Title: Sometimes A Lifetime

Pairing: Grace/Boyd

Rating: T (to be on the safe side)

Spoilers: Up to and including season nine

Summary: Sometimes it takes a minute, sometimes it's a week, sometimes a lifetime, but when you know you know.

Disclaimer: The characters from Waking the Dead do not belong to me, I merely like to have a little fun.

Chapter One

The pub was loud and almost full to capacity on what was probably a typical Friday night, the majority of it's patrons oblivious to the importance of the event. There were a selected few privy to the fact that the evening marked the end of an era and probably the end of the Cold Case Unit. The man himself hadn't wanted a fuss, just a few drinks and a quiet send off. Grace and Spencer had wanted to throw the works, no expense spared, but in light of recent events it had seemed somewhat prudent to go for the low key approach.

Although they had arrived together, taking the short walk from the station together, the confines of the room had separated them into their default pairings. Boyd and Spence were holding court at the bar with a the small group of officers Boyd had managed to remain genial with over the years, the volume of the bar making it almost impossible for anyone to hear the topic of conversation. Grace and Eve had found a table and the last two empty chairs, it seemed, close to a window so that they could at least enjoy the gentle breeze of the night air.

"Could he have chosen any more of a dive?" Eve asked, sliding her chair closer to Grace as a cheer went up across the room.

"I think there was method to his madness," Grace said,her voice barely audible. "Well as much as there ever is." She leaned closer. "He was trying to put as many people off as possible."

"And yet we came."

Grace smiled back at her. "He did say please."

For the last half hour they had tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to have a conversation, hampered by the noise and the indiscriminate fact that they were each struggling to come to terms with what had happened and what was to follow. Nicholson's death had put pay to any chance that Boyd would have a stay, merely prolonging the inevitable. For the rest of the team it had forced an epiphany of epic proportions.

"When do you think it will hit him?" Eve asked, her eyes drawn momentarily to her former boss.

Grace dragged her eyes away from him, her instinct to watch over him ever present, and turned to look at her colleague. "I think it has. He's in full show mode tonight. Her eyes drifted back to Boyd, his head thrown back as he laughed vociferously at something someone said, his pint swinging precariously in his hand.

"Grace? Grace?" Eve asked, concern for her friend evident in her voice.

Grace cleared her throat, her attention once more on her current surroundings.

"I said has he talked to you?"

Grace allowed herself a heavyhearted chuckle. "He hasn't in ten years so why should now be any different. These days he's deliberately not talking to me." It had been two weeks since Nicholson had been found dead in the warehouse, ten days since Sarah had been buried, and three days since the enquiry panel had drawn to an end. Boyd had spent most of his time answering questions in his usual facilitatory way and clearing out his office.

Eve stole a glance at her boss. "Have you tried?"

"It feels like I've been trying with Boyd for a lifetime." She let out a sigh. Every attempt she had made to entice him to dinner or for a drink had been met with a distinct no. "All he says is not today, or I have a report to write or I'm late for an appointment." The problem was talking to Grace inevitably led him to dig deep inside and unburden himself of every guilty feeling he had ever harboured, which Grace knew was not what he wanted or needed in the middle of an enquiry into his possible culpability. It still didn't make it any easier to deal with.

"So what happens now?" Eve asked, her tone suddenly weary, her attention focused on her friend.

"You go to work at the body farm and I, well I guess I go back to the day job," Grace replied, her voice betraying little of the hurt she was feeling. It shouldn't have surprised her, his lack of concern for the future beyond his own, but it sure as hell pissed her off. When Boyd has announced his forced retirement, she had hoped for a reprieve but after the unspeakable events it had become clear that there was no going back. Not that it mattered any more - Spence would be transferred elsewhere and Boyd was gone. In all honesty she had known for almost a decade that when Boyd went, she would follow. Adjusting to new team members over the years had been difficult but not impossible, adjusting to a new boss would have been something else, so she had tendered her resignation on the pretence that she would take a well deserved break and then start the search for something else. In the turbulent few weeks that had passed Boyd had never asked and she had not shared her plans.

"I didn't see the point in staying," Eve offered, "it wouldn't have been the same." Although she had joined the team late, her loyalty to Grace and by extension to Boyd, was absolute. The idea of building that sort of relationship with someone new was unappealing and instead she had opted to follow Spence in search of something different and less encompassing.

They momentarily fell silent as a young man they both recognised from the Cold Case building approached carrying a glass of beer and a large glass of wine.

"Boyd asked me to bring these over." He placed the two glasses on the table and weaved his way back through the crowd.

"Thanks." Grace lifted the glass and toasted Boyd. "He's finally remembered we're still here."

Eve took a lengthy sip of her drink before lowering the glass to the table. Her fingers moved around the cylindrical glass, as her brain played over what she was about to say. "So this is it then?"

