A/N: Chapter three has been added! I hope you'll all enjoy it, it was really fun to write. A bit harder at times, but fun. And it explains a good bit more about what happened to our dear Grace all those years ago! Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this, I'm afraid... I'm only borrowing!

Chapter three

Grace woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing. With her eyes still closed and inwardly groaning she lifted a heavy arm to reach for it. Sleepy as she was, it took her a few seconds to find it.

"Doctor Grace Foley," she said.

"I've covered for you, saying you had to do something for me before coming in for work. Since you're an hour late I don't think they'll be buying that crap much longer, so you'd better get your ass in here within the next half an hour," Boyd's voice sounded from the other side of the line.

She now sat bold upright. Her alarm clock read eight fifty; Boyd was not joking. She kicked the covers away.

"I'll be there," she promised him. "What exactly have you told them I was doing for you?"

She needed to know that in case they started asking questions when they saw her.

"Nothing detailed, just what I've told you," he answered. "Why? Do you want to come up with matching stories?"

She understood he was only being funny to try to let her know this wasn't such a big deal. She laughed at his comment. It was nice to be teased once in a while. Especially in times like these.

"Yes, please! Tell them you wanted me to drive by Patrick's house this morning to see whether he was there. Say I told you he would probably lay low to avoid drawing attention to himself, and you wanted to know if I was right," she invented quickly.

"Sure," Boyd agreed.

Grace was, in the mean time, trying to get into her clothes. Using one hand of course made it harder, but so far she had been successful. And she couldn't afford to waste time by waiting until Boyd hung up. Not that she really wanted him to anyway. Luckily she had been sensible enough to take a bath last night, else she would've had to worry about doing that, too.

Finally she was almost finished. The only thing left to do, was button up her blouse. An impossible task if she was unable to use both of her hands. So she told Boyd to hang up so she could finish up.

"Have you got your head completely elsewhere with me calling, doctor Foley? Do you need me to come and help you?" he asked playfully.

"Bye, Boyd!"

Passing by the kitchen table she snatched up her car keys and purse. Glad to find she had only lost fifteen minutes getting ready, she shut the door behind her, got into her car and began mentally preparing for the day ahead.

Turning into the street towards the CCHQ, she did something she had never done before. She turned around and parked her car at walking distance from the building. She had no idea why she did it, yet she did not want to use her normal parking spot.

It was raining. Making her way through the street, she waved at some agents who she recognized, but whose names were unknown to her. The grey curtain that was falling was the reason they kept on walking without engaging in conversation. And that suited her just fine.

She reached her destination without any more of such encounters. She entered the building on automatic pilot, her feet carrying her where she ought to be. Luckily nobody was paying attention. She was convinced it had to be quite obvious she was only physically there, and she wanted to avoid this being noticed. She was glad to find her route upstairs was not blocked by any hurdles.

As soon as she came into CCU she saw the man she desperately wanted to talk to. The man who would surely say something that would drag her back to the present, even if he didn't know that himself. Peter Boyd was, as always, hiding in his office.

"Hi, Grace!" Stella suddenly said brightly.

"Good morning," Grace greeted her, trying to sound as casual as she possibly could under the circumstances.

"Any luck with Boyd's idea?" the DS demanded.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Patrick is indeed hiding, which strengthens my believe we will in due course discover he is our murderer."

At that moment Spencer walked in, making Stella focus her attention on him. Grace took her chance and started making her way to Boyd's office, making sure not to walk too quickly or look suspicious. She did not want to have to go through the same thing twice.

She pushed the door open without knocking.

"Boyd, can I have a word with you?" she asked as soon as she was inside.

"Why?" was the question he directed back at her.

"Because I wanted to thank you for calling me this morning. I didn't really get a good night's sleep and I didn't hear my alarm go off," she explained.

