Disclaimer, Content, Rating & Spoilers: see Chapter 1.
A/N: Thank you very much for all of your kind reviews – I hope this concluding part is up to par...
"Alright." Boyd's deep baritone was low, his brow furrowing further as she moved wordlessly towards her living room, her pale lilac dressing gown floating delicately about the curves of her body, the tension in her frame clear despite the darkness of their surroundings. He followed her in silence, blinking as she turned on one of her floor lamps, bathing the room in soft amber light, and he tried not to fixate on the outline of her thigh as she sat down, crossing one slim leg over the other.
He sighed noisily, at once frustrated with himself and the predictable direction of his thoughts where Grace Foley was concerned. "Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"
A ghost of a smile flickered across her face before dissipating. "Sit down, Boyd."
"I'd prefer to stand. I'm pretty sure in about thirty seconds I'm going to need to be pacing and reciting Shakespeare."
She gave an almost imperceptible shrug, ignoring his attempt at levity. "Suit yourself."
Boyd sighed again, resisting a powerful urge to groan with irritation. "What's going on?"
Grace released the breath from her body, forcing the stubborn tension from her shoulders, willing away the spasms of anxiety in her gut. "I don't want to do this anymore."
He shook his head firmly, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm not discussing this at three o'clock in the morning."
She looked up at him unwaveringly. "The fact that it's three o'clock in the morning, Boyd, and you're about to leave my house is exactly why we need to discuss it."
"Grace..."
"In fact, no, 'discuss' is the wrong word. I'm telling you that I can't do this anymore. I won't."
He exhaled forcefully. "And I don't get a say, is that it?"
"You've repeatedly been the one calling the shots, as I recall. The one who shows up on my doorstep only when you need..."
"Right; and you're telling me I've always had to twist your arm? Don't make me laugh, Grace." He instantly regretted the caustic tone of his words as he noted the anguish that passed across her features and he closed his eyes briefly to steady himself, willing calm to his bloodstream.
"How dare you..."
"As far as I'm aware, we're two consenting adults here."
"That's not the point, Boyd."
"Then what is?"
She stood up to face him, suddenly needing more equal physical footing. "Your Jekyll-and-Hyde impersonation, for one."
"What?"
"For six years we've been dancing to this tune. You turn up whenever you're at breaking point; we have sex, which I can only assume is some twisted form of therapy for you...and yet at the same time you're..." She took a shaky breath, her voice dropping in volume. "...passionate, attentive, generous...You whisper things in the heat of the moment that make me ache, that make me..."
"Christ, Grace..." He took a step towards her, his dark eyes glittering in the half light, her words arousing him despite his efforts to the contrary.
"Then you get up in the middle of the night and leave."
"I don't..."
"And when we're at work you're like a completely different person."
He rolled his eyes, annoyance creeping into the edges of his consciousness. "Well, how else would you have me be? Inviting you into my office at lunchtime for a quick...?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Grow up, then. We're professional contemporaries, aren't we, or am I missing something?"
"Our professional relationship isn't the problem, Boyd." She blew out an irritated breath. "I'm not that naive. I understand the separation between that and our personal...whatever the hell this is. I can't bring myself to call it a relationship."
"So...?"
"It's the way you blow hot and cold that bothers me. In the same day you can go from being dismissive to the point of rudeness when we're at work..."
"You piss me off sometimes at work..."
"...to the man who seems to make it his absolute mission to pleasure me in bed."
He smirked despite himself. "And you're complaining?"
She rolled her cobalt eyes. "I wouldn't be if you were doing it for any other reason than to ease your conscience."
"Oh, for God's sake; is that really what you think?"
She raised her eyebrows, folding her arms across her chest. "Can you blame me?"
"So you actually think that's why I do it? Because I feel guilty?"
"Well, don't you?"
He blew the breath from his lungs forcefully. "Believe it or not, Grace, it's not the first thing I think of when I'm trying to drive a woman to the point of delirium."
"Not consciously."
He threw up his hands with impatience. "You see, this is why we always end up fighting; because you insist on relying on psychological bullshit to make your point! Why don't you change the record, Grace?"
