember?"

"What, so you would have just gone right over my head to the brass at the Home Office?! And I would have found out, when? When a new profiler turned up on the doorstep?!"

"I would've been well within my contractual rights…"

"Contractual rights?! Jesus, Grace…" He let out an angry breath and turned away from her to pace the length of the room.

"You know, this isn't about you, Boyd. You're not the bloody centre of the universe!"

He stopped pacing and looked at her. "Has this got something to do with the Mervyn Simmel and Catherine Keane case?"

"What?" His sudden change of direction startled her.

"You know, sexually conjoined skeletons, Opus Dei…"

Grace rolled her eyes. "I remember the case, Boyd, we only just finished working on it."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Does your decision to resign have something to do with it? Because you seemed perfectly fine to me before all that started."

Grace blew out her breath. "Let's just say it was the straw that broke the camel's back and leave it at that."

"In what sense?"

"Leave it, Boyd."

"No! I want you to tell me!"

Grace felt the little composure she had managed to maintain begin to crumble under his scrutiny. "Tell you what?! That I'm fed up of being taken for granted?! That I'm sick of working with someone who doesn't respect my skills and who doesn't value my experience?!"

"I do respect your skills! I've told you that a thousand times, Grace! I just can't always base my cases on your say-so, you know that!"

"My 'say-so'?! That's exactly the problem, right there! You think what I do is all just mumbo-jumbo, don't you?!"

"Oh, I do not!"

"You practically said as much when you told me my insights hadn't added anything to the investigation! If you feel like that, I might as well not even be here, Boyd!"

"That's bollocks, Grace!"

"I'm going back to therapy! At least that way I know I can help people because they'll actually listen to me! With you, it's like I'm talking to myself half the time!"

"That's because sometimes, you're so bloody…"

"So bloody what?!"

"So bloody infuriating!"

"Why's that then?! Because I challenge you?! Because I tell you things you don't always want to hear about your investigations or your suspects?!"

"What do you want me to say, Grace?! That you're always right?!"

"Of course not! I just wish you'd take on board what I'm saying sometimes because, believe it or not, Boyd, I have expertise that can help you!"

"I know that! I've never said you don't have expertise, I fully respect your skills!"

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!"

"What, because I don't shower you with praise or kiss your feet all the time, is that it?!"

Grace rolled her eyes with frustration. "Don't be so ridiculous!"

"Well, what, then?! What do you want me to do?!"

"I want you to stop talking to me like I'm some piece of shit on your shoe!"

"Oh, for God's sake…"

"You do, Boyd! And I won't stand for it anymore!"

Boyd let out a hot breath and threw his hands in the air, the letter along with them. "You know what, then, Grace?! Fine! Fine! You piss off back to Broadmoor! I'm sick of dealing with all your clearly menopausal crap, anyway!"

He regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth but his pride got the better of him and he strode back into his office, slamming the door with rage, the frame shaking violently. Grace felt his words strike her like a knife through her heart and she couldn't stop a sob escaping from her mouth, hot tears forming in her eyes. She took a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the salty fluid trickle down her cheeks. Bastard, she thought angrily as she turned on her heel and pushed the main door open before marching down the corridor towards the exit, her heart thumping, her mind racing. Momentarily, she heard his footsteps behind her.

"Grace, wait!" His voice sounded pained as he called after her.

Despite herself, Grace stopped in her tracks but found she was unable to turn around and face him. Boyd began walking towards her.

"Grace, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." His tone was gentle, a sharp contrast to the venom that had previously coloured his words.

Grace felt a lump rise in her throat once more as she turned her head slightly to acknowledge him. "Yes, it was." She whispered, her throat constricted with emotion.

"Can you forgive me?" He asked.

He was standing just behind her now, so close that Grace could feel the heat radiating from his body. She jumped slightly as he placed his hands gently onto her shoulders.

"Would that make you feel better?" She murmured, realising her words were an exact echo of a conversation they had had more than two years ago. It was all so different then…

A ghost of a smile passed over his face as he too remembered the connection. "A bit…"

"Well, I'm not sure I can." She said quietly. "You think you can just keep pushing me, Boyd, that I'll just keep taking it…

"I didn't mean to…"

"I can't do it anymore. I'm tired, Boyd."

"Please stay, Grace. This team needs you..." He broke off and when he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper. "I…need you."

Grace let out an anguished cry, her hand moving to cover her mouth in a desperate attempt to get her emotions back under control, her shoulders shaking with the effort. She felt him squeeze them tenderly, his fingers like a balm against her tense muscles, his touch causing conflicting feelings to rise within her. Unexpected waves of desire flooded suddenly through her heart, despite the remnants of her anger and frustration and she took a deep breath, willing the sensations to the pit of her stomach. She turned around slowly to face him.

"I can't stay in a job where people don't give a shit about me, Boyd. I just can't."

"Oh, Grace." He said softly, his dark eyes intense. "I give much more of a shit about you than I probably should. Believe me."

Grace's mouth fell open slightly at his frank admission before she frowned and shook her head. "It's just words, though, Boyd. I need to feel that you care about me."

"Tell me what I can do to make this right, then, Grace."

She sighed. "I'm not sure there's anything you can do."

"Well, then at least promise me you'll give it some more thought before you send that letter to the Home Office."

She paused before answering, observing the sincerity in his expression, the concern etched into his features.

"All right." She said slowly. "But I can't promise it'll change anything, Boyd."

"No, I understand that."

They stood in silence for a few moments then, Boyd's hands still on her shoulders, neither willing to break the uncharacteristic physical intimacy. Eventually, Grace took a breath.

"Well, I think I should be going." She said quietly.

"Yeah…"

"Will you read the letter, Boyd?"

He looked pained. "Grace, quite honestly, I just want to throw the damn thing in the bin."

"I know but…I really think you should read it. It might help you to understand everything."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll read it."

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks. I'll see you in the morning."

"I look forward to it."

He leant forward and kissed her gently on the cheek, his lips barely brushing her soft skin, relief flooding his chest when she didn't pull away. She gave him a final, sad smile before turning and walking up the steps towards the exit of the building. Boyd watched her go, the tightness in his throat causing tears to form in his eyes as the enormity of the situation hit him. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her. Although it'll be my own damn fault if I do. Guilt slammed into his stomach then and he turned and walked back towards the main office, trying to force the sensation away. Slowly, he bent and picked up the envelope that he had earlier thrown to the floor in his frustration. Sighing, he walked into his office and slumped into a chair, his heart heavy as he fingered the envelope, tracing his name across the front. Slowly, he opened it and began to read.