Disclaimer: I do not own the copyright for Waking the dead or its characters – all rights belong to the BBC
Content: Heartache, angst,
Rating T – angst
Hey everyone. Well here is the next chapter, it's a bit angsty and if you are like me you will want to find Boyd and hug him by the time you've finished. I think he needs it. If you can I would love to hear your thoughts. Thank you once again for taking the time to read it. xx
The Right Thing
Chapter Seven
The late afternoon light danced it's reflection on the water's surface, the last remnants of summer lingering in the air. People passed the lone figure unnoticed, couples hand in hand laughing care freely as they whispered words lost to everyone else in the world but them. The sound of children playing echoed in the distance as they enjoyed the warmth of the sun. Whether the heat of the sun or the coldness of the rain, there was nothing in the world that could heal the brokenness of the solidary man standing watching the water gently lap against the edge. He wasn't sure what led him here; he only knew that this place had a magnetic pull on him when he needed to breathe in the midst of the suffocating constraints of the city. He had hoped that somehow the familiar surroundings of Waterloo Bridge, the calming influence of the river would help to bring healing to his soul as it had on so many previous occasions. As he stood gripping tightly to the metal rail & looking out over the water, he knew all his hope had been futile. There was no healing here. The pressure on his chest threatened to overwhelm him as he tried to contain the surge of emotion that was currently coursing through his body and prevent the loud heart-wrenching sob that he knew he was dangerously close to letting escape. The feral desire to scream into the ether, roaring like a lion releasing the pain, anger and anguish in a barrage of abuse towards whoever or whatever had cursed his life was building uncontrollably within him. The scum he had put away, the in-human way that people treated one another, the injustice that evil displayed every day of his working life were now all laughing in the face of what was beautiful, tender and gentle. The unfairness of life constricting around his heart like a noose squeezing tightly against any compassion he held for anyone or anything else outside the two of them. This moment was about her, for her, right now no-one else mattered.
His thoughts carried him to happier times and he felt a smile pull at the corners of his lips as he closed his eyes at the memory. He could still hear her laughter, loud and raucous as she threw her head back in pure raw abandonment. The sound of her deep amusement irresistible as his own unbridled laughter blended with hers. Her intense grey-blue eyes sparkled and danced unashamedly with the enthusiasm, energy and passion of a teenager as he had pulled her closer into himself. The scent of her hair causing him to inhale slowly while relishing in the intimacy of their intensifying relationship. The final step across the unspoken line had been taken and far from feeling self-conscious or embarrassed they both delighted in the elation that this new tenderness and closeness was bestowing upon them. For the life of him he couldn't understand why it had taken him so long to see what was in front of his eyes. True he had loved her for longer than he would care to admit even to himself. Those late evenings spent in her office, drinking wine and talking long into the night had become less frequent in later years and only now could he confess the reason why.
"You used to drive me crazy Grace." He smiled as he reached over to kiss her softly on the lips.
"Whatdya mean I used to drive you crazy, I think you'll find it was the other way around." She laughed.
"No I'm serious, you'd be sitting here on your couch, feet curled under you, leaning into me, your scent filling the room as you laughed at my bad jokes, and playfully patted my legs when you were teasing me. That coupled with the wine, well it drove me crazy. The number of times I had to stop myself from kissing you ….."
"Why did you?"
"Why did I what? He shrugged boyishly.
Grace rolled her eyes at him knowingly. "Stop yourself, you're not normally known for your self-control."
"Well, this was different wasn't it?"
"Was it?"
"Yea of course, I mean, what if I got it wrong eh, next thing I'd know would be the sexual harassment case that was filed against me!"
"Hardly!"
"What you wouldn't of filed one?" He smiled widely moving closer to her.
"Nope, never." She shook her head slowly returning his smile before pressing her lips to his.
"I wish I had have known that …. would have saved me numerous cold showers in the evenings." He laughed before taking her in his arms and kissing her more passionately.
