Disclaimer: I don't own 'Waking the Dead' or any of its characters, the BBC has that honour – I'm just taking them out to play for a bit :)
Pairing: As always, Boyd/Grace – but major angst. Grab your tissues now!
Spoilers: Series 7, 'Missing Persons'.
Rating: T, for language.
A/N: Whilst trying to write the next chapter of 'Underneath your Clothes' (I'm getting there, I promise!) and sorting through my fan fic folder, I came across this half-written piece that I had started ages ago, during the airing of series 7 so I thought I'd finish it finally! It deals with a very specific part of the ep 'Missing Persons' where Sarah leaves a message on Boyd's answering machine saying that she loves him. This is my take on it, on the reason why Sarah was never heard from again and on the state of Boyd's strained relationship with Grace – it's not a happy fic, as the title suggests, but then Boyd was definitely not in a happy place at this point in the show...Hope you enjoy it anyway x
Grace Foley closed the file on her desk with a satisfied flourish and leaned back in her chair, stifling a yawn as she did so and rubbing a hand across her tired eyes. It was late and the office was all but deserted, Spence and Stella having long ago decided to vacate their desks in favour of a visit to the local pub. Grace let her gaze flicker across to the office opposite hers, the outline of its lone occupant visible despite the minimal lighting in the room and she sighed deeply, noting the depressive slump of his shoulders as he sat hunched over his desk. Slowly, she rose from her seat and made her way to his door, knocking lightly before entering and leaning her body against the frame. Peter Boyd looked up at her, naked sadness in his dark eyes for a brief moment before his mask fell expertly into place.
"I'm just about finished here." She opened softly, anxiety fluttering in her chest as she observed his furrowed brow, a darkness palpable about his shoulders.
"All right." A ghost of a smile passed over his face but it reached nowhere near his eyes.
She sighed, pressing her lips together. "I'll leave my report on my desk, if you like..."
"That's fine, Grace." His tone was flat, emotionless.
Grace glanced down at the floor before taking a hesitant step into his office towards him, unsure of the wisdom of her actions but wanting to encourage him to talk. "Boyd..."
"What?" He broke eye contact with her to press the button on his answering machine, sitting back in his chair as he tried to focus simultaneously on the woman standing in front of him and the tinny voice emanating from the black box on his desk.
"I just want you to know that...I...I'm...if you needed to talk...about anything..." She faltered, her words catching as she registered the American accent reverberating around the office. Boyd's dark eyes met her sapphire ones once more as they listened in silence to the recorded message.
"And...I also want you to know that I've come to a decision...I love you..."
Grace was unable to stop her sharp intake of breath at Sarah's admission and she watched as Boyd's eyes fell closed, discomfort lacing his features, his broad chest rising and falling in a heavy sigh. She raised her eyebrows at him in question, trying to ignore the pressure in her chest, as his eyes opened grudgingly once more.
"I had no idea she was going to say that." He said eventually, his brow still furrowed in a deep frown as he spoke, his voice low, gruff.
"Is it mutual?" Grace was unable to prevent herself from asking the question, the words tumbling unbidden from her lips, but she caught herself momentarily, embarrassment creeping hotly up her neck and into her cheeks. Oh my God, what am I doing? She held up her palms in surrender. "It's got nothing to do with me..."
He sighed again, an inexplicable need to explain the situation nagging in his mind. "Grace..."
She smiled sadly. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then..."
"It's not quite as straightforward as that."
"Like I said, Boyd, it's none of my business..."
"No, but..."
Her smile became forced, resolute as she willed the ache in her throat to the depths of her stomach. "I should go. I'll see you in the morning."
Boyd sighed noisily with frustration as he watched her turn from the door way, the air shuddering from his chest, and he closed his dark eyes briefly, feeling pain flash in searing bolts behind them along with numerous unbidden, uncontrollable images. The naked hatred permeating Luke's sorrowful eyes, the disappointment radiating from Sarah, the carefully concealed hurt that Grace was so quick to blink away. Oh Christ, I just can't deal with this...not now...
"Grace." He found himself calling her name almost instinctively, even as he began to banish the thoughts once more to the recesses of his mind and he was relieved when she appeared again at his door, her slim frame wrapped in a woollen coat of a deep plum, her large leather handbag slung casually over one delicate shoulder.
The profiler's sapphire eyes were brimming with concern as she looked at him. "What?" She asked softly, the anguish in his face causing an odd constriction across her chest.
