A/N: Chapter five already! This is really starting to pick up, isn't it? Well, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Finally the action you have all been waiting for, Boyd/Grace all the way through! Please let me know whether you liked it! And even if you didn't, of course. A big thank yoy to all of my faithful reader who have reviewed so far! I love all of you so much!
Disclaimer: I don't own Waking the Dead...
Chapter Five
It was passed midnight.
Grace was sitting in her living room. She was looking around nervously. Every shadow reminded her of Patrick. Every sound made her jump in fear it might be him. She was too scared to close her curtains, she didn't want him to catch her unprepared if he came looking for her. Every light in the room was on. She could still remember everything that had happed all those years ago.
She couldn't bare sitting down as if nothing had happened anymore. The pain was too big. Her head was aching, her eyes were hurting from wiping them to prevent herself from crying so often.
But tears now started trailing a path down her cheeks anyway. She was so angry with herself. Angry that he still had such a hold over her, even after all the years that had gone by. Angry he was making her cry again. Angry for knowing he was only doing this to get her attention. Angry for being afraid of him.
Grace bit back an anguished sob threatening to escape her. Her entire body was shaking with the effort it took. She clenched her fists in despair. All of her muscles were hard and tense. Sore even. And she was just so, so very tired…
Staring out of the window to the old oak tree in her backyard, something inside her snapped. She was done being strong. She had no strength left anymore. she wanted to scream and shout. She wanted somebody to tell her things would be okay again, even if it would take time. She just wanted to be held.
But who could she turn to now her world came crumbling down for the second time in her life? None of her friends at work, apart from Boyd of all people, knew about the horrendous ordeal she had experienced thirty-five years ago. She had no family left.
That didn't stop her from grabbing her car keys, though. She desperately needed a sense of purpose, and driving would give her that.
As soon as she had turned the keys in the ignition, a warm, male voice drifted into her head.
"If you need me, I'll be there."
That was the answer to her previous question, she realized. He was her best friend. The one who would pick her up now she had fallen.
But doubts immediately started creeping into her mind. What would Boyd say when she suddenly appeared on his doorstep? What would his reaction be when he saw how late is was?
But he had promised to be there when she needed him to be. And through the past week he had indeed stood by her. Maybe he wasn't just saying this, but he was planning on following through with it as well.
That settled it. Whatever the consequences would be, her mind was made up. She would deal with the possible problems when they arose.
Half an hour later she found herself on Boyd's doorstep. She was shaking from cold since she had not been dressed for going out, and most likely a little from fear, too. Yet she sang the bell. She had made it this far, she could not back out now. For her own sake.
Boyd woke up when he heard the bell ring.
He swung his legs out of bed and looked at his alarm clock. One thirteen in the morning. Who could possibly be disturbing him at this time of night?
Throwing on his bathrobe for good measures, he descended the stairs to open the door. The person on the other side had better have a good explanation for turning up here at an hour as ungodly as this.
But when he saw Grace, all thoughts of an explanation disappeared from his mind. He did not need one.
She was standing there in her blue, striped pyjamas. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her face was still wet with tears.
He didn't think. Or maybe he couldn't think anymore. He put a hand on her arm to guide her in. He could feel how she flinched slightly at the initial contact.
He instinctively drew back his hand. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable. But she shook her head, wordlessly telling him this was not at all his fault.
"Come on," he whispered.
He reached out for her again, but did not touch her. This time she grabbed hold of his outstretched hand. Relief flooded through his when he saw she was not afraid of him after all.
He led her to his sitting room. He hoped she would calm down a little when she had had a few minutes to compose herself. Because it was obvious to him that she needed to talk about his, but that she was in no state of mind to do it.
Boyd installed her on his couch. She was still holding his hand tightly. And she seemed to have no intention of letting go of it any time soon. Not that he wanted her to, he just had no idea where this was going. And that frightened him just a bit.
"Grace?" he said, looking down at her.
She did not respond. She kept staring at their hands that were still firmly locked together.
"I'm going to make us a cup of tea, alright? I believe we both need it," he told her.
But he hadn't even taken two steps back when her grip on his hand tightened. She was looking right into his eyes now. He could clearly see the anxiety in her own eyes.
"I won't be far, only through that door there," he promised.
"Don't go…" she pleaded.
"I won't. I promise I'll always be here. Now, let go for a second so I can get us that tea. Then I'll be right back by your side."
She slowly nodded. She had seen the truth in his eyes as he spoke to her, and that was enough to make her feel a little more confident.
She still clung to his desperately, though, only letting go of his hand when she had to because the distance between them had grown too big.
He prayed the encouraging smile he gave her would make her feel a little more at ease.
Grace kept her eyes on Boyd the entire time he was in the kitchen. She watched his every move. She recognized so many of his little gestured, the way he held the cups whilst filling them, for example. She immediately felt safer knowing she was around someone she could trust.
"Here you go," he spoke when he entered the living room again with two steaming hot cups of tea.
"Thanks," she said.
Grace's breathing was almost back to normal by then, and she had regained control over herself somewhat.
She enjoyed the feeling of the warmth of her cup of tea, content to say nothing. It was the first normal experience she had had this last week, and she was determined to savor every minute of it.
Those good intentions did not last long, though. She needed to explain to Peter why she was here. She owed him that much. And she had to do it for herself as well.
"I'm sorry for turning up here like this," she began, looking at her hands.
