A/N: My, my! I hope you're all eager to discover what happened with Boy and Grace in one bed. And how this will continue, of course. Please leave me a review to tell me whether you liked it or not! And a huge thank you to all of my faithful reviewers:

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Disclaimer: I do not own Waking the Dead. Nor will I ever, I'm afraid…

Chapter six

Boyd was the first to wake up.

As always the Detective Superintendent had ten minutes left before his alarm clock would tell him it was time to get out of bed. It was a habit he had developed during the first week after he'd joined the force with Nick.

Not that it had anything to do with a desire to abide by the rules. Because work was the only thing he was ever on time for. He recalled a conversation he had had with Grace about this rather annoying habit of his.

"I don't know why I'm always late," he had honestly said.

"I think I do," the profiler had revealed.

"Do you? Care to share your thoughts?" his question had been.

"I think you don't like being told what to do. And one might say being on time falls into that category," she had simply replied.

He had to admit, now, that she had been spot on. But then again, she knew him better than anyone. How could she not have been right?

But there was little time to remain lost in thought. They needed to get themselves ready for work. So he focused his attention on the woman in his arms.

"Grace?" he asked, stroking her cheek with his free hand.

"Hmm?" she sleepily said, unconsciously leaning into his touch.

"It's time to get up if we want to make it to the CCHQ on time," he told her.

She slowly opened her eyes. A smile spread across her face, and Boyd looked at her a little questioningly.

"What?" he asked.

"You kept your promise," she stated.

He chuckled at her words. It was so typical for Grace to notice he had kept his promise sooner than to realize they were still holding each other.

"I always keep my promises to you, Grace."

Although he was serious, his tone was light. He threw back the covers.

"I know. One of your best character traits, Peter, I have to give you that. Though you might want to try doing others the same favor once in a while," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

So she wanted to play? He would humor her, then.

"Ouch, Grace!" he spoke, pretending to be hurt.

"It's the truth, and you know it. Besides, I told you it was one of your best character traits, meaning you have more of them."

They both began to laugh out loud. It had been quite a while since they had last done this, spending the night together. Not that they'd ever done that in one bed before today, usually he would sleep in the spare room or his own bed, depending on whose house they were staying at.

Boyd now rose from the side of the bed, and Grace did the same. Even though neither one of them really felt like it.

"Same routine as usual?" Boyd inquired as he pulled open his closet to get some clothes.

"Why don't we do things a little differently this time?" she suggested.

Boyd settled for his normal work attire, a dark grey suit combined with a white shirt. He then continued his search for a pair of socks.

"Different in what way?"

"You get to take a shower first, while I try to figure out whether I've still got some clothes lying about here somewhere. I'll wash up while you are getting dressed. And then I'll cook breakfast. As a thank you. And we could eat together," she said.

Normally she would take a shower first and have breakfast after that, while he was getting ready for the day ahead. He would have already eaten, so she didn't have to cook him anything. Obviously this was indeed a bit of a departure from tradition. Yet he thought it might just be about time they made some changes.

"Okay. And about those clothes, first shelve on the right side of my wardrobe. And before you ask, yes, they have been washed and even ironed," he assured her.

"Good. I'll be in your kitchen then, seeing what I can come up with for breakfast," she said.

He could have sworn the profiler had had a smile tugging at her lips as she disappeared through his bedroom door.

Once he had gotten undressed and into the shower, his mind started racing in all directions.

Was it only something he was trying to convince himself of, or had he just seen a glimpse of the old Grace again? He was a little afraid she was only putting on the brave face for him, to make him believe she was alright. But on the other hand, she was a profiler, was she not? She was well aware of the disastrous effects bottling up emotions could have.

Soon enough his shower ended. And by the time it did, he had reached a decision on how to handle the entire situation with Grace.

He had opted for the wait and see approach. He would see where that took him. If need be, he could always change tactics, after all.

He descended the stairs. When he reached the kitchen door, he could not help but smile at the sight in front of him.

Grace was standing in front of the cooker. In her blue striped pajamas. She was humming softly to herself whilst counting eggs. Next to the eggs there was a bowl, a whisk and a pan. The gab of bread was on the other side.

"Your turn," he spoke, leaning against the doorframe.

He had spoken in barely more than a whisper, trying not to startle her. He was glad she simply turned, not startled in the least.

"Already?" she said in disbelieve. "It's a good thing then that I managed to find everything I'll be needing later. Apart from some marmalade, that is."

"Bottom shelve in the fridge. It's strawberry marmalade, in case you are wondering," he added.

"Perfect. I'll be back really soon. Behave while I'm gone and please, Peter, do not mess with the ingredients."

"This is still my kitchen, you know!" he grunted, pretending to be hurt by her comment again.

