Aisling Grace Foley

by Rapunzle1980

What if Grace had Harry Taylor s child? And what if Boyd one day finds himself face-to-face with a small Grace-copy with red hair and blue eyes? Thanks so much to Joodiff for the Beta-read :)

Aisling Grace Foley

By

Rapunzle1980

Finchley, September 2002

"Peter?"

The man in the bed stirred a little but did not wake. He was fast asleep on his back, snoring lightly, one arm hanging down over the side of the bed.

"Peter!" she said a little louder, walking closer to the bed in Granny`s guest room, holding tightly onto her stuffed rabbit. Of course, his name was Peter, too, as in Beatrix Potter`s Peter Rabbit.

"Hm?" was the only answer she got from the man that had been at her Granny`s house when Mummy had brought her here yesterday afternoon. Granny had told her his name was Peter, that he was her friend, and that he was also spending the night at Granny`s. He did not, however, get to sleep in Granny`s bed. That was her spot.

She stretched out her hand and touched his arm carefully before saying his name yet again, louder this time. "Peter!"

"What?" the man finally mumbled, sitting up in the bed. He stroked his hand over his face before turning on the lamp on the nightstand, then he looked down at her. "Aisling? Why aren't you asleep? Where`s Grace?"

"Granny's asleep, but I think she's hurting."

"Hurting?"

"Yes. She's crying, but when I talk to her, she doesn't answer."

Peter – the man – turned towards her, his long legs reaching all the way down to the floor when he sat on the edge of the bed. Her legs just dangled when she sat like that. Then he stood up, making her bend her neck back to be able to look at his face. He was really tall. Taller than she remembered from yesterday. Then she noticed he was only wearing boxer shorts.

"Where are your pyjamas?"

Peter half-smiled down at her. "I must have forgotten them," he said as he held out his hand towards her. Aisling looked at it before slowly placing her tiny little hand in his much bigger one. It was good and warm.

"You forgot to bring your pyjamas? How can you forget to bring your pyjamas when you are going to a sleep-over, Peter?" Her soft voice was overbearing, sounding just like her Granny.

The man chuckled as he led her out into the hall and towards Granny`s bedroom. "Stranger things have happened, Princess," he whispered as they both stopped in the doorway to Grace`s bedroom.

On the bed was a small figure, curled up like a ball, the silent sobs making her petit frame shiver. Aisling could hear the man next to her sigh. He let go of her tiny hand and walked slowly towards the bed.

"Grace?" he whispered. When he got no answer, he slowly crawled into bed with her, lay down behind her Granny`s back, placed his arm around her and pulled her into his bare chest, whispering silent words that Aisling couldn't make out from her place at the door.

What she could make out was that Granny seemed to stop crying. She gave a small whimper before relaxing into the man behind her.

Aisling watched them from the doorway, Peter – the rabbit – clutched tightly in her arms. Even she, a five-year-old girl, knew that right now what her Granny needed was not Peter – the rabbit. But Peter – the man. And yes, sleeping next to Granny in Granny`s bed was usually her spot. But maybe, just this once, Granny needed Peter – the man – more.

She walked over to the bed, placed her tiny hand on the man`s bare shoulder. "Night, Peter."

"Night, Aisling," he whispered back, barely moving.

She turned around and walked back to Granny`s guest room. The bed was still good and warm, she noticed as she tucked herself in. And it smelled nice too. It smelled of Granny`s detergent and of him. Of Peter – the man. She liked him, she thought as she slowly started to drift off to sleep. He seemed like he could be a nice grandpa.

Detective Superintendent Peter Boyd lay perfectly still. He did not dare to move for fear of waking the petit woman sleeping in his arms. Not in a million years had he imagined he would be lying next to Doctor Grace Foley, in her bed, his arms securely wrapped around her.

But then again, he had not imagined her being assaulted in her own home either. But that was what had happened not even a week ago. And that was also why he found himself in her house, in her bed in the middle of the night, holding her tight to his chest.

She had seemed just fine when she entered the squad room after being released from the hospital on Tuesday, her left eye already the shade of dark blue and purple. She had smiled a little sheepishly as their colleagues gathered around her, fussing over her.

She had put on a brave face, had worked the case with them, never letting anyone of them know just how frightened she was when the evening came and she had to go home to where it had happened. At first, it hadn't occurred to him just how afraid she was. It wasn't until last night when she broke down in front of him after all the others had gone home that he had realised the impact it had had on her.

It was also then, studying her closely, that he had noticed the dark bags under her eyes, despite her efforts to conceal them with make-up. "Have you slept at all this week?" he had asked her, holding her close as she cried silently.

"Not much," she had admitted with a sob.

"Want to stay at my place tonight?" The question had come out even before his brain had had the time to process it. "In the guest room, that is," he had quickly added.

She had pulled away from him, moved out of his arms and towards the couch. "That's very sweet of you, Boyd, but I can`t. Aisling is spending the weekend at my place, and Kayleigh Ann is bring her over this evening. I have to be home by six o`clock today."

His arms had felt empty and cold without her in them, he had thought, not reacting to her use of the words "sweet" and "Boyd" in the same sentence. "I can… stay at yours, only for tonight, if you like?"

Her teary blue eyes had looked up at him. "Boyd…,"

"No, I mean it." He`d walked over to her, making them both sit down on the couch. "I`ll sleep on that horrible couch of yours if Aisling is having the guest room."

