Waking the Dead - "Broken Trust"

Doctor Grace Foley stared at her computer screen, the typed words of her report blurring before her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision and force her tired body back to alertness but she knew her attempts were futile. Sighing, she sat back in her chair and removed her glasses, rubbing a hand across her face, her thoughts returning once more to her injured colleague, Spencer Jordan. Spencer had been critically wounded the previous day, shot whilst attempting to uncover the truth behind a double murder he had investigated almost twenty years in the past. Grace let her gaze drift to the clock on her wall and frowned as she noted the time. Ten o'clock. God, he's been in surgery for almost six hours...

"Grace?"

A familiar voice startled her from her reverie and she looked up to see Detective Superintendent Peter Boyd leaning against the door frame of her office. His face was pale, dark eyes appearing unusually obsidian in contrast, the light from her room casting shadows across his skin as he stood against the inky blackness of the main meeting room.

Grace swallowed, feeling her heart thumping loudly in her chest with anticipation of the reason for his visit. "What is it?"

"I just got off the phone with the hospital."

"And?"

Boyd smiled slightly before replying. "And Spence is out of surgery. He's in intensive care but they're really pleased with how the operation went."

Grace felt relief flood rapidly through her body and she closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. "Oh, Boyd. Oh, thank God."

"Well, I'm not sure God had much to do with it, Grace."

Grace opened her eyes to look at him, taking a breath to respond before noticing for the first time the bottle of wine in his hand. She raised her eyebrows.

"Fancy a drink?" He asked.

"I'd love one. I think we could both do with it."

He grunted in reply, advancing into her office and opening the cupboard where he knew she kept her corkscrew and wine glasses. Momentarily, he poured the rich burgundy fluid into the glasses and handed one to Grace before sinking heavily onto the couch. Grace sipped her drink, letting the liquid burn down her throat and into her stomach, forcing herself to relax as the adrenaline in her blood began to slowly subside. She looked over at him, feeling a renewed flutter of worry in her chest as she noted his crumpled form, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. Slowly she stood from behind her desk and moved to sit close beside him on the couch, their knees touching, her hands folding neatly in her lap.

"Are you all right?" She opened gently.

Boyd sighed deeply and sat back on the couch. "Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what? Didn't I just say I was fine?"

"No, you didn't. You answered my question with the most unconvincing 'yeah' I think I've ever heard."

Boyd turned his head to look her in the eye. "I'm fine, Grace. Happy now?"

"Not really, no."

"Don't start. Please."

Grace held up her hands, knowing she didn't have the energy for a fight. "All right."

Boyd reached down to retrieve his wine glass from the floor, taking a large mouthful before sitting back again. There was a silence between them for several moments until Boyd spoke once more.

"I've been thinking a lot about Stella."

"Oh? What about her?"

"I've been wondering...if she really has a place here any more."

"Hmm. I've been wondering the same thing."

Detective Constable Stella Goodman, the most junior member of the Cold Case Unit, had recently attempted to destroy crucial evidence from Spencer Jordan's twenty-year old double murder case under the guidance of her surrogate father, Commander William Drake. Her actions had had inadvertent detrimental effects on her colleagues, most notably on Spencer and on Forensic Scientist, Doctor Felix Gibson, who had suffered a chemical attack to the face.

"I mean, how could she have been so blind to the basic difference between right and wrong?"

Grace sighed. "Unfortunately, it's not as simple as that when emotions come into play, Boyd. Drake used her feelings for him to his own end, let's not forget that."

"I know." He paused, taking another draw from his drink.

"It's making you question things about her though, isn't it?"

"It's making me analyse her to the nth degree, yeah." He shook his head. "God, am I turning into you, Grace?"

She laughed. "Oh, absolutely. Just shave off the beard and we'll be practically identical in looks as well."

Boyd snorted with amusement. "I don't think I could pull off the skirts and the..." He gestured towards her body. "...floaty top things though, do you?"