She conveniently replaced I barely slept for three hours by I didn't really get a good night's sleep. She did not want Boyd to become more worried than he already was. She felt guilty that he was hurting because she was. She just wanted this misery to come to an end.

"You'd better be thanking me! You've never been late in all the years you've worked here, imaging what the effect must have been!"

If it hadn't been for the knowledge he was only doing his best to act normally around her, she would have been angry with him. Most people would have been. But she knew him better, so she just let it pass her by. She was even glad he did this. It made him the one constant in her life she could always count on. The one who knew everything about her, yet did not treat her any differently for it.

"Well then, thank you! I wish I had some more time to chat, but I only got here just in time for my meeting with Henry Mole, Patrick's prison psychologist," Grace said.

"Do you mean a tall, dark haired, rather young man with way too much energy for his own good?" Boyd wanted to know.

"That's how you would describe him, I guess," she answered, smiling at his description.

"He already passed by a couple of minutes ago. He went to get himself a cup of coffee before going to your office to wait for you," Boyd informed the profiler.

And at that she left. Henry had agreed to come over quickly to answer a couple of questions before he had to go in for work. She shouldn't keep him waiting any longer than necessary, he had a job to do as well.

They shook hand when she came in.

"Thank you for being here, Henry," she began as soon as they were both seated. "I promise this won't take long."

"It's nothing, really. Anything I can do to help. You seem to understand just how dangerous Mister Brown is, and that doesn't happen a lot," Henry said.

She nodded in agreement, but did not verbally respond to his last remark. Instead, she steered the conversation into another direction by using it to her advantage.

"What do you mean by that?"

"He has mastered the art of telling those he wants to harm just what they want to hear. That's how he gains enough of their trust to get close enough to strike when his time has come."

At least it was an opening she could work with.

"Are you talking about the incidents involving those female guards, or the fights in general?" she inquired.

"All of them," he revealed. "He lets them believe they're superior to him, only to work his way up to being their equal. Soon, the others forget they were verbally or physically assaulting him upon his arrival in prison, or at least some time before. When they least expect it, Patrick attacks them in order to get his revenge," Henry said.

Grace had been expecting that. After all, this man was no stranger to her. Therefore she altered her questions somewhat, so she might discover something new.

"Apart from his aggression towards fellow inmates, did you notice anything strange or unusual about him?" Grace asked.

"Most of his fights were the same, if that's what you're asking. Payback for the way he'd been treated, all male victims and no remorse whatsoever. But with those guards, it was different," Henry mused.

"Different in what way?" Grace felt her throat go dry and constrict.

"They were the one who got away with mere bruises, despite the fact he seemed to have completely lost control and he acted most violently around them. And when he was taken to a separate cell to cool down, he kept saying he was sorry and that he wasn't supposed to have done that," Henry recalled.

Grace fought hard not to be dragged back into the past after hearing that. She made a note about it on the piece of paper lying on front of her.

"That would be all, Henry. Is it okay for me to call you if any new questions arise during our inquiry?" she asked.

"It sure is," he said, getting out of her chair and shaking her now extended hand. "My colleagues and I are always at your disposal."

She thanked the man whilst leading him out of the Unit. There was no doubt in her mind Henry was probably all too happy to leave; the atmosphere was colder than it had ever been since they had begun working the Patrick Brown-case. Nobody had said anything about it so far, but she was sure everyone had noticed it.

It wasn't hard to, if she were honest. She kept to her office unusually much, she avoided talking to Boyd (except when she had no choice, like this morning, because she needed to hear him say something) out of fear she might say something that would make him worry so much he would take his frustration out on Marianne and get himself into trouble.

Peter Boyd might not have been known as the most sensitive of man, but he stood up for his team. He protected them against the dangers this job held in any way he could. Most people, well, all people really, didn't bother looking any further than the difficult and at times aggressive man he seemed to be, and were put off by his insane work ethics. Yet Grace found his determination one of his best character trades. Though his eagerness to solve the cases they dealt with sometimes made him ask too much of his coworkers.

