A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews on the first chapter. I'm glad you are all enjoying. Here is chapter 2 and with it, perspective changes a little. Many thanks go to ShadowSamurai83 for the beta and the constant encouraging (and the team for putting up with me).
Enjoy!
Chapter II - The Other Side
"It could be a new career path, you know. Joining the high flying circles of university life..."
She snorts derisively and keeps her gaze firmly locked on the road ahead of them.
The M40 is packed, even on this Thursday noon, and he has to keep himself in tight control not to flip and put the blue light on top to force faster passage. That would turn the undertone of their so far tranquil excursion a little sour and that's the last thing he wants.
They've done flirting, they've done platonic friendship, they've done outright adversity and mutual hurting. At the moment they do ambiguity. It's not satisfactory to him; in fact, it is downright annoying. It might be part of the reason why he insisted on coming along.
She doesn't need him for this, his presence might make things actually worse in such a high-flying place as Oxford, but her audience will be mostly coppers and scholars, and if nothing else, he knows how to handle arsey coppers, should they misbehave.
Grace does that too, but Boyd deliberately ignores the fact. Being away from London and the pressure from both the Home Office and the Met to finally return to doing what they are paid for, and from doctors and hospitals and rehab and what not... Boyd hasn't thought too deeply about it, but it might give them a chance to 'do' something about this ambiguity-crap.
After her presentation, there will be some social do and while he normally hates that, they don't know anybody, nobody knows them, and they could find the time and the situation where they don't have to pretend and she'll allow him not to make total bollocks of it.
They arrive at the conference hotel with only minutes to spare, due to the traffic, and the organisers all but jostling them inside makes his hackles rise. For Grace's sake, he keeps quiet, just uses - subtly, he thinks - his physical impression to send out a clear warning.
It works. Of course, it does.
Grace rolls her eyes with a somewhat amused smile, but says nothing. She's let a lot of his earlier swearing slide, which tells him just how affected she is by the prospect of presenting at this symposium. He decides to ask her later why in God's name she finds the prospect of Oxford so daunting. In Boyd's mind, they should be daunted by her accomplishments, by her intelligence and professional knowledge. Grace Foley is the best bloody criminal profiler and those artsy-fartsy university wankers better get down on their knees and worship her.
They enter the room where the presentation is taking place. Grace quietly and unobtrusively, Boyd doesn't bother. It takes a few minutes until everything is set to roll, so he makes good use of the time to convey what his position is and what he considers his - self-appointed - job today.
Nobody bothers to introduce her before she starts, a huge slight as far as he is concerned, one he has no intention of forgetting, but Grace once again takes over and gets the situation under control quickly.
Sitting down, Boyd settles himself to listen to the presentation - no new cases, not even many new insights, but it is surprisingly fascinating nonetheless. Half an ear is always directed at the audience and any unseemly reaction or remark, but the longer it lasts, the more he is caught in the spell that Grace weaves around the room.
She's a born public speaker, he realizes not for the first time. She's engaging, sharp, even witty. There's nothing ostentatious or ego-centric in her manner - that's his forte. In fact, time flies and before he knows what's happened, more than an hour is gone. It's now time for questions from the floor and instantly he perks up again.
Most of the questions are polite and interested, he can see and hear that Grace's speech has made a positive impact on coppers, scientists and scholars alike. But out of eternal logic, there must be one arsehole amongst all the nice people.
The voice grates on Boyd before the man has even finished his question. That fact only helps to drive his blood pressure up, but it's nothing compared to the impertinence of the man's question.
"But considering the lack of scientifically sound testing methods, the fact that you are human and a woman at that, don't you agree, Dr. Foley, that all of your so-called insight is no more than an old wives-tales? Completely useless in actual police investigations?"
It brings him to his feet, before he can consciously think about it, and he whirls around to glare at the offensive idiot. If he could leap across the rows of seats to punch that useless dickhead, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
There's offended murmur amongst the crowd, most of the listeners displeased with such a lack of manners.
On the dais, Grace waits until the murmur has died down a little, before she fixes the questioner with a polite smile that is almost more dangerous than her full-fledged anger. She's in a 'take-him-down-and-cut-him-up'-mood and for a moment Boyd almost feels sorry for the guy, who even from afar looks like a sorry old man.
"Professor Larkin," Grace replies, all smiles, but with sarcasm dripping thickly from her voice. "As I am certain you have read in each and every one of my papers, which you have unsuccessfully ripped apart in the last 25 years, my insights come from careful study of each and every individual case I refer to. It has been backed up by police evidence and therefore I can rightfully claim that my insights come from practical expertise, something you have - unfortunately for a man of your position - never gained."
There are grins and twitching eyebrows around the room and the hapless offender can't even react, before she poisedly turns towards the next question.
It's typical for Grace, and Boyd feels something like pride and admiration for her swell in his chest.
Not an entirely new emotion, but so far an unspoken one.
He sits down again, but doesn't actually calm down until the presentation comes to a close and they leave the room. He all but shadows her, his physical presence warning off any impolite attention from the audience. There is a lot of interest in Grace's work, in her presentation and the woman herself, but with him around most don't dare to do more than step closer and offer a polite and admiring smile.
That's all good and fine for him, because he has seen that she is exhausted and could do with a little privacy. They leave after a few polite words with the organisers, who are as full of apologies and praise as they should be.
At their hotel, he makes sure she's settled in her room, orders her some tea and sandwiches, and generally hovers over her like a nervous mother hen. Grace naturally bristles as much as she laughs it away, but the worry about her hasn't left him for the last ten months and he doubts that it will any time soon.
It's part of the ambiguity thing they have.
