Title: Clarity and Salvation

Pairing: Grace/Boyd

Rating: PG, at least for now

Spoilers: Nothing specific but up to and including Yahrzeit

Summary: So have you formed any assumptions?

Feedback: Notes: Although I have been writing fan fiction for a number of years, this is the first time I have stepped outside my comfort zone and tried something new. Who knows where it will go but here's a short taster.

Chapter Three

"Stop," Boyd yelled, his hand already on the door handle. There was something in the way Grace stepped back from the doorway, her bag dropping to the ground that triggered something in Boyd. Without hesitation he was sprinting out of the car and running up to her.

Grace jumped as she felt his presence, her body instantly relaxing as he whispered her name and his hand lay gently on her arm.

Boyd took one look at the hallway, his eyes taking in everything and he placed himself in front of her, his body in protective mode. The narrow corridor was littered with her pictures, photos of her children smashed into the carpet and he could see the overturned desk at the end of the hallway. Gently, he held her back. "Call it in," he instructed quietly before steadily stepping over the threshold and walking through the house, inspecting each room, stepping over the chaos that were once her belongings. Assured that there was no-one lurking downstairs and she was still beyond the door, illuminated by her security light, he crept upstairs, stopping every few steps, checking for noises inside the house.

Grace returned the phone to her bag and pulled her oversized cardigan around her body. Time seemed eternal as she waited for him to return.

Five minutes later, he reappeared before her and tugged her inside, closing the door behind them. "There's no-one here."

Grace followed him down the hallway, feeling bereft as she caught sight of her things scattered and broken. Her house was now a crime scene and as upset as she was inside her brain was kicking into psychologist mode.

By the time the police arrived, Boyd had secured the house, checking every window and door for finger prints before locking them firmly.

They were standing in her kitchen, Grace torn between making tea and wanting to tidy up when the there was a knock at the front door. She opened the front door a crack, checking their identification before she let them in.

Boyd was on the phone when she re-entered the kitchen, his voice uncharacteristically calm and quiet, his first instinct to protect the team and the evidence.

"Spence, I need the team," he spoke into his phone.

"Boyd," Grace whispered, staring out of the window as officers once more checked her house, following the same logic as her Boss. Her house, or as much of it as Boyd would let her see was wrecked, her belongings were strewn around the floor, furniture tossed aside and Boyd had taken over, treating her like a victim as he threw orders around. Silently, she moved to the desk, careful not to touch anything, and scanned the pile of papers on the floor. She knew instantly case reports were missing, but she couldn't think as to why they would have been taken, of little interest to a common thief.

"There's been a break in at Grace's. I'm not sure if anything is missing but they did a pretty thorough job. The police are here but I'd like our people to take a look." He glanced at Grace, mistaking her mystified expression for fear. "I'm going to take her home with me."

It was the last thing Grace had expected and she could barely contain the anxiety from her face.

"No, I don't want her to stay here any longer than is necessary. You need Stella." He continued to hold a conversation with Boyd while he watched her. "It's gonna be ok," he offered gently to her. "Just in case they come back. I don't want you to be here alone." He returned to the phone conversation. "I'll make sure there's an officer on the door. Take a cab or call one of Eve's people for a lift."

Grace watched as another officer walked through her house, his shoes leaving muddy footprints on her hard wood flooring and she suddenly felt like screaming, yelling at them all to get out and let her clear up the mess and go to bed. The red wine made her feel nauseas and all she wanted was to be alone, or alone with Boyd, she wasn't sure.

"Why don't you grab your pyjamas and a toothbrush," Boyd suggested, silently appearing beside her.

"I might need a little more than pyjamas and a toothbrush," she laughed forlornly.

"Want me to come up with you?"

She looked at him in horror. "I'll be fine." The idea of Boyd watching her pack her underwear and grab her toiletries was not a pleasant one. It wasn't until she stepped into her bedroom that she realized he had seen most of her 'Bridget Jones' knickers littered across her floor. The urge to cry was almost overwhelming and she sank onto the bed, covering her face with her hands.

"Are you ok?" Boyd called from outside the door, not wanting to intrude. From the second he had entered the house he had been torn between being Boyd the policeman and Boyd the friend. He wanted to find out who did it and get her justice but he also wanted to comfort her and make her feel safe. The two he had quickly realised were incompatible and for a few hours he would have to be a friend leaving the police work to Spence. "Grace?"

"I'll just be a minute."

She wiped her eyes with her finger tips.

"We can come back tomorrow and grab your things. I'm sure I have something you can sleep in for tonight."

"Boyd!" she exclaimed in irritation. "Please just give me a minute." Pulling herself together she gathered what she considered essentials, wary of destroying evidence, and headed back out into the hallway.

His hand rested on her back, guiding her to the taxi, hovering above her shoulders as they rode in silence.

They had worked together for years, often spending more time with each other than their own families but Grace had never been to Boyd's apartment before. It was, she decided the second she stepped through the door, exactly as she imagined. More than anything it lacked a woman's touch or the feel of anything personal.

He began to pick up his belongings as he showed her into his living room. "Make yourself at home."

"I can go to a hotel." She sounded unappreciative.

"Do you want to go to a hotel?" he asked, torn between being put out and concern for her well being.

"I just feel like I'm putting you out, Boyd," she offered honestly, hovering in the living room, watching his attempts to tidy up.

"Give me five minutes to throw some sheets on the spare bed and we're set." He headed towards one of the two bedrooms. "There's scotch on the counter or I can make coffee."

"I'll make coffee." As much as alcohol would help dispel the emotions running through her body, she needed a clear head.

Grace shivered despite the warmth of his apartment. For the second time since joining the team, her house had been riffled. This time they weren't actively working a case but it wasn't a regular burglary and it frightened her, not that she was going to let any of them know that. There were case files missing, that much she was sure of, her jewellery box had been broken into but she couldn't see anything missing but the most concerning thing for her was what she kept in the spare room.

"Grace?" he said gently, appearing at her side, lightly touching her arm. "Are you ok?"

She jumped, her arm brushing his chest and a need to be held almost overwhelming her.

"Here, let me make the coffee," he offered lightly as he would to a victim. "Take a seat."

Crossing the room, she perched on the edge of his couch, her arms instinctively wrapping themselves around her.

Boyd watched her from across the room, not sure what to say or do. He chose the banal. "So have you formed any assumptions?"

Grace turned to look at him. "About you? I made those years ago." She forced a smile

"I'm an impatient bully?"

"You're more than that," she said softly. So much more she thought to herself. "It's just you give in to those traits."

Boyd shook his head, surprising her by laughing. "Not exactly how I envisioned spending my evening, getting psychoanalysed by my colleague."

"You asked the question. I can go to bed if you want to call Sarah." She hadn't meant to sound bitter, it wasn't in her nature but she found she couldn't help herself. And it wasn't any of her business if Boyd wanted to date, in fact he had picked a pleasant, seemingly uncomplicated woman. Of course in the rare moments when she let her psyche take over she wanted to be the woman he needed.

"The office grapevine has been working overtime, I see." He didn't deny it. He wasn't sure why he had not told her, other than he wasn't sure if there was anything to tell. The problem with Grace was that she always made him think about things too deeply, not what he needed at the start of a new relationship.

Grace remained silent.

"Here, drink this. It's late. Get some sleep and we're head over to your house in the morning."

She hesitated, wanting to tell him about the missing files but feeling silly, wondering if she was worrying unnecessarily. Taking the mug, she followed him to the spare room.

"If you need anything wake me."

"Is that wise?"

"Night, Grace."

"Night Boyd," she said, giving him a small smile and closing the door.