"Ash sleeps with me in my room," she told him. "You can have the guest room." Then she had speared him with her tired eyes. "Just promise me one thing, Boyd."

"What?"

"No arguments, no discussions or whatever. I don't think I`m up for that right now."

Of course, he had promised. He would have promised her the moon if she`d asked him for that. Anything to make sure he could help her feel safe in her own home again.

So, that was how he had managed to find himself in Grace`s house and her bed.

"Aisling?"

"She`s in the guest room," he whispered into her hair.

"Why?"

"You were crying in your sleep," he explained.

"She never sleeps in the guest room."

"I`ll go and check on her," he offered, removing his arm from her waist. As he sat up, a small hand grabbed a strong hold of his. "I`ll come back, Grace. I just want to make sure Aisling is asleep. Then I`ll come back to you."

"Alright," she whispered, the fear still evident in her voice.

Boyd squeezed her hand gently before leaving the bed and its mistress in search of the five-year-old Grace copy. He found her where he expected her to be, tucked up in bed in the guest room. "Aisling?"

"Hm?"

"Are you doing all right?"

"Sleepy."

"Do you want to sleep with Granny?"

"Granny needs you."

Boyd smiled, squatted down next to the bed. "You sure?"

"Yep." She gave him a sleepy smile. "You look after Granny. I`ll be fine in this bed."

"All right," he whispered before placing an unexpected kiss on her forehead.

"Night, Grandpa Peter. Love you."

Boyd froze for just a split second at the title before his name as well as the declaration after it. His hazel eyes looked down at the little girl, her eyes already closed again. "Night, Princess," he whispered back, not knowing how to react to such innocent declaration of love towards him. Of course, people had told him they loved him in the past. Mary, Luke, his parents. But after Luke ran away, and his marriage fell apart… He had not heard those words spoken meant for him in so many years.

He watched Aisling sleep for a few minutes, his heart suddenly tingling with something he had not felt since before Luke ran away.

Boyd did not believe in destiny, but as he stood up and left the guest room to return to Grace`s bed, he could not stop but wonder; was he destined to meet that little girl? Was she destined to help him find his way again?

The CCU headquarter, end of august 2004

"Peter?"

She turned to the man – Carl – who had brought her down to Detective Superintendent Peter Boyd`s office at this hour of the night. "Thank you," she smiled at him before she looked back at the man sitting behind the desk in his office.

It was now two weeks since Grandma and Peter had lost one of their colleagues in the line of duty, and while Grandma was able to talk to Mum about it, she had gathered from their conversation this afternoon – which she was not supposed to have heard – that Peter was struggling.

This afternoon Grandma had come around to their house, had told Mum how hard it was to see Peter so broken. And even though she believed Grandma could fix anything, it seemed that this was one task that seemed almost impossible for her to fix.

Without letting the two older Foley-women know what she was up to, seven-year-old Aisling had called for a cab, stolen some money from her mother`s purse and told the cabdriver to take her to the Metropolitan Police`s CCU headquarters. Grandma had said that Peter usually stayed at work long past midnight these days, which meant he had to be there still since the clock had just gone nine.

"Peter?" she tried again as she entered the office. It was in almost complete darkness, apart from the small light on his office desk.

"Hm?"

He was in his office chair; she could barely see his face from where she stood just inside the door. But she could see the glass in his hand, knew it did not contain water.

She walked slowly towards the desk; her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness now. "Peter, it is time to go home now," she said silently, moving round the desk.

"What are you… doing… here, Aisshling? His question was spoken slowly, like he had to think really hard to find the words.

"I don't think you should drink anymore of this, Peter," she whispered as she gently took the glass from him and placed it on the desk. "Please, Peter. Come home with me."

"Aisshling…"

She looked round the office, located his coat by the door. "Come, Peter." She took his hand, helped him stand. He was swaying but seemed to quickly be steadying himself. She picked up his phone from his desk before they walked slowly towards the door. Taking his coat, she decided it was warm enough for him to be without it. But feeling the heaviness of it, she figured his keys and his wallet were in it. It was best to take it with them.

"Leaving, miss?"

"Yes, Carl," she smiled at the Desk Sergeant. "Would you be so kind as to call us a cab? I have to take my grandfather home."

"Grandfather, eh?"

She could hear Peter snort behind her, but he didn't say anything. "Yes."

Carl just smiled back at them, picked up his phone and made the call for her. "A cab will be here shortly," he told them. "How old are you, miss?"

"I`m eleven, turning twelve next month," she lied.

Another snort behind her, not quite so loud this time.

"And you will be alright getting your… grandfather home on your own?"

"Yes, I will."

"Yes, she will."

Aisling looked up at Peter who was now standing right behind her, swaying slightly. He took her hand and started to walk towards the exit. Aisling gave Carl one last smile before following him outside, not seeing that Carl picked up his phone to make another call.

When the driver asked for the address, Peter had mumbled his own, and Aisling did not correct him. Every time she had meet Peter since she first met him when she was five, it was always at her grandmother`s house. This time she had the opportunity to see where her Grandpa lived.

It wasn't a long drive, and Peter managed to take care of the payment before the cab drove away. Aisling found his door key in one of the coat`s pockets as they reached the door, unlocking it, letting Peter enter his house first.

