Boyd stood looking at the clear Perspex evidence boards, his temper and blood pressure both rising. It had been three days since he saw Frankie in the coffee shop, three days of trying to get away early to go see her but someone or something stopping him. First had been the commissioner wanting a late night chat. Then a case had came in and things had went downhill from there. He had tried passing responsibilities on to Spencer and Stella but failed miserably. Now he was just giving up hope of ever getting there before Frankie actually had the baby. Spencer entered the squad room, Stella close behind him as they squabbled over something.
"Boyd, we have a lead." Thrusting a file at Boyd as he scowled at them both.
Boyd flicked through the file and looked up at Spencer and Stella over his glasses.
"Why haven't you picked him up then?" The obvious annoyance in his voice making Stella flinch.
"Because, he's not exactly little boss." Stepping forward and flipping the page over Boyd was looking at.
Boyd looked at the image of the man and understood what Spencer meant.
"Fine, the three of us can take him, unless you want to call in backup?" Closing the file and tossing it on Spencer's desk.
"I'll call back up anyway, just to be on the safe side." Spencer seeing Stella reach for the phone to do just that.
An hour later Boyd was beyond pissed off. His pants were muddy, his jacket sleeve ripped and he could feel the start of a black eye forming. That wasn't including the cut above his right eye that was slowly seeping blood down his face.
"You should get that seen to boss, it might need stitches." Spencer Looking at the cut on his eyebrow.
"Want I need Spencer is a stiff drink, a hot bath and some clean clothes. Yet another bloody suit ruined." Holding up his ripped jacket sleeve.
As he lifted up his arm his shirt sleeve moved up his arm revealing his watch. Half six, the time was half six. Maybe today wasn't such a right off.
"Spencer, after you've cleaned up here just head home. I'm going to clean up and sort this mess out. Tell Stella the same, we don't get paid enough for this shit. I'll see you tomorrow, okay." Feeling around in his suit pocket for the clean hankie he knew should be there.
He walked towards his car, finally fishing the hankie out and placing it a little too hard against his eyebrow making him hiss in pain. Opening the car he took his ripped jacket off and threw it in the boot, Digging out the hold-all he knew was buried in there somewhere. Taking the hold-all out the boot he dumped it on the passenger seat and got in the car. Her tilted the rearview mirror to see how bad he looked, wincing again as he pulled the hankie from above his eye.
"Bastard." He mumbled as he saw it had at least stopped bleeding.
He threw the bloody hankie onto the passenger seat and looked down at himself. She had seen him looking worse. With the keys in the ignition, he started the car and put his seatbelt on, his chest giving him a quick sharp reminder he had also caught that on a fence. He didn't need to look the address up, he had it burnt in his memory, had already googled where it was. He pulled away for the flashing lights and numerous police cars parked up, his only focus was getting to his destination in one piece.
When he pulled into the street he saw Frankie's car parked outside her house, the dark blue Volvo estate still looking like it always did. Parking right behind it he switched the engine off and took the keys out the ignition. He checked to see how bad his face was before grabbing the bag and getting out. The wind hit him and he shivered, no jacket or coat on the just his slightly worse for wear shirt. He probably looked a complete mess but he knew Frankie had seen him looking a lot worse. He just hoped she'd let him use her bathroom to clean up a bit and get changed. He walked slowly up the path, changing the bag from his right hand to left hand when his sharp pain shot through his chest again. Great, a couple of cracked ribs to add to the list of war wounds. He stood on the doorstep and took a deep breath in, regretting it instantly when his ribs protested. He reached up and pressed the doorbell, looking through the two glass panels on the door for any signs of movement. The hallway light came on and he saw her coming towards the door, this was it. He saw her reach for the door lock, opening it part way as the chain stopped it.
"Hi, Frankie." Smiling as he saw her peak around the door and taken in his appearance.
The door was quickly shut and the chain rattled as she took it off. She pulled the door open wide, starting at his feet and slowly working up until she was looking at his face.
"I don't even want to know do I. Get in here, straight upstairs, I'll follow you up when I get my bag." Stepping aside to allow him entry.
"Thanks." Seeing her shaking her head at the state of him.
"Shoes off, I'm not cleaning up after you." Closing and locking the door behind him as he stepped inside.
He stopped and took his shoes off before he made his way up the stairs slowly, stopping when he reached the top. He turned around to yell and ask her where he should go once upstairs but saw her slowly making her way up the stairs, her autopsy bag in one hand, clean towels in the other.
"Turn right, the last door." Stopping behind him as she reached the top.
Boyd followed her directions and opened the last door he came to, stopping just far enough inside for Frankie to follow him in and put the light on. When she did he glanced around the immaculately neat room.
"Not the bathroom then." Stating the obvious as he stepped further into what he presumed was her bedroom.
"No shit Sherlock, no wonder you're a detective with them powers of deduction. Sit on the bed, shirt off, and trousers looking at the state of them." Looking down at his muddy trousers as she placed her bag on top of the chest of drawers and opened it.