"Because what I say is borne out of years of experience, Boyd. Sometimes the things you do come straight from a text book."
He barked a short laugh. "So now you're telling me there's a text book on this? You're unbelievable!"
"What I mean is that you overcompensate, you..."
"Because I enjoy making you come, feeling you lose control?"
"Oh, take your own advice and grow up, would you?"
"What do you want from me, Grace? "
She sighed heavily, inwardly debating the wisdom of her intended words before suppressing her doubt to the pit of her stomach. "I want you to be honest with me. I want you to give me an indication that you see me as more than just a...a..." Fuck-buddy. Someone you use. The words faltered in her throat, cloying, suffocating her airway as she tried to force them past her vocal chords.
He stepped infinitesimally closer. "What? Colleague, friend...?"
She closed her eyes, pain arcing through her chest. "Don't make me say it, Boyd. Please."
"Say what?"
She looked at him then, searching the depths of his dark eyes, trying desperately to gauge his sincerity, the truth of his affected ignorance before turning away from him, her sense of futility in the situation rising as anguished tears pricked incessantly, uncontrollably at the corners of her eyes. "Just forget it. You should go..."
His hand on her shoulder stopped her dead, despite her concerted efforts to move away, to put some distance between them, the intensity of his voice causing waves of pain to wash over her anew. "The woman I've been sleeping with, who I've been...making love to for the past six years whenever she's been misguided enough to let me? You want to hear me admit it, Grace?" He sighed unevenly. "That's what you are to me. I'm admitting it, alright?"
Grace exhaled shakily, trying to ignore the shivers cascading through her nerves as he brought his other hand to her opposite shoulder, gently squeezing her tightly coiled muscles through the soft layer of her dressing gown. "I don't think what we do could be remotely described as 'making love', do you?"
He winced at the barely disguised despair in her tone. "You want me to be coarser in my description?"
"Well, it would be more accurate, don't you think?"
"Actually, no I don't."
She whipped around to face him suddenly, the soft candour of his words startling her and she blinked, feeling her heart rate beginning to increase steadily beneath the burning scrutiny of his gaze. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean."
"I don't, Peter. That's the whole point."
He grimaced. "Jesus, Grace. Why do you think I leave in the middle of the night?"
She folded her arms. "Enlighten me."
"Because I...I can't..."
"What?"
His breath shuddered from his chest, a painful staccato against his ribcage. "Because I can't give you what you want. What you deserve."
"Which is?"
His fingers drifted up to stroke her cheek tenderly, the familiar lines of her face. "Commitment."
Grace swallowed, blinking back the hot tears that threatened to overwhelm her, her voice strangling harshly in her throat. "I've never asked you for that." She sighed. "I just want to know how you feel, Boyd. I don't think that's too much to ask, is it?"
"This is me you're talking to, Grace. My actions have always spoken for themselves."
"But they're not a substitute for words."
"They are for me."
"So, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying...that with the exception of a few insignificant encounters as a teenager...I've never been to bed with anyone without it meaning something. Alright?"
She shook her head, her eyes flickering across his face. "Six years, Peter..."
"That should tell you everything you need to know, then."
"I'd believe you if there wasn't a distinct pattern to your behaviour. If you wanted to sleep with me at times other than your crisis points."
He sighed heavily and stepped away from her, running a hand roughly across his face and beginning to pace distractedly. "I just...Sex with you, Grace...It's always been...inextricably linked to the fact that you're...that you're my..."
"Your what? For God's sake, Boyd..."
He looked back across the room at her, absorbing the uncertainty, the distress lacing every contour of her being, the naked misery infusing her eyes. He took a deep breath, pressing his lips together, the silence in the room elongating before he could force himself to speak once more. "My anchor."
Grace gasped softly, the unexpected gentleness of his forthright admission, the raw emotion saturating his tone completely astounding her, engulfing her senses. For several moments she was unable to respond, her eyes locking to his in silent communication as unspoken sentiments flowed through the space between them, years of misunderstanding, of consternation dissolving dramatically away. Eventually she cleared her throat, moistening her lips as the words struggled to emanate from her mouth. "Why didn't you say something before?"
