Where I stood
By Pook
Rating: PG
Summary: Set after S7 Pieta – Sarah flies back to England.
Author's notes: Special thanks to shadowsamurai83 for the beta
Disclaimer: Waking the Dead belongs to the BBC. I've taken them out for a bit and promise to put them back when I'm done.
'Cos I don't know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood
Oh, she who dares to stand where I stood
Where I stood by Missy Higgins
The jumbo flew through the grey clouds on its final approach to Heathrow.
Looking out over the wings toward London, seeing its sprawling mass of building, its mess of rail tracks and roads, Sarah sighed and felt just as down and depressed as the weather. The dark cloud that had followed her since 9/11 persisted stubbornly, and it hadn't gone away or lessened with the passing of time, despite what all the psychologists and counsellors had said. The anger was still ever present and not diminishing, although she'd learned to control it, to focus it on her job, to make it work for her, but no amount of revenge on the perpetrators of 9/11 had cured her of the darkness that pervaded her soul.
To be honest, she wondered if it would ever get better, but why had she thought falling in love with a man would help her? She was an idiot. A big one.
Shaking her head, Sarah had been naive to expect that allowing herself to feel something, anything with Peter Boyd, would bring her back into the light. The man was just as damaged and incapable of feeling any emotion as her. Perhaps that is why they came together so quickly, she thought. They were both dead inside, just acting, playing normal people. It had been easy for them, both had years of undercover experience, hiding what they really were or felt. They went out and had a good time. Sarah started to think that they'd made love, but that wasn't right, they'd just had sex. There was a big difference between the two as they'd both taken what they'd needed from each other, but Boyd wouldn't talk about the big 'it' and neither would Sarah.
From somewhere, there had been a tiny glimmer of hope that she clung to. It had taken Sarah a little while to know she wasn't as dead as she thought she was, recognizing the tiny crack of light in her heart. She missed Peter, wanting him, but she knew that she'd made a tactical error, professing that she loved him. If only she could turn back the clock, she would've in a blink of an eye, and now she'd lost him, probably for good. The change in his tone when she'd called him - he'd backed off, and it had been confirmed when he hadn't phoned her since.
It was this lack of communication that drew Sarah back to England. Perversely, she needed him to feel alive again.
After clearing Customs, Sarah contemplated her next step. Too much of a professional to see him at CCHQ, she decided to book into a hotel, shower and freshen up after the long flight, then she'd pass the time away wandering through the vast collections in the British Museum before heading over to Greenwich and Peter's apartment in the early evening.
In the taxi, Sarah wasn't going to ring Peter to tell him she was in the UK; she wanted to see him face to face, and not give him an easy out, but she had to make sure he was still in London, and the only one in his team that wasn't completely pissed off with her was Stella, so she called her.
"Cold Case Unit, DC Goodman speaking." Stella swore to herself, angry for picking up the phone on reflex when she should have let it ring out. The funeral was in just over on hour. Everyone else was out. Spence was picking Eve from the farm, and none of them had seen Grace or Boyd for a week.
"Hi, Stella, it's Sarah."
Her mind elsewhere, Stella was a little shocked. "Excuse me, Ms Levin. How can I help you?" Why was she calling her?
Sarah picked up immediately on her sombre and formal manner. It wasn't like the young French woman at all. "Is everything all right?" At first she thought of his team, but actually she really meant just one person.
Looking into Boyd's empty office, it was obvious to Stella that the boss hadn't told her. Merdé! What was she going to say?
"Stella?"
"Sarah, I'm sorry," Stella stammered, unable to continue, and wished she'd never have to go through what Boyd was going through, losing his son. It was horrible.
"Boyd?" Sarah's imagination went wild, envisioning so many horrible things as the tears welled up, but wiping them away quickly, embarrassed at her loss of control.
"No,." Stella paused to gather herself. "It's Luke. He overdosed. I'm very sorry."
Relief and shock in equal measure engulfed Sarah. Poor Peter.
"It's Luke's funeral today." Stella could hear Sarah gasp at the news.
"Where and when?" It wasn't sorrow that she felt now, it was anger. Why did she feel angry now? Why didn't Peter tell her? She knew deep down, but didn't want to think it.
"Greenwich Memorial Park at 11 o'clock."
"Thank you for telling me, Stella. I'll be there." Sarah looked around to see where the taxi was and thought she might be able to get to Greenwich just in time.
"All right. Goodbye." Stella hanged up, grabbed her coat, and headed for the car park.
***
The service had just started when Sarah had slipped in to the back of the half filled chapel. She counted half dozen DACs and at least two Chief Constables in the audience, all in their black formal uniforms, all looking suitably solemn. The rest of the people were a mystery to her, most probably family. Boyd and her hadn't got as far as swapping family histories or photos to know who was who. The rest were more likely to be colleagues than friends as Boyd worked too hard to have many friends. Family and friends was another thing they hadn't talked about.
The celebrant droned on about what a funeral was all about while a montage of photos of Luke in happier times was projected onto a big screen. He'd been a cute boy, Sarah thought.
She'd wished she'd arrived earlier to be able to be with Peter, to be there for him, to support him, but she was too late, in more ways than one. In the front row, the tall, but forlorn figure of Boyd, his shoulders slumped, was supported by Grace on one side and another woman that she didn't know on the other.
After the celebrant finished the introduction, the unknown woman went to the lectern, with Boyd and Grace following a moment later. Sarah soon realised the woman must be Mary, Boyd's ex-wife and Luke's mother, as Mary talked about Luke and their life together. While she spoke, Sarah was shocked at Boyd's appearance – he'd aged considerably, looked thin and tired, probably because he hadn't slept or eaten in days.
Grace was standing right by his side, holding his hand and rubbing his back, comforting him, caring and concern written all over her face.
What would Sarah say to Peter comfort him? Pangs of guilt, or more likely inadequacy, filled her because she had no idea and she couldn't remember anything that had been said to her just after Mike died. Platitudes came to mind, but she dismissed them quickly, hating them and was sure that Boyd would've too. Small talk was something they'd both disliked or hadn't been any good at.
Grace would know exactly what to say, Sarah realised. From the small time that Sarah had seen Grace in action, she could tell that the profiler had been very good at reading people, to know what they needed, and Grace had known Boyd for many years. Why didn't she know what to say or do, but Grace would? Sarah wondered. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, chastising herself for being an idiot again. Grace had barely concealed her feelings when Boyd had left with her to go back to New York. Was the profiler jealous? It was a possibility because Grace had feelings for Boyd, and Boyd being Boyd had no idea, or did he? It had been even possible that the team thought there had been or was something going on between Grace and Boyd, based on how they reacted to her and Boyd, giving them both barely concealed filthy looks, and the cold treatment directed solely toward Sarah. It was her time to be envious.
Sarah barely heard Mary's speech and missed the celebrant asking the gathering to stand for the final prayer.
"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life," the celebrant solemnly quoted, as the coffin was lowered into the crematorium chamber.
Sarah watched as the dam burst. Mary cried, and was comforted her partner, while Boyd sobbed as Grace hugged him, her arms wrapping around him, his head resting on her shoulder, giving him all the love and support Sarah knew she wouldn't be able to.
Boyd had turned to Grace and not to Sarah when he needed someone. There was no point in fighting for what they had. It was over. There was nothing left for her here. Resigned, Sarah left the chapel and headed back to Heathrow.
Fin