A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank you all for reading and reviewing. Secondly, since for most of you "Lewis" and WtD seem to be mutually exclusive - please, consider the other. They are very different, but both fantastic in their own right. At this point, many thanks go to ShadowSamurai83 for betaing and encouraging - and lots of tight hugs to Joodiff.
And now for chapter 3, where there are...uhm...shall we say...encounters. Enjoy!
Chapter III - Clashes
It's the morning after the night before and as mornings go, this one isn't too great. She's woken up alone - no news there - but now she's sitting at breakfast in the hotel's breakfast room and does this alone as well. That's the part she resents.
In many ways, this trip has fallen behind expectations and if she is honest, Grace isn't sure why all this is happening. Accompanying her was Boyd's idea and though she tried to see it in a sensible way and infer nothing, it stings that he abandoned her for someone else so quickly. She had basically only turned her back and then...
Granted, she wasn't bored yesterday evening, Robbie was fine company. It was fun, but at some point it had a whole lot of the pitiful losers being left behind. Shortly after midnight, she had noticed that Boyd had not interrupted, not even said good night. He was gone and with him the woman, which Robbie admitted was a Laura Hobson...the object of his secret but fairly hopeless interest.
She sits alone, Boyd is already gone from the hotel and he hasn't even left as much as a message. The coffee tastes stale, the toast of nothing at all.
It's the morning after the night before and it isn't a good one.
A shadow falls onto the table and before she can do anything to react, somebody sits down opposite of her. Grace gives the newcomer a curious, then astonished look.
"I hope you don't mind if I sit down. I think you and I have to talk."
Grace folds her hands in front of her coffee cup and glares at her sudden companion. "I wouldn't know about what."
The other person raises their eyebrows and rolls their eyes, but it is neither in amusement or friendly exasperation. Their expression is just as frosty as Grace's own. "I can easily enlighten you, and I will."
"Be my guest, then." It's cattish, this reply and normally Grace would be embarrassed to use such a tone. It's neither dignified, nor mature. This is the way a woman who bitches around sounds. Grace doesn't consider herself one.
"Last night then. I'm sure we'll find plenty."
The bitchiness-level rises instantly. Laura Hobson, sitting on the other side of the table[,] doesn't plan on giving an inch. Eve's stories are all good and fine, Boyd pretty much exactly how he was described, but so far she has found little in Grace Foley that rewards the glowing and extremely fond description.
Not all of it is fair, it's hardly Grace's fault that Robbie found her so interesting and easy to talk to, had so much fun with her, but Laura is not in the mood for niceties. If anything, last night, having to go home alone, then spending most of the night tossing and turning, entertaining ideas about Robbie and the other woman... Well, it has given her determination to make her intent known - at least to any possible competition.
Robbie is an entirely different matter.
The expression on Grace's face is neither guilt-stricken nor apologetic. The earlier frostiness is back in full. "Oh, I don't doubt that. You certainly looked like you had fun. You and Boyd."
"Me and Boyd? What about you and Robbie?"
The waiter - an experienced and very capable man - considers this the most opportune moment to interrupt what looks to easily deteriorate into a female shouting match. Bad image for a hotel boasting its tranquil moments. A very bad image.
"Would Madam care for a cup of tea or coffee?"
"Had a good evening, sir?" The last thing he wants to hear this morning is Hathaway asking this question. The answer is actually yes, but it is tainted. Sleep came easily enough, but his dreams have been strange and confusing. Laura, Val, Grace...that man in between, Innocent, even Jim...it all has made for him waking up with some sort of...emotional hangover.
Not a good condition to answer any, though well-meaning questions from his sergeant. Hence, Robbie answers mono-syllabic. "Fine."
From his seat on the other side of the desk, Hathaway raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Lewis can get quite prickly and as closed up as an oyster when he doesn't want to talk. Then you don't get anything out of him. It's possible Hobson will be more forthcoming, but the pathologist is apparently not yet in her lab as a quick phone call earlier has proven.
Busying himself with the files on the desk, he decides to try again later, but keep an inconspicuous eye on the other man. Lewis looks and acts distracted, which means that either he has news from one of his children or the previous day has gone completely wrong. It can't have been the presentations - especially the first one by that London profiler is something James would have given his left arm to attend – unless Lewis fell asleep and has been reprimanded by one of the attending 'intellectuals'. Being told that he isn't scholarly enough usually goes down the wrong way.
Meanwhile, Robbie tries his utmost to stay focussed on the paperwork, but awake now his thoughts return to Laura and this strange man whose name he now knows to be Boyd. Grace said little at first, but then, after they'd noticed that neither Boyd nor Laura were still present...well...one thing needs to be said: Grace Foley is both an excellent psychologist and a crap one.
He can still see her expression, when he said exactly those words, in his very dark car, in the shadows in front of her hotel. Grace had laughed breathily, resignation evident. "I know," she'd said. "But knowing it and really dealing with it are two different shoes." It was his turn to snort then. Did he ever.