"You should call your mother or your grandmother," he told her as he took the coat from her, hanging it up behind the door before closing it. "Let them know you're here."

"But I want to stay here, with you."

He walked further into the house, his walk steadier, turning on lights as he went. She followed him into what seemed to be his living room.

"I`m not good company, Aisling. Not tonight." It seemed the cab ride had sobered him up a bit. He got her name right this time. "And you lied to Carl. Twice, even. Naughty girl. Just like your grandmother."

"Fine, I`m seven. You know that, but I was afraid that Carl wouldn't let me leave with you."

"Carl shouldn't have let you leave with me," he pointed out. "This is no place for a little girl. I`m not any good to anyone."

Aisling watched as he sank down on the couch, placed his head in his hands. Before she reached him, she noticed how his shoulders started to shake, his first sobs barely audible. By the time she sat next to him, placing her small arms around his shoulders, he was crying like a little boy.

She had never seen a grown-up cry before. Not like this. It was almost like he was breaking into little pieces. And she had no idea how to put those pieces back together again. Grandma would have known, she thought as she stroked Peter`s silvery hair, whispering words that didn't make any sense, yet it seemed to calm him. Or maybe it was just her presence that calmed him. She didn't know.

Suddenly, the front door was opened, followed by the voices of both her mother and her grandmother. "Aisling? Peter?"

Of course, Grandma had keys to his house.

The two older Foley-women stopped just as they entered the living room, eying the situation before them. Grandma reacted first, walked slowly towards them, whispering Peter`s name. This made Mum move, taking hold of Aisling, lifting her up and walking away from the couch.

"I`ll take Ash home," she said, making Aisling fight her way out of her mother`s arms.

"I`ll stay here, with Peter," her grandmother agreed, her focus being the broken man on the couch.

"NO!"

"No!"

Both women startled as two voices said the same word at once. Well, the young voice was shouting, the deeper voice didn't have to shout to make it very clear he didn't agree. Yet, both were equally forceful.

"I`m sorry?" Grandma said, looking from Peter to Aisling and back again.

"Aisling stays," Peter whispered, his voice deep and tired. "I`m sorry, Grace," he looked up at her, his dark eyes were red from the tears. His face looked tired and worn, like he hadn't slept for days. "I know you want me to talk about… what happened, but I can't. Not yet. And Ash… His dark eyes scanned the room, finding her between her mother and grandmother. "Right now, she is the only one I want with me. Strange as it sounds."

"Peter, she's just a child," Grandma pointed out as she squatted down in front of him.

"I know that, Grace. But she…" Peter looked to Aisling, holding out his hand towards her. Aisling hurried towards him, taking his hand in her tiny one. "Don't ask me why, Grace, because I don't know myself. I just know that Aisling needs to stay here, with me."

Her grandmother and mother looked at each other, silently talking with their eyes, just like they always seemed to do. When Aisling thought about it, it seemed like Grandma and Peter did the same. They always seemed to be talking to each other without using words.

"She can stay tonight, and then I`ll drive her home tomorrow morning," Grandma said as she rose. "I just need to get my bag from the car."

"Grace…" Peter said, taking hold of her hand, looking up at her. "Tonight, I need to be here alone, with Ash."

"What?"

"Peter?"

The two Foley-women stared at him with their big, blue eyes. One pair was hurting, the other pair was apprehensive as they both met his hazel ones.

"Mum, Grandma." Aisling looked down at Peter, their eyes locked for a few seconds, but it was long enough for the seven-year-old girl to know what to say. "Don't worry. It`ll be like when I spend the night at Grandma`s," she smiled. "Only this time I will spend it here, at… Grandpa`s."

Her hand received a gentle squeeze as Grandma and Mum once again talked to each other using only their eyes. Aisling squeezed it back as her eyes smiled down at him. He seemed calmed, slowly leaning back on the couch, dragging her with him in the process, making her sit next to him.

"Fine," Grandma finally said with a frown on her face. "I`ll take Ash upstairs and get her ready for bed. It`s already way past her bedtime. Meanwhile, Boyd, you listen to Kayleigh Ann."

Peter watched as Grace and Aisling left the living room, leaving him alone with the twenty-four-year-old Grace copy.

"Don't make me regret letting her stay, Peter," Kayleigh Ann whispered. "That girl took a shine to you two years ago, and you spent the night at Mum`s house that weekend."

"Kayleigh Ann, I would never harm her, or let anyone else harm her for that matter," Peter answered. "I don't know what your mother has told you about me, about us, but I`m fairly certain that she has told you about Luke, and my failed marriage. And how difficult it is for me…" He closed his eyes and swallowed hard before he could continue, knowing it was the whiskey that had loosened his tongue. "… How difficult it is for me to express how I feel, let along find the words to do so."

Kayleigh Ann walked over to the couch and sat next to him. "She has told me, yes," she affirmed.

"Trust me when I tell you that that girl means the world to me," he whispered. "She took a cab across London to get to me at work, at night, persuaded Carl to take her down to my office because she was my granddaughter, and then she lied to him again when he asked her how old she was, just to be sure she could take me home."

Upon seeing Kayleigh Ann`s expression, he quickly added, "I'll talk to her about all of this in the morning. Lying, going out after hours, the lot. My point is, she did all that with no thought as to what danger she put herself into, just to make sure I was alright. And not once has she made me talk about something I`m not ready to talk about."

"Like Mum."