"It's okay. You don't have to do this," he assured her.
"I do... Please?"
He nodded. He understood exactly how important it was for her that he knew the reason for what was happening. And it might get her to talk, which was very important under these circumstances.
"I was so scared, Peter... So scared I could hardly move... I just had to get out of there... And you were the only one I could think of to go to..."
She was a little surprised when he rose from his spot in front of her, walked over and sat himself down beside her.
He took her cup from her trembling hand and set it down on the table, doing the same with his. He covered her hand with his, giving it a small squeeze.
She knew she had been pushing him away lately, that she had not allowed for the closeness that had been so normal between them for so long. She was glad to find she had not in the least been successful.
Silence fell between them again. Yet both of them found it was not at all a cold silence, but a companionable one.
Grace realized she was still shivering from cold when Boyd suddenly extended a hand to grab the blanket draped over the chair next to the couch.
"You don't have to explain. I know what it's like to see your world come crashing down and to realize there's only one person in the whole wide world to turn to," he softly said as he put the blanket around her shoulders.
She realized he was talking about the day he had had to formally identify his son's body a little over eight months ago. She had seen what that had done to him. And she realized she had been the only one he had been able to turn to.
It was true, she had to admit. He had been in the same place she was in. He undoubtedly understood how she was feeling.
She was grateful he was being her rock now that she needed him to be, even if his life had been turned completely upside down fairly recently as well.
"How did you get through it?" she tentatively asked him.
If Boyd had not been expecting that question, he wasn't showing it. Instead, he thought about it for a few seconds before replying.
"Not that well at first, to be honest. I took my anger out on everyone around me. I hurt myself by convincing myself this was all my fault. But then you came along and talked to me. You made me see I wasn't to blame for any of it. And you told me it was no use causing myself even more pain than I already was in. So I decided to do some hands-on work. You know, talk to Mary about what kind of a child Luke had been, arrange the funeral together… If you hadn't dragged me back from the dark place I was in, I would probably still be there," he eventually said.
He could feel her hear resting against his shoulder now. Without knowing he was doing it, he snaked an arm around her and got into a slightly more comfortable position. She was not at all complaining.
"But you're not there yet?" she asked.
He intertwined their fingers, and he could feel how she moved even closer to him.
"No, Grace. I'm not there yet. I still wake up every morning hoping it will all turn out to have been nothing more than a nightmare. But Luke isn't coming back. And that's hard to admit. But I know one day I'll wake up and he won't be the first thing on my mind anymore. That I'll wake up one day and breathing won't hurt as much as it still does now. But even though that'll happen, I'll never forget him. You told me that, remember? And you were right. Everything still hurts, but one day at a time things get better," he said.
"Do you think that's what it will be like for me as well?"
Her voice was soft and childlike in her need for reassurance. Boyd rested his chin on her head.
"I think that's exactly what it'll be like for you," he told the profiler.
He noticed that by that time Grace's shoes had gone, although he could not remember when this had happened. And her feet were on the couch. It seemed she was completely at ease at last.
"Thank you," she said. "For being here. For listening."
"It was my pleasure. I know it's not a skill you'd associate with me, but surprisingly enough I do know how to listen once in a while," he smiled.
Grace slapped his arm lightly. But she did not move away from him at all.
"I know you do. You just don't show it very often," she acknowledged.
Boyd silently agreed with her, and added to himself: or to anyone.
He could feel more and more of her weight beginning to press against him. Her breathing became more even and softer. He knew he should probably say something, but he didn't want to disturb the peaceful state she was in.
"Talk?" she asked.
"What?" he asked, oblivious.
"Talk for a while. I don't want to anymore, but I want to listen to you," she admitted.
He obliged. He spoke of days long past, days spent with his son. Of time in which the world seemed so big and everything was new. The days before either one of them had joined the police force.
Grace was silent during all the time he was speaking. Eventually she realizes he must have fallen asleep.
"Are you awake?" he wanted to know, even though he has pretty sure she wasn't.
Grace tried to stifle a yawn as she opened her eyes a little, but she failed miserably. He immediately felt sorry for waking her up.
"Come on, let's get you to bed. It's late, and it'll be an early day tomorrow," he told her.
Reluctantly she dragged herself into a sitting position. She didn't want him to let go of her, she had just been feeling so safe in his arms…
Boyd led her up the stairs and into his bedroom.
"Get comfortable. Try and get some sleep. And if anything is wrong, just give a yell, okay?"
She looked from the bed back to him, and he could see something in her eyes he couldn't name.
"Can't you stay? I wouldn't ask if… I just don't want to be alone right now," she whispered.
He nodded.
"I'll stay."
So they both settled down on the bed. Boyd was glad they had already been wearing their night ware, else he would've had to offer her one of his shirts to sleep in. Not that he would have minded, but with her dressed in nothing but her underwear and his shirt and as close to him as she was right now, that might have gotten a little embarrassing.
Grace rolled onto her side, facing him.
"Will you promise me something?" she wanted to know.
"Anything."
The answer was swift and easy. He was surprised the realize he really meant this, he would promise her the world if she wanted him to.
"Hold me. And don't let go. Promise me when I wake up you'll still be holding me."
He could hear how afraid she was. So he opened his arms and invited her in, holding her loosely but securely.
"I promise I'll still be holding you when you wake up," he said.
And with that promise on his mind, he fell asleep.