She only laughed in response as she climbed the stairs and went to the bathroom.

Boyd picked up the newspaper and began to read in order to have something to do until Grace returned. It didn't take him long to figure out the world was really going to the dogs.

Not that he concentrated on the troubles in the world. God knew he had more than enough trouble to deal with at work. But he wanted to know what was going on in the world.

Being the woman she was, Grace did indeed return from her shower as quickly as possible. Her hair was still a little wet when she appeared, which Boyd found extremely alluring.

The profiler did not seem to be bothered his eyes were following her everywhere she went. That was a good thing, because he wasn't planning to stop watching her.

Grace began whisking the eggs, adding herbs and spices as she went. Within mere minutes she was pouring the mixture into a larger bowl and dipping some slices of bread into it, ready to put them on the pan.

"What exactly is it you're making?" Boyd asked as his curiosity got the better of him.

"Home made toast," she replied.

Boyd had never seen Grace as one to make toast. But he had long ago discovered she was not at all a bad cook. And a woman of many skills. So the discovery should not really come as such a surprise.

She now put the bread on the pan. For quite some minutes less than he had anticipated she would, he had to admit. But it smelled delicious, so he refrained from commenting.

"Here you go," Grace said whilst putting a plate filled with toast covered in marmalade in front of him.

In silence they began to eat their breakfast. Boyd had to admit this was the best breakfast he had ever had. And he vowed to tell Grace that. Although he was sire it would not be today.

"I was meaning to ask you something, but this whole breakfast thing made me forget all about it," he said after a little while.

She looked at him questioningly, her hand stilling on its way to her cup of coffee.

"As was meaning to ask you whether you'd like to spend the night again. I know I'm probably stepping out of line here or something, but, you know…"

"I understand. And you're not out of line, really. Given the state I was in last night, I take it you noticed I don't do being on my own very well at the moment. So yes, I would like to spend the night again," she told him gratefully.

Boyd was genuinely relieved she was accepting his proposition without him having to convince her it was for the best. He hadn't been keen on having to persuade her, since that usually resulted in a shouting match.

"Will we be driving by your house after work then, so you can pick up a few things you might need?" he wanted to know.

"If I want clean underwear for tomorrow I'm afraid I don't really have a choice," she spoke with a straight face.

Boyd silently agreed with her, trying hard not to laugh at what she'd just said. He was successful, thank god, but only just.

He rose from his chairs and began clearing the table. When Grace made to help him, he put a hand on her shoulder, effectively preventing her from getting up. Without words he told her this was only fair after the cooking she had done.

His profiler then settled for watching him place the dishes in the sink. He thought he must look a lot like those new man every woman was after these days, or so the word go, the type who helped in the household.

"Bloody hell," Grace suddenly muttered under her breath.

"What?" he inquired, worry evident in his voice.

"There's a stain on my pants… Presumably from the eggs… Give me a second to find another one and I'll be back," she said.

She disappeared back upstairs. If he hadn't know Grace wouldn't want to be in late twice in such a short space of time, he might have gotten scared at the prospect of the reactions of the team when they came in together, late. As it was, he just shrugged.

When she met him in the hallway five minutes later, he was pleasantly surprised at what he was seeing.

Grace was wearing a simple black skirt that fell right beneath her knees, a white blouse and a black vest. She had not just changed her pants, she had changed her entire outfit. And she was looking very sexy, there was no other word to describe her. He doubted she even knew that.

He realized he was staring when her voice drifted into his head.

"Seeing something you like, Peter?"

"As a matter of fact, I am enjoying the view, thank you," he replied sweetly.

He knew it was a bold move, but he couldn't help himself.

Grace smoothed down the front of her skirt as she came to stand beside him.

"Good," she said very softly.

He wasn't sure she had meant it the way he would have liked her to. So he pretended not to have heard her.

Boyd grabbed Grace's coat and helped her into it before getting into his own jacket and searching his pockets for the car keys.

"Could I interest the lady in a ride?" he politely inquired as soon as he had found them.

"That would be very kind of you, sir," she immediately stepped into her role.

It was something they did rather frequently, this sort of role-play. But with everything that had happened, it had been a while.

In the car they listened to the music and engaged in some more of their usual witty banter. It brought back memories of days long passed, the early days of the unit. Memories of their own friendship and how it had grown to be what it was today.

And unbeknownst to the other, both of them were contemplating which side if the thin line between friendship and love they were actually on.

Finally they arrived.

"If anything happens, will you come to me?" he asked her as he parked the car.

"Of course I will," she promised him.

Content with her answer he decided not to question her any further. There was no need to, after all.

Not knowing why he linked their arms together when they had both reached the front of the car. Grace placed her free hand on top of his arm as they made their way to the CCHQ building.