"Like your mother," he nodded. "There is a time for everything. I just have to find that time myself. It can't be forced upon me. Grace knows that, deep down. But we are both hurting, and she needs to talk. I don't. Not yet."

Kayleigh Ann knew her mother just as well as Peter, and knew he was right. While her mother had the tendency to over-analysis and having the need to talk things over, Peter Boyd was the exact opposite. Over the few years since her mother had become involved with him, Kayleigh Ann had learned that to get to know him, she had to watch, observe, and learn to read his moods and ways. And being her mother`s daughter, she was getting there, slowly.

"As a mother, I have to say I don't like this road you are leading my daughter down," she smiled at him. "Lying, stealing, and running away from home. Yet, I'll turn a blind eye this time. Just make her understand how dangerous this was, please."

"I promise."

"And… as a GP in trainee, may I suggest you take some time off from work?"

"School starts next week, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. Why?"

"Do I have your permission to take Aisling away for the week? I have a cottage by the coast and would really like to take her there."

Kayleigh Ann nodded. "Just promise me one thing, Peter."

"Anything."

"No alcohol while you`re alone with my daughter. One thing is that she was the one who saved you from drowning your sorrows in that bottle you have hidden in your desk drawer at work tonight…" her blue eyes locked with his, "… it`s another thing to let her see you, her Grandpa, drunk when she is alone with you."

"Point taken," Peter agreed.

"Then you have my permission. I'll pack her things, and you can pick up her bag tomorrow before you leave."

"You're leaving?"

Grace`s surprise was evident in her voice as she entered the living room. Peter looked behind her, expecting to find Aisling there.

"She's tucked up in bed in your guest room," Grace told him. "You're leaving? When were you going to tell me?"

"And I think that is my cue to leave." Kayleigh Ann rose from the couch. "I`ll be in the car, waiting, Mum." She turned towards Peter, who was standing right behind her, looking down at her. "Watch over my baby-girl, Peter."

Peter pulled her into his arms, surprising both the Foley-women. "I will, Doctor K, I will. And thank you."

Kayleigh Ann closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself feel just how safe it felt to be in his arms. Not good with words or otherwise expressing his feelings, his hugs sure did it for him. "See you tomorrow," she whispered. "Dad?"

"Tomorrow," he whispered back. "Daughter."

Grace watched him, waited until they heard the front door close behind her daughter. "You're leaving?"

He could hear the pain in her voice, could clearly see it in her big blue eyes as he walked slowly towards her. Gently he placed his arms around her, putting his chin on top of her head.

"Just for the week," he explained. "I`m not leaving you, Grace. Never. But I need some time to… think and process things in my own time. And I`m taking Ash with me to the cottage."

"I feel…," she started.

"I know what you feel, my darling," he whispered. "I would love to have you next to me in bed tonight, to forget everything that has happened the only way I know how. But we both know that wouldn't help. So, I beg you, Grace, to give me time. Time to find my way again. It doesn't mean you`ll lose me. It just means that I'll take some time away from work to think and spend time with your granddaughter."

"Our granddaughter," she cried against his chest. "Don't think for a second I didn't hear what she called you, the both of them."

"What can I say, Grace? I have a thing for Foley-women."

Grace pulled away from him, looked up at his face, meeting his eyes. She could see what he could not tell her in words, fear, sorrow, anger, love. "Yes, you do," she smiled up at him. "And we have a thing for tall, handsome Detective Superintendents, the lot of us."

"Thank God for that," he exclaimed before he claimed her mouth with his. It was a short kiss, not meant to start anything. "You should leave. Kayleigh Ann is waiting for you, and I`m really tired."

"Love you, Peter," she whispered, giving him one last kiss before leaving his house.

After Grace and Kayleigh Ann had left, Peter locked the door before going upstairs. He went into the bathroom connected to his bedroom to get ready for bed. A few minutes later he walked into his bedroom, only to stop and watch. There, on his bed, on what was usually Grace`s side, lay a very small figure under the duvet. Luckily, her back towards him. Since he usually slept in the nude, he had not bothered to put on his pyjamas-bottoms.

Silently he found a pair, put them on, and got under the duvet as well.

"Are you alright, Peter?"

As she turned round to face him, he noticed that she was wearing one of his t-shirts. A soft smile crossed his lips as he met her eyes.

"Where are your pyjamas, Aisling?"

Aisling smiled back at him, remembering. "I must have forgotten them at home."

"You forgot to bring your pyjamas? How can you forget to bring your pyjamas when you are going to a sleep-over, Aisling?" His deep voice was oozing with fake sternness, sounding just like her grandmother, making her giggle.

"Grandma found it so I`d have something to sleep in," she explained.

"I figured that much," he smiled at her. "Go to sleep now. And if you snore, I`m kicking you out of my bed, just to be clear."

She just shook her head before she turned her back against him. "You snore too, Grandpa."

"My bed, my rules."

"Sorry, those rules don't apply to granddaughters," she answered back. "Good night, Grandpa. Love you."

Peter closed his eyes, holding his breath, letting that word linger in his mind before slowly exhale. To be seven again, and innocent enough to use that word so freely. Over the last two years, he had heard that word several times, and directed at him too. Both Grace and Aisling used that word. Yet, he was not ready to use it himself. Maybe he never would be. But he knew that the feeling he had inside of him when he looked at all three Foley-women, was exactly that. Grace knew that. And Aisling. And he had a feeling that Kayleigh Ann knew too.

