A/N: Thank you all again for reading and reviewing. With this, we - sort of - come to an end. At least of the story. I hope that it's actually only a beginning.
Enjoy.
Chapter 4 - Courage?
Donning both the coverall and wellies, Robbie feels a little on the backfoot as he approaches the scene of the crime where the SOCOs are at work. Hathaway has taken over the interviews, which leaves his superior to deal with the pathological findings. And Laura Hobson.
He steps closer gingerly, torn between professional interest and personal nervousness. Somehow, he gets the feeling that an apology might be expected of him, though he couldn't say what for.
The misunderstanding of the night before - now seemingly ridiculous - makes proceedings a whole lot more awkward.
"What do we have, Doctor?" he finally asks.
Hobson doesn't look up as she recites the basic findings of a 30year old female, strangled to death apparently on the canal and then dragged to its bank. She's fighting for composure, but it has little to do with the corpse before her.
Lewis appears, in sound and posture, as calm and professional as ever. Which is good. Or not. She can't decide.
The assessment of the scene goes its usual way. Questions are asked, the body finally removed, bits and pieces of possible evidence bagged and carried off to the different labs where they will be processed.
It takes a good hour or so and if Hathaway notices his Inspector lingering at the scene for longer than is really necessary - they do have identifications to find and thus get back to their desks for a number of phone calls - he doesn't mention it and instead gets on with it via his mobile.
DCSI Innocent might not like it, but when does her finest duo ever do things by the book?
It doesn't surprise Robbie that Laura noticed him shuffling about where he isn't really needed, but she gives him a bright, if knowing smile as she pulls off her latex gloves and closes the distance between them. For the casual observer they look as if they are discussing the initial findings.
They don't.
He wants to ask, "Did you get home alright last night?" but refrains from it, thinking that it might be the wrong start for a conversation that is supposed to clear up and smooth over the mess they've made of things last night.
Instead, he asks, "Are you free tonight?"
Laura's smile widens, if that is even possible. "Pub?"
He shrugs a little casually, but gives her a smile as well as he shakes his head. "Something a little more fancy?" Pauses and then, "For a date."
There's a deep breath, which she takes and he releases. Sometimes they don't behave like mature adults at all.
"A date? You and I?" she asks, though her smile shows that she isn't teasing him for his choice of words. Far from it, in fact.
"At eight?" he continues.
Laura nods, grinning - if possible - even wider. "I'd like that."
She's at the desk, speaking to the concierge when she can feel him sweeping into the lobby. It's always like that with him. He marches into the room and for a moment the rest of the world stops and stares. He likes that, she is sure of it. Polishes his ego.
Since Grace knows that the last thing Peter Boyd needs is somebody stroking his ego, she resists the temptation to turn, just mentally braces herself for whatever is to come. He steers right in her direction, his gaze burning into her back. It could be an intensely exciting, erotic feeling, only it's not what they are, is it?
Boyd comes to a stop just behind her shoulder, so that she can feel his physical presence. There's no need for the heat of his body, or his scent, his cologne, mixed with the cold dew from outdoors. It radiates off of him and despite herself, Grace shivers. He's not in a very gentle accommodating mood. Boyd has an agenda and one can almost feel his determination to see it through.
"Shall we go for a walk?" His voice is oddly quiet. They won't be causing a scene, even though Grace knows that she has little choice whether she wants to go or not. The decision is made for her. He takes her elbow and gently, but determinedly steers her away from the desk, and the concierge, who follows them with his eyes a little worriedly, is only rewarded with an apologetic and calming shrug.
They make it outside and the first thing Grace notices is that it is indeed fairly cold and fairly damp. Boyd stops and takes his time to check whether the buttons of her coat are done up and rearranges her scarf so that the soft wool covers all necessary bits of skin and keeps her warm.
Grace smiles briefly at the tender gesture. They never mention this surreptitiousness that he displays when it comes to her...wellbeing, health...whatever. He also pulls her hand into the crook of his arm as he steers them towards the footpath that leads towards the canal.
That is new, but Grace is far from complaining. They've always resolved the tension between them with small, surprising gestures. A bottle of wine late at night in the office, a smile through the half open blinds, sitting down on the couch in her office, grapes in a paper bag. So many small things that somehow weave into the fabric of their relationship that is a deep friendship at the least.
But the least is not enough anymore.
"You were impressive yesterday afternoon," he says after a while into the silence of the day.
"Thank you."
They are quiet for some time, which is not altogether unpleasant, but not something Boyd can handle for an extended time. He wants to say things that burn in his mind and on his tongue, but in the end takes the coward's way out. "So, this Professor Larkin..." Derision drops heavily from his voice.
Next to him Grace chuckles and puts her free hand on his arm as well to squeeze him affectionately. "No need to go and intimidate him. The dean of his faculty sent some flowers this morning. Larkin is...nothing."
They walk on, once more in silence, through the grey morning. Their steps are pretty much the only sound, giving them both time to think. Think too much.
They both always do that.
After a while, Grace shivers, lack of sleep and nervousness catching up with her making her feel cold.
Boyd notices. Of course, he does. He's become so attuned to even the smallest change in her condition that he can read the signs blindly.
He stops his steps, forcing Grace to do the same, then turns towards her.
They stand so close together that he can feel her exhalation against his chin. She's slight and fragile compared to him, but there is something in her eyes that is anything but. Grace smiles, her eyes alight with something...unspoken.
Without a thought he pulls her into his arms, burrows her almost in his embrace.
When they separate after a while, he leans down and kisses her.
She blushes, endearingly.
"Warm now?" he teases and kisses her again, just for good measure.
"It's a start," Grace smirks as they turn back towards the hotel.
The End.
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