He moved over to drop his bag beside the open bedroom door, dropping it on the floor then looked down at his clothes. No wonder she had told him to strip, he was was filthy. He took his shirt off first, throwing it beside his bag. When he stood straight he heard Frankie gasp as she looked at his naked chest.
"What, I don't look that bad for someone my age do I?" Not even bothering to look down at his chest.
"What the hell happened, Boyd? Have you even seen your chest?" Reaching for his hand and tugging him so he was stood in front of the full-length mirror.
Either through habit, instinct, or utter stupidity he linked his fingers through Frankie's when she took his hand. When she stopped in front of the mirror he didn't even look at his reflection, instead looking down at their joined hand. Her hand was so soft and warm, fitting perfectly in his. He smiled, just briefly, knowing the moment would end as quickly as it had started. He ran his thumb over her knuckles then slowly let go of her hand. Frankie was staring at their joined hands as well, the feelings she had long thought gone resurfacing as he brushed his thumb over her knuckles. He looked in the mirror, taking in the side of his chest, no wonder it hurt like hell. There was a deep bruise forming about the size of a football, no wonder he had cracked ribs.
"Trousers as well, I want to see how bad you actually look." Seeing him fidget at his belt buckle. "You're not shy all of a sudden, are you. Don't forget I've seen you naked remember." Standing with her hand on hips as he slowly loosened his belt, trouser button and zip letting his trousers drop to the floor.
He stepped out of them and went to pick them up but hissed as his chest hurt.
"Just kick em in the pile, we'll get them later." Seeing him shove the trousers across the floor with his feet. " Sit on edge of the bed, I'll clean that cut, then check your ribs over. After that, you can take a shower or a bath. I'll make something to eat and we can talk after that, okay."
Boyd did as he was told, sitting on the edge of the bed as she stood in front of him and looked at the cut above his eyebrow. He clenched his fists as Frankie stood right in front of him, her perfect bump just there in front of his face. He took absolutely no notice of what Frankie was doing to his head, his eyes fixed in front of him. Her top fitted snuggle across her bump, her belly button which he knew used to be an inny, was now an outty, he could see the outline through the material. He watched as he bump movement just a little when she moved, her top pulling even tighter across it as she turned to get something out her bag. When she turned back to him he saw the movement against the top, the perfectly round bump seeming to ripple from side to side, something which was probably an elbow, knee or foot pushing against the skin making a bump. He couldn't help it, he reached up and rested his hand on top of the small limb sticking up at an odd angle, his fingers splaying over the material so he could feel more. The baby's moved again, the limb shifting as the whole bump shifted under his hand.
Frankie stopped cleaning his cut when she felt his hand on her bump. She could feel the baby moving around, it wasn't like she could ignore it, but she was accustomed to it so could work through it. Now though she couldn't, his hand being only one of three hands even to feel the baby move, her own being one of them. He was fascinated, his eyes fixed on her bump as the baby moved about. She was welling up, bloody pregnancy hormones making her cry at the drop of a hat. Just then he looked up at her, their eyes locked as the baby continued to move about and he felt every second of it.
"She must recognise her daddy." The words leaving her mouth before she could ever think twice about it.
She saw the look on his face as he took in her words, the tears now rolling down her cheeks as he looked between her face and then back at their unborn child. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head closer to Frankie, his forehead skimming the top of her bump. What he did next made Frankie cry even more if that was possible. Moving the hand he already hand on her bump he brought up his other hand so he was framing her bump, his fingers slipping under the hem of her top so he could push it up. He stopped when the lower half of her bump was uncovered, looking up at Frankie to make sure he was okay to proceed. She nodded her head, tears dripping down her face on to his naked legs. He pushed her top all the way up and over her bump, the top tucking under her now very large breasts that he hadn't noticed until that very moment. He grinned like an idiot when he saw he had been caught ogling her breasts. Boyd turned his attention back to their unborn child, who by the look of it was attempting summersaults inside her mother. He watched mesmerised as the baby shifted about, the outline of a tiny foot pressing against the skin.
"A foot, a perfect little foot." His words soft and gentle as he watched in awe.
After several minutes the movement slowed and eventually stopped, the baby seeming to have settled back down. He placed his lips against Frankie's bump, her warm skin sending tingles through his lips. He didn't say a word, just kissed his unborn child as she nestled safely inside her mother. Frankie's hand were on Boyd's head, her fingers in his hair as he kissed their child. She couldn't see a thing through the tears streaming from her eyes, Boyd's head resting carefully against their baby. The baby had obviously gone back to sleep, and by the feel of Boyd, she was sure he had.
"Shall we finish cleaning you up now?" Frankie words a little hoarse from crying.
"Yeah, I just wanted to say hello." Untucking her top from under her breasts as his fingers brushed the undersides making Frankie shiver.
Once he had covered Frankie back up he tilted his head and looked up at Frankie. She still had tears on her face as she finished cleaning the cut and sticking some butterfly stitches on it.