They'd sat there in the car for a while, both silent, both thinking. Robbie knew that her thoughts were not happy - probably running away with what her Boyd could currently do with his Laura. His own weren't far behind.
Sorry losers, the both of them.
So, Robbie Lewis doesn't exactly have a good morning and it's not made better by either his Sergeant's curious gaze, nor the suddenly appearing airy voice of their superior. Whoever it is she is trying to impress, Lewis is not interested.
"Gentlemen." DCSI Innocent sounds excited and even a little flustered as she breezes into the office. Hathaway gets to his feet, Lewis follows, much more slowly. His hesitation does not turn into trepidation, but confusion and unease certainly appear.
The man accompanying Innocent is none other than Peter Boyd.
"DSI Boyd from the Metropolitan Police attended yesterday's symposium." Innocent looks pointedly at the Inspector, as if not mentioning it immediately has been some dereliction of duty. "And he'd like to take a look at how we conduct our work here in Oxfordshire."
Hathaway catches his superior's eyes, clearly amused by Innocent's flutterings. The DCSI is normally not that easy to impress, but Boyd cuts a striking figure in his designer suit and large black coat. Very capital, very impressive, very imposing.
Boyd gives Innocent a winning smile, which leaves both Lewis and Hathaway rolling their eyes. It's a little bit too clichéd.
There is silence, only broken once when Innocent awkwardly leaves. The three men don't make an attempt to speak, though it is painfully obvious that Boyd expects the other men to, Hathaway hopes the other men will and Lewis waits for the others to do it.
James breaks first, which is due to his much fewer years and limited experience. What he can also see is some sort of male superiority contest drawn out between Lewis and Boyd, which the former takes pains to hide, the latter doesn't bother to.
"What would you like to know, sir?" he asks, aware but regretting the fact that he can't ask the Met-Superintendent about the symposium.
Boyd gives the young man an appraising look, but doesn't show much more interest. His focus is fully on Lewis and somehow it doesn't look like this is a purely professional call.
"Inspector," the DSI finally starts, "I do believe we should have a word." Though the choice of words is certainly polite, the tone isn't. Neither is Boyd's stance.
Normally, Lewis is a quiet man, but even though he doesn't get loud, reserve is not in his posture either. The Inspector doesn't intend to back away from this battle of...whatever it is.
The two older men stare at each other as if in a duel, before Lewis grinds out, "Follow me." As they both leave, James decides that he somehow doesn't want to be present for that one.
It's cold in the car park of the station, the wind picking at the edges of their jackets and coats. Neither says anything as they march further onto the premise. There is enough tension between them that doesn't need to be fuelled by idle words. Boyd has only one question in mind, the same goes for Lewis.
Finally, they come to a stop and turn to face each other, the earlier sizing up once again in full force. Neither has an advantage in height and though Boyd might be broader, he isn't so naive to believe the other man cannot match him physically. He might not try, but he can.
"So?"
"So what?" Robbie grinds out in reply to the opening shot.
"What are your intentions?"
The conversation that hasn't even started yet grinds to an abrupt halt. They are both silent, unable to form a proper comment. Inwardly, Boyd berates himself for his quick temper and quick word that reveals much more than he planned to admit. Lewis is simply confused.
"Intentions?" he repeats, giving the other man his full appraisal. Grace's words from the night before come back to his mind; 'madness' has not been among them, but it was implied. "Intentions about what?"
If there is one thing Boyd can't abide, it's deliberate obtuseness. He's already unsettled by a sleepless night and his temper rising in the grey morning. Having said so much about himself - to a very capable detective - has only worsened the situation and darkened his mood.
Yet there is nothing for it, the least he can do is keep his eyes open for Grace's safety. After all that has happened, all the things he hasn't prevented from happening to her, he can at least do this.
"Grace!" he growls and the warning in his voice is ill-disguised.
Once again there is a pause as Lewis assesses him. To Boyd it looks slow, but he realizes the mistake as the Inspector's face slowly clears, then morphs into an understanding grin. He doesn't say a word, only rises up to his full height. His grin widens.
It takes a few moments for Boyd to catch on, but then he's ready to punch something. Or kick it.
"I need a drink!" he announces with all the annoyance and frustration he can muster pushed into his voice.
Lewis still stands and grins.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" The roar sounds a lot more dangerous than it is close up.
"Pub's not open yet," Robbie supplies after a few moments of letting the other man rage.
"Coffee then," Boyd replies, his temper deflating into resignation.
Once again, Robbie utters a "Follow me," but there is none of the earlier animosity in it.
Surprisingly, they have remained civil - the both of them - which might be due to the fact that they are both learned women, experienced women, intelligent women. There have been no hysterical screams, no verbal or physical cat fights. Neither crockery nor cutlery has flown.
