Set sometime after Luke's death, Grace makes Boyd start sorting out his house ready for the new owners.
Pairing: Boyd/Grace
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Waking the Dead belongs to the BBC.
Young and in Love
"Why do we have to do this now, it's not an emergency."
"You've been putting it off for weeks, we need to get it done, the house is sold, and we need to empty the place, starting today with the loft."
"But it's Sunday, we could be sat in a pub having a nice lunch and a glass of wine, that nice wine that you like, you know the expensive one."
"No."
"No what?"
"I'm not falling for the, I'll buy you lunch and a nice bottle of wine routine."
"It's not a routine."
"Yes it is, it's what you always do to get out of doing something you don't want to do."
"You wound me Grace."
"I'll bloody wound you in a minute."
"Easy tiger, we're not even in the house yet."
"Loft Peter and no stopping until its empty."
"Slave driver."
Boyd parked the large white van they had hired, and then unlocked his home, it was a warm day and they opened the windows to let the air flow through house. It had not been lived in for some time, and had a slightly stale smell in the air.
Whilst Grace put the kettle on, Boyd headed upstairs to the loft, a roll of large bin bags under his arm. He coughed and spluttered as a large dust cloud hit him when he pulled the loft ladder down. He dreaded to think what was in the loft, when he'd lived in the house it had become a dumping ground for everything he couldn't or wouldn't deal with, things he had no use for but couldn't throw away. Reminders of a marriage that had long since ended, so called settlements from a painful and bitter divorce. But worst of all, the most painful of all of it, was Luke's belongings, a distant memory flitted through his mind, a memory of the day when Grace had helped him clear Luke's room, fixtures and fittings had been discarded, but all his things, Cd's, DVD's, photo's, his favourite jacket, even his old school tie had been boxed up and placed in the loft, stored for a time when he could look through it and feel happy memories, instead of the cruel and unrelenting sting of grief.
"You okay?" She asked him, he'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even heard her walk up the stairs.
"Yeah I'm fine, I was just thinking."
She lovingly rubbed her hand over the arm that was resting on the ladder, "It'll be okay you know."
"I know." He sighed and smiled at her, before climbing the ladder into the loft, he had a bulb with him, knowing full well the other would have blown by now.
Grace waited at the bottom of the ladder until she saw the light come on before making her ascent into the realms of the Boyd family repository, on entering the loft her eyes were instantly drawn to Boyd who was now sat on an old wooden tea chest staring blankly at the boxes and crates that were stacked high in his loft. Grace approached him slowly, and sat on his lap, her arm draped around his shoulder. "You meant it then?" She said.
"Meant what?"
"That it was stacked high and wide in here."
"Oh yeah, box upon box of Boyd family life, from Christmas decorations to Luke's school reports, it's all here." He said with a sigh.
"It'll all be fine once we get started."
"I know that, I just don't know where to bloody start." He replied, moving his knee on purpose so she almost fell off his lap.
Once they managed to work out some sort of strategy to working through the boxes they made a start, and time went quite quickly. Every now and again they would come across a box that contained items from his life with Mary and Luke, things that triggered sometimes painful memories. Luke's possessions were easy to sort; they were left in the boxes and loaded into the van, they would then be restored in Grace's loft, those memories were still too painful to sort through, and he never wanted to part with them, although he had no idea what he would do with them, he had no other children, and no grandchildren, something that pained him greatly. He desperately wished he had someone to pass those belongings onto; someone he could tell about Luke, so that his memory would live on, but there was no one, not for him. Luke had a half-sister by his Mother, and he hoped that eventually he would be able to bring himself to pass the possessions onto her, she wasn't a Boyd, but it didn't matter, he just wanted his son's memory to live on.
Some of the boxes provided happy memories, and even a laugh or two, especially the box of his former work wear, complete with flared trousers and big, big collars, not to mention the truncheon, actually it's probably best not to mention the truncheon or more specifically the rather risky comments that were made about the truncheon.
As she moved another large tea chest Grace stooped down to lift up a large sketch pad from behind it, she instantly opened it and flicked through the pages, looking with interest at the sketches inside. "Bloody hell." She exclaimed with a little shock.
"What's up?" He called over, not really taking any notice of what she was doing.
"Nothing really, I just, I just found this and well, it's no wonder it was hidden."
"Where the bloody hell did you find that?" He asked instantly pulling the book from her hands.
"It was behind that tea chest I just moved, whose is it?"
"It's was mine, well still is mine, I haven't seen it for years, I assumed Mary had thrown it away."
"Is that Mary?"
"Yeah." He replied with a smile as he flicked through the pictures.
"Did you draw them?"
"Yeah."
"She's very beautiful."