"All done, but if you can open that eye tomorrow it will be a miracle." Her fingers gently probing his cheekbone from breaks. "Nothing was broken, now stand up and let me check them ribs over. I want to check you're not in danger of a punctured lung."
He stood up gingerly, letting Frankie move his arms about and feel his chest.
"At least two fractured, possible three but can't tell due to swelling. You know the drill with ribs so I'm not repeating it. You want a shower or a bath?" Stepping back so she could look him up and down completely.
"A shower, I'll probably fall asleep in the bath." Scratching his beard as he saw Frankie consider what he said.
"Okay, shower it is. You can come back in here to get ready when you're done. Towels are there," pointing to the clean towels on the bed. "I'll clean up here and make us something to eat. Come down when you're finished, I'll be in the kitchen with the smoke alarm cheering me on." Turning her back on him as she set about repacking her bag.
He watched her for a few seconds, then picked the towels up and headed out of the bedroom. There were two more doors on the upstairs landing, one of them no doubt being the bathroom. It was a fifty-fifty guess. He picked the door closest, open it and fumbling for a light switch. He found it and switched it on, a pale glow illuminating the room. Again this was most definitely not the bathroom. He found himself stood in what was most obviously the nursery, the walls pale pink, pink curtains up at the windows, and white nursery furniture filling the room. When he looked at the cot he saw a pink teddy bear placed on top of the pale pink and white bedding, a deep pink coloured sticker on the wall above the cot spelling out the name Amelia. His throat seemed to restrict, a lump forming that he couldn't shift. Their daughter had a name, a name predetermined before she was even born. He stepped up to the cot and reached out to the sticker on the wall, let his fingers trace over each letter. Frankie was right in the name she had chosen for their child, even if he had no say in it. Mel was the reason behind the baby being conceived, her death left a huge hole in everyone's lives. Now though they had a reason to move on, something to look forward to.
"Boyd." Frankie's voice low and gentle behind him.
He turned around sharply, his fingers dropping away from the name on the wall. She could see the tears in his eyes, the realisation of who their daughter was named after.
"I was going to tell you, show you in here later on. My bad for not telling you where the bathroom was, sorry. It seems only fitting that she carries her name." One of Frankie's hand resting on their unborn child as she came to stand beside him.
She slipped her hand in his and squeezed it tightly, knowing the turmoil he was going through as he stood there. She turned to face him, saw him trying to blink away the tears that he could no longer hold back. She hadn't wanted him to find out this like, not all at once in one swift blow. She was going to tell him gradually, let each bit sink in first. Without even thinking she reached for him, letting go of his hand as her arms went around his back. He was much taller than her, and the huge bump between them was a bit of a hindrance, but she managed. She slid one of her arms up to his back, her hand on his head as she brought it down to rest on her shoulder, his face automatically buried in her neck.
"I'm so sorry, Boyd." Her words a mere whisper against his ear.
When she spoke he gave up fighting, the tears rolling down his face and onto her neck and shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her as best as he could, ever mindful of the bump between. He kept as much of his weight off her as he could, even though he was falling apart he was very conscious of the precious life they had created between them. She held him as he mourned, as the months of grief, hurt and turmoil came to a head and he came apart in their unborn child's nursery. The room that was to signify new life and new begins was now the place where he had started to deal with his old life, his old problems, and the reason they were stood like this at all. Mel Silver, a woman who was taken far too soon in such tragic circumstances. She had left them all feeling empty and heartbroken. Now though, through her death a new life had been created, a perfect little girl who would carry the name on. A starting point for both her parents to move on.
After what felt like hours stood in the nursery Frankie shifted her feet, her back complaining at the fact she had been stood up so long in such an unnatural position. Boyd had stopped crying, but he hadn't made any effort to pull away, or to let go of Frankie. When he felt her shift her feet and twist her back a little he felt guilt, she was pregnant and here he was using her as a support rack. He slowly let go and pulled back from her, his hands stopping on her waist. Frankie mirrored his stance, her hands resting on the waistband of his boxers.
"You okay?" Knowing she was asking a really stupid question, knowing from personal experience one good crying session didn't make everything better.
"I will be, more so now I have a reason to move on." Bending his head down just enough so he could place a kiss on Frankie's forehead.
His head was still bent when Frankie looked up, their lips now only centimetres apart. She took in a shaky breath, his breath catching in his throat as he saw her swallow. He did move his head slightly, leaving the final centimetre up to Frankie. When he felt her soft lips brush his he all but lost control, his want, need and desire again taking hold. He fought hard and didn't given in, but returned the kiss, his lips brushing over hers before he pulled away.
"I think I should take that shower now if the offers still open, it's getting late and I don't want to impose." All but dragging himself away from Frankie's body.
"Of course it is, we still need to talk, and we both still need to eat, or at least she does." Patting the side of her bump. "Go, take a shower and I'll meet you downstairs." Turning and leaving Boyd stood in the nursery.
Boyd stood and looked around the nursery, letting his fingers rake over the name on the wall one last time. He turned and went to the door, flicking the light off as he whispered a silent pray of Thanks that only he could hear,
"Thanks, Mel."