A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you will all enjoy my newest fanfic! Please read and review! I could do with a lot of feedback, it's my first Waking the Dead fan fiction!

Disclaimer: I do not own Waking the Dead. And I'm afraid I never will, either…

This story is dedicated to my best friends Jessica and Evelien, for being there when the world comes crashing down.

Chapter 1

Grace sighed; it had been yet another hard day in the office so far.

Eve was still down in the lab, running the final test that would make or break their latest Cold Case. Spencer and Stella had gotten into a fight a while ago, for no apparent reason at all. The fact they weren't speaking to one another made working together very difficult. Looking at the clock she sincerely hoped the two remaining hours would pass by somewhat more peaceful.

When Eve entered the Unit some twenty minutes later, it seemed as if her prayers had been answered. She was smiling broadly, excitedly waving a piece of paper from one side to the other.

"Please tell me we've solved this," Boyd huffed. It was more than obvious that he was annoyed as well.

"We did! Maxwell Reece is our murderer. I found his blood on the hilt of the knife that was used to kill Elizabeth. I also pulled a few epithelials from the cracks in the knife, which were his. And his fingerprints were the only ones I came across, too."

Boyd actually smiled at that, though she was convinced she was the only one to see. He did his best to hide any emotions apart from discontent and anger. She had to refrain from following his lead. This had been one of the most difficult cases they had dealt with so far, and it had taken them the longest to solve.

"Spencer, you take Stella and arrest Maxwell for the murder of Elizabeth Green. I'll let the boss know we've managed to catch our guy. Good job everyone," he uncharacteristically praised the team.

The youngest two seemed to have immediately forgotten they were supposed to be fighting; Spencer grabbed their jackets, throwing his colleague's towards her whilst making his way over to the door and pulling it open.

Seeing the Detective Superintendent turn his back on both of the women left behind, ready to make a call to Marianne, Grace shook her head lightly and focused her attention on Eve. It wouldn't help if she kept pondering why Marianne suddenly wanted to meddle in the CCU. Since she had made Boyd call her to inform her about a case three weeks ago, Grace had noticed things had changed a little. The rest hadn't, and she believed Boyd liked it that way.

"I can tell you're more than happy this job's done," the elder woman said.

"No kidding!" Eve replied rather sarcastically. "Boyd was on the phone or in the lab every half an hour to see whether I'd found anything to help him. He went crazy when I told him I hadn't. I thought you'd have heard him scream all the way 'til here!"

Grace winced slightly at hearing that. So that was what had gotten him into the bad mood he'd been in since lunch! Bracing herself for the answer she was undoubtedly going to get, she asked the other woman how bad things had been.

"He raged on about being surrounded by a bunch of incompetent so called police officers who can't seem to tell the difference between a clue worthy of their time and something with no better destination than the bin," Eve told her.

"He shouldn't have said that! I told him only yesterday that you were all doing the best you could! I'm so sorry he behaved like that again," the profiler said whilst shaking her head.

"Stop apologizing on his behalf, Grace!" Eve sternly spoke. "He's old enough to do that himself! I can't believe you do that every time! And I can't believe you let him get away with constantly shouting at you! I'm certain he does it to you more often than to the whole team combined!"

Grace laughed at the comment her colleague made, knowing full well she was telling the truth.

"You're absolutely right, Eve. There's no denying that. But he only does that because I'm closer to his age and mostly understand his anger and frustration. And I usually know exactly why he takes it out on me, another difference. I guess that's why I let him get away with it," Grace explained.

Eve's mouth opened as if she was about to speak, but then she had a change of heart and decided against it. She settled for shrugging her shoulders instead. Grace read the deeper meaning of the gesture and the unspoken words, thought, simultaneously cursing herself for reading a friend, something she'd vowed never to do.

Eve now seemed to change her mind for the second time. Her mouth opened to say the words she had been about to say earlier, but before she could act upon the impulse, Boyd's door flew open with a rather loud thud. His face displayed a mixture of emotions, mostly fear and anger, that Grace was sure was unreadable to anyone but her.

"Grace, my office."