One day, he promised himself. One day he was going to put that feeling into words. One day.

"Good night, Aisling."

Friday May 30th 2008, Greenwich Cemetery

"Grandpa."

The word was but a whisper, meant for his ears only, a silent reminder that she was there with him, that he wasn't alone on this terrible day. Aisling placed her tiny hand in his, her blue eyes were swimming with tears as she watched the priest do his job. She could not believe that in the coffin before them lay her Grandpa`s only son, Luke.

Grandpa hadn't told her much about him, just a few stories now and then over the years. Usually when she had said or done something that had reminded him of his son. Then he would tell his story, his eyes would cloud over, and he seemed like he was lost somewhere she could not follow.

And now they were here, at Greenwich Cemetery. Her mother had not wanted her to attend the funeral, while her grandmother had not been sure it would be wise to let her attend it because of Peter`s ex-wife, Luke`s mother. But when Grandpa heard about it, he had told them both that he needed her there. He had looked at her grandmother, his dark eyes were full of pain as he met Grandma`s blue ones. They had talked with their eyes only. Then he had said one word: "Mel."

Aisling knew that Mel was the policewoman that had died that summer when she had gone to Grandpa`s cottage just before school started again. Grandpa had told her more about Mel than he had about his son. Especially while they were at the cottage, just the two of them.

She knew why. Even though Grandpa had cared a lot for Mel, like he did for everyone on his team at work, his feelings towards his son were so much stronger and so much more difficult to handle. Simply because it was his son, his blood. And the history between them was a difficult one.

Never meaning to eavesdrop on the conversations between her mother and her grandmother, she had still managed to hear some of the stories about Luke and her Grandpa.

She closed her eyes, made herself stand closer to him, felt his body shake as he cried silently. She was glad it was a rainy day, knew he hated showing feelings like this. The rain would cover his tears for now. There would be time later when he would break down completely, only allowing the selected few to be there with him; her grandmother, her mother, and herself.

A loud cry from Mary, Luke`s mother, made her open her eyes again, saw that the coffin was slowly being lowered into the ground. She felt Grandpa tremble, making her hurry to place his arm around her shoulders, putting her own tiny arm around his waist. Her grandmother had done the same, placing her arm around him as well, standing on his other side.

She had never known Luke. But she knew that Grandpa had loved him, had missed him, and was now devastated over his loss. No mother or father should be forced to bury their child.

Slowly all the other people started to leave. Her grandmother motioned to her that they should leave too, let Grandpa and Luke`s mother have time alone with their son.

She started to turn when Grandpa`s hand grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back against him, making her stand with her back against his front. She looked up, saw that he was once again talking silently with her grandmother. Grandma nodded her head, squeezed his arm gently before she turned to walk away.

Aisling leaned back against him; both his arms were placed around her. She knew why. She might be just eleven years old, but she was also the daughter and granddaughter of Doctors Kayleigh Ann and Grace Foley. Right now, in this moment, she was his anchor, the only thing that kept him from falling apart.

The priest came towards them, said something to Mary, who was held by her new husband, before he turned towards them. Aisling watched Mary, tried to picture her with Peter, but somehow it felt wrong. Grandpa belonged with Grandma. Plain and simple.

"Peter."

Mary stood before them, her teary eyes studied Aisling and the way Grandpa had his arms around her.

"Mary."

Aisling looked up quickly, surprised by the hoarse voice that had just spoken above her head. His face was grey and drawn, making him look a lot older than his late fifties. She felt how her heart cried for him. She wanted to see him smile again, wanted to hear him laugh at her silly jokes.

"We have just buried our son, Peter," she cried. "It was supposed to have been you that got buried, Peter! Not Luke! Not my baby-boy!"

Aisling felt Grandpa freeze behind her at Mary`s words. She turned quickly in his arms, reached up with both her hands and cupped his face, forcing him to bend his head and look at her. His pained, dark eyes were full of self-loathing.

"Peter," she said silently as she noticed her grandmother starting to walk towards them again. She met Grandma`s wary eyes, shook her head barely, making the older Foley stop.

"Peter," she tried again, hearing Mary led away by her husband.

He tried to move, tried to hide from her, but Aisling refused to let him.

"Grandpa!"

He closed his eyes, stopped moving upon hearing that last word, let her stroke his wet cheeks.

"She's hurting, just like you. And she is trying to force that hurt on someone else, so she doesn't have to feel."

Aisling kept stroking his cheeks, anything to make him feel that she was there.

"She's right." It was barely a whisper. "It should have been me instead of Luke."

"No, she`s not right! You're meant to live, Grandpa! You're meant to help people, not lie dead in the ground." She placed her arms around his waist, pulled herself close to him. "I love you, Grandpa. That is what you need to remember. Grandma loves you, and mum. We belong to you now, remember? And Luke loved you too. He wouldn't have wanted you to die."

She felt him tremble again, felt how his legs were slowly giving way, making her little frame the only thing holding him up. Somehow, she managed to get them both down on the ground without letting go of him. Kneeling on the wet grass, she felt how he hid his face against her shoulder, placing his arms tightly around her small body.

Then, his entire body started to shake as the pain, anger and sorrow rushed through it violently. She felt his tears through the fabric of her dress where it covered her shoulder, knew that finally, finally he had let go of the control that had held him up all day.

