"You've got my number." Andrew Cross said to Frankie.
"Work, or otherwise?" Boyd smirked as he looked at Frankie.
"Shut up." Frankie snapped back.
He wasn't sure why he was so riled by Andrew Cross. At the end of the day Frankie wasn't interested, yet Andrew kept coming back. He just had to leave Frankie alone for more than a couple of hours and he was either in her lab or on the phone. He got the bloke felt the need to help, but his constant pestering of Frankie was now getting annoying, even if it was under the pretence of helping with the case. This case went deep, it was personal to him, it was his friend who had been shot. Between the case not being dealt with correctly the first time, and his key witness admitting he was lying he was losing hope. He had time, as long as the tape stayed tucked safely in his draw, he had time to put things right.
When he went down to the lab and saw Andrew was there again, he saw red, he couldn't stop himself.
"Boyd." Frankie called out as the lab door slid open and Boyd charged in.
"What are you doing here?" Boyd snapped out at Andrew Cross.
"Coat," Frankie pointed out as he continued to walk further into the lab.
"Yeah, Yeah, Okay. Why are you here again?" Totally ignoring Frankie as he stormed towards Andrew.
"I just came to see doctor Wharton." Andrew answered, turning to look at Boyd.
"About what?" Boyds temper growing with each second he was in the same room as the man.
"Carl Mckenzie's lack of firearms experience." Trying to explain why he was there.
"Yeah, you might want to here this." Frankie threw in, trying to calm the situation down.
"No, I do not. You need my permission to be in this area okay." Boyd letting loose on Andrew. "So next time ask for it." Turning away from Frankie and Andrew and storming back to the door.
Frankie tried to intervene, break up Boyd's rant but he stormed out the lab.
"That's not exactly true, is it?" Frankie said to the back of Boyd as he disappeared through the lab door.
Andrew said he should leave, and the best Frankie could do was apologise. She walked Andrew through the lab and into the cold case units squad room, stopping when they came face to face with Boyd.
"I'd like a word with you, please." Looking directly at Andrew, then turning his head to look at Frankie. "Thank you, Frankie." His tone much calmer and softer toward hers.
Frankie stood still, watching as Boyd lead Andrew into his office. She couldn't say or do anything but watch. Boyd interrogated him about the day of the massacre, wanting to go over every last detail again. He ended up pushing Andrew to far, finding out more about his dead friend than he needed to. He told Andrew he could leave, he needed time to processes what he had heard, only realising the draw was open and the tape was gone after he left. Of course he thought the worst of Andrew and chased after him to check he didn't have it.
He was turning his office upside down looking for it when Frankie appeared, trying to explain about Andrew. Boyd told her he didn't care, even asked her to leave as he rummaged around in files. Frankie did as she was asked but stopped when he called after her. He wanted the PM report from his friends death, see if any of what Andrew had said was true.
When Frankie called him down to look at the PM report she tried to shield him from the pictures of the beating Nick had taken, but Boyd wanted to see. She explained about the bruising, pointed out it was more from a beating than a fight. Boyd knew instantly what had happened, and he didn't like it one bit. The affair Nick was having before he died, the affair he had confessed to Boyd about, was with someone in his unit. The beating was a remind to back away, not put the team in jeopardy.
Boyd seemed to be chasing his own arse, every lead he followed up ended up bringing him closer to the fact the man that was locked up for Nicks death was innocent. When it all came to a head, more people died, more people suffered, and they still hadn't worked out who killed Nick.
It took a lot more questioning, a lot of lab work from Frankie, and Boyd pushing every witness, ever lead to the last. When he finally put the pieces together he couldn't believe the answer had been so simple, so obvious, right in front of him the whole time. He needed to check one last detail with Frankie first, but she was at Robert Crosses funeral.
He saw her exit the church, Andrew cross just in front of her. After giving Andrew his condolences he managed to pull Frankie aside, get her so he could talk to her alone. The first question he asked was why she was at the funeral, his jealous streak rearing up again. Then he bombarded her with questions about Nick, his gun, how many rounds it had in. Frankie confirmed what his mind already knew, pointed out who he already suspected was responsible for Nicks death.