It was not a request. This was a full blown order! He hardly ever used that tone with her. And she didn't need him to, to understand something was wrong. His whole demeanor told her this was serious, she'd better not make him wait too long.

She pushed herself away from the desk on top of which Eve was sitting, legs dangling slightly. She smiled when Eve told her she would be down at the lab to clean up the mess she'd made whilst working; that way she could ask Stella whether she wanted to go out to celebrate today's events when she got back.

Grace now stepped into Boyd's office. A very familiar smell lingered there, his unique scent… Something masculine, his aftershave and the one component that was entirely his and no-one else's. She always found it hard to concentrate when being in close proximity to him, let alone in his office! Luckily for her she almost always succeeded in keeping that hidden from him.

"Take a seat, Grace," Boyd asked her. She obeyed right away, opting to take the chair directly opposite him to sit down in.

She found it difficult to accurately read all the emotions she could see on his face. Her heart pounded in her chest. All her senses were awakened by the strangeness of the situation.

"Are you okay, Boyd?"

She cursed herself for asking this as soon as the words had left her mouth. It was general knowledge that Boyd disliked talking about his feelings, and that he reacted badly when someone tried pushing him to do just that. Although she knew he trusted her more than anyone else, she was worried. She could have made him close up again.

"Marianne was so happy with our achievement she immediately put us on a new case. When I heard which one it was, I asked her not to do this… I swear I did my best to get rid of this case, to make it somebody else's problem… But she just wouldn't listen… I'm so sorry, Grace…" he almost inaudibly said.

Grace, however, did catch the last bit of the sentence. She felt her whole body tense. It would take a lot for Peter to say something like that, but she had no idea what the reason was he said it now.

"Sorry for what?" she tentatively asked.

"It's a case connected to Patrick Brown… he was released from prison a week ago. As you'll remember, his father was connected to the highly public drug related case all those years ago. To top it all off, a body had been found and they fear he might have something to do with either Patrick or Edward. She wants us to look into that, because we have you."

"In other words, she wants me to have a look at the crime scene photos and try to determine whether it's possible Patrick's behind it all?"

Boyd nodded in agreement. He suddenly looked tired and years older, the lines in his face appearing to deepened as he rubbed it with his hand that wasn't resting on his desk. He then said:

"I don't know what she wants. From either one of us for that matter. I think she's doing this to make me pay for not giving her what she wanted before, to discredit me and to hurt me. And I don't give a shit about that, she can do to me what she wants! But she has to keep her hands of my team!"

Grace managed a weak smile; her hands were trembling. She felt the urge to flee from CCHQ bubble up inside her, and she fought to keep it at bay.

"Are you going to be alright?" Boyd looked at her, worry evident on his face. She did her best to dispel it.

"Of course I am," she hushed him. This was a lie. However, she deemed it a necessary one. She refused to have him fuss over her, it was the last thing she needed. She had dealt with it once before, she would eventually be able to do it again.

Boyd eyes her somewhat suspiciously. She was sure he knew she wasn't telling him the truth. She could see it in his grey eyes. But he held his tongue, for which she was very grateful.

"You can go now, Grace. Tell the other they're free to go, too. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow."

Grace pushed her chair back and got up. She noticed he had said nothing about informing them of their new case. In an effort to restore normality to the room, she asked him:

"And what about you? Aren't you going home?"

"I am, I just have to sign these papers. That shouldn't take longer than half an hour."

She nodded. The pile of files he was waving at, was obviously the result of delaying the paperwork he hated. She saw rapports that needed to be filled out, half attempts at explanatory notes for other agents… She guessed only three or four papers needed just a signature. He was going to be in for a lot longer than half an hour, she was sure of it. Though she didn't think he'd be finishing it all.

The joy she saw when she made her way back to her office, made her feel slightly sick to the stomach. She felt so left out… How could they be so happy when she felt this empty, sad and drained?

No-one noticed her slipping into her office. Stella was laughing at one of Spencer's jokes, Eve was doing the best she could not to do the same. For them, things were as normal as they'd ever been.

