A/N: Hello everybody and welcome to my second story. I'd like to dedicate it to Teddy78 - who knows why *hugs* - and I'd like to thank Shadowsamurai83 for the beta and the advice. Therefore, I also place a tissue warning on this.
Title: Time
Rating: T
Spoilers: "Endgame"
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show which belong to the BBC. I also don't own the song which was written by Gary Barlow, sung by Shirley Bassey and belongs to them and Geffen Music.
Summary: He stands in the mittdle of the room and contemplates
Time - Part I
This Time
He stood in the middle of the room and stared into nothingness. Normally a man of action, it somehow didn't feel right to do nothing, but it was his fate now, to do nothing. Standing, sitting, pacing, watching, waiting - always waiting. He hated waiting.
No more crying for help
no more blaming myself
Living under a spell, hypnotized
Too much figuring out
Too much standing my ground
No pride left to be proud
only fear
Looking back, he wondered how it could have come so far. The years were slowly melting into each other, becoming a somewhat turbulent, somewhat murky stream of a life. Sometimes it was unbelievably hot, sometimes unbearably cold. Within this stream, he had tumbled, paddling for dear life at times.
It was a joke, really, all this time wasted when he silently, through his actions, pleaded for help; yet with the same actions he had refused the help, thinking that he didn't deserve the support. He had brought the disasters onto himself, that was his opinion, and his actions followed it.
Such codified behaviour, impossible to decipher, had frustrated everybody around him, effectively pushed them all away. He blamed himself for that too.
It wasn't that he didn't recognise the behaviour, didn't see the effects of it or suffered from them. Yet he felt unable to do anything about it. Sometimes it was like there was an outside force at work that made him so reticent about letting people in. And he couldn't exactly blame his past for it. The situation had been actively created - by him alone.
He had spent so much time figuring out other people's lives and deaths that there had been no time left for anything else. In truth, though, he had not made the effort. His social connections had all but dried up, the few people still there near exhaustion for trying to keep a connection alive.
He was at his wits' end as well. Out of all he had held dear in life, what was left? If he died now, what would remain of him?
Looking around the room with slight disdain, he found its starkness a constant reminder of what his life had become. The paint on the walls was spotless, but of a lifeless colour. The posters on the wall pretty but inane and empty, not uplifting at all. In a word, the room was dreary and forbidding - a painful combination considering its purpose.
He hated the room as well. Leaving it, however, was not an option. If he left now, he might as well have tumbled from that roof too.
Didn't know who it was
In the mirror last night
So I left there with nothing to lose
Every step didn't just take me further away
Every step took me closer to finding you
It sounded a little pathetic to make such an absolute statement, especially from him. He wasn't a man prone let his emotions get to him like that. He was the 'push away and forget about it'-type. She had once called him "repressed, depressed and in denial. Isolated," and she had been right. She always was, it seemed.
It was the picture he had seen last night, at home. He hadn't even looked into a mirror at first, only later been drawn to take stock of his appearance while his mind ripped his person apart. Who needed a mirror if one had self-perception?
It had been a blinding moment of recognition, his gaunt paleness afterwards no less of a shock. With it came an insight so sharp that it burned him, inside, outside, everywhere.
"Repressed, depressed and in denial. Isolated."
The sad thing about it was that she had known it for years and it had been his blindness and egotism to make her say it out loud. At the time he hadn't even considered whether it had hurt her as much to say it as it had hurt him to hear it. Yet he hadn't really listened, which had brought him to that moment in front of the mirror last night.
The harsh question remained: What was left of his life? What did really still matter? The answer had been ruthless.
Nothing.
What had been the centre of his life - his work - was all but gone. What had been the driving force of his life - the fate of his son - was truly gone. What had been the safety net of his existence - she - could die.
And then?
It wasn't a conscious decision that had made him don his jacket, grab his keys and leave the flat that was no more than a few walls surrounding him. A place to stay, but not a place he lived in. That place would be, and was now, the room he stood in and stared out of the window into a dreary day.
Leaving his flat had been something of a liberation. It was as if he was shedding every ounce of pain and regret on his shoulders with every step he took and every mile he drove. Though he hadn't been sure of his reception, he had been certain that it would be a damn sight better than what he was leaving behind.