When they were about to go inside, she stopped him.

"I know I already said it, but thanks. Thanks for last night, for this morning… Being able to forget about it for a little while really helped."

"And as I told you, I'm glad you trust me enough to let me be there for you."

And with their arms still linked together they entered the bullpen.

Boyd noticed the 'children' looking at them with their mouths slightly ajar. But he didn't care at all. Besides, it was funny to see their surprised faces.

The DSI smiled at his profiler one last time and locked himself in the office. He was planning on making the much dreaded call to Marianne to tell her they had evidence that placed Patrick Brown on the scene but that he unfortunately had magically disappeared.

But Marianne did not pick up her phone. Which, of course, irritated him a lot.

"Bloody Assistant Commissioner," Boyd grumbled.

As he threw the horn down, he thought he heard his and Grace's name somewhere in the distance. He looked up to see where it might have come from, and soon found the source.

Spencer, Eve and Stella were huddled together at Spencer's desk. The two women were obviously trying to convince their male colleague of something, but they weren't very successful, Boyd thought.

He was sure that was where their names had come from, though. What could they've been talking about?

His phone rang. He expected it to be Marianne, so he prepared for a less than frivol conversation.

"Detective Superintendent Boyd speaking," he said as he picked up.

"It would seem we made it into the morning's gossip," Grace's voice told him.

He chuckled. They most likely were in the morning's gossip every day. He had to admit he liked it sometimes. Or, well, most of the time.

"Would that have anything to do with the way we entered? We were very close, after all, doctor Foley."

"We should be more careful next time. Else you'll completely ruin that bad reputation of yours," she happily spoke.

"We couldn't have that, now, could we? I think you're right, maybe paying a little more attention wouldn't be such a bad thing."

She agreed and told him she had to go; she was supposed to be reading through the rest of Patrick's prison notes.

Boyd leant back in his chair after she had ended the call. He doubted she would find anything new in there, but he hadn't been willing to tell her that. She had to keep busy, she had to feel useful.

He picked up his pen to distract himself. It was anything but easy to stop himself from checking on her every minute. Or to keep asking her whether she was coping. Yet that would only make matters worse.

And she really was okay. Or at least as okay as she could be, all things considered. She had shown him that this morning. He was probably just worrying too much.

He decided to spend some time contemplating what he would say or do when he saw Patrick. Because he knew he could not screw this up again.

He knew himself well enough to realize he would not be able to hold back when the little shit did something to harm Grace. Or to push him over the line. But that would get him in trouble with Marianne, and he didn't really feel like that.

And of course he was aware of the fact Grace needed him to be in control now that she was barely holding on. She'd be disappointed in him, no doubt about that.

He had thought about this same question when Spencer and he had driven to Patrick's house. But everything had changed. The state Grace had been in last night had made his intention of refraining from slapping the bastard disappear.

He was interrupted when his phone rang again.

"Detective Superintendent Peter Boyd speaking," he said.

"I'm sorry for missing your previous phone call, Detective Superintendent. But I was rather busy, as we have quite a problem on our hands," Marianne spoke on the other side.

"And what problem might that be?" Boyd inquired.

"Patrick Brown. We have found him, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to bring Doctor Foley out here. He refuses to speak to anyone but her."

Peter fell silent. His heart was beating rapidly. He could barely breathe.

"Mister Boyd?"

"I'll talk to her and bring her to you," He promised. "Just give me the address.

And she did. He scribbled it down rapidly.

"We'll be there shortly," he said before ending the call.

He got up. Resting his hands on his desk for a moment, he couldn't believe this was really happening. Not again, not after everything that had already happened.

Boyd nearly bumped into the side of his desk as he attempted to make his way towards the door. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now, he only knew he needed to find Grace and tell her what was happening.

Finally he managed to open the door. Stepping into the bullpen, he saw her standing by Spencer's desk, bent low over what looked like a map.

"Grace?" he asked.

She turned towards him immediately.

"Yes?"

"Marianne called. They've found Patrick. We have to go."

He shook his head lightly when she opened her mouth to say something. She slowly nodded in response; he didn't have a choice.

She picked up her jacket and made her way over to him.

"Spencer, Stella, I need the two of you to stay here. We don't know what it's like there, we need you to make sure somebody's in when anything happens. And tell Eve where we are when she arrives," he demanded.

The two younger members of the team nodded. He could clearly see they were taken aback by the entire situation.

Boyd put his hand on the small of Grace's back and began guiding her outside.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay with this?" he asked her, worriedly.

"I don't know, Peter… Honestly, I don't…"

"Just remember, I'll be there. I'm not leaving. I promise."

And silence fell between them as they took off.