"I don't..." He sighed and passed a hand roughly across his rugged features. "I'm not in love with her, Grace."
Grace blinked, surprised at the frankness of his admission, but she shook her head. "Boyd..."
"I want to be. But I'm not."
"You don't need to tell me this..."
"I just...I can't...I can't give her what she needs. Not now. Maybe not ever."
She stepped tentatively into his office and sat down slowly on the couch, dropping her bag to the floor beside her and pulling her coat more tightly about her body, feeling a shiver across her skin at his words, the dull flatness of his tone. "What's changed, Boyd? When you went to New York...you seemed...happy. For the first time in a long time."
He gave a short mirthless laugh. "I don't even know what that means anymore."
"You were happy, though. Even if only fleetingly."
"I can't change my basic nature, Grace. You were right about that."
She sighed, frowning. "I never said..."
"I'm repressed, depressed and in denial, isn't that right?"
"Boyd..."
"Anyway, it doesn't matter. I can't focus on her now, I can't..."
"Why not? You still haven't answered my question, Boyd. What's changed?"
He took a breath before replying, the air sharp against his lungs, and he looked across at her, the tension pervading her petite frame, the anxious frown creasing her features, the waves of concern emanating from the depths of her cerulean eyes. I can't tell her...If I tell her, it makes it all real...If I tell her, she'll know what a terrible father I've been, how I've fucked up everything that's ever meant anything...I can't...
Aloud, he said quietly, "Nothing, Grace. Nothing's changed. I just...I don't love her. I can't."
Grace held his gaze for a long moment, her eyes seeking his for sincerity before she broke away with a soft sigh, shaking her head sadly. "Lying to me is one thing..."
"I'm not lying..."
"So how do you go from cautiously happy to perpetually miserable in the course of a few weeks, then? There's usually a trigger, Boyd, some kind of..."
"It's nothing."
"Is it someone else?"
He barked a short derisive laugh. "Believe me, Grace. I've got more than enough complicated relationships with the women in my life, I certainly wouldn't be trying to muddy the waters with another one."
Complicated relationships...His words reverberated painfully around her skull but she pushed the sensation away. "So what, then?"
"I told you. It's nothing." I can't tell you, Grace...but, Oh God, I wish I could, I wish I could let you lighten my burden...
She sighed deeply at the flat resignation of his tone, the walls of separation that were thickening between them and she rose to her feet, aware that she was fighting a losing battle, an almost overwhelming sense of sadness pooling heavily in her chest at the notion. "I can't help you if you won't tell me, Boyd..."
"I don't need your help..."
His words sliced thickly into her heart but she lifted her chin resolutely. "All right."
He frowned, rubbing a hand across his eyes with frustration. "I just meant..."
"It's all right, Boyd. If you don't need me, you don't me."
I've always needed you, Grace...A choked sob escaped his control at the thought but he bit it back sharply, reaching for his reading glasses and his file, a sudden need to occupy his hands, to distract himself at once uppermost in his mind. "I need to get on..." He said roughly, his voice thick as he tried desperately to suppress the tumult of emotions tumbling painfully through his body.
Grace gave a shaky sigh before bending down to pick up her bag and stepping towards his door, an acute ache accumulating rapidly across her chest as she looked back over her shoulder at his depressive form. "Well, you know where I am...if you change your mind..."
The gentle timbre of her voice, the infinite compassion in her striking blue eyes was almost too much for him to bear and he took a shuddering breath. "I won't change my mind. I'm fine, Grace. Everything's fine."
"Even so. I'm only at the end of a phone." She smiled at him sadly before exiting through the door, squeezing her eyes closed as she turned her face away, surprised to feel hot tears smarting on her cheeks. Oh God, she thought with despair, I don't think I can do this anymore... With a concerted effort, she took a deep breath and swallowed her rising grief before walking slowly away, determined not to return her gaze towards him.
Boyd watched her retreating back with a growing knot in his stomach, the shuddering of her shoulders as she fought her emotion, the tension radiating in waves from her body and he took an anguished breath, letting his head fall heavily into his hands as she moved from his sight. I can't love you, he thought desperately, the agony in his gut overwhelming him, at once unsure whether he was addressing Sarah or Grace as the notion and essence of the two women began to merge seamlessly together in his mind. I have to save my son...Nothing else matters anymore...Not me, not you...Only Luke...As the thoughts increased in intensity, flooding his senses with guilt, with self-loathing, with bitter regret for his years of loss, the consuming darkness crept steadily closer. And Peter Boyd began to weep.