He had snuck into the building after hours, most occupants already asleep, one way or the other. It had been so quiet that he feared the few people awake could hear his heart beating in his throat and that he'd easily be caught by the attendants, but he had reached his destination without a problem.
Entering the dark room, he had had trouble distinguishing things at first, despite the fact that he had been there in daylight before. For a moment he had hesitated, momentarily shy with the decision he had made, but hearing her moving around, there had been no way back.
I know this time's the time
The time for love
And it's right here in front of my eyes
I know this time's the kind
You only get once in your life
He had taken a few hesitant steps closer, each reminding him that he was doing the right thing, the best thing, and yet nervous that he was overstepping a line he had drawn and she had enhanced as a reaction to his premise.
Therefore, he had stood a foot away from the bed watching her sleep. It was a heart-wrenching sight to see her in this bed, small and fragile. He had never really registered how small she was, especially compared to him. With her strong personality and presence, she always managed to virtually add a few inches to her size.
Here in this bed, though, the smell of the building overpowering even her personal one, she looked like a breakable object, small and frightened. There was one thing he had never understood about places like this - why did they leave people alone and in the dark on such nights?
She had to be frightened, probably hid the tears until she was alone, so nobody would see her break down.
She turned in the bed, her sleep not at all calm or relaxing, and he closed the distance quickly in reaction. Now standing right next to the bed, he extended his hand without thought and took her hand in his.
It was cold to the touch and he instinctively covered it with his other hand to put some warmth into her.
Her entire body tensed for a second as she realized the presence of another person in the room and she startled out of her sleep. Wide-eyed she stared at him, his name a disbelieving croak falling from her mouth.
A wave of tenderness washed over him at the anxious expressions on her face, providing him with another sharp insight. This one, however, wasn't as blinding or as painful as his earlier one had been. It was just as if somebody had removed the shutters in front of his eyes and over his heart.
His smile deepened at the thought and he gently hushed her with a finger over her lips. If possible, her eyes widened even more, the question in her mind obvious.
Instead of an answer, he sat down on the bed and pulled her into his arms, tenderly stroking her hair and back. It took her a few moments to get over the shock before she relaxed and all but melted into him.
The third insight of the night came with such a feeling of contentment that he couldn't suppress a gasp. This was where he belonged to and where he would remain.
No more tryin' to break free
No more apologies
No more finding my feet just to fall
They had stayed like this for minutes, maybe even hours. No words were spoken, no questions answered. He just held her, stroked her hair and her back, even when she pulled back to stare at him and then crumbled before his eyes.
The tears he had suspected she shed only in solitude came out like a torrent, releasing themselves in heavy sobs that almost shattered her tiny frame and even shocked his own. So much anguish in her, he would never have suspected, hadn't taken into account.
She had rasped out the possibilities of the morning, the worst case scenario he hadn't considered, and for a moment he had been stunned. Tomorrow morning could be a death sentence precluded by a more or less debilitating road of suffering. Loss of strength and loss of dignity before she died.
The truth was delivered in harsh, un-minced words and afterwards she had pulled back again, giving him the option to leave. She didn't need to say it, he knew that she expected him to go, grateful for the little comfort he had gifted her with. But instead of running away, he had pulled her back into his arms, now adding kisses to her hair, to her face.
She didn't know how to take his reaction, the shake of her head more than enough indication to her disbelief. He smiled at her, shaking his head as well, but his was a shake of confirmation.
"I am staying." It was the first words he uttered since entering her room, the first in hours actually, but it felt blessedly right.
There was no reason to go any more. Where else could he be anyway?
Every dream didn't just
take me further away
Every dream took me closer
to finding you
Her doubt was clear in her expression, the surprise at his seeming about face. She hadn't expected steadfastness or even this interest in her person. More than that she'd been shocked at the tenderness with which he treated her, the affection with which he touched her.
The question was so obvious that he chuckled at some point, shook his head, and affectionately whispered her name over and over.
Of course, she'd be doubtful. The way he had treated her in the past could have given her no indication of his feelings. He had looked anywhere for companionship, for the thrill, anywhere but at her.
