Disclaimer, Pairing & Content: See chapter 1.
Spoilers: S1, 'A Simple Sacrifice' and S2, 'Thin Air'.
Rating: T, for language.
A/N: So now we get to the episode add-ons! I've tried to be selective as otherwise I fear this story could go on forever – this chapter will cover 'A Simple Sacrifice' and 'Thin Air' (from which the first piece of dialogue between Frankie and Boyd has been lifted straight from the script) . The dates I've used are approximate but I've tried to keep them roughly in line with the air dates for the episodes. Huge, huge apologies for the delay with the update – one day I might actually get this finished *sigh* Thank you for sticking with it, I really appreciate the support x
December 2000
Grace drew a breath deep into her lungs, allowing the air to circulate through her weary bloodstream, her shattered nerves, her taut synapses. She closed her eyes, sighing at the sudden rush of images in the darkness, and she reached for her tea, grimacing at the unpalatably tepid temperature as she brought the cup to her lips. He's fine, she reminded herself firmly, stoically, fighting back an acutely painful attack of anxiety. You saw that for yourself….Oh, God, but he could so easily not have been…and it's been a long, long time since I felt terror like that…..She shook her head to try and clear the unsettling thought, the iron gauntlet of distress tightening around her heart, her mind drawn inevitably, inexorably to the events of the past seventy-two hours despite her best efforts to the contrary…..
"Are you his wife?"
Grace felt her mouth fall open in surprise, catching herself before she could over-analyse the understandable assumption and quickly shaking her head. "No. I'm a colleague."
The young nurse looked apprehensive, her features drawing into a frown. "It's really supposed to be family only at the moment…."
"I appreciate that…but Superintendent Boyd doesn't have any family to speak of…and since his injuries were sustained whilst he was on duty…." The psychologist trailed off and shrugged hopefully. "I thought it was important one of his colleagues should visit, that's all. Everyone's very concerned."
The younger woman held her gaze momentarily before giving a small nod of accession. "Alright. No more than ten minutes, though. He's still recovering from the anaesthetic."
Grace smiled gratefully, consolation flooding her body as she was led towards a closed door, intense anticipation gripping her stomach as she tapped gently against the muted green wood. "Boyd?" she called quietly, opening the door into the softly lit room and stepping over the threshold, trying desperately not to gasp at the array of wires and tubes emanating from his muscular torso, the mechanical whirr of the machines as they monitored the delicate balance of his vital signs.
He opened his eyes as she approached his bed, tracking her movements as she sank tensely onto the chair beside him, her bag held in bloodless white knuckles against her knees. "Don't look so worried," he bade her croakily, his voice rough against his vocal chords, cracked lips forming a lop-sided smile as her features slackened with obvious relief.
"Easy for you to say," she quipped lightly. "I don't think any of us have slept since they brought you in here."
"More fool you, then. Talk about a waste of energy."
Grace rolled her eyes. "It's called concern, Boyd. It's quite a normal thing for one human being to have for another."
"Even for your boss?"
She shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "It's not completely unheard of."
"Christ. I need to try a bit harder on the dictatorship thing, then."
"Apparently so."
He exhaled dismissively as he absorbed the residual tension in her frame, the anxiety carefully hidden beneath the levity of her words. "I really am fine, Grace."
"Fine?" she echoed incredulously, her eyebrows reaching almost to her hairline. "Is that the morphine talking?"
His smile broadened though a jolt of pain shot suddenly, acidly through his flank causing him to draw a sharp breath. "The surgery went well. I'll be out of here in a few days."
"There's no hurry…."
He grunted, ignoring her soft sigh. "Yes, there is."
"The Annie Keel evidence is being rushed through, Boyd. In light of what happened with Reece Dickson there's absolutely no question of her being released."
"I want to be there."
"I know you do." She gave a small smile at the characteristically determined edge to his tone. "Just don't forget how seriously you were injured…."
He exhaled irritably. "I told you, Grace. I'm fine."
"For God's sake…."
"A few days to heal and it'll be business as usual."
"He could have killed you, Boyd. I saw…." Grace stopped herself abruptly and blinked swiftly away from him, forcing away the stubborn constriction in her throat, the tears threatening to escape the corners of her eyes.
He reached for her hand and then hesitated, at once unsure of the boundaries, the unresolved tension that always simmered invisibly between them intensifying in the strained, elongating silence. Boyd cleared his throat momentarily, his tone hardening gruffly as he fought against the conflicting directives of his head and heart. "Anyway…will you keep me updated? I want to know the second she's granted her acquittal."
Grace nodded quickly, grateful for his expeditious resumption of their previous conversation despite the hurt ricocheting through her chest at his dismissal of her obvious distress. "Of course."
"And let the others know I'll be back to my tyrannical ways in no time so they'd better make the most of the respite while they can, alright?"