"Yeah she was very beautiful." He noticed Grace instantly get up and return to sorting through the boxes when he said the last sentence, he put the sketch pad down and walked up behind her, he slipped his hands around her waist and put his face next to hers. "She was very beautiful, but you are very beautiful, you really don't need to be jealous of a shadow from my past."
"She looks so young, so…"
"It was a long time ago, she was very young, we were both very young, but it's ancient history."
"You've never told me about her."
"Yes I have."
"No, you've told me about your marriage, your divorce, how much you rowed and disliked each other, you've told me about Luke, but you've never just told me what she was like."
"Well you don't do you?"
"What do you mean you don't?"
"You don't spend your time with the woman you love talking about your ex-wife. You don't talk about Jack."
"You know about Jack."
"I know the basics, just like you know the basics about Mary."
"I don't know anything about Mary."
He sighed loudly and ran his hand through his hair. "What do you need to know?"
"I don't need to know anything…."
"Well there you go then, objective achieved."
"Uh, could you let me finish, Mary was a big part of your life, you had a child together."
"Yeah and we lost him too, there's nothing to say Grace, it's in the past, where it should stay."
"I disagree."
He pulled away from her a little angrily, "yeah somehow I thought you might, for god's sake Grace, I've spent a life time trying to forget my truly aweful marriage, I don't want to start remembering it now."
"But that's my point, I didn't ask about your marriage, I asked about Mary, the woman you fell in love with, the woman who you admired enough to sit and draw."
"I love you, not her, I don't want to talk about her." He again moved to where she was standing, he placed his hand gently on her face and leant in slowly to kiss her, softly at first and then with a little more urgency, his hands roaming gently down her back and coming to rest just below her arse, he stooped and lifted her up sitting her on a sealed tea chest, and then let his hands move up and down her back whilst his mouth made its way along her jaw and neck, leaving hot wet kisses in its wake.
Grace moved her hands up to his chest and then prized him away from her, "No Peter."
"No?" He asked with a whining voice and big puppy dog eyes.
"No!" She reaffirmed.
"But why not?" he whined, again pressing his mouth against her neck.
"Because it's a loft, and it's full of dust and cobwebs and spiders and all sorts of other little nasty's that I don't like."
"Well if it's the location that's bothering you we could go downstairs, my bed's not been moved yet."
"Yeah and it has no sheets on it."
"The sofas still good."
"We need to carry on with this mess." She desperately tried to pay attention to what her head was telling her, but as always, he was able to ignite something that was far more powerful than common sense.
"Half an hour won't make any difference; we haven't had a break in ages." He took hold of her hand and tried to pull her to the loft entrance.
She pulled her hand from his abruptly, stopping him. "No, we need to get this finished."
"Well sod it then, I am going for a cup of tea." He stormed down the loft ladder and left her to it, she thought he would come back, but he didn't and after half an hour of working alone she decided to go and find him.
"Are you coming back up?" She asked, finding him sulking in the kitchen, with a cup of tea.
"Yeah in a bit, I made you a cup of tea."
"I know you're not enjoying this Peter, but it needs to be done, you can't hand over the keys and just leave all your belongings in here."
"Be a bloody lot easier if I could."
"Yeah it would, but you'd lose everything, all the things that matter to you."
"Why do they matter, I've got no one to leave them to, what's the point in saving all those things throughout your life when you're the end of the line, it may as well just all go to the nearest land fill."
"You don't mean that."
"I do."
"Peter, you're life's not over, and okay so you don't have kids but one day when it's not so pain full you may enjoying looking back through Luke's things, looking through the photos from your own childhood."
"And when I'm gone someone else will come along and dump it all in a skip, why don't I just save them the trouble." He got up and left her, walking through to the lounge.
Grace followed him, he was standing in front of the window that over looked his back garden. "What are you thinking about?" She asked him, her hand rubbing his back affectionately.
He turned and gave her a small half-hearted smile. "Nothing."
"Don't hide your feelings from me, you don't need to."
"I know, I was thinking about Luke, we moved in here when he was five, that garden was his kingdom, he had everything, swings, slides, climbing frames, everything an active little boy could want."
"He must have been very happy."
"I have no idea if he was happy."
"You're torturing yourself for nothing, Luke was a happy and healthy little boy who was well cared for by both his parents, lots of couples have marriage problems, it doesn't automatically mean that you were the reason he got into drugs and ran away from home."
"Why else would he have done it, why else did he run away if it wasn't because of how I treated him."
"Because sadly, he got into drugs, it happens Peter, normal kids from normal backgrounds take drugs and become embroiled in that lifestyle, as sad as that is, it's the truth and you need to accept that and move on."
"Yeah cos it's that simple Grace."
"Don't you think that I of all people know how difficult it is for you, I watched as you tried to save him when you found him and I also watched you fall apart when he died. There was absolutely nothing I could do to help you and it tore me apart."