She whispered quietly into his ear, stroked his back slowly, letting him take his time. Grieving took time, she knew that. This was just the start of a long road laying ahead of Peter. She knew that too. But she would be there to help him as best as she could. And she would not let him believe what that lady had told him. Her Grandpa was not the one who should have been buried today. Not Luke, either.

But Grandpa`s son had made choices in his life that had led them to this moment. And no matter what, it was not just Grandpa`s fault that things had ended up like this for Luke. Luke had made the choice to run away from home, he'd made the choice to keep running away.

She whispered this too. Her innocent attempt to make him see that he was not at fault for Luke`s death. In the end what she was left with were words of love. Telling him how much Luke must have loved him, how much she loved him, and how truly in love with him her grandmother was.

"I know you can never have him back, Grandpa," she said softly, her little hands still stroking his back soothingly. "But try and remember all the good things you did together. Remember his smile, and his laughter. And the love in his eyes when he looked at you when he was younger."

"Peter?"

Grandma`s voice was soft as she said his name, placing her gentle hand on his shoulder. She waited, let him just feel her presence, let him collect himself before putting her hand on his arm, forcing him to stand. Aisling reached for the hidden pocket of her dress, found a paper tissue and gave it to him without a word. Grandpa took it, dried his tearstained face and his nose before he seemed to find some kind of strength deep within him, allowing him to stand straight and tall in front of her.

Slowly he turned, letting Grandma take his hand. As they started to move towards the exit of the cemetery, he reached for Aisling`s hand, pulling her close to him.

She felt how her grandmother was watching them, knew the look in her eyes, saw how she was analysing everything that had happened today. She also knew that whatever conclusion she arrived at, it would be as accurate at it could ever be.

Peter Boyd had just buried his long-lost son today. Aisling Grace Foley had been the only one able to help him today. Just like she had after Mel died.

Grace was both proud and just a little jealous. Proud of her granddaughter, and jealous that Peter had turned to Aisling instead of her. She knew she was silly feeling this way, and she quickly scolded herself for it, letting the feeling of pride grow inside her as the three of them slowly walked towards the exit.

September 7th 2010, Boyd`s house in Greenwich

"Grandpa?"

Peter looked up from the book he was reading, gave the old clock on the mantelpiece a quick glance. It showed him it was close to nine in the evening. Still three more hours left of Grace`s birthday. Still, there would not be any celebration just yet.

"What, Princess?" he answered her as she walked into the living room, slumping down on the couch next to him, placing her head on his shoulder. "I see that you remembered your pyjamas this time."

They both smirked at each other before giving a short chuckle. It was a recuring joke between them, ever since that first night they ever spent under the same roof, when she was just five.

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Not in a million years."

She fell silent as she looked at nothing in particular. "Do you think the baby will be born before midnight?"

"If it knows what`s best for him or her, yes," he smiled. "Your grandma is expecting that baby to be born on her birthday."

She was silent for a long time, her head back on his shoulder. Peter placed his book on the coffee table, waited. Not usually a patient man, he knew that rushing the young girl next to him was not the way to go. Like him, she needed time to collect her thoughts, find the right way to say what it was she needed to say. At least when it came to how she felt.

"Do you think…" she started but stopped. "Never mind, it`s silly."

"Aisling, talk to me," he ordered her, turned to face her. When she looked down on the hands in her lap, he placed his hand under her chin, forcing her gently to look at him. "What is it?"

"Do you think, when the baby is born, that…" she begun as her blue eyes teared up. "Do you think Mum will love me less?"

"Why would she love you less when the baby is born?" he queried surprised, not following her train of thought. "You'll still be her daughter, Ash, nothing will change that."

"But she will have another child to love. How can she have enough for the both of us?"

Peter smiled at her; suddenly, unexpectedly he felt calm. Watching how she struggled to keep her tears at bay, trying not to show how scared she was that she would lose her mother`s love once the baby arrived. He pulled her into his arms, placing his chin on top of her head. "Do you think, if Mary and I had been blessed with another child, that I would have loved Luke any less?"

"No?"

"That is the great thing about love," he explained. "It grows, it multiplies when needed. Your mother could have ten children, and still love each and every one of you equally."

"Really?"

"Really."

They sat in silent for a while, his arms still around her. It felt good, he thought, to be able to say Luke`s name without feeling the agonising pain and guilt that had followed him for so many years. And it was all thanks to the girl in his arms, helping him through the loss of his son two years ago.

Also, he had realized the hard way just how easily he could lose the other selected few he cared so deeply about. Almost a year ago, while recovering from the surgery that was supposed to save her life, Grace had been kidnapped by Linda Cummings. He could still feel the fear at times thinking about it, the images of Grace tied up, her mouth covered.

He had struggled with the guilt then too. Not so much about Linda Cummings` death, but more the fact that he had not been able to protect Grace. It had taken all three Foley-women to convince him that it was not his fault. None of it. Yes, Grace became the target because she was Boyd`s colleague, best friend and partner. And because Linda – luckily – did not know about Kayleigh Ann and Aisling.

He closed his eyes and pulled Aisling even closer.

"When did you know you loved Grandma?"

Touchy-feely. Not really his thing. But he was slowly getting there. He did not freeze anymore when hearing Aisling tell him she loved him, but he had not said it back yet. Even though he knew the feelings were there, deep inside of him. The girl knew too. He was certain of it. She was too much like her grandmother not to know how he felt.