Dear heavens, Grace Foley! She now reprimanded herself. There are lots of more important things to worry about than you boss's personality! She could feel herself turning red, something that she had almost never done before.

She thoughtfully sank down behind her desk now, wondering why she seemed to be thinking of the man constantly as of late. She vividly remembered the conversation they had had some weeks ago, concerning them. He had asked her how they had gotten into the situation they were in, referring to the argument they had had and that had resulted in her not speaking to him for three days in a row. They had been sitting in a pub at that time, having resolved their issues mere hours ago. He had asked how it had gotten this far again.

"I could tell you exactly how we ended up fighting again. Or why we do is so often. I could analyze this situation in my sleep," she had responded to his question, taking a sip of her glass of red wine.

"Yet you don't," he had stated rather obviously, looking right into her more than somewhat surprised eyes.

She had changed the subject, even though she hadn't known why. At this time she realized he'd been right: during those days they had spent in cold war, the idea of using her profiling abilities to dissect the situation and find a solution that would suit the both of them had never crossed her mind. Did that have anything to do with the fact she had forbidden herself to read those closest to her, and Boyd being the closest? Or had it been for a different reason entirely? She began to wonder.

She had known Boyd for ten years now, having met him during one of his drinking sessions on one of the trying days she had had working in the prison system. She had volunteered to join him, understanding neither one of them should be drinking alone. By the end of the evening a fragile connection had formed that would rapidly become a bond for life. And both of them had gone home quite sober.

During the years that had followed, people had come and gone. In their personal lives as well as in the team. Mel who had died, Frankie and Felix who had left… But he had always been there. Just as she had always been there for him. They'd learned to open up in each other's company. But now more than ever Grace knew Boyd had never truly opened up. He had told her about his son, but when she had asked him not to exclude her when he went to formally identify Luke's body, he had done just that.

And she had never been truly honest either; from the first she'd stolen at him, she had known she would one day lose herself to him. Dark, unreachable, closed… Yet she had found him mysterious and intriguing. He was still intriguing, even if he no longer really was a mystery to her.

But she was roughly pulled out of her thoughts when she heard her name being shouted.

"Grace!"

Boyd apparently needed her. Glad for something to do, she got up and made her way towards the board, where Eve and he were standing.

"You called?"

"Yes, I did. Eve has something to ask. Of you as well as the others," he added almost as an afterthought whilst gesturing for Stella and Spencer to join them.

Eve waited a minute longer for the other two to get within earshot before she began speaking.

"Since we've got very little to go on," she said, "I thought you might want to be there and have a look while I examine the body fully. I know you usually aren't present when I do my thing, but maybe you guys want to make an exception this time. Especially you, Grace. It might help you with your profile."

"Euhm, no offence, but this is one of those corpses that's still got tissue on his bones, right?" Stella demanded.

When Eve nodded, she continued.

"I think I'll pass on this one; bones are more my cup of tea."

Boyd coughed, which Grace guessed to be a way to hide his laughter. He told the young woman to find something else to do in the mean time.

"You're excused then," he told her. "Find something useful to occupy yourself with while we're gone. If you need us for anything, just call."

"Will do. I'll probably be doing a background check on a certain Rose Montgomery. She was the alibi of Robert McGrey's wife. Thought we'd better rule her out so we can focus on the others. So when you come back, I'll take one of you with me and go talk to her, depending on what I find," Stella said.

Boyd told her that was a very good idea and that she should take Spencer with her when she decided to go out. He advised her to play good cop, as women trusted women more easily. But she shouldn't be afraid to play bad cop if need be, because there were still so many angles left to investigate. And he didn't want to waste any more time than absolutely necessary.

"We've got seven people who are deceased and who we don't need to look into anymore. Five other have got a solid alibi. We have gotten somewhere already, boss."

