DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
Now Tell Me You Love Me
by Joodiff
1: The News Delivered
It's just a little past five in the afternoon when one of the nurses pokes her head around the door and announces brightly, "Doctor Foley? Just to let you know, Mr Boyd's here to take you home."
Grace quickly smiles her thanks and stands up. She's been ready for the last half-hour, but Boyd isn't late, she's just more than usually impatient to be out of the clinic. The few things she's brought with her – a couple of books, some magazines and the tiny, but bizarrely complicated MP3 player that was a recent gift from Eve – are already in her bag, and all she has to do is slip into her coat.
She leaves the room swiftly and gratefully, and somewhere deep inside her the tiny, fragile hope that she will never see it, or another room like it, ever again is finally becoming something more than a desperate fantasy. Three full cycles of chemotherapy and thus countless hours of watching the poison being pumped steadily into her veins have finally culminated in this – the very last treatment session. Grace knows from bitter experience that tomorrow she will start to feel ill, and that the few days after will become a hideous torment of fatigue and nausea, but at last she is able to look forward to the reality of a final barrage of tests and their subsequent results. The ones she genuinely believes will confirm that she has managed to beat the malevolent curse that seems to have been stalking her for longer than she cares to think about.
Boyd is standing at the nurses' station talking to an incredibly statuesque and well-endowed staff nurse, and Grace can't help smiling wryly to herself as she notices the way even the very youngest, prettiest female nurses seem to be unconsciously gravitating towards him. When he wants to, he can have that effect on women. He's hardly a young man, but he's tall, broad-shouldered and good-looking, and when he's away from the stresses and responsibilities of his job he's eminently capable of a quiet, easy charm that she knows from experience can be absolutely devastating when coupled to the slow, gentle smile that very few women seem to be immune to. Even if Grace knows full well that he's simply being a good friend and a concerned colleague, it's still very good for her battered ego to see the only half-hidden envy in the younger, brighter female eyes around her as she walks towards him.
She wonders, sometimes, if Boyd is really as utterly oblivious to such blatant female one-upmanship as he generally appears. Perhaps, perhaps not. It's entirely possible that he's fully well aware, and that's part – if only a very small part – of why he's here. Maybe he somehow understands that it's very good for her bruised morale and self-esteem to be courteously squired around by a mature, well-dressed and unquestionably attractive man. Grace doesn't know – doesn't think she'll ever know. All she really knows is that through all the long, difficult months, Peter Boyd has selflessly put himself at her disposal as much and as often as physically possible, and when he really hasn't been able to oblige, he's sent Spencer, Eve or even Kat to collect her from the gruelling treatment sessions. It's entirely down to him that she hasn't left a single appointment alone.
His gaze settles on her, and Grace sees the way he instantly and automatically dismisses everyone and everything else from his mind. The intense focus won't last, she knows that, but for those few precious seconds she's the only thing in his world, and that's more than simply flattering, it's incredibly humbling. Quietly, he asks her, "Okay?"
She nods wearily, and it's the truth. She's tired but she doesn't feel bad at all. Not yet. It takes time for the worst effects of the toxic drugs to get a firm grip on her body. Boyd takes her bag from her without another word, waits patiently as she confirms dates and times with the staff nurse, and then he gallantly offers her his arm. Grace takes it without thinking, gladdened by both his steady, reassuring presence and by the simple joy of human contact.
They walk through the clinic together, and she's incredibly grateful, as ever, that he automatically slows his pace to match hers. The silence between them is calm and reflective. Boyd has clearly learnt that it takes her a few minutes to adjust, and he simply waits for her to speak. Eventually, she does so, admitting aloud, "I can't believe it's finally over."
"You're on the home straight now," Boyd agrees, sounding deliberately nonchalant.
Grace knows what he's not saying. There will be many long unpleasant days of sickness before she starts to feel better again, and even then, there are still countless hurdles to overcome. But she doggedly holds onto the carefully-chosen words of her doctors and onto her own stubborn belief that she has finally reached the beginning of the end.
-oOo-
Eventually, she's proved right in her tenacious optimism. The cancer has not just retreated, it has apparently fled the battleground altogether. Oh, she is soberly warned that there will be many further check-ups, that she needs to remain vigilant and to listen carefully to medical advice, but she barely listens. All Grace can think about is that she's fought the hideous, terrifying demon and won. That suddenly the future isn't a dark, claustrophobic and frightening place, but an open book with plenty of pages left to fill exactly as she pleases. And the joy and relief must show clearly on her face, because when she steps out of the oncologist's office, several weeks after the end of her final treatment cycle, she immediately sees it reflected back at her as Boyd gets to his feet and starts to grin like a madman. She can almost see the weight being physically lifted from his shoulders, but even so she doesn't expect him to grab her around the waist and swing her off her feet, still grinning from ear-to-ear. It's definitely an unbecoming situation for a woman of her age to find herself in, but she's actually far too happy to care. Though she's distinctly relieved when he puts her down again.
"No more slacking for you, Doctor Foley," he says, a triumphant note in his voice, "I expect you back at your desk full-time as of next week."
Grace is well-aware that he's joking. He's given her complete freedom to choose her own hours over the last innumerable hard months. And she's incredibly grateful to him for his unusual sensitivity in somehow understanding, without needing to be told, that banning her from work completely would simply have been counter-productive. She has no idea how he's managed to justify not bringing in a temporary replacement for her, but she strongly suspects the kind of bureaucratic sleight of hand he's very, very good at. Boyd is an unrivalled master of the dark art of rule-bending, after all.
It occurs to Grace, a little late, that even if her feet are firmly back on the floor, she's still caught in a fierce embrace that seems to have become entirely mutual in an unconscious, spontaneous sort of way. And that makes her suddenly wildly happy, too, because not only is it tangible proof of all the broken fences they've slowly and carefully mended between them, but it's the first time in years that there's been no kind of hidden agenda on either side. Maybe the bad times – and there have been a lot of those – are finally over. It's the easiest, most natural thing in the world to stand up on her tiptoes and kiss him gently on the cheek in a gesture of gratitude and friendship – and not feel something tear bitterly at her heart as she does so.
They walk out of the clinic together, and it's a surprisingly warm, sunny April day. A good day to be alive.
Grace slips her arm comfortably through his, and as they walk towards his car, she slyly says, "I seem to remember a promise someone accidentally made in an unwary moment…"
Boyd glances at her, raises his eyebrows slightly and simply replies, "Oh, I always keep my promises, Grace. You should know that by now."
-oOo-
cont...