"I know, I'm sorry." He turned around and put his arms around her. "I didn't mean it, I'm sorry." He continued to hold her in his arms; her head nestled comfortably on his shoulder. As she pulled away to speak to him he silenced her, placing his lips against hers in a delicate kiss. He pulled back and rubbed his nose gently against hers, "I do love you ya know."
"I know."
He kissed her again, and then again, edging her gently back onto the sofa, this time she didn't complain, and she didn't stop him. This time she was a perfectly willing participant as he gently began to kiss and caress her neck. He continued, pushing her cardigan down her arms and lifting her top over her head, his mouth moving down her shoulder tenderly kissing her skin as he made his way towards her breasts. She whimpered as his lips enveloped her nipple, first one and then the other. They were now lying on the sofa, or she was laying and he was straddling her, putting him in a perfect position to continue his onslaught of her body, igniting her senses with every touch of his lips against her skin. He was, just as he always was with her, gentle, considerate, and generous, putting her needs before his own at every opportunity, arousing her, exciting her, and only when he knew she could take no more did he consider his own needs, the need to be inside her, the need to feel himself filling her body, and the need to feel her muscles contracting around him as he brought her to an earth shattering climax, before coming deep and hard inside her.
Afterwards they lay together on the sofa, arms around each other, they said nothing at first, just lay together, until Grace broke the silence. "We should be working you know."
"We can always come back tomorrow."
"Mm, I know, but we said we'd at least finish the loft today."
He pulled her tightly against him, "can't we just stay here a while longer."
"What was she like?" She changed the subject abruptly.
"Who?"
"Mary. What was she like?"
"She was a nasty conniving cow, if you want the truth."
"You must have loved her once."
"Why, because we had a child together."
"No, because you don't spend time painstakingly sketching someone like that unless you love them."
"What a load of rubbish, artist's sketch models all the time, they're not in love with them."
"You're not an artist, you're a policeman, and they were personal, sketched with care, and yes with love."
"Yeah well it all ended very abruptly."
"Tell me about her, what made you fall in love with her?"
He sighed. "Why do you want to know?"
"I'm just interested, the pictures were….beautiful, they had depth and feeling, and I want to know what made you feel like that."
"She was young, and beautiful and sweet and everything I was looking for, but it didn't last, it ended too soon."
"When did you draw the pictures?"
"When we first met I was just a DC, I had a small flat and no money, we could never afford to go out, so we would stay at home and we would usually end up making love, I always had a sketchpad around, I was always sat sketching something or someone, it was just what I did. After we'd made love I would sketch her, sometimes whilst she slept, sometimes whilst she was awake, it was just something we did. We were like any other young couple, full of plans of what we were going to do and where we would go."
"They sound like happy memories."
"Yeah I guess they were, it just turned sour very quickly, I have a handful of happy memories and shit load of bad ones."
"Why did it go wrong?"
"It should never have been more than a fling, if we'd ended it after six months we'd have nothing but good memories, but we were young and stupid, so we got married and had Luke. That was when it all went wrong, he was a difficult and demanding baby and Mary couldn't cope with it. The more time I spent at work the more she was on her own with him, she was young and inexperienced and had no one to turn to, I guess that was when it started to go wrong."
"It sounds like she had post natal depression."
"Looking back I think she probably did, but it wasn't all that well known back then, I had no idea. When things at home were tough I spent more time at work and that just made things worse, it was just a vicious circle."
"Do you regret it now?"
"Only because of Luke, I wonder whether it would have been different if we'd made a go of things and stayed together."
"Children of couples who stay together for the sake of the child are statistically more unhappy than the children of couples who separate."
"But maybe he wouldn't have turned to drugs, I'd have settled for him being miserable and alive."
"There is nothing to suggest that he got into drugs because you and Mary separated."
"I know, I just wonder about it, that's all." As she gazed at him she gently stroked his face, and for a few minutes they just lay like that.
"Wait there, I have an idea." Boyd got up from the sofa and walked out of the room, wearing nothing but the suit he was born in. He returned a few minutes later with his sketch pad and a pencil.
"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"
"Well I managed it when I was young and in love, now I'm old and in love I want to see if I still have the magic."
"You might need more pencils; I have a lot more wrinkles than Mary."
"There are a lot of things you have more of than Mary, Grace, I guarantee you that the wrinkles are the last thing I notice." He replied eyeing her breasts and then bending down to kiss her. He sat opposite her as she relaxed and slowly the image began to form on the page, he smiled softly to himself as he looked up to see she had dozed off, reminding him of the happy times in his marriage. He put the pad and pencil on the floor and bent down to kiss her again, "I love you; you've made my life worth living again." He said the words so quietly they were almost inaudible. He didn't notice the small smile that appeared on her face as he spoke.
The End