This fic is just a short one that came to me suddenly when I was trying to write the next part of "The Ties that Bind"! :) I guess it's set in series 6 but there are no specific spoilers. Hope you enjoy x
Grace Foley stared unfocussed at the wall of her office and sighed deeply, feeling her chest shake violently, letting her head fall backwards. She squeezed her sapphire eyes closed, trying to force the unbidden images away as they flowed freely through her mind. Her head ached as she attempted to push away her emotion, wave after wave of grief knotting in her throat and she swallowed hard, desperately trying to re-establish control. Oh, God, Jack, I miss you so much...
"Grace! Are you joining us today, or what?"
Boyd's loud voice booming from the main meeting room broke her from her reverie and she blinked, the tears at the corners of her eyes causing her vision to blur. She took a deep breath, attempting to settle her churning stomach and she got up slowly from her chair, her fingers curling around her mug of tea as she moved to where Spence and Stella were sitting.
Boyd was bristling as Grace took her seat. "And where the bloody hell's Eve gone now?" He asked irritably. "Honestly, you track one Doctor down and the other one does a disappearing act."
Stella rolled her hazel eyes. "She had to take a phone call, sir. It's connected to the case."
"All right, all right, well, let's start without her, then."
He strode to the front of the room, picking up a pen, his expression expectant. "Well, come on, then, what have we got?"
Spence sighed loudly. "If we say we've got bugger all, will you blow your top?"
Boyd grinned, his dark eyes shining. "Spence, please. I don't think you've ever seen me 'blow my top', have you?"
Spence and Stella laughed at their boss' ironic question, the jovial sounds reverberating about the room. A fractional frown marred Boyd's forehead as he noted Grace's unusually vacant expression.
"What about the psychological aspect of all this, Grace?" He asked, her eyes flickering over her face, trying to read her as the mirth in the room slowly subsided once more.
Grace blinked slowly, peripherally aware at the edges of her consciousness that he was speaking to her but unable to process his words. "Sorry...say that again?"
Boyd raised his eyebrows in surprise at the distraction in her voice. "Psychology, Grace. It is what you're here for, isn't it?"
She took a breath, her hand straying to the back of her neck, trying to ease her discomfort. "Can I have a word, Boyd?" She asked quietly, her tentative question eliciting curious gazes from the junior officers at her side.
Boyd's frown deepened, concern nagging in his stomach as he followed the profiler into her office, closing the door gently behind them. "You all right?" He asked, his normally brusque tone soft as he observed the tension in her body, the distress in her eyes.
"Yeah...I just..." Her voice had taken on a slightly strangled quality and she cleared her throat. "I need to get out of here...just for an hour..."
He moved forwards, reaching out to touch her but she flinched away from his hand. "What's going on, Grace?"
Grace found that couldn't meet his gaze and she fumbled with her coat and bag, struggling to put some distance between them. "I won't be longer than an hour, Boyd, all right? I'll see you later."
With that, she rushed from her office, ignoring the worried expressions of Spence and Stella as she made her way hurriedly from the building. Boyd walked slowly back into the main meeting room, confusion etched across his face.
"Boss?" Spence asked, his eyebrows raised in question as he gestured after Grace.
Boyd sighed deeply, his eyebrows knitting further together as his gaze traced the path where Grace had walked moments before. "I... have no idea, Spence."
"She looked upset, what did you say to her?"
The older man held up his hands. "Nothing, I swear. For once, I'm totally innocent on that front."
"Then what...?"
"I don't know, Spence, all right? I don't know."
Making a sudden decision, he strode into his office as the younger man took another breath to speak, pulling his jacket from the back of his chair. "I'm going out." He announced to the junior officers, closing his office door behind him. "Just...carry on, will you? And make sure you've got more than bugger all achieved when I get back."
"But, sir..." Stella began.
"Just do it, Stella, all right?"
He ignored her mutinous glare as he walked towards the exit, anxiety filling every pore of his body as he recalled the pain across Grace's features. God, I hope I'm doing the right thing...He thought,buttoning his coat against the cold winter air and stepping into the car park.
Grace lit the candle with shaking fingers and placed it carefully in its holder before stepping away, swallowing several times to quell the pervading ache in her chest. She watched the peaceful flame dance in the cool draught that swept the length of the church and she sighed, the expulsion of air causing further flickering of the gentle light. Momentarily, she took a seat in one of the pews, pulling her long coat about her to guard against the chill, letting her eyes drift close. You always used to love it here, Jack, the church where we got married...the church where our children were baptised...Oh, God, so many memories. Too many. I had to say goodbye to you here long before I was ready to. How could you leave me like that? How could you leave our kids? At her spiralling emotion, Grace choked back a sob, her effort attracting attention from several other people in the church, and she stood up quickly, practically running the length of the aisle and bursting out into the street, gulping lungfuls of fresh air. She pulled a tissue from her bag and pressed it against her liquid eyes, resisting the urge to scream loudly into the quiet, desperate for some sort of release for her pent-up anguish.
"Grace?"
At the familiar voice, Grace turned, hurriedly wiping the remnants of tears from her eyes as Boyd approached her, adjusting the dark green scarf against his throat as he did so.
"Are you following me?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, an inextricable mixture of gratitude and irritation across her chest at his actions.
He tried a small smile as he replied. "Covert surveillance." He said.
"I see. Any particular reason?"
His smile vanished and he frowned. "The way you left this morning, it was..."
"Unprofessional. Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about that." She spoke in staccato, mentally fending off the tirade she was dreading from the man in front of her.
He sighed, frustrated that she was misconstruing the reason behind his actions. "No, Grace, that wasn't what I meant."
"I said I'd be an hour, Boyd. Couldn't you just give me an hour?"