Peter Boyd had always known reading women had never been one of his strong points. Of course he knew that he and Grace were close, that was clear for everyone to see, but he could never determine if her playful flirtations were exactly that and therefore meaningless or if she did in fact feel the deepening bond develop between them that he himself had been fighting hard against for the last few months. He had once considered asking her outright. They had been out for dinner, it had been a long day and neither of them had been looking forward to going home to an empty house to begin cooking. Somehow the conversation found its way to Luke and for a moment he was unable to hide the unadulterated grief in his eyes. Grace, perceptive as ever had picked up on it immediately and reached over to take his hand as she comforted him. In an instance the atmosphere was charged, he felt it and he was sure that Grace had too. His spine tingled at her touch as his hand closed over hers and he caressed her knuckles gently with his thumb, his gaze fixed firmly on their joined hands unwilling to look into her eyes in case he was met with confusion and rejection. As he stroked her hand tenderly he had wanted to tell her, to try and express his feelings, but were could he even begin when he didn't fully understand them himself. He knew that if she rejected him their friendship would be irretrievably damaged and he couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He would rather have her in his life as only a colleague and friend than not in it at all. He couldn't risk it, so be swallowed hard and dropped the mask of pretence once again over his features before squeezing her hand gently and releasing his grip.
The cool of the evening air began bite as the sun dropped in the sky and the breeze softly blew up from the Thames below him but he didn't notice as he rubbed his hand over his face silently cursing his own cowardliness. The time that they had wasted dancing around each other. The time he had wasted keeping his feelings hidden from her and the rest of the world. It could have been so different if only he had believed enough to have taken a chance. Instead he thought he was doing the right thing, by her, by Sarah, by Daniel and now the painful realisation was that in trying to appease those around him he had denied himself the happiness he had craved for so long. The last year had been filled with emptiness and he knew he had lost a piece of himself the night he had closed the door of Grace's house leaving her inside. Nothing in his life held the same meaning, everything reminded him of her. Music, wine, restaurants, food, television programmes all taunted him with her memory.
Work had been unbearable at the beginning. He hated being in the office and spent the first few weeks waiting for her to appear at his door with a bottle of wine and that smile she gave which immediately calmed his soul and let him know everything was going to be alright. She never appeared. No matter how much he longingly stared into her empty office she was never to fill it again. The desire to call her name as he strode purposely across the bullpen had stayed with him for weeks, her name ready on his lips and never far from his mind. Once in the heat of a debate he had absentmindedly told Spence to ask Grace, before seeing the confusion in the young DI's eyes and correcting himself "Aww … you know what I mean …. Go on just get out Spence eh." He said motioning with his head and dismissing him out of his office with a wave of his hands before rubbing his forehead in frustration. He had avoided employing a new profiler for as long as he could. To do so meant that he had to accept that Grace wasn't coming back and he wasn't ready to do that. In fact had the Assistant Commissioner and Home Office not forced his hand he would still be managing without a profiler today. He hated Jeffery. The man himself was probably a decent enough sort and even Boyd could admit that he knew his job very well, but he hated him and what he represented. To him he was the pure embodiment of the fact that Grace no longer was resident in the office next to him and Boyd hated that. He could feel the hackles rise within him as soon as Jeffery appeared at his door and even though he knew it to be unfair he was unable to prevent the derisory feelings he had towards him. When he caught himself gazing into her office and saw Jeffery sitting in her seat and working at her desk his stomach tightened. This wasn't how it should be. It was him and Grace, always him and Grace.