DC Goodman wanted to convince him of that, and Grace knew part of her needed that reassurance too.

"Keep doing your job," he said. "And we'll solve this. Just don't start taking your bloody time to do it, like you did on our last case."

Stella and the rest of the team cringed slightly at his words. Grace knew he had not wanted to scold at them, he only wanted to solve this case as quickly as possible. And he wanted them to work thoroughly.

After Stella had promised him to do as she had been told, Boyd started ushering the others down to the lab. Grace noticed he let everybody pass him by and then held open the door for her.

She could feel his eyes on her back. She didn't have to look around to know he was looking at her. To be honest, it made her a little nervous. She wasn't used to seeing this much of his sensitive side, and not at all at work. He had been trying to hide it from the team, and so far he had been successful. But even though it made her somewhat uncomfortable, she was flattered he cared about her this much.

They finally reached the lab. Once they were inside Eve led them to the table in the back on which the body was lying. She informed them that the remains had been formally identified as being Robert McGrey's. Pulling away the white blanket she had previously put over the body, she started talking.

"As Grace already remarked when looking at the photos, there are a lot of cuts that are rather superficial. And cuts that are very deep. Those superficial cuts appear only on the victim's back, suggesting the attack began while Robert stood facing away from the perpetrator. His chest, though, is very vehemently punctured in various places. Multiple times."

But Eve had a bombshell to drop.

"But that isn't the most important thing I discovered. Do you see those bleu-ish discolorations on his left leg and right beneath his collarbone, also on the left side?"

They all nodded.

"Those are the result of being shoved into a freezer," she told them. "At first I thought they were simply bruises he had gotten during the fight with his attacker. It wasn't until I looked at the bleu spot on the left side of his ribcage, an indication that he was left lying on it for a while, that I realized they were something else entirely."

"Was he still alive when he was frozen? I mean, what's the cause of death?" Spencer inquired.

"He was already dead when freezing set in," Eve answered. "I can't say he was dead when he was put into the freezer, though. Even after his heart stopped beating he must have bled for a while."

Grace felt herself go pale. She grabbed the table in front of her for support, hoping none of those present had noticed.

"So the stab wounds are what killed him?" Boyd wanted to know?

"One of them. I have to open him up to be a hundred percent sure, but anyway. He was killed by a stab wound to the chest…"

"… just underneath the heart that punctured the aorta where it leaves the heart," Grace said, loud enough to be heard but only just.

"Yeah, how did you…" Eve began.

But Grace had already turned on her heels and left the room. She was physically sick. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen this coming. The despise and anger she felt for herself made her want to slam her fist into the wall.

She almost bumped into Stella, who was on her way down, but she did not stop to say sorry. She practically ran to her office, grabbed her coat and stormed out of CCHQ. If she didn't leave, she would only be sick, she would be kicking and screaming in utter agony because of the mistakes she had made with Patrick.

In the mean time Boyd was trying to make Spencer stay behind with the two women and let him go after Grace.

"I've known her longer than all of you. And I dare say I know her better than all of you. Trust me on this one, okay? Don't be so bloody hardheaded and let me go, Spence," Boyd said.

The others were taken aback by his tone: anger and concern clouded his normally in control voice. They could see the fear in his eyes.

Boyd shrugged off his lab coat, letting it fall to the floor without glancing at it a second time while he hurried from the room. He needed to find Grace, and he needed to find her now! He was such an idiot! He should have made her stay in her office, he had known what effect this would have on her!

Luckily he had some idea where she would be going. It wasn't a very long walk, one could get there in ten to fifteen minutes. But he decided to take the car anyway. She had a ten minute head start because of what had happened in the lab, so she was probably already there.

Grace was sitting on the cold, wet ground, overlooking the grey surface of the small lake in front of her. It had been quite a while since she had last been here. Twenty-five years to be exact. Right after her ordeal with Patrick. Now he was in her life again, and she found herself returning to the one place where she'd been able to deal with it all. In the back of her mind she bitterly realized she didn't even remember how she had stumbled across this lake.