She smiled broadly, her amusement genuine as the residual astriction began to ebb slowly back to the depths. "They'll be thrilled."
"Good."
Grace rose decisively to her feet then, fighting a sudden urge to brush her lips across his cheek as she drew her visit to a close. "I'll let you get some rest," she said quietly, unable to prevent herself from touching him lightly on the shoulder, his skin soft and warmly familiar beneath her touch.
He grinned. "Send the cute nurse in on your way out, would you? I'm feeling a sudden need to have a sponge bath."
Grace rolled her eyes and admonished him gently with the back of her hand. "Behave yourself."
"I'm a model patient."
"You're a model liar." She shook her head disapprovingly and began to make her way to the door, her light-heartedness dwindling abruptly as she turned back to face him, the reality of his present condition reasserting itself coldly in her consciousness. "Boyd?"
"What?"
"Don't do anything like this again."
He looked at her for a long moment, absorbing the barely held fear in the caverns of her expressive eyes, the anxiety rippling from every plane of her body, and he felt an acute need to reassure her, a surge of protectiveness washing through his bones. "I'll do my best."
A brief smile ghosted across her features at his reply and she inclined her head towards him in acknowledgment before stepping through the door, purposefully restraining the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm her as she strode in the direction of the exit….
Presently Grace released her breath into the shadowy stillness of her living room, the memory of their conversation still vividly clear in her mind, and she rubbed a hand across her eyes in a fruitless attempt to banish both the recollection and the associated plethora of emotion. She was certain her concern would have been similar had Mel Silver or Spencer Jordan been the victim of the vicious knife attack, the trauma of seeing a close colleague so brutally injured and being unable to assist understandably distressing, yet she was deeply uncomfortable with the extremity of her response to Boyd's predicament. Her crippling, numbing horror upon watching the scene unfold before her eyes, her utter panic at the prospect of losing him had caused bile to rise in her throat and ferocious shards of ice to encroach upon her heart. She had felt physically immobilised, almost as though she were floating helplessly above her body, and it had taken all of her resolve not to sob uncontrollably, not to fall apart completely as the situation progressed relentlessly beyond her control.
The truth behind her reaction was now gnawing mercilessly at her soul, baying desperately for her attention and acknowledgment, and she sighed heavily once more, trying to delay the inevitable further before allowing her walls of resistance to spectacularly collapse. I'm a bloody fool, she berated harshly, a volley self-criticism lashing cruelly at her heart. I still care about him far, far more than is good for me….and if he'd died without knowing that all those years ago my heart shattered when I had to end it….If he'd died without knowing just how much I still….She shook her head forcibly to dislodge the predictable pattern of her thoughts. I can't do this, she told herself firmly. We've finally reached a point where we can work together, where every interaction isn't dominated by our past…and I'd hate to jeopardise it by being unable to maintain an appropriate emotional distance whenever he finds himself in the firing line. I'm deluding myself if I think this type of situation isn't going to recur, given both his profession and his personality….I just have to find a way to deal with it more effectively. She took a final cleansing breath before rising to her feet and plunging the room into obsidian darkness, stepping into the contrasting chill of her hallway and padding slowly towards the stairs. I only wish I knew where to start.
October 2002
Grace glanced up from her desk at the sound of light tapping on her office door, a smile decorating her mouth as Frankie Wharton's face appeared around the frame, her strongly attractive features framed by escaping strands of errant chestnut hair.
"Got a minute?" the forensic scientist asked hopefully, her eyebrows raised in expectation as she addressed the older woman.
"Of course, Frankie, come in," Grace replied easily, gesturing for her colleague to step over the threshold and enthusiastically closing the file in front of her with a flourish. "I'm going round in circles with this Joanna Gold thing, anyway."
"I know the feeling," Frankie answered grimly, falling heavily into the chair opposite the older woman and rubbing a hand roughly across her face, suddenly keen to deflect her mounting anxiety.
Grace frowned, concern tugging at her stomach as she took in the barely concealed tension in the fellow scientist's form. "You okay?"
Frankie blew out a forceful breath. "Yeah…."
"You sure?"
The younger woman sighed anew, discomfort flaring hotly in her chest. "I need to speak with you about something."
Grace raised an eyebrow. "That sounds ominous; do I need to make tea?"
Frankie pulled a face. "Wouldn't even come close."
"Glass of red, then?"
"Why not? Dutch courage, and all that."
The psychologist smiled despite the sense of foreboding raking across her chest and she rose to her feet to retrieve the bottle of Pinot Noir she reserved within the depths of her cupboard, pouring two generous glassfuls and handing one to her compatriot before resuming her seated position opposite.
"So, come on, Frankie," she continued lightly after several moments had passed for both women to sip cautiously at their wine. "What's going on?"
