Disclaimer: I do not own the copyright for Waking the dead or its characters – all rights belong to the BBC
Content: Boyd and Grace
Rating: K
Hey everyone! I know the weather has been very unseasonably amazing through-out most of the UK but the writing prompt was … 'It was the first snowfall of the year'. As you can probably by now guess it is angst driven, but I hope you like it. Thanks again for taking the time to read. I would love, as always, to hear your comments on this one. xx
Snowfall
The street lights glistened dancing delicately upon the white power which softly lay on the pavement beneath. This was the first snow fall since …..
He had never imagined feeling so cold, so broken, and so lost. The icy wind that blew on his face was no opposition to the bitter chill that coursed through his body. He embraced the feeling of emptiness almost with relish, he didn't want to feel normal, if he was honest he didn't want to feel anything at all. The cold, hollow void within suited him just fine.
She had always loved the snow, her gentle blue eyes lighting up with childlike wonderment at how beautiful, peaceful and still the world looked as the blanket of white delicately covered the grey streets underneath. In the midst of the dark horrors they were forced to witness every day the purity of the snow filled her with promise and hope. They would often wrap up warm against the elements. Her petite figure protected by a full length coat, head covered with a woollen hat, which always matched her gloves and scarf perfectly. She would feign annoyance as he grumbled about the stupidity of leaving the warm fire and wine to wander aimlessly in the harshness of winter, but knew that deep down he loved it as much as she. He loved the crunch of the snow echo as it compacted beneath their feet, loved that they were the first people to tread across its virgin whiteness, but most of all he loved the look on her face as she smiled in awe at the beauty the snow was creating as the world twinkled in the moonlight. He closed his eyes as the memory of her laughter resounded in his mind. The smell of her as she nestled into him, linking her arm through his in a bid to gather warmth as they walked, the closeness of her body to his, the peace he felt. All of which were now taunting him in stark contradiction to the lonely desolation he was feeling.
Her leaving was his downfall. Her final breath the ultimate devastation to his soul. Everyone and everything he had ever loved had been so cruelly ripped from him. If he believed in such things he would have sworn that he had been cursed. There was nothing left for them to take now. His life a mere shell of that which was once vibrant and passionate, stripped completely bare so only barrenness remained where once love and purpose had resided. He never imagined his life to end like this. His belief that they would always be together, grow old with one another had never waned, not even during the bleakness when they lost sight of each other. The distance that crept up on them had affected him more than he thought possible. He had told himself in the beginning that he didn't need her, that he could manage perfectly well on his own. The truth was during that period, he merely existed, trundling from one day to another willing on the time that they would find themselves gravitating towards one another again. He needed her, both then and now.
They did eventually find their way back, the separation leaving a scar that neither wanted to suffer again. Their relationship deepened, he was hers and she was his completely. He shared everything and gave himself completely and willingly to her. How could she leave him, knowing how lost he would be without her? He closed his eyes once more against the pain. He knew she had tried so desperately hard to hold on, she had fought so bravely. He couldn't ask her to stay; he couldn't watch her in anymore pain. Holding her in his arms he had silently prayed for her to be at peace. Her frail body holding onto him with every piece of strength within her as if she would never let him go, but against her will she had to.
He looked towards the window. "Are you awake Grace?" He said softly kissing the top of her head as she nestled underneath his arm.
"Yea, I'm awake." She quietly replied.
"It's started to snow; I know how you love the snow, especially the first fall of winter."
She smiled against his chest. "The first fall is always the best, rids the earth of the smog and grime." He pulled her tighter to him as she continued. "Describe it to me Peter, please."
He swallowed hard, suppressing the lump which threatened to prevent his words from being heard. "The flakes are gentle, but are falling fast. There is going to be quite a blanket of white left if this continues. The big oak in the garden is already covered; its branches are almost bending under the weight. The moon is full tonight so the light is beautiful, very still and peaceful."
She gave a small sigh. "So perfect … tomorrow …. we'll walk in it tomorrow …." Her voice trailed off as she succumbed to the tiredness that constantly embraced her.
Boyd sighed deeply attempting to hold his tears at bay. "If that's what you want then that's what we'll do." He replied once again placing another tender kiss on top of her head.
The snow came and went, but she never again walked in it or heard the crunch beneath her feet, her footsteps covered for eternity. Nor did he ever see the joy in her eyes as she hit him playfully with yet another snowball. Like the vanishing snow her soul also left him that winter but with it did not bring the promise of spring.
The world's beauty was lost on him, marred by her absence. Nothing captivated his attention anymore, not the way she did. This world held no attraction for him and so he welcomed the cold emptiness which encompassed him, but it was now as he watched the snow lightly fall that he felt her. She surrounded him with every flake that fell from heaven. So pure, gentle, delicate, everything that was the true embodiment of her. She was with him; he could feel her and was conscious of her presence as he walked across the virgin snow. The wind that blew bleak as winter causing him to pull his coat tighter as he longed for the warmth of her body to be beside him.
He arrived at his destination momentarily pausing before stooping to gently brush the snow that covered the stone in front of him revealing her name.
Grace Boyd
To the world it was just another name on another gravestone, but to him this name represented his life, his heart, and his soul. Softly he whispered …..
"Hi Grace … It has started to snow; I know how you love the snow, especially the first fall of winter …"