Disclaimer: I do not own the copyright for Waking the dead or its characters – all rights belong to the BBC … If I did own it Trev & Sue would be working hard in a studio somewhere recording some more sweet episodes.

Content: Boyd and Grace

Rating: K

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope that you enjoy.

For Better Or Worse

"Thanks Spencer, I'll be right there." Grace replaced the telephone handset into its cradle sighing forlornly. She was tired. Bone weary tired. Every muscle and sinew in her body painfully reminded her of the advancing years. She'd once been able to fool herself that she could keep up with the best of them, that age really was just a number, but lately... lately she had felt the full weight of every one of those years pressing down on her with immense pressure. 'So much for the fun and relaxed twilight years we were supposed to have,' she thought sadly as she rose from her seat and began to gather her things together.

The large building was grey and bleak but comfortingly familiar. Grace smiled gently at Bill, the portly security guard who waved her through with a friendly understanding greeting. The strong odour of the disinfectant that the faceless cleaners used on the floor embraced her. In an instant its familiar scent transported her through time as she walked along the brightly lit corridors. Turning left she began to head down the concrete stairs just as she had many times during the previous years. Today's descent, however, was taken at a much slower pace than before as she tentatively gripped the handrail.

Once at the bottom of the steps Grace rested her back against the wall using the moment to catch her breath while mentally steadying herself for what lay beyond the doors. The shroud of age crept across her skin and burrowed deep into her mind. Her eyes began to burn with unshed tears as memories of her younger self danced before her tauntingly. The ghosts of the past were a painful reminder of the former life that now seemed no more than a distant dream. Slowly her hand reached for the door applying gradual pressure until it moved under the weight.

"Ah, Grace, late as bloody usual, it's so good of you to finally join us." Grace smiled apologetically at Spencer before turning her attention in the direction of the gruff and impatient voice which seemingly was becoming more and more irritated with her by the minute. "Just hurry up and sit down would you? I've already gone over the basics of the case so you'll have to catch up." Peter Boyd turned his back on them again and continued speaking whilst writing manically on the board.

"So, Spence, you're going to bring Dunlop in today, yes?"

"Boyd, I..."

"The answer I am looking for is a simple 'yes', Spence. Honestly, am I the only one who actually gives a damn about this case, huh?" Boyd searched their faces challengingly. This was his domain, always was and seemingly always would be. His eyes fell on Grace. "Grace, I want you to talk to Sophie, she knows something and you need to get her to tell us what that is."

"Sophie's not involved in this..."

"And you're sure about that?"

"Yep..."

Boyd groaned loudly in distain. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I just do!"

"So, what - you're suddenly mystic bloody Meg now, are you?"

"No, I..." Grace's words fell away as she glanced towards the other members of the team for help. They had all been in this position before, all of them at one time or another had felt just as uncomfortable as she now did under his scrutiny. She knew how it would end, how it always ended, and yet she was powerless to change it. The cycle was in full motion and once again she was right in the middle of it.

Years of training, of walking other people through the recesses of their minds had proven almost fruitless. Of course it helped her understand human cerebral machinations, but the practicality of personal emotions had never been involved before. Emotions - her emotions - changed everything.

"Well...?" Boyd's eyes were fixed on her as he pointedly waited for an explanation.

"Maybe we should talk in... the office." Grace glanced quickly at Spence who simply nodded in agreement.

"No, c'mon, Grace, we have work to get on with. Whatever you have to say, you can say it here in front of everyone."

"Believe me, it's best that I don't," Grace continued as she rose to her feet, "...it's rather... sensitive." Boyd hesitated raising his eyebrows in an exasperated expression before following Grace the few meters towards the office door. Closing it behind him he continued towards the large desk and leant his weight against it as he addressed her. "So speak to me, Grace, what could be so important you have to drag me in here, hmm?" His expectant gaze fell heavily on her. Those deep eyes that were once sharp and astute were now dimmer with the rampage of age.

"We don't need to re-interview Sophie, Boyd, she isn't involved."

"So you've said, but my question still remains valid. How d'you know?"

"We've already interviewed her and been through her statement word by word. Her alibi is watertight."