"Okay…." Frankie exhaled forcefully and leant forward to place her wine glass atop the older woman's desk. "I need to ask you a very personal question."
Grace laughed. "Does this relate to our earlier conversation about what we were doing in the eighties?"
"No," the scientist replied seriously, causing her companion's features to sober. "It's something more recent…or at least, I think it is."
"Well, whatever it is, Frankie," Grace intoned tenderly, perturbed by the discomfort emanating in waves from the younger woman. "You can ask."
"With the proviso that you might not give me an answer?"
She gave a small, wry smile. "Let me hear the question and we'll take it from there, okay?"
Frankie drew a deep, centring breath, pausing briefly for composure before speaking again. "Okay….Correct me if I'm wrong but you and Boyd have known each other a long time, right?"
Grace quirked her eyebrows, surprised by the unexpected query, her heart beginning to pound uncomfortably of its own accord. "On and off for about twelve years….Why?"
"Just in a professional capacity?"
The psychologist felt her defences begin to rise and she snatched a quick breath, forcing herself to hold the younger woman's gaze. "What are you getting at?"
Frankie sighed. "Look, Grace, I've watched the two of you together and there's…definitely something…."
"What?"
"I don't know. That's the problem."
Grace frowned, a sense of dread snaking venomously into her consciousness. "Why a problem?"
"Because…." The scientist broke off abruptly and ran a hand irritably through her hair, trying desperately to assuage her acute embarrassment and unease, mentally gritting her teeth as she willed the reluctant words into the stillness. "Because I like him, Grace, alright? But I didn't want to do anything about it before I'd spoken to you…."
"Frankie…."
"The last thing I'd want to do is tread on your toes."
Grace sighed softly, willing away a surge of jealousy at the thought of the attractive young scientist setting her sights on Peter Boyd and the highly likely potential for his reciprocation. "So you want to know if Boyd and I…?"
"Are you?"
"No."
Frankie's gaze was intense and demanding. "Were you ever?"
Grace gave a tiny, dismissive shake of her head, at once incapable of entirely supressing the truth. "You don't have to worry."
"Ah," the younger woman intoned shrewdly, her dark eyes shining knowingly at the psychologist's obvious evasion. "I should read 'yes' there then, shouldn't I?"
"It's not a problem on my part, is what I'm saying. As far as I know he's a free agent."
Frankie leant forward earnestly, a need for reassurance utmost in her mind. "Are you sure, Grace? I don't want to cause any tension, given that we've all still got to work together…."
Grace smiled warmly, genuinely touched by her companion's concern. "You're very sweet, Frankie…but whoever either of you choose to see outside of work is absolutely nothing to do with me, alright?"
The two women regarded each other steadily for several moments, each aware of the chasm of unspoken sentiments opening expansively between them, before Frankie gave a falsely bright smile, wrestling her residual doubts to the pit of her stomach. "Alright," she affirmed softly, planting her palms to her knees and rising from the chair. "Thanks, Grace."
Grace watched the younger woman make her way to the door, unable to prevent the warning words as they formed in her larynx despite her mind's reservations to the contrary. "Just…be careful, Frankie."
The scientist's look was one of jovial derision. "I'm a big girl, Grace."
"I just mean that starting a relationship with someone in a team as small as ours can be fraught with difficulties, that's all…."
"So speaks the voice of experience?"
The psychologist stoically ignored the light-hearted jibe. God, if only you knew…. "Especially when he's your boss."
"He's not my boss."
"Well, as good as."
"I'll be fine." Frankie grinned widely and reached for the door handle. "Bye, Grace. Thanks for this."
The older woman inclined her head, resisting the urge to gesture in resignation. "See you later, then."
The door closed gently in the scientist's wake and Grace watched her retreating back through the muted haze of glass as she sauntered across to engage their seated colleagues in the bullpen. With a concerted effort, the psychologist inhaled slowly and calmly released the air once more from her lungs in a desperate bid for equilibrium, her conversation with the younger woman replaying agonisingly, relentlessly in her mind. Boyd and Frankie….I suppose I should have seen it coming, she thought morosely, disturbed by the extent to which the concept deeply bothered her, tendrils of bitterness threatening to constrict her heart. She's feisty, attractive, intelligent….There's absolutely no way he'll turn her down…and I have no right to feel so utterly devastated by the prospect. It's not as though we're anything to each other, not anymore. She gave a hollow laugh into the lonely quiet of her empty office. He was never mine to begin with, she mused self-loathingly. And to even nurture the hope that one day he might be was pathetically deluded at best and grossly masochistic at worst. Sighing heavily, she pushed the maudlin thoughts, the twisting jealousy aside and forced her attention back to the mounting pile of papers on her desk.
"Good night."