He shrugged, shaking his head. "I thought you knew."
She gave a short, incredulous laugh, suddenly angry. "Based on what? The fact that we've been sporadically sleeping together for years? The fact that in all that time you've never spent a whole night in my bed?"
"Grace..."
"Or maybe based on the fact that you replaced me as soon as someone younger and more attractive came along? Was that when I was supposed to work out how you felt about me?"
Boyd rubbed an exhausted hand across his eyes. "What do you want me to say, Grace? Do you want me to admit what a prick I was, what a mistake I made with Sarah?"
She shook her head. "I just can't believe that in spite of all of that, you still expected me to know what was going on in your head."
"I just thought...stupidly, maybe...that it was implicit."
She looked at him disbelievingly. "You're joking."
"For Christ's sake, you know how shit I am when it comes to admitting..."
"I thought I was nothing to you, Boyd, okay?" She blinked rapidly, willing away the tears that were burning in her throat, forcing away the constriction tightening in her chest. "Less than nothing."
He stepped towards her, bitter regret coating each nerve of his body as he watched her battle furiously with the agony beneath her skin, the years of anguished hurt clear in the barely controlled contortions of her delicate features. She was passive as he pulled her gently into his embrace, her arms at her side as if she no longer had the energy for resistance, his hands caressing the length of her back, his lips brushing against her hair. "Telling you that I'm sorry seems like an insult." he murmured softly after several moments had passed, his mouth pressing tender kisses to the top of her head. "But, for what it's worth, Grace...I truly am."
Grace felt her whole body shudder against his chest, his long-awaited apology washing across her heart in soothing waves, his words a healing balm to her fractured soul. The tears flowed unbidden from her eyes as she finally surrendered to the torrent of emotion swirling in her chest, unable to stop her shoulders heaving beneath the weight of her sobs. He eased her closer to his body, desperate to relieve her suffering, one hand caressing the back of her neck, the other tracing soothing circles across her back, her waist, and her hips. Eventually she pulled back, the trembling of her body beginning to subside and he slid his palms to her face, cupping her jaw, his thumbs brushing away the residual tears that streaked the expanse of her cheeks. He kissed her instinctively, the action so natural, so organic that his body moved without conscious thought, his lips tenderly brushing her mouth before he pulled away, pressing his forehead gently to hers.
"I don't know how to fix this," he whispered hoarsely, relief flooding his soul when she responded with a small smile, though her eyes were still bright with tears.
"The question is whether or not you want to," she said quietly. "And how much effort you're willing to..."
"I want to." His reply was immediate, his tone filled with determination, sincerity cascading from his obsidian eyes. "Christ, Grace, I know I've fucked up...and I know it'll take time for you to trust me but I...I..."
"Then you can start by coming back to bed." She laid a palm against his chest to pre-empt him. "Not for sex."
He frowned. "It's not always the first thing on my mind, you know."
"I'm realistic where we're concerned, Peter. If it happens during the course of things, then it happens." She sighed. "But fundamentally we just need to learn how to...be together without an agenda. Do you think it's possible?"
"I'd like it to be."
"Then that's all I can ask for."
She smiled and took his hand then, their fingers naturally interlacing as she moved to lead him from the room and towards the stairs, her heart swelling as they entered her bedroom, a strange sense of trepidation flowing through the air despite the familiarity of their movements. Grace shed her dressing gown and slipped between the soft cotton sheets of her bed, watching as Boyd unselfconsciously divested himself of his clothing before joining her. His arms immediately encircled her slender body, warm thrills prickling across his skin as he felt her relax into his embrace, the stress releasing itself from her joints, her limbs as he squeezed her closer. He focussed on slowing his breathing, unconsciously synching with hers, his chest moving against her back in a calming rhythm as he felt his perpetual guilt and tension beginning to seep gradually from his bones. Christ, I love you, he thought suddenly as his lips moved instinctively to her neck. I've always been in love with you. He exhaled against her skin at the unexpected realisation. Shit, I've been so blind, so completely and utterly blind...I only hope I haven't left it too late to make it up to you... The determined thought was the last one to filter consciously through his mind before he joined her in tranquil repose.
FIN