"Hang on. What do you mean, 'we've already interviewed her'? Who the hell told anyone to do that?"

"You did."

"I did what?"

"You authorised it and..." Grace paused as she pondered the repercussions of the words which would follow, "... you interviewed her."

"I don't know who told you that, but it's complete bullsh..."

"I was there, Boyd, sitting in the room with you."

"I think I'd remember that, don't you ...?" Boyd guffawed moving behind his desk to open the top drawer. Grace knew exactly what he was looking for. He did it every time. For years Boyd had insisted on keeping a hard copy of his appointment diary, refusing point blank to use the computer calendar. If he'd interviewed Sophie, it would be recorded in there.

"Where's my diary?" Boyd asked frantically rummaging through the drawers. "I can't find the damn thing!" He stilled suddenly. "What the hell is this?" he finally asked as his eyes scanned over a memo snatched from the confines of the desk. "DSI Jordan...?" His words fell away as confusion displaced the familiar assurance of his countenance. "When did this come in? I mean ... it's gotta be a mistake right? A joke? I would have known if they'd promoted Spence to DCI and then to DSI – hell, he'd be doing my job ..."

Slowly his eyes wandered around the large office once his kingdom and Grace saw a new wave of confusion parade across his eyes. "These pictures ... who put them there?" He asked rising to his feet. Grace allowed the rhetorical question to dissolve into the atmosphere. The tears that welled in her eyes felt like acid burning caustically as she watched her old friend trying to piece the puzzle together. Finally when he pulled opened the door and read the name plate she saw the final piece fall into place.

DSI Spencer Jordan

His voice wavered dropping to almost a whisper as he spoke. "I... I don't understand. What's going on, Grace? Spence a DSI? Why wasn't I told? This is my office."

Grace approached him closing the door once again and taking a firm grip of his hand. Slowly she led him to the leather visitors' couch and sat down next to him. Confusion still dominated his face, but it was now accompanied by an unmistakable look of fear. She had seen the expression flit across his features many times and yet it never got easier to watch his evident distress. The now familiar sadness gripped her chest like a vice as reality seeped through her body.

Her fingers stayed entwined with his as she allowed the silence to pass between them. Softly she spoke. "It was December, a particularly rainy December. We were close to tying up the Morrison case and we knew Justin Dunlop was guilty... You'd got us there proving beyond doubt that no-one else, including Sophie, could have been involved. I remember the call. We'd just finished interviewing Pru and she'd mentioned something that immediately confirmed Justin was our man." She hesitated for a moment, organising her thoughts before continuing, " We got back into the car and you telephoned Spence asking him to meet you at Dunlop's house. That was the last thing you said before... We never made it. The tyre had a blowout, the road was wet and you couldn't control the car, not at the speed we were traveling. We careered of the road and hit a tree."

Boyd's head lifted until he met her gaze. She could see him piecing the fragmented memories together, his face a myriad of emotion as the years transitioned painfully before her. Momentarily she saw the boy hidden behind the man. Afraid and riddled with unwarranted guilt. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple moving slowly under the strain. "And you? Did I hurt you?" he tentatively asked as his eyes searched hers for the answer.

"You didn't hurt anyone. Boyd, it was an accident. There was nothing you could have done. But no, the driver's side took the full force of the impact. We... we thought we'd lost you; if it wasn't for the airbags..." her voice tailed off as the horror of that evening flooded back to her.

It was true that her physical injuries had been relatively minor compared to his but the emotional turmoil had been insurmountable. For almost thirty minutes she'd believed him to be dead, and that had been devastating. She shuddered at the vivid memory. Trapped by the mangled wreckage she could only watch as he lay motionless beside her with a steady stream of blood trickling from his mouth. She'd screamed until her throat was raw but no one was there to hear. Tirelessly she'd fought against the twisted metal in a vain attempt to reach him but she'd been completely helpless. Never had she felt so old and utterly useless.

She had never told another living soul this, especially not Boyd, but she'd said her goodbyes to him that night. Convinced that he was dying, she'd told him everything and begged him not to die.

