Clarity and Salvation
Chapter Twelve
The bar was busy, filled with football fans watching the big screen and drinking in excess. It wasn't the place they would have chosen but it was as close to the office as they could find and with the constant noise no one was likely to over hear them.
Eve returned from the bar carrying a bottle of Merlot and two glasses. "They don't do food when the football's on. So I ordered chips. Apparently that's ok."
"They obviously don't do expensive plonk either." Grace poured two glasses and took a long sip. "You realise I could get very drunk on this."
"And that would be a bad thing, because?"
Grace shook her head. "Because I tend to get a little loose on the tongue."
"Ah."
There was a cheer as one of the teams scored.
"Boyd keeps doing that."
"Doing what?" Eve asked, loosing the gist of the conversation.
"Belittling my work."
"He doesn't mean to."
"Yes, he does. He baits me. Every idea I have he challenges. He can't handle anything that isn't set in stone or based on his own idea. Every debate he draws me into the irrational little whorl that is his reality. And he yells, like a little child having a tantrum, metaphorically stamping his feet until he gets what he wants. It's like it's the only way he knows to communicate," she bemoaned. Her thoughts turned back to the previous Friday night and his rubbing her feet, so gentle and so thoughtful.
Eve didn't say anything, listening intently, hoping that finally Grace would open up completely.
"You know what's sad. I have two kids I hardly ever see. They call, they email but they have their own lives, partners and jobs. So this is all I really have - the cases, the victims, the team and Boyd, because somehow or other we've managed to become friends. None of it adds up to a conducive life to meeting people."
"This is all Boyd has too. His work and . . .," Eve hesitated, not really sure what reaction she would receive. "You."
Grace shook her head, a faint smile playing at her lips. "He sometimes forget that."
Eve bit her lip and decided to go for it. "We all believe in what we do. We give people closure when everyone else has given up. We ask the difficult questions and we don't stop until we get results. We all put in 100. You two, you go above and beyond, it all becomes personal and boundaries get blurred." She pulled a face as Grace shook her head and opened her mouth to interrupt. "I've seen you circumnavigate police procedure to get justice for a victim. Maybe not quite as remarkably as Boyd but Boyd doesn't see obstacles, generally until he's bulldozed them. You tend to see them as puzzles to solve. You're interdependent."
"And without me, he'd find someone else to bully."
"No, without you, he'd have broken down years ago." She sipped her wine. "You know he blames himself for what's going on."
"I never said he was rational," Grace commented dryly, knowing in her heart that Boyd was more personally binded to her case than he normally was.
"He wants to catch this guy, he wants to solve the how and why and protect you all at the same time."
Grace shook her head as she poured another glass. "I don't see Boyd as a knight in shining armour."
"Really. He rushed into your house knowing that the intruder might still be there, he insisted you stay at his house. I don't think he's been more than a few feet from you since this whole thing started. Maybe not a knight but he cares. . . "
"We're his team."
"You're his friend. From what I know about you two, this isn't the first time. You save him, he saves you. But for two highly intelligent people you're blind to what's there."
"I don't think after all these years we're suddenly going to fall in love and live happily ever after." She wasn't sure if it was the wine loosening her tongue or just tiredness but she felt freer for talking to Eve.
"Yeah, happily ever after, probably not, but maybe you two should just sleep together and figure the rest out later."
Grace's eyes went wide.
"Make up sex could solve half your problems. Work out a little of that frustration." Eve's grin widened as Grace refused to look at her. "Obviously not a new thought."
"And cause a whole hell of a lot of problems." She paused momentarily. "He and I would be a nightmare together. There are so many things I hate about him."
"And quite a few you love."
"Yes," Grace said quietly. "Of course there is one stumbling block to your idea."
"Yeah. Oh, the American chick. Yeah, she won't stick around."
Grace raised an eyebrow.
"Woman's intuition." Everyone was so used to her being tucked away in the lab that they often didn't notice her. It gave her plenty of opportunities to eavesdrop and people watch. The signs had been there for days but Grace had been too caught up to notice them and it wasn't Eve's place to point them out.
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"I'm going to bed," Grace announced, walking towards her room. Grace had barely made it back to the office before Boyd had announced they were calling it a night. She hadn't argued and for once hadn't brought any work home. The car ride had been quiet as he focused on the road and she stared out of the window, regretting the afternoon consumption of alcohol.
"Do you want a drink?" Peter asked, double locking the door and stealing yet another look at her. He'd been doing it all the way home, hoping she hadn't noticed as he contemplated what to say.
She shook her head, before turning and disappearing into her room. "No, thank you."
Boyd helped himself to a large scotch from the bottle on the countertop. He sat down and rose to his feet again before hovering outside of her door. "You know I'm an insensitive prick." He listened for a response. "And I'm driven and reckless. And we both know I need therapy for anger management." Moving away from the door he poured a large glass of wine and positioned himself in the middle of the living room.
Grace opened the door and leaned against the door frame. "You can be a complete and utter bastard, Boyd."
"I know." He handed her the glass. "Trouble is, that's who I am."
"Not always."
"I am sorry. I wanted to say that earlier . . ." he said, his voice laced with conviction.
"But. . .?" Grace asked, crossing her arms across her chest and waiting.
"You wouldn't talk to me and then you were gone."
"So it's my fault." She couldn't believe he was about to turn this on her.
Boyd ran his free hand through his hair. "No."
She turned back towards her room. "When this is over you need to get help?"
"I don't want to talk to a stranger." His last session of anger management hadn't been wholly productive, or rather it had tackled the short term problem but left him with issues that he had been reluctant to share.
"You've never been very good at talking to me." She hesitated, one foot already in her room.
"Yeah, but you listen, you ask the right questions. . .," he trailed off, not willing to admit that there was no one else in the world he could or would talk to about what was really going on inside his head.
"If we're friends at the end of this. If I still want to do this job then maybe."
He said her name softly, just a little frightened by the tone of her voice.
Momentarily, she turned. "Forget I said that. I'm just tired. Good night, Boyd."
Boyd stared at the closed bedroom door long after she had disappeared inside it, not willing to admit which idea scared him most.
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