Boyd called out a brief rejoinder, his eyes tracing Grace Foley's movements through his open door as she hurried from her darkened office before falling onto the sleek hands of his wristwatch, surprise rattling through him as he noted the lateness of the hour. Christ, I should just have a bed here, he thought irritably, acknowledging with dismay the amount of work he still had to complete, the nagging sense that he needed to move the case further forward. Sell my bloody house, pocket the money and live here for free instead….Who needs a fucking life anyway? Sighing, he reached for his mug and took a generous mouthful of coffee, trying to re-focus his attention on the minutiae of his paperwork before glancing up once more as he caught the advancing figure of Frankie Wharton, her slender form partly concealed beneath a bulky parka.
"I'm all done here," she announced breezily as she strode towards his desk, leaning against her palms to look down at him. "Do you want to go and eat?"
Boyd blinked in genuine surprise at the question, his mind having anticipated a work-related discussion upon seeing her approach, a professional exchange of findings and directives as opposed to the personal interaction that was somewhat outside of his comfort zone. He felt his pulse quicken as he observed her, as he caught the serious intonation wrapped delicately within the casual invitation, the flicker of hope dancing fleetingly across the surface of her chocolate eyes. Oh, God….Is she seriously asking me out? Or am I so out of the loop that I'm misreading her here? Two friends going out for dinner doesn't necessarily mean…? Oh, Jesus, just look at her, Peter. Get a fucking grip.
He gave a small smile, stalling for time as his mind raced through the possibilities. "No…," he replied eventually, the certainty of his answer solidifying in his chest as the negative escaped his lips. "I've got too much to do."
Frankie raised an eyebrow in challenge, a hint of promise lacing her tone as she straightened up once more to regard him. "Chance of a lifetime?"
He looked at her, quietly acknowledging not for the first time that he found her attractive in an entire sense, a brief surge of temptation pulling at his stomach before his better judgement reasserted itself. It would be a huge mistake…in more ways than one…, he thought regretfully, irritably forcing away the sudden and unwanted image of Grace from his mind's eye. "No," he reiterated gently, supressing a grimace at the almost pitying apology in his tone.
The scientist blinked, her expression one of carefully measured neutrality. "Okay," she acquiesced lightly, beginning to retreat towards the door in a determined effort to retreat from the sudden awkwardness.
"Thanks, anyway."
"Yeah," she managed gruffly, unable to prevent herself from turning back to face him, a somewhat masochistic notion forming in her mind before she could stop it. "Any particular reason?"
Boyd frowned. "I told you, Frankie. I've got too much work to do."
The younger woman exhaled derisively. "It's the oldest excuse in the book, Boyd."
"Yeah, well…it happens to be true. Maybe another time."
Frankie narrowed her eyes sceptically. "I don't think you mean that."
"Oh, come on, Frankie; what do you want me to say?"
"A bit of honesty wouldn't go amiss," she replied sardonically. "And you don't have to sugar-coat it either. I can take it."
He exhaled forcefully and removed his reading glass to run a weary hand across his eyes. "It just wouldn't be a good idea, that's all."
She eyed him suspiciously, realisation settling uncomfortably in her chest. "Has it got something to do with Grace?"
He held her gaze, maintaining a deliberately neutral expression despite the defensiveness he could feel intensifying in his gut, the indignation prickling hotly along his spine. "Why would it have anything to do with Grace?"
Frankie shrugged noncommittally, a gesture of feigned indifference. "It's obvious you and she have got some sort of history."
"History?" Boyd barked a short, dismissive laugh. "Last time I checked, we weren't living in an American soap opera, Frankie."
"Well, have you?"
He sighed, annoyance flaring briefly behind his eyes as he considered her question, the possibility that his former lover had been less than discrete about their shared past with their mutual colleague. "Did Grace tell you that?"
Frankie shook her head, a sad spark of confirmation igniting across the expanse of her irises before she stoically blinked the expression away. "She didn't need to."
He leant forward. "Frankie…."
"Good night, Boyd."
With a final resigned smile she stepped from the office, leaving Boyd to release a lungful of air into the soft light, his neck snapping back sharply against the headrest of his chair, his eyes dropping fitfully closed. Christ, is this the way it's going to be? He pondered darkly after several unfocused moments had passed, unable to shake the memory of consecutive hope and disappointment flickering unhidden through Frankie's deeply captivating eyes. Some gorgeous woman, easily fifteen years my junior, comes on to me and I turn her down because of what? Some ridiculous commitment I feel to my past? Some sense of duty to a woman I had nothing more than an affair with over a decade ago? What the fuck is wrong with me? He sighed dejectedly, pushing away the nagging suspicion that there were further truths he was deliberately avoiding, a continuous intensity of feeling as far as Grace Foley was concerned that he had never successfully conquered. I can't still be in love with her after all this time, he told himself firmly, ignoring the sudden surge of agony lancing his heart and reaching determinedly for his paperwork once more. I just can't be.
TBC