"Probably not."

He was suddenly serious once more as he spoke and Grace, sensing the reversion of his mood, took momentary solace in her drink. "There's so many things I find frustrating with her, you know."

"Not just because you're upset with her about what's happened?"

"I'm not upset. I thought we'd established that."

"Sorry. Go on."

"I don't like her quick temper, her impulsiveness, her irrationalness..." He frowned. "Irrationalness? Is that even a word?"

"Irrationality."

"Irrationality. Thank you. I don't like her irrationality."

"That's rather the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

"Exactly. She's so like me...it's..." He broke off and shrugged.

"Disturbing?"

A ghost of a smile passed over his face. "You think we're both disturbed then, Stella and I?"

"Ah, well, that's a different issue all together isn't it?"

His smile broadened before he sobered again, breathing deeply before he spoke. "How can we ever trust her again, Grace?" His voice was quiet.

Grace felt her heart soften as she looked at him, unmasked pain creasing his features. She reached out a hand and caressed his forearm gently. "She'll have to earn it back. It'll take time."

He sighed, his chest rising and falling slowly. "How much time?"

"As long as it takes. There's rifts to be healed, Boyd, and not just between you and her."

"I know that." He paused, leaning his head back against the couch and closing his eyes. "God, it's fucked up, isn't it."

She smiled slightly at that, her fingers continuing their unconscious movements over his arm. "What, this team? Or just life in general?"

"Take your pick."

"It's not as grim as all that, is it?"

"I don't know..."

"Let's focus on the positives – Spence is recovering and I've no doubt will be back on form in no time. Felix is absolutely fine from something that could have been a lot worse..."

"And what about their emotional states, Doctor Foley?"

Grace sighed. "I'll admit they might take a bit longer to recover on that score."

"There, you see. Blown your positivity right out of the water, there."

She patted his leg. "No bloody chance, I'm afraid. I'm just so relieved Spence is still alive and made it through the op...everything else can be taken one day at a time."

"If you say so."

"I do."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence then and Grace settled back against the couch, feeling suddenly exhausted as the emotions of the past few days washed in waves across her mind. She yawned, reaching a hand up to cover her mouth.

"I think it's past my bed-time." She murmured.

Boyd laughed softly and looked at his watch. "Half-ten – you're slipping, Grace."

"I'm getting old, Boyd. At half-ten I'm tucked up in bed with a book and Radio Four."

He grinned. "Very alluring."

She groaned. "I know, I know."

"You could go home, you know. You could have gone home hours ago."

She shrugged. "I had paperwork to finish." And I was worried about you...

He looked at her, sincerity evident in his dark eyes. "Thank you." He said, softly.

"For the paperwork that I didn't actually finish in the end?"

He laughed and then sobered again, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently. "For everything else."

She smiled at him, genuinely touched by his words and she felt something pass between them as she allowed herself the momentary indulgence of letting her feelings for her friend flow unbounded through her heart. "My pleasure."

"Now, go home, will you?"

She laughed. "Fine, you win!"

Grace stood up from the couch then, picking up their glasses and placing them onto the desk before retrieving her handbag and coat from her chair. "You all right to lock up?"

He raised his eyebrows, amused. "I think I can manage, Grace."

She smiled. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Sleep well."

"Oh, no trouble there. Good night."

Boyd watched her walk away and smiled into the now empty office that was so uniquely Grace. His chest infused with a warmth and calm that she always seemed to bestow upon him he got up slowly and walked towards the door. With a final glance behind him, he flicked the light switch off – in his mind, the darkness represented all his anxiety about Spence, all his concerns over Stella, all his worries about the future. As he closed the door on the darkness, he felt the perpetual weight across his shoulders lighten further and a sense of closure begin to settle in his consciousness. Because of her, I have a reason to open my eyes tomorrow. The thought was enough to sustain him for the rest of the long night.

The End