But no, that wasn't true either. He had looked once, early in their acquaintance, and the flutter of interest had been there, sharply defined. The thought had been dismissed immediately, through a rare amount of sense that an affair between them would be a very bad idea. He was a recent divorcee, she a recent widow, and they'd have to work together. It would have been hundred kinds of a bad idea.
This way they had quickly bypassed the concept of a casual affair, going straight to a friendship that quickly became too important to both of them to endanger it with a quick fumble. There had also been the fear in him that if they started a relationship, he'd be too open to her, too vulnerable. It would give her the opportunity to hurt him deeper than anybody or lay him bare in a way he couldn't deal with.
So he had deliberately avoided looking at her, telling himself and her that they were friends and it was good that way - which it was - and looked for his jollies elsewhere.
Being an attractive man, there was no lack of initially interested attractive women and he took what was offered. But none of those women stayed long once they caught a glimpse of his personality and his heart was never into it. Not even in his last foray, as much as he had tried to make others, especially her, believe.
It was in the past now and maybe it wasn't even a wasted past, for it just might have made him the man he needed to be now.
I know this time's the time
The time for love
And it's right here in front of my eyes
I know this time's the kind
You only get once in your life
He stumbled through his attempt at explaining, a little embarrassed by the lack of proper words. Not used to touchy-feely conversations, he avoided the topic, speaking of the inane things of the day.
She, in typical fashion, let him ramble before giving him a look that demanded the truth. With a smile that was apology and sheepishness at the same time, he told her then of the blinding insight in the oppressive silence of his flat and his instinct to come here to her.
She blushed endearingly. Bashfulness suited her, he thought
The entire time he talked, he had held on to her, stroked her skin, her hair, the tenderness pouring from him without thought. She smiled at him, at the feeling of his body close to her, his touching hands. It was her first real smile, bright and genuine.
They embraced again, warmth spreading between them, enveloping them both.
It lasted for moments or minutes, but all of a sudden she stiffened and pulled back, her face a mask of determination. Before she could give him the easy way out once again, he shook his head and repeated his earlier words: "I am staying."
Left a lot of courage behind
That I won't be needing this time
'Cause I can be true
I can be one, I can be strong
He had always thought that it took strength and courage to stand up for yourself, manage on your own, but it wasn't entirely true.
With the picture she had painted of the future, it would need a lot of strength and courage to just be there, take what life dealt her and him by extension. There would be little allowance for anger fits on his side, for the dismissive brashness he was known for. What the situation demanded was no less than a complete role reversal - him being strong for her and providing her safety net instead of the other way around.
Taking her hand, he looked her in the eyes, trying to convey that he wouldn't leave, even though he knew what lay ahead. He would be strong for her, because this was what he wanted.
I know this time's the kind
You only get once in your life
I know this heart's the heart
the heart I'm keeping
All the love I thought I'd never find
I know this time's forever
For worse or for better
This time
He looked around the room again and then at the alarm clock on the bedside table. The surgical procedure should finish within the next few minutes and he took it as a good sign that it had taken the full time. They'd have caught the whole tumour and any possible metastases then. At least he hoped so.
Nurses and doctors had been scandalized to find him in her room and bed in the morning. Even more so by the fact that he didn't leave upon their request, but instead stayed were he was, unmovable and defiant.
Next to him, she had barely contained her amusement.
When they took her away, he had promised her to stay and wait for her return. A hospital room was not the most romantic places on Earth to form a lifetime commitment, but neither of them was bothered by outward appearance.
Once, in that epic row years ago, she accused him of being "repressed, depressed and in denial. Isolated and un-loved." When she was wheeled into surgery, he leaned down and whispered the three words that revoked her accusation completely.
She didn't reply, her eyes wide in wonder, and he decided to burn the sight into his memory.
They weren't exactly a match made in heaven, they would never be, but life was about perception and he had always found those conventionally good matches a bore.
They didn't exactly have a bright future, his forced and disgraceful retirement looming no less than her cancer. Their future might be a very short one, but it would be theirs.
Checking his watch once again, he looked up when the door opened and a doctor walked in. Steeling himself for bad news and hoping for good news at the same time, Boyd felt his time with Grace beginning.
This Time
I hope you enjoyed. I'd appreciate comments. Thank you for reading.