With Grace it was different. He`d never frozen when she said it. Not once. But he always felt a little sad that he couldn't say it back. Not that he did not love her. He did. Too much, in fact. It scared him sometimes, just how much he loved her. Of course, she knew well how he felt. The Foley-women, all three of them, knew how he felt about them.

"It was during one of the earlier cases that first year of the CCU," he finally told her, remembering the moment when it had all changed for him. "Your grandmother was talking to a man online as I was walking by behind her. I said something, and the man asked who I was. She told him I was her husband." He smiled at the memory. "Naughty girl, that grandmother of yours."

"Husband?!"

"That`s what she said," he smiled. "And it somehow felt right. Not that I ever told her that." He stared into space, lost in thought. "And then it turned out that the man your grandmother was talking to online was our suspect. And she was forced to watch as he stabbed me."

Aisling sat up straight, looked at him with big blue eyes. "You were stabbed?"

"Twice," he nodded.

An image from that night, when she first met Peter at Grandma`s house, when he had rose from the bed in the guest room wearing only his boxer shorts. Her five-year-old mind had only noticed the missing pyjamas, but her thirteen-year-old mind suddenly remembered the scars at his flank, two very evident striations from a blade.

She looked down to his left side, her tiny hand being placed gently there. "Did it hurt?"

"Like hell," he affirmed, placing his own hand over hers.

"And then you knew you loved Grandma?"

"That`s when I knew she loved me," he said. "Somehow, she couldn't hide it while calling my name."

"And you?" Aisling watched him, waited.

"When I woke up at the hospital after surgery, and she was there. She never left my side."

"And when did you first tell her?"

He closed his eyes. "Aisling…"

"You haven't told her?! Ten years, and you haven't told her?!" She shook her head in disbelief. "Alright, when did you two get together then? When did you agree to be the two of you?"

"That night I first met you," he smiled.

"What?"

"I don't know if she ever told you or your mother, but she had been assaulted at home on her birthday that week. And she was too scared to be alone. Something she first acknowledged that afternoon that your mother brought you around."

"She had agreed to babysit me that weekend," Aisling mumbled. "Why didn't she tell Mum?"

"Pride, perhaps. And she knew how your mother would react. So, I agreed to stay, in the guest room."

Hazel eyes met young blue ones, unuttered words passing between them. "So, it`s my fault?"

"No, you just made it possible for us to realize what was there between us," he told her, stroking her cheek gently. "But to answer your questions; that night we both knew there would be no going back. Nothing else happened that night other than me comforting your grandmother, helping her to cope with what had happened, and allowing her to sleep the night through without waking up from nightmares."

Aisling studied his face, her eyes taking in the lines around his eyes. He was not a young man, but he still looked rather handsome, even to her. Silver coloured hair, goatee beard, dark hazel eyes that saw more than people believed him capable of seeing. She knew – had always known from an early age – that Peter Boyd, her adopted grandfather, was not good with words. And especially not touchy-feely type of words. Still, his eyes and his actions always talked for him.

"I love you, Grandpa," she whispered silently.

He was about to answer, his mouth open when his phone resting on the coffee table next to his book started to ring. The caller ID told them both it was Grace.

"Go on," he told her. "Answer."

"Grandma?"

If Grace was surprised that Aisling was answering Peter`s phone, she did not say anything. Her voice was happy, and Aisling could hear the smile as her grandmother said, "She`s here. You have a baby sister."

"And Mum?"

"They're both fine," Grace said. "She looks just like you."

"Does she have a name yet?" Aisling smiled.

"Oh, God, I`m doomed," she heard the man next to her mumble, making her look at him, saw the grin on his face as his dark eyes seemed oddly glossy.

"Lucy Parina", her grandmother answered. "Your mother wanted to name her after Luke."

Aisling took Peter`s hand in hers as she answered, "I think he`d like that, Grandma. Will you come home soon?"

"I`m going to stay just a little longer before I`ll come to Boyd`s. And then I`ll take you to visit tomorrow, after school. Now go to bed and tell that grandfather of yours not to wait up. Love you."

"Love you too, Grandma."

Aisling hung up, placed the phone on the table. "A baby sister!"

"Another Foley who will no doubt have me twisted around her little finger in no time," he growled. But he was still smiling.

"Her name is Lucy Parina," she told him, still holding onto his hand. "Named after Luke," she whispered.

The hand she was holding squeezed hers a little harder than expected. "After Luke?"

She nodded, noticed the silent tear that escaped his eye as he looked at their hands, knew better than to say anything. She just sat up on her knees next to him, placed her arms around him. "Another granddaughter to spoil," she whispered. "Think you`re up to the job, Grandpa?"

He managed a soft chuckle. "I think I`ll manage," he answered her. "And when can we expect your grandmother home?"

"She told me to tell you not to wait up."

"She did, did she?"

"Hm."

"And how about you?"

"I think I`ll go to bed now. Good night, Grandpa-of-two. Love you." She kissed his cheek before getting off the couch and walked towards the stairs.

"Aisling?"

"Yeah?"

Peter watched the young girl before him, the long red hair hung loose over her shoulders as she turned to look at him. "Love you, too."

The smile that covered her face was one he would always remember. She didn't say anything, just that radiant smile told him what it meant for her to hear those words from him.