Boyd swallowed slowly trying to displace the lump that had formed in his throat the moment he had spoken to Eve. His body was exhausted trying to control the tirade of emotions that were attempting to overtake him. He closed his eyes breathing in a deep cleansing breath as he supressed once again the dark anger that was incessantly impressing upon him. Inwardly he scoffed; anger or pain, right now he couldn't tell them apart as each of them pummelled the very depths of his soul leaving immeasurable damage in their wake. As he stood alone underneath the bridge all he was acutely aware of in this moment was that this hurt, whatever he was feeling was raw and unrestrained and causing him insurmountable pain. The love that he once felt for her, the love he had repressed for so many months had now intensified in a powerful display of force. This moment was about her, she had encompassed him fully, the anger, the pain, the love, all that he was feeling right now was rooted in her. He was rooted in her. It was in her that he was found, the true him, no pretence, no charade just pure acceptance of all they were. He caught his breath as the memory of Eve's words washed over him bringing with them a renewed ache in his spirit. His heart had constricted as he voiced the words which he required an answer to, but which sent rivers of fear flooding through his entire body.
"Eve ….. please ….Just tell me there is a chance….."
His tone was pleading almost begging her to banish the fear that had instantly captured his heart but the reality was he didn't need to wait for her to voice her reply. The hollow look in her eyes resonated the deep devastation she too was feeling. Her unbidden tears pooling in her dark eyes as they met with his anguish cascading from them. The momentary silence lasted a lifetime as he tried to comprehend the magnitude of what was held unsaid within Eve's eyes. The desire to get up and leave was overwhelming unsure if he could bear to hear the words that he was sure were going to leave Eve's lips and cast him into utter desolation.
"Boyd …." Eve broke the silence reaching out for his hand once again. "Grace is very ill, her liver has been badly damaged ….."
"Please Eve, just yes or no eh ….." he said swallowing hard before continuing, his deep baritone voice soft and choked with emotion ….."tell me there is a chance that she'll be okay."
She shook her head slowly, as a tear escaped and fell softly onto her cheek. She wasn't sure if she was crying for Grace, or in response to the lost look that glistened in his eyes. She had shed many tears since Grace had told her the news, they had cried together on occasions, but as she watched the brokenness of the strong man standing in front of her, her heart ached anew. She knew that he wouldn't break down, that he would use all of his strength to mask the depth of his feelings unable or unwilling to let his guard down in front of her. But for an instant his eyes told her everything he was unable to say. He stood silently in front of her incapable of responding; knowing that to do so would leave him open and vulnerable. His entire body felt as though it was beginning to shake as he struggled to retain control of it. He needed to hold it together; he couldn't lose it, not here, not in front of Eve. He breathed out slowly summoning all the strength within him in an attempt to bring his thoughts into alignment. Slowly he lifted his head meeting her gaze once again, his voice hardly audible as he spoke.
"How long?" He softly asked unable to believe the words he was uttering concerned Grace.
"I dunknow." She shrugged gently.
"They must have some idea, c'mon Eve, please, how long?"
Eve shook her head before dropping her gaze her tears burning like fire in her eyes are she fought to contain them.
"A year ….. two at the most." She quietly replied.
Boyd felt his breath catch as he leaned forward onto the bench in front of him, his legs suddenly devoid of strength.
"Does she know?"
Eve nodded wiping the tears now freely falling. "Yea."
"She never said." He whispered almost in disbelief.
"Probably didn't want you to worry."
"Could it be a mistake? I mean, could there be some sort of miracle?"
"We don't believe in those do we?"
"No, we don't ….. but maybe it's about time we started then don't you think, for all our sakes."
"Yea, if anyone deserves a miracle it's Grace."
Boyd pulled at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He needed to get out of there, needed fresh air before he suffocated. Gently squeezing Eve's hand he left and walked straight out of the building without speaking to anyone. He had continued walking through the familiar streets of London until he found himself here underneath Waterloo Bridge.
The afternoon had become early evening and the city's backdrop began to change in preparation for the arrival of dusk. Lights twinkling behind office windows as the sun's rays grew dimmer. No one noticed the solidarity man standing overlooking the water, unable to fight against the pain and helplessness surging through his body, his face now awashed with unbridled tears which were flowing freely down his cheeks as the dying sunlight danced one last time upon the river.