He took a step towards her, unsure of what to do, the pain in her voice uncharted territory for him. "I was worried about you." He said softly.
She took a shaky breath. "Well, there's no need."
"Grace...what is it? Please tell me, maybe I can...help." Even to his own ears, his words sounded hollow, stumbling and he grimaced, anxious of further upsetting her, glancing down at the ground before meeting her gaze once more. "Forget I said that. Helping's never exactly been my strong point, has it."
She looked at him, absorbing the concern in his body language, the sincerity in his dark eyes, the unprecedented gentle tone of his voice. "Walk with me, Boyd."
He complied instantly, falling into silent step beside her, fighting an almost overwhelming instinct to touch her, to comfort her physically in an attempt to make up for his verbal ineptitude. They walked together for several minutes before Grace began to slow, the gates of the local cemetery coming into view ahead of them, rusting steel covered in flaking green paint. She pushed them open gently, walking ahead of Boyd until she reached her destination, her heart pounding as it did every time she read the inscription on the marble headstone:
John Gregory Foley, 1947-1998, Beloved Husband and Father. Sorely missed.
She took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, letting her grief wash over her anew, the emotion raw, the pain across her chest intense. She felt Boyd move to stand close beside her.
"Your husband?" He asked gently, knowing the answer but needing confirmation, his eyes flickering over the words in front of him.
Grace nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat and steeling herself for the words she was about to utter. "Today...would've been our thirtieth wedding anniversary."
"Oh, Grace." His hand moved to squeeze her shoulder, his fingers massaging the tense muscles through her coat.
"I just needed...to spend some time with him today, you know?"
"Of course."
"I should've booked it as leave."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I just didn't realise..." She broke off, her chest heaving, her face contorting. "...how difficult today was going to be, that's all."
His palm traced soothing circles across her upper back, his fingers moving to stroke the bare skin of her neck, the soft hair at its nape. "For what it's worth, Grace...and don't take this the wrong way, I think...well, part of me thinks...you've been very lucky."
She half-turned to face him, not wanting to lose their physical connection but needing to see his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, it must have awful to lose him but...you must have had an incredible marriage. Not many people can say that."
His statement overwhelmed her suddenly, her barely concealed emotion breaking the surface of her control and she let out a strangled cry, the ache in her chest at once more than she could bear. Boyd pulled her towards him, enveloping her in his arms, his lips in her hair as she sobbed loudly against his chest, helpless to restrain her feelings of loss, of grief, grateful for the strong arms surrounding her and his gentle kisses against her head. Eventually, her sobs began to subside, giving way to soft whimpers but she found she was unable to lift her head from his broad chest, comforted by the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body.
"I'm sorry." She mumbled against his coat. "This isn't exactly how you planned to spend your morning, is it."
She felt him smile against her hair and he placed his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her from his body, his fingers slipping up the side of her neck to cup her face, his thumbs wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, Grace, all right? Nothing."
"It's been ten years since Jack died...I honestly thought I was over it...and then today..."
He stroked her face gently, willing away the powerful urge to kiss her. "It's a trigger, isn't that the term? Important dates resurrect the feelings you previously thought you'd dealt with."
Grace gave him a watery smile. "I can't believe you just said that. You sound like a psychology text book."
He laughed throatily. "I do listen, you know. Whatever the impression I sometimes give you."
"I know you do."
Boyd gazed at her intensely, his mind firmly telling him to release his hold on her, his body unable to stop his ministrations of her skin, tracing the outlines of her slender cheekbones and jawline, resisting an almost overwhelming temptation to learn the feel of her lips beneath his fingertips. "Grace..." He whispered, her name almost prayerful in the still air of the graveyard.
She closed her eyes, conflicting emotions causing her heart rate to quicken. God, this is so wrong. Can I really be wanting another man this much when I'm standing over the grave of my husband?
"Grace, this is totally inappropriate." He said quietly, his thumb rubbing sensually across her mouth as if of its own accord, even as the words passed his lips.
"I know..."
"I just wanted to comfort you...but I...oh, Christ." He broke off, shaking his head. "Can you forgive me?"
"For what?"
"For being a typical bloody man, more driven by his hormones than by his better judgement?"
She gave a small laugh. "Yeah. I think I can forgive you that."
"We're standing next to your husband's grave on your anniversary, for God's sake, I feel like I'm...breaking one of the ten commandments or something."
"I don't think there's a commandment that covers this, do you?"
"I'm sure there must be one somewhere..."
"And I thought I was the one with the Catholic guilt."
He smiled but the expression quickly faded. "I should go, Grace. You need some time alone."
Grace sighed shakily. "I don't want to be on my own any more, Boyd. If I've realised anything lately, it's that."
"Grace..."
"I love Jack...I always will but... I think it's time I moved forwards...or at least...sideways."
He laughed gently. "Are you sure?"
Grace glanced towards her husband's headstone and then back to Boyd, a burst of happiness flooding her, a welcome balm to her sorrow. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
His smile was radiant as he closed the gap between them, brushing his mouth over hers softly, caressing her lips with his in several teasing kisses before flicking out his tongue tentatively to taste hers for the first time, her tiny sigh of pleasure sending shivers through his body. Momentarily, they broke apart, Boyd wrapping an arm about her waist as they began to walk slowly away from the graveside. Grace glanced back over her shoulder briefly, tears spilling over onto her cheeks unbounded, Boyd squeezing her tighter to his body.
"Goodbye, Jack." She whispered softly. "Thanks for an amazing thirty years."
"And here's to the next amazing thirty." Boyd added.
Grace smiled brightly through her tears, turning again to face their direction of travel. Somehow, she had no doubt in her heart that they would be.