"Go to bed, now. See you tomorrow. I`ll drive you to school."

She nodded, the smile still on her face as she turned and ascended the stairs.

The world had not ended. The sky had not fallen on his head, and somehow all he felt was peace. He wondered how Grace would react when he told her those same words. Probably with the same radiant smile as her granddaughter.

He could not wait for her to get home; he thought as he walked back to the living room. Home to him.

Boyd`s house, Greenwich, July 15th 2011

"Grandpa!"

Peter looked down as tiny arms were placed around his legs. Blue eyes smiled up at him, begged him to pick her up. He had a thing for blue eyes. Especially the blue eyes of the Foley-women. Now four in number, from the age of nearly one-year-old to the matriarch in her late sixties. The youngest one now holding tightly around his legs, having only taken her first steps the other day.

"Princess," he smiled at her, picking her up in his arms. He loved the feeling of the tiny body against him, her chubby arms placed around his neck while she gave him a wet kiss on his cheek. "Who`s Grandpa`s little girl?" he asked her.

She just smiled her big smile at him, content now that she was in his arms.

"Happy birthday, Grandpa!"

Aisling walked towards him followed by her mother and grandmother. Ash and Kayleigh Ann both kissed his cheeks as well, just less wet than that of the one Lucy had given him. Their blue eyes smiled at him as well.

Four red heads, though one slightly lighter in colour now that she was pushing towards seventy, four pair of blue eyes all filled with love as they regarded him. His family, he thought. Not by blood, but by love. And by choice. And one of them now his wife, sharing his name as well as his home.

Kayleigh Ann and Grace walked to the kitchen to prepare his birthday dinner, leaving him alone with Lucy and Aisling in the living room.

"I have a present from all three of us," Aisling said, her eyes suddenly a little wary.

Peter seated on the couch, indicating with his head for her to join him while he placed Lucy on his lap. The little girl leaned against his chest, placing a tiny hand over his heart.

As Aisling sat down next to him, he noticed she was holding an envelope in her hand. His hazel eyes noticed how her hand was shaking a little as she handed it to him, making him curious to what on earth they had got him. The girl next to him was nervous, he realized.

He opened the envelope, taking hold of the papers inside it. First thing he noticed was the words on top of the form; Deed poll followed by Change of name deed.

"What's this?"

"Well, Mum has never known her father since he died only a year after she was born, and neither Lucy nor I have any contact with our fathers. And we thought that, since you and Grandma are now married…" her voice suddenly stopped, her eyes watching him carefully as he read the forms from the envelope. "You are a part of our family. You`ve been so since I was five. We just wanted to make it… official too."

Kayleigh Ann Foley Boyd

Aisling Grace Foley Boyd

Lucy Parina Foley Boyd

"You`ve all taken my name?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Grace!" He didn't shout, just called out for his wife. Lucy, who had fallen asleep in his arms, didn't even move.

As Grace and Kayleigh Ann appeared in the doorway to the living room, he held up the forms. "Did you know about this?"

"Mum doesn't know," Kayleigh Ann told him. "This was something Aisling and I wanted to do. Needed to do, really. We didn't mean to upset you, Peter."

Peter`s eyes swept from Kayleigh Ann to Aisling, to the sleeping one-year-old in his arms, back to Kayleigh Ann. Her blue eyes were just as weary as Aisling`s. "What happened to Dad?" he enquired. "This form here clearly states that you now have my name. And I believe we established years ago what we were to each other, daughter of mine."

Kayleigh Ann closed her eyes for a second before she met his eyes, smiling that wonderful Foley-smile of hers. "My bad, father of mine," she smirked at him, sitting down next to him to give him a hug.

"What did you get, Peter?" Grace's expression was questioning. They looked up at her; two pair of bright blue eyes and one pair of glossy hazel eyes. "What?"

Peter gently placed the sleeping Lucy in Aisling`s arms before getting up from the couch, walking over to Grace, placing his arms around her, pulling her in for a kiss. "This," he explained, holding the papers in his hand and for her to see. "This is the best birthday present ever."

"What is it?"

"My family," he simply answered. "My girls."

He`d known Doctor Grace Foley for more than a decade, been her partner and significant other for almost ten of those years, a father to her daughter and grandfather to her now two granddaughters. The three oldest Foley-woman had been there for him in his most difficult times, thus helped him come to terms with his past and helped him move on with a future that now seems so much brighter and better than he could ever have anticipated.

The CCU was gone, and they'd both retired. But that did not mean life was going to be dull. Looking at Aisling and Lucy, he knew that following those two into adulthood would give his new life as a retired copper new meaning.

Aisling met his eyes; a small smile crossed her face as she remembered the first time that she met him. A tall stranger with darker hair that was already turning silvery, a man who in the middle of the night listened to a worried five-year-old who couldn't get her grandmother to stop crying in her sleep. And then made sure that same five-year-old was alright sleeping alone in the guest room.

She had somehow always known where she had him. Detective Superintendent Peter Boyd was known for his temper, his shouting and hot-headedness. And she had seen his rage, his anger through the years. But when others would fear him, she had known exactly how to calm him. He would always be the rock she could count on, but she would be his as well. Always.

"Love you, Grandpa," she smiled up at him.

He smiled back at her, gazing at all four of his Foley-women. "I love you too. All of you."

The end