They are still sitting at the table in the breakfast room, though breakfast time finished two hours ago. The very capable waiter considered it prudent to leave the two women in this room to resolve whatever issue they have and just keeps supplying them with the drink of choice. Oddly enough, after that first cup of coffee, both women have switched to ginger and lemon tea. It doesn't seem to be the only similarity between them, but the waiter tries to ignore any thought in that direction.
They talk, at first very tensely, then with incredulous laughs. There is some sheepishness on both sides and a bit of embarrassment too. It's the kind of discussion that two women in the same situation need to have at times, especially when they both realize how incredibly foolish they have been and still are.
"Nothing of this gets back to Eve...or anybody else you might know?" Though worded as a question, Laura knows that this is more like an order. From what Eve told her, there is no messing about with Grace Foley.
And Boyd has made it very clear the night before that anyone upsetting Grace will find himself hunted to within an inch of his life. No prisoners taken, no amnesty granted.
Of course Laura agrees.
It's one obstacle removed - no living female competition - but there are still too many others. They both sit there drinking their tea and chatting. They have pointed out to the other how easy it will be, given the situation and the knowledge they have.
According to Grace, Laura just needs to have a little more patience, but most of all a little more courage to show Robbie how she feels and what she wants.
It doesn't really convince her. There's always the memory of Val - not to fight, but to deal with. In addition, Robbie is an extremely reserved man and only offers glimpses of what he feels. What if, in the end, he only wants friendship? Or will realize that he loves the memories of Val more and no living woman - not even Laura - can live up to them? The way Robbie is - wonderfully faithful and loving towards Val's memory, gentle and polite to everybody - how can she be sure he won't just try to accommodate her wishes, instead of living his own?
"It's not fear, really," Laura says by way of an explanation. "But he is one of...no, really my best friend."
Across the table, Grace smiles ruefully. It's exactly the same words she wants to use, has used, in fact.
Laura claimed that Boyd has been watching her all of last evening, not like a worried friend but like a jealous man. Ill-concealed a times, at others hidden beneath a brooding expression, before he became almost violently flirty again. An interesting man, but dear God, much too mercurial for Laura. Too exhausting.
Grace laughed at this, considering it a rather apt description of Boyd. But it hasn't convinced her either. Boyd is territorial and incredibly protective, but it doesn't have to mean anything. They are, indeed, best friends and after all the horrors of the year - Stella, Linda Cummings, her illness - there is little they would not do to protect the other. But love?
"I know," she finally says. "But if you don't give him a chance to say no or yes, you'll never know what the answer will be."
The expression on her companion's face mirrors her own; they could have spoken the words in unison, but knowing something and doing it...
They separate another hour later, when Laura is called to a crime scene. They hug each other goodbye, with the firm advice to go and just tell the man.
Even before Laura is out of the hotel, they both doubt they'll find the courage.
As she gets into her car, Laura takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. It's only for a second, but that's enough to miss the man entering the hotel lobby.
The coffee house is not something he'd consider sitting in with another man. With Grace it's different, but with Grace everything is different for Boyd. From the look on his companion's face, Lewis entertains fairly similar thoughts and that makes the entire situation a lot more bearable. Male companionship and solidarity or such crap.
It's too early for the pub, that's the only reason they are here.
They order their coffees, black, no sugar, and stare at each other while they are waiting. They are sizing each other up, but it lacks the animosity and even the prancing from earlier. They've moved on to the status of 'brothers in arms', after they have established that the other man is no competition.
What they can both say is that the other has good taste in women and under different circumstances and if there were...
Neither says it out loud. It's too touchy feely and they aren't friends. Yet. Maybe.
"So, what keeps you?" Lewis asks.
"What's keeping you?" Boyd voices at the same time.
Great. This is turning into one of those things. Robbie can easily imagine how Laura would smirk, were she witness to the scene. Boyd can almost hear Grace chuckling quietly. She'd love this, just because it annoys him.
Robbie breaks first, sobering up as he stares into his mug of coffee. Boyd remembers what he's been told the night before and draws on every ounce of tact he possesses. It's surprisingly easy, considering that he sits with a stranger. "Would she want that for you? Being alone all the time?"
Robbie shrugs. He hasn't found an answer to it, despite the fact that he has mulled this over an interminable number of times. Sometimes he thinks that he thinks too much. That was the place he'd reached the day before. Stop thinking, start doing.
After a while, he looks up and realizes that he has spoken out loud. Boyd's expression is understanding.
"Grace is the thinker between us. I'm the do-er." He sips his coffee, glad for the burn of the bitter brew.
"But now you don't dare?" For a moment, Robbie leans back on the bench he's sitting on, rubbing his hand over his face. "Sounds like it's all bluster to hide the coward."
It isn't the right thing to say, though maybe it is. Boyd's mien darkens visibly and his shoulders square. Not a pleasant thought, it seems. "Same goes for you!" he shoots back.
A phone rings, Lewis's mobile. Hathaway on the other end calls his guv back to the job. Some dead body found near the canal.
The challenge in the room stands as the two men part, to make of it what they will.
Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.