He acts, she speaks. Usually.
When it comes to their personal relationship, they do neither. It's always veiled and oblique, always wide open to the most and the least innocent interpretation of facts. Even to themselves.
It's a tiresome and annoying behaviour and as Boyd has to leave Grace's room, lest he'd do something that doesn't fit with the propriety of their 'friendship' - like just lying down next to her or kissing her 'until later' - he decides that this has gone on long enough.
It's not a big thing, just kissing her. It's possibly the greatest risk he'll ever take, but they are away from the constantly prying eyes of the capital, nobody knows them and it is about fucking time for a little truth.
The evening starts well enough. People are polite and admiring, the food is surprisingly good, which can't really be said for the wine, but if Grace is willing to accept that minor setback, who is he to complain?
The only real downside is that they haven't had a minute to themselves. It seems as really everybody wants to say a word or two, if nothing else than to congratulate Grace on her sharp reply towards Professor Larkin, who is suspiciously absent, but not missed at all.
All in all, it goes well until Grace steps out for a few minutes. Of course, he can't follow - that would be awkward and if he's right, Grace actually craves a minute without his constant hovering - but it leaves him alone in a room full of strangers and Boyd doesn't really know what to do. He isn't on the lookout for some young beauty whose name he'll have forgotten in the morning. Even if he were, the pickings are oddly slim, especially in comparison to the tentative battle plan he has hatched.
So he stands around and he is bored, until a quiet female voice behind him says, "You look like the wine is not strong enough to make you endure all this."
Boyd turns, at once defensive at being caught, but in front of his eyes is a tumbler with what looks like whiskey and it's held by a petite blonde woman. Short and slim, pretty, very fair hair and skin. Mid-forties. She gives him a somewhat gleeful smile and holds out the glass invitingly.
After a moment of hesitation, he takes it, causing her grin to widen. "I don't plan on poisoning you, DSI Boyd," she says and it sounds somewhat familiarly sardonic.
"You know my name?"
"A friend mentions you, from time to time."
"A friend." He's at once careful, but at the same time a little intrigued.
"Let's say your name comes up from time to time. Dr. Foley's as well."
"Ah." It doesn't sound convinced, which he didn't plan anyway. "And who would you be then?"
The woman chuckles. "Laura Hobson. Dr. Laura Hobson."
"Pathology, I assume?"
Her sheepish amusement makes Boyd smile. He doesn't need to ask further; this woman is the kind of friend Eve would have. "We come up in conversation, huh?"
"Every now and then."
During their exchange, they have moved away from the centre of the room to a wall, where they quietly continue to banter a little, before he gets her to admit what Eve does say. In conversation. Every now and then.
It's light and funny, a nice distraction until Grace returns.
Only suddenly, Dr. Hobson's smile falls from her face at the same time as he hears a very distinctive and familiar laugh that he hasn't heard like this for a long time.
He turns, but stops in the middle of the move. If anybody took a picture now, it would show a momentary lapse of control in his expression. There's shock, there's hurt, and there is a neon green tint of jealousy.
The man he sees isn't even that good looking. Tall, lanky, dark haired, with some grey at the temples. On sight there's nothing that interesting about him, but there is something in Grace's stance, something in the way she moves, talks and gestures with her hands. Something in her face that proves that this man is interesting, amusing. Nice.
Probably exactly the kind of bloke Grace deserves.
Next to him, Laura Hobson's face pretty much mirrors his expression. Her gaze is focussed on Grace and that bloke as well, so Boyd feels she is the right person to ask. "Who's he?"
It doesn't come out politely or emphatically. In all honesty, he sounds like a jealous lover - which is slightly pushing the truth. Well, more than slightly.
"Robbie," is the answer and it sounds at once fond and resigned. "DI Robbie Lewis."
Boyd wants to snort that the other man is just a lowly DI, but that would be petty and have no influence on Grace's interest in the man.
"Tell me about him," he demands and turns again to his companion. Laura is pulling her mask of control back on, but not before he can see that she isn't dealing well with the situation either. "Drink first?" he relents.
Hobson nods, her eyes still fixed on Grace and Robbie Lewis.
It won't be the last drink and it won't be the last dazed nod this evening, while they keep their eyes - not very subtly - fixed on the couple that is first at the bar and then at a corner table, completely immersed in their conversation, oblivious to the rest of the world.
Under different circumstances Boyd wouldn't think twice about interrupting, but there is still this ambiguity-thing between Grace and him. She looks like she has a marvellous time with Robbie Lewis, like she's relaxed and animated, nothing poised or guarded about her. In fact, Boyd hasn't seen her this carefree for a long time.
He's loath to take that from her. In addition, what right does he have to break up her good time, just because she doesn't have it with him? He doesn't like it, and from the looks of it, Laura Hobson isn't very happy either, but they can't be sure their interruption would be welcome.
So, they don't do it.
Things are said in the course of the evening. Admitted.
Things neither would usually share.
They spend the time and under different circumstances it would even be a nice experience, but they are waiting for the other couple to come back to the rest of the world. Not only for the emotional part - though that's the aspect which will lead to a sleepless night for both of them. There are also practical thoughts involved.
In the end, it is useless. Neither Grace nor Robbie take notice of their surroundings.
Laura takes a cab home, the fare high, her mood considerably lower.
The cabbie who takes Boyd to his hotel has to deal with a bear of a customer - not drunk, but not in a friendly mood. They almost have words at the entrance of the hotel, because Boyd doesn't give a tinker's damn about common courtesy or manners. The ride was too long for him not to automatically dwell on what Laura told him, but worse, what he has seen with his very eyes.
Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.