Grace stared at her, the confusion evident across her features.

"We go our separate ways," Eve shrugged. "You and Boyd . . ."

"We don't go there, remember?" Grace stated, her voice firm but kind.

"The problem with not going there is inevitably the moment passes and you're left with nothing but what ifs and regrets." For five years there had been a silent acknowledgement that she knew but that they would never actually discuss it, to what end Eve wasn't entirely sure.

"I'm seriously not drunk enough for this conversation," Grace laughed awkwardly, lifting her glass to her lips, her fingers rubbing together nervously.

"I'm just pointing out that after tonight you'll go your separate ways and . . ." She gestured wildly, trying to find the most subtle phrasing. "To hell with it. You're in love with him and you'll never get to tell him."

Grace chuckled, her head falling forward as she tried to regain her composure. "You almost busted a gut getting that out, didn't you? Seriously, in love? I think you've had too much to drink. I like him is all. I'd like to think our friendship may extend beyond ten years of conversations over dead bodies."

"If you don't tell him that, he won't know." It was Eve's turn to smile. "Just think for the first time in his life he might shut up."

"If I try and tell him that he'll inevitably say something stupid and the night will end in a debate. Better that we leave the door open and see where it takes us. You have to want to be friends to be friends."

"And?" Eve asked, her tone a little more urgent than she had planned.

"And maybe I don't want to give him the satisfaction of me being the one to ask," Grace replied sadly.

Eve rolled her eyes. "That's the stupidest reason I've heard yet."

"Maybe it's the best one I have." Grace raised the glass to her lips and emptied it. The sharpness of the wine hit her throat as she swallowed, a metaphor hidden in it's depths somewhere. "And as enjoyable as this has been, I'm going home," she said, "Do you need a lift or something?"

Eve allowed herself a small smile. "I'm covered."

"It's about time you two went legit." She placed a hand on Eve's arm as Eve opened her mouth to speak. "Let's just leave it, okay. I think it's sweet." Picking up her over-sized bag, wincing briefly at it's weight, Grace rose to her feet. "Call me when things settle down. We can have a drink or dinner." She bent down to give the younger woman a hug, holding a little tighter and longer than she normally would, the finality of the moment not lost on her. "Call me even if things haven't settled down."

"Night, Grace. Take care, okay."

Grace glanced at the door, wondering if she could take the easier option and slip unnoticed out the door but something stopped her. She wasn't sure if it was good manners, a masochist desire or some unfettered hope that he would actually acknowledge whatever the hell the problem was between them. Slinging the bag over her shoulder she weaved her way through the crowds, coming to an sudden halt as she reached the bar.

"Gracie," Spence cried, placing an arm around her and pulling her against him. "You haven't got a drink."

"I think you've had enough for both of us."

"Not nearly enough," he grinned.

"I'm going home," she said, with a smile, trying unsuccessfully to extract herself from his embrace. "To a hot bath and a book."

"Stay. We're talking about getting a curry later."

She shook her head, knowing where the evening was heading and not wanting to be a reluctant participant. "Maybe some other time, Spence. You take care." Leaning up she placed a light kiss on his cheek. "Night."

Spence released her gently and kissed the top of her head. "Night, Grace."

It seemed like a lifetime as she stood before Boyd, waiting for him to say anything. His eyes were a little glazed she noted, his cheeks a little rosy, the effects of beer and whiskey chasers having the desired effect.

"Are you having a good night?" she finally asked, while he continued to stare at her, or past her, she couldn't be sure.

"Yeah. You're not going, are you? Spence and I are going for a curry. You should come."

"It's well passed my bedtime. I just wanted to say goodbye." There was a speech there somewhere, words that she would never say, a list of wishes and hopes for the future.

He leaned in conspiratorially, his hand brushing her waist. "But I haven't made my speech yet."

"I should definitely go then," she laughed, her body reacting to his proximity and the familiarity of his touch. "You might embarrass us both."

"Indulge me, Grace, you might be surprised."

She shook her head and he dropped his hand, caught by something in her eyes he couldn't quite fathom. "Okay, then goodnight, Grace," he said, placing his glass on the bar and turning back to look at her.

They stood staring at each other briefly before he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, the hug so brief that she wondered if she had imagined it. She could have stayed all night watching the array of emotions flicker across his features, hoping that after more than a decade he would realise something she knew within a week, but she was too old and too sensible to wait. Instead she stepped away, weaving her way back through the throng of people, her heart thundering in her chest, a sadness washing over her, until she reached the door. Instinctively, she turned and found him watching her, a smile tweaking at his lips, his glass raised in salute. She nodded before pushing the door and stepping outside, the door swinging behind her in finality.

TBC