Disclaimer, Pairing, Rating & Spoilers: See Chap. 1

A/N: Thank you all so much for your lovely comments so far! This chapter is a little short but I hope you enjoy it none-the-less! :)


Grace shifted uncomfortably onto her back beneath the thick pile of discarded clothing and released a shuddering breath into the charcoal darkness, the tension coiling in her body preventing even the merest illusion of sleep, her mind flickering unerringly over the events of the previous few hours. There had been little conversation as the team had moved into the makeshift tent, any residual glib comments ebbing rapidly away as they began to warily, reluctantly undress. She smiled ruefully into the blackness as she recalled the deliberate, relentless focus on their own individual de-robing, each colleague behaving as if in a bubble of isolation as they removed layer upon layer without raising their eyes to survey their companions. Finally they had arranged various vestments on the ground, reserving the thicker outer garments for blankets before they had crawled gratefully between them, various dialogues beginning anew amidst the safe knowledge that any unwillingly naked flesh was now carefully concealed beneath a swathe of insulating fabric.

In the end, as she had predicted, none of them had been quite uninhibited enough to shun every last item of clothing. For her part, Grace had settled for the retention of her satin slip and underwear, gritting her teeth against her rising anxiety as she quickly rolled her woollen tights down the lengths of her shivering legs before she could convince herself otherwise. Now, beneath the reprieve of the substitute blankets, she was immensely grateful for the decision and the warmth emanating from the dependable male bodies to either side of her, though she found she was unable to entirely banish the stubborn chill from her blood.

"For God's sake, go to sleep, will you?" a deep voice from her right side grumbled irately, his body shifting beside her with a barely concealed grunt, and causing Grace to smile unbidden into the shadows.

"Speak for yourself," she responded lightly, her smile broadening as he blew out an exasperated breath against the icy stillness.

"And how do you propose I do that with you tossing and turning like some sort of woman possessed?" he demanded loudly.

"Don't exaggerate, Boyd…."

"I'm not. Two bloody hours you've been fidgeting…." He paused abruptly, evidently considering a possible cause. "Are you cold?"

Grace sighed softly, silently debating the extent of her honesty, the deep chill relentlessly tracking the lengths of her bones despite the radiated heat of her bedfellows. "I'm fine…."

Boyd forced another irritated lungful of air from his chest and reached towards her, his mind fixed firmly on determining her truthfulness as his fingers sought the bare skin of her arm within the obsidian pitch of the space between them. She inhaled sharply as he inadvertently brushed the covered swell of her breast, arousal flashing hotly through her body at the glancing accidental touch of his hand, and she felt herself tense, relief flooding her as she heard him curse, his arm swiftly withdrawing.

"Sorry," he muttered in a gravelled undertone, clearing his throat roughly to assuage the involuntary husk that had coated his vocal chords.

"I'm going to assume you were reaching for my arm," she remarked dryly, surprised by the even timbre of her voice, the speed of her apparent recovery despite the still-desperate pounding of her heart.

"Well, of course I bloody was!" Boyd's indignation was fervent. "Christ, Grace, I'm not so damned hard-up that I…."

"To check if I was lying?" she interjected quickly to curtail his incoming tirade though she felt herself flinch at his vehemence, an odd constriction twisting painfully in her stomach.

"Were you?"

She paused for a split second before conceding, "Maybe a bit."

He gave a weary sigh and reached atop his body to pull his coat closer towards her, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of her shoulders as he tucked the garment snugly around her frame. "Okay?" he asked gently, his breath warm against her face as she fought an almost irrepressible urge to shiver at his proximity.

"Thank you," she murmured eventually, instantly missing the heat of his body as he shifted away once more.

Boyd gave a cavalier snort. "It's entirely a self-preservation thing," he said lazily. "I don't want to read 'Senior Met Detective questioned after OAP dies from hypothermia' in the papers tomorrow."

Grace smiled playfully into the darkness. "I can't exactly imagine that being the headline in The Telegraph, can you?"

"Red tops, Grace. Come on."

"Ah." The psychologist felt her grin widen. "Don't tell me you've finally dispensed with pretention, then."

"I just don't give a shit anymore. If I want to buy The Sun then I will."

"For the top-quality journalism, of course."

He chuckled softly at the jovial sarcasm of her tone. "It was a 'for instance', Grace. I just meant I'm too bloody old and jaded to care which paper my status dictates I should read, that's all."

"Well, good," she replied easily, taking a breath to address him further before he spoke once more to prevent her.

"Anyway, whatever the rag, I don't want to have to deal with the fallout. So just make damned sure you don't freeze to death, alright?"

Grace smiled anew into the inky gloom. "I'll do my best."

"Good."

"Sleep well, then."

He tutted with reproach. "You're hilarious."

"I'd make a comment about our advanced age…"

"'Our'?"

"…but I wouldn't want to rub salt in the wound given the fact that our significantly more youthful colleagues don't seem to be having any problem whatsoever on that score."

"Bastards," he intoned misanthropically, causing her to chuckle softly.

"Good night, Boyd," she told him firmly, rolling over with a groan onto her side and trying to ignore the insidious frigidity of the unyielding ground beneath her body, the simultaneous torture of Boyd's painfully real presence achingly untouchable mere inches away.

TBC