Sitting down behind her desk, she rubbed her eyes. This was one of those days she wondered why she'd ever chosen to do this job. Images of the dead bodies she had seen the last few months and of people breaking down in front of her after having heard their loved one was dead, played in front of her eyes. Was it all worth it, she wondered, the pain and loss this job held?

She was only pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a soft knock on her door: it was Stella, holding Spencer's left arm in a tight grip, who wanted to know if Grace felt like coming along to the new club in town to relax now this case was over. She kindly declined.

"I've got some unfinished papers to attend to," she borrowed Boyd's excuse. "And an old woman like me is not the kind of company you should wish on yourself for a night out. Go and have fun, don't worry about me. You deserve it."

"Alright than, if you say so… But don't stay in too late, you should get a quiet night as well."

Grace voiced her gratitude over the young woman's words, ensuring her she was not going to be making it too late. She then watched the backs of the three retreating "children". Somehow it made her long for the days she had been young and careless, free.

She cleared her mind by shaking her head. Grabbing a pen that was laying on her desk, she turned it around in her hands a few times. She mentally cursed herself. Don't allow your mind to wander down those roads, it's good for nothing! Focus on your job, that'll help!

And so she set to work. Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours… Her pen wrote meaningless words on empty pages, her hands signed forms of which she had no idea what they were all about. The monotone action was just what she needed, something that made time pass more quickly and that gave her no chance to think.

After some time, her eyes started itching with fatigue. Her muscles were getting sore from sitting in the same position for too long. Yet she did not get up. She threw the file she had completed on the pile to her right and took up another one.

Somewhere in the distance she registered two people where whispering to each other, but under the impression there was but one person around, who would not hear them. She yawned.

"Are you sure Jack said he'd left it in the DSI's office?" the first woman asker her companion. Grace vaguely acknowledged the voice belonged to a certain Enna, who worked downstairs at the entry.

"Peter was the last one he went to see. He says he still had the file on him when he came up here," the second woman replied. This had to be Laura, the ever present friend of Enna's, Grace understood.

"Probably took it home with him, and now he's trying to pretend he did not," she spoke. "And we're left to clean up his mess! This is the last time I'm looking for his possessions everywhere he tells me to!"

Her voice died away. Grace didn't need to loop up to understand Laura had given Enna a nudge in the ribs at the sight of the profiler bend over her desk. This was, after all, the office right next to the one they were heading for, and they clearly hadn't counting on anyone else being present. Frankly, Grace couldn't care less.

One opened the door to Boyd's office after having knocked, and she could hear a quiet conversation develop. But their hopes of finding the end to their quest in search of the missing file were quickly dashed.

"I don't know which file you're looking for. Now bugger of and let me do my job!" Boyd suddenly raised his voice.

In the doorway both women waited for a second.

"We're sorry to have bothered you," Enna said.

"You'd better be! Now be gone and don't you dare come back before I'm finished," he said, and with that Enna and Laura went.

Grace now found herself a lot calmer then she'd been right after her talk with the DSI. Although she didn't look at the clock, she realized more than half an hour must have passed already. Not wanting to go home because she dreaded the loneliness and silence awaiting her there, she decided a little more work could do no harm.

Ignoring the fact her fingers were hurting because she'd been holding on to her pen this tightly, she wrote one last line on a perpetrator she had recently helped put behind bars and on whom she was sure some advice was strongly needed. She added the comment this woman was a danger to all those around her and they should keep her under strict observation for at least a week. After that they should make her talk to a prison psychiatrist once a week to follow her adjustment and mental state.

Grace yawned a little. The clock read nine thirty. It was time to head home, however much she hated to admit it.

When she got up and turned around to grab her coat and purse, she saw the lights in Boyd's office were out. Not surprising at this time at night, thought she had secretly hoped to catch a glimpse of him before she headed home.

Unbeknown to her, Boyd had only left a quarter before her. He had watched the profiler for a while. The way she'd been sitting there, bend over her desk writing frantically… It had made him feel so helpless… He had wanted to do something, if only he had known what…

Whilst walking to his car, he had prayed. Something he hadn't done in over five years. Prayed for Grace to be alright…