He studied her intently, obviously trying desperately to remember. Grace gently continued, "You sustained a massive brain injury, Boyd. Your short term memory has practically disappeared, so now you find it difficult to recall anything that happened after the crash."

"How long?"

"Three years."

"And how many times have we had this conversation?"

"Once or twice." She smiled softly at him.

"The team? Spence?" he asked, agitation embedded in his words.

"They completely understand. Everyone is just relieved you survived the accident. The rest doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," he snapped. "Making a fool outta myself time after time matters to me..."

"You are not a fool, Boyd, and none of us think that you are. You had an accident – it's not your fault."

"Bet you all have a frigging good laugh, though..."

"Night and day we sat by your bedside, all of us, praying you'd wake up. I've never seen a team so relieved when you finally did. No-one's laughing, Boyd!"

Her words appeared to placate him at least momentarily. "And the Met?"

"Pensioned you out on medical grounds."

"Bet they bloody loved that!"

"I think some of them thought their birthdays had all come at once. Look, the main thing is you're alright."

Boyd lifted his head once again to look at her. "And us?" he asked tentatively, "... are we...?"

"We're just fine," Grace replied running her fingers gently across his cheek. "The doctors wouldn't let you home from hospital if you were going to be alone; you needed someone there to help you, at least in the first instance. They advised that it was helpful for you to be around things that were familiar so I agreed to move into your house, just to help."

"What about work?"

"Oh, I retired not long after the accident. Turns out the old place wasn't the same without you. I mean, Spencer's great, but the dynamics changed. I suppose everything in life has to keep evolving and I no longer wished to evolve with it."

"So you're my full time carer, then?"

"I'm your friend, Boyd."

"'Friend'?"

"Well, with certain benefits ..."

He raised eyebrows at her reply. The glint in his eyes and his suddenly flirtatious smile reminded her of days long since past but they soon dissipated. "I just wish to God I could remember. I feel so stupid."

"It's natural frustration. Day to day we muddle by just fine. There are notes stuck around the house reminding you of certain things, and usually we can remind you that you no longer need to go into the office, there's just the occasional blip."

"Like today?"

"Yea... like today."

He got abruptly to his feet. "How do I live like this, Grace, huh? How can I go on everyday not remembering what I did five frigging minutes ago. How can you?"

"I don't..."

"No, Grace; I can't let you throw the rest of your life away babysitting me."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that..."

"It's not your choice. When you get back I want you to pack up your things and leave."

There's no memory of it, of course, but he'd told her to leave many times before. The same conversation played out between them time after time like some sort of twisted Groundhog Day. Logic told her he was only trying to do what he thought was best for her, and yet his words still burned like fire as they pierced straight through her heart.

"What? Now you're just being completely irrational, Boyd. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions, Grace. I can't... I won't ask you to give up your life..."

"You're not asking anything," Grace interrupted moving towards him. "I offered, and I have never regretted a single day. Oh, you can be a right miserable sod sometimes - but you're my miserable sod."

"Grace, I..."

"Ssh, no more talking, Boyd; let's just go home eh?"

His face softened as he accepted some sort of appeasement. He sighed deeply as he nodded his acceptance. Grace reached once again for his hand, twining her fingers through his with a reassuring squeeze. "C'mon, then."

She opened the door still hand in hand with Boyd and walked confidently out into their old stomping ground. The echoes of the past surrounded her, each one shouting their support in confirmation she was doing the right thing.

Lifting her bag as she passed the desks she smiled gratefully at Spence before continuing towards the door. "Wait a minute," Boyd said releasing himself from her grip and walking towards Spencer. Slowly he extended his hand gripping the younger man's firmly. "Thanks, Spence, for today and every other time I've come in here and made a complete arse out of myself."

"Does that include when you were the Governor?"

"Oi...!"

"I'm joking, Boyd. You'll always be welcome around here. You both will," Spencer added motioning towards Grace.

"Thanks, Spence," Boyd continued, "... and good luck."

Spencer glanced around the bullpen before his gaze finally rested back on his former boss. He smiled warmly. "Thank you sir, and don't worry, I'll look after the old place for you."

Fin