As Frankie stood and watched Boyd punch Andrew she wasn't sure what she felt. Annoyance at Boyd, quickly shifting to annoyance with Andrew. Andrew had strung her along, feed her information when he was the killer. When Boyd took a swing at him, she had no sympathy for Andrew, Boyd getting the only personal revenge he could get on the man who killed his friend. She watched Spencer arrest him, still feeling anger at being used by Andrew. Boyd had stormed up the stairs after decking Andrew, getting away from his team as quickly as he could.
Frankie stood silently in the stairwell, looking around long after everyone had gone. So much heartache and pain, all accumulating in such a small space. She jogged up the stairs and headed out into the car park, the place covered in police cars. She saw Mel and Spencer were already in the car waiting, Boyd still stood watching as Andrew was cuffed and lead away. She went and got in the car, looking out the front window and seeing Boyd finally turning and walking back to the car. He had done it, or moreover, they had done it. The case was solved, the right men were either in prison or on the way to prison for the murders.
Once Boyd was in the car Spencer started to pull away, watching as people moved aside so they could drive away. She saw Beth standing looking a little shell-shocked, she had lost 3 colleagues now, 2 within the space of a few days. She turned back and focused her attention on Boyd, saw him sitting ramrod straight, his attention focused purely on something out the front window. Spencer took Mel home first, her flat being the closest to where they were. Then it was a slight detour, Frankie's flat being the next closet. When he pulled up outside Frankie's flat he saw Frankie open her door but not get out. When he looked behind him he saw her eyes were fixed on Boyd, Boyd's attention still firmly fixed on his imaginary point in space. She leaned forward and nudged his shoulder, not hard but enough to get him out his funk.
"What? Where are we?" Asking as he turned to look at Spencer first then Frankie in the back seat.
"My place," Frankie answered, watching as the cogs turned in Boyd's brain.
"Oh yeah, thanks for the lift, Spencer." Boyd managed to say as he seemed to pull his focus back and open the car door.
Frankie finally got out the car and walked around to join Boyd on the pavement. Neither spoke to each other, just wished Spencer a good night then watched him drive away. Frankie led the way up the stairs to her flat, Boyd close behind her. They took their coats and shoes off in the dark, walking through the flat until they reached the kitchen. It was only then Frankie switched the light and looked at Boyd. He was stood watching her, his eyes dark and brooding.
"Coffee?" Holding up a mug so he could see it.
"Yeah, I'm going to get changed." He grumbled as he turned around and left the room.
Frankie watched him go, walking through the flat like an orangutan dragging its knuckles along the floor. She needed coffee, her brain wasn't up to Boyd's mood this late at night with no coffee in her system. What she wouldn't give for a drink, a proper stiff drink, preferably with a percentage over fifteen. She shook that thought out of her head, it had been months now, she didn't need a drink. She finished making the coffee and placed both cups on the dining table, then scanned the kitchen for any obvious food. While there was nothing out on the bench tops to eat, there could be inside the cupboards. After checking each cupboard thoroughly, she gave up. The only thing she found to eat was a cuppa soup, and she couldn't make out the use by date on the box so she binned it.
When he finally appeared at the kitchen door he looked older, more tired than he had looked in a long time. The jeans and shirt he had on added a more crumpled edge to him. He sat opposite Frankie, his hands automatically curling around the coffee cup.
"I looked for food," seeing him look at her, "but we haven't been shopping, the place is empty." Watching as he nodded in understanding.
"Order a takeaway, should still be a few places open." He suggested.
Frankie didn't reply, just pulled her phone out her back pocket and started pressing buttons. Boyd watched her, he had no idea what she was doing but did nod when she told him food would be about forty-five minutes.
"So, we have the right people locked up now. We got justice for everyone in the end." Frankie said as she broke the silence between them.
Boyd just looked at her, his mind playing over the events leading to finally arresting the right man for Nicks murder. Andrew had killed Nick in cold blood, for no reason other than saving his own skin. He wasn't sure what made him so mad, the fact it had taken so long for him to finally be charged or the fact the creep had been nearly crawling all over Frankie.
"We did, and now Nick can rest in peace, finally." Pushing his coffee cup away and standing up.
He walked around the kitchen until he stopped at the sink, staring out the window lost in thought.
"Boyd, let's go into the other room. We'll put the fire on and watch tv while we wait for the takeaway." Hoping her suggestion would break him out of his reverie.
"Yeah, sounds good." Boyd finally replied as he turned around, picking up the coffee cups from the table.