Suddenly she heard a rustle. Without looking up she knew who it would be. So she remained immobile on the ground, continuing to hug her knees.

Boyd sat down beside her. He made sure not to answer her personal space, as he wasn't certain she would appreciate him coming that close now. The silence between the pair lingered on, until Grace finally took a quivering breath and broke it.

"I should have known this," she almost inaudibly said.

"You couldn't have…"

"Yes, I could've! He told me," she could barely bring herself to say the words, and she kept looking away from him.

Boyd was shocked but kept it hidden. Not once had she told him this. He doubted he wanted to hear more. Yet she needed him to listen, so he did.

"It was after a session. The guard was waiting outside, the tape recorder had been cleared away. Suddenly he told me he had had a dream that had made him very frightened. I asked him whether he wanted to talk about it, seeing he was in distress. I counseled him further. Without recording any of it."

She took a few moments to compose herself before going on with her story.

"He said he'd dreamed about stabbing a detainee who had beaten him up severely two days after his arrival in prison, killing him with a stab right underneath the heart that punctured the man's aorta where it leaves the heart. He'd watched him bleed out and had then put him into a freezer…"

Tears were pouring down her cheeks now. Boyd brushed them away with his thumb, cupping her face in both of his hands and forcing her to look at him.

"Oh, Gracie Grace…" he softly said.

That was her undoing. She started to sob even harder, her whole body shaking. She let her head fall against his chest, her hands fisted themselves around the fabric of his shirt. She clung to it as if it were her lifeline, never wanting to let go.

The feeling of his strong, masculine hands caressing her back, his tender arms around her trembling form made her feel safe. It gave her hope after she had believed she had stuffed up so bad that all hope was gone. As long as he was there, she was going to be alright again.

He pushed her at arm's length.

"It's time to head back," Boyd whispered.

"I don't want to," she replied like a child. He felt the pressure of her finger enlarge by the prospect of having to return.

She shivered. When Boyd made to touch one of her hands, he realized she had to be freezing. So he shrugged of his jacket, not letting go of the woman in his arms with more than one hand at a time.

Grace gratefully accepted the offer to drape it around her shoulders normally she would have made some comment about chivalry not having disappeared from the world after all, but today she was too tired and drained.

"Then why don't you go home?" Boyd suggested.

She barely registered what he said. Looking down at herself, however, it did not take her long to take him up on that offer as soon as she understood the meaning of what he had said. There were grass stains on her skirt, both on the front and the back. She realized she must look quite a mess, having cried, being all stained and wet.

"But my stuff…"

"We'll pick it up. Then I'll drive you home. Leave it to the team for the rest of the day," he advised her.

"I'd rather drive home myself, if you don't mind," she told him.

He studied her quietly for a moment. There was something about her he had never seen before.

Eventually he gave in, knowing she needed nothing more than to convince herself that she was strong enough to do this. That she was in charge of the situation.

He drove them both back to the CCHQ. After having made sure she'd be fine, Boyd ran to the CCU. Pushing open the door to the unit, he ignored the questioning looks the others gave him and grabbed Grace's purse.

"Boss, what…" Spencer began.

"Grace is going home. No questions when she comes back tomorrow, understood?"

"Yes, sir!" came the reply in chorus.

Grace managed a weak smile when Boyd reappeared, holding her purse. She knew she hadn't been able to face the 'children'. Not yet, at least.

"Thank you. For everything," she said.

"You're more than welcome, Grace. Now, go home. Try to get some sleep. Things might not look so bad anymore when you wake up tomorrow," he softly said.

Watching him return to the CCU, she thought she might just do that. Boyd was right, after all. Tomorrow would be a new day.

But deep down she couldn't shake the feeling the problems she'd be facing wouldn't have changed at all.