Frankie kept a close eye on him as he placed the cups in the dishwasher, his body seeming to be on autopilot.
"You done?" Asking Boyd if he was finished in the kitchen.
Boyd nodded his head and walked towards the door, Frankie right behind him. When they entered the sitting room Frankie switched the tv on while Boyd bent and flicked the switches to make the fake fire switch on and start throwing out manufactured heat. It wasn't the same as the real open fire in his sitting room but Frankie liked it. That was the problem with modern buildings, no real fires. Frankie sat on the settee, her feet tucked under her as she picked the remote up. Boyd sat beside her, her body fitting against his side as he wrapped his arm around her chest. She flicked ideally throw the channels, not stopping long enough on the news channels when they popped up. They both knew the news was full of the case they had just been involved in, the continued sentence of the whitewater massacre killer and the new arrest of Andrew Cross. Neither wanted reminding of the events they had been involved in. Frankie found some cheesy soap opera to watch, Boyd tutting as he watched the most uncharacteristic portrayal of life ever.
"Who even goes on like this in real life? I mean, she's had more men than the Navy by the sounds of it and he's not much better. How can you watch this mind-numbing crap?" Boyd asked Frankie as she started to laugh at his comments.
"Like we do any better. We both seem to attract nutters, have you noticed that?" Feeling Frankie turn to look up at him as she spoke.
Boyd looked a little perplexed at Frankie's remark, trying to work out what she was on about.
"Clara Gold," Frankie added in as she saw Boyd starting to understand what she was talking about.
"Her, Yeah. Now you have Andrew cross to add to your list of weirdos. He just made my skin crawl." Boyd couldn't help pointing out.
"Is that why you went all primal in the lab?" Smirking as she saw Boyd glare at her.
"He was nearing stalker level, the bastard. Every time I left you he was either there or on the phone." Giving Frankie a squeeze with the arm he still had wrapped around her.
"It was nice seeing you all protective and defensive." Placing her hand on his arm and stroking back and forth.
"Yeah, well, when it comes to you I do get a little protective." Knowing he was underestimating his jealous streak.
"I'll not stop you if you feel like being overprotective again of course." Moving her head so she could kiss his cheek.
"Don't push it, you might spoil my manly steak." Kissing her forehead as she settled back down to face the tv.
When the takeaway arrived they sat on the settee, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, eating. Boyd even shared the can of Pepsi Frankie had bought, totally going against his grain and leaving his lemonade untouched. When they were done they flopped back on the settee, Frankie lying flat out with her head in Boyd's lap, his fingers stroking through her hair as they watched some random film Boyd had found. When the film had finished he looked down and saw Frankie was sleeping, her hand resting on his thigh. He watched her for a few minutes, marvelling at how peaceful and contented she looked. Frankie was a whirlwind, never still, always busy doing something. When she did slow down and stop it normally meant she was burnt out, too many longs hours working and not enough sleep. He blamed himself, of course, always pushing her for answers, wanting them instantly when he knew things took time. He continued to stroke her hair, let his fingertips brush her cheek as she slept. He couldn't stay like this forever and neither could she.
"Frankie, wake up." He said giving her a gentle shake.
Frankie shifted but didn't wake up.
"Frankie, wake up, I'm too old for this crap now." Nudging her a little harder this time.
"Piss off, Boyd. I'm comfortable." Curling up more as she attempted to go back to sleep.
"Frankie, if you don't get up I'm just moving out from under you." His threat holding little weight as his tone was light and humours.
"Bastard," Frankie grumbled as she sat up half asleep.
Boyd stood up and went to switch the tv and fire off, leaving Frankie sitting on the settee.
"I'll lock up." He called over his shoulder as he left the room, listening for any sound of Frankie moving.
When he arrived in Frankies very minimalistic bedroom he found Frankie already in bed, her dark hair visible over the white duvet cover. Stripping off his clothes he switched the light off and climbed into bed, snuggling up behind Frankie. Frankie shifted so her body moulded to his, his arm draped over her waist.
"Night, my overprotective knight in shining armour," Frankie said as she closed her eyes.
"Night, and less of the shining armour, you'll definitely ruin my image." Kissing her hair as he joined her in sleep.
They had yet again weathered another storm in their relationship, this time Frankie being the centre of some nutters unwanted attention. There was definitely hope for the future.