You are mine!

By

Rapunzle1980

The conference is over, and I watch as she gathers her papers at the lectern before she moves slowly towards me. Even before she has reached the edge of the stage and the short stairs there, she's surrounded by people who want to talk to her about the lecture she has just given, or want her autograph, preferably in their copy of her latest book.

We've both retired, but unlike me, she's been even more busy now than she was while we worked with the Unit. I know she's spent a lot of time writing the book that was published just the other week, and she has not, as far as I know, turned down a single request to give a lecture about what we used to work with in the CCU.

As for me, being retired has turned out to be… okay. I've spent a lot of time in solitude, finally having time to do some gardening. Which is kind of ironic since I took six months of garden leave before my retirement started a month ago. I hadn`t planned to become a gardener when I told Maureen Smith that I accepted the new title but declined the teaching post at Hendon. But when I first began, I found the time spent there, if not therapeutic, at least calming and soothing. It helped sort out everything that swirled around in my head.

She – Maureen Smith – was not pleased when I told her and the rest of them that I would take garden leave which would end in retirement six months later. That was one of the things that actually pleased me, that when I left Maureen and her lot, it was with a winning hand. Sort of.

So, my garden looks just picture-perfect now, and I've done every other thing I'd put off during my time in the force, mending things in my house and suchlike. The last six months have been spent fixing things.

My eyes follow her again. She has managed to get down from the stage, but is still surrounded by people. I have been her shadow at every conference she`s gone to since the end of the Unit. I can`t help myself.

After she lied to me about going to Denmark, and ultimately getting kidnapped by Linda, I made her promise – no, I made her swear – never to go away to a conference without me. Not even after we stopped working together.

I guess she has written down some very long and complicated words about that in her mental file about me. The fact that she allows me to follow her around like this maybe says more about her than it does about me. She could easily have refused to let me come along. There's absolutely no reason for me to come with her, other than my own personal need to make sure she is safe.

We've met with Spence and Eve a couple of times since that final meeting under Waterloo Bridge, had dinner just the four of us, talked about the old days, remembering Frankie, Mel, Stella, and Kat.

And Sarah.

And each time, when the younger people left to find a pub or wherever it is they go late in the evening, Grace and I have ended up walking along the Embarkment, talking. She is one of very few people I find it easy to talk to.

Eve might be close, but it is always her. And I know it always will be. I can`t seem to let her go. Even when we had our big fall-out, it was her I wanted to talk to. I wonder what she would say if I ever let her know about the overwhelming need I have to see her, to be with her, to talk to her.

"Peter?"

She's standing in front of me, the people who surrounded her only moments ago gone. And the use of my given name tells me she has probably already said my name – my surname – several times already. Still, after all these years, and now in retirement, she seldom uses my given name.

"All done?" I smile at her.

She tilts her head slightly to one side, eyeing me with a curious expression on her face. "Finally," she nods as I hold out my arm for her to place hers in the crock of mine. "Where were you just now?"

Confused, I look down at her as we leave the auditorium. "What do you mean? I`ve been here the entire time," I tell her as I lead us towards the exit. There is about a ten-minute walk back to our hotel.

"No, you seemed lost in thought," she clarifies. "What were you thinking about?"

You, and how I miss seeing you every day.

I don't say that aloud. I simply smile at her. "Nothing important. So, should we go for dinner right away, or do you want to relax first? Drink in the bar?"

"You looked somewhere between lost and sad, or both," she pushes, and I look away, not answering her. "Boyd?"

"Dinner out, or dinner at the hotel?"

I hear her sigh next to me, but I refuse to look at her this time. I know that if I do, those dark sapphires of hers will somehow manage to see more than they should. Maybe even compel me to tell her what it was I thought about.

"Do you mind if we eat at the hotel this evening?" she asks, and I hear a weariness in her voice that I don't like. I quickly turn to look at her, notice that she looks tired, exhausted even. I place my hand over hers where she has placed it on my arm.

"No problem," I nod. "Everything all right?"

I study her closely, allowing my eyes to take in her much smaller frame. Underneath her makeup I can sense dark shadows under her eyes, pale cheeks. And when I think about it, she hasn't treated me to that wonderful smile of hers.

"I`m fine, Boyd," she tells me as we enter the reception lobby of our hotel. She lets go of my arm as we walk over to the lifts. "It`s just been a long day, that`s all," she smiles up at me.

Still, as the lift takes us up to our floor, I can`t let go of the feeling that something is wrong. But I know she is stubborn enough not to tell me if she doesn't want me to know. Hell, I`m just as stubborn myself. A thought that causes me to wonder if maybe we both should rethink this habit we have when it comes to withholding things from each other.

We stop outside the door to her room – my room is just next door – and I wait while she looks for her keycard in that monstrous bag of hers. Watching as she raises her hand to open the door with the keycard, I notice a slight trembling in her hand.

"All right, now I know something`s wrong."

Pushing the door open, I gently but firmly make her walk into the room before me, following her. The door closes behind us and I take the card from her, placing it in the slot that gives us the opportunity to turn on the lights. Lights on, my hand still at the small of her back, I feel more than I see how the trembling isn't only in her hand. Her entire body is shaking.

"Grace? Talk to me," I order.

"I`m just tired, Boyd," she whispers softly, moving away from me, further into the room. I follow her, watch as she places her bag on the small table, watch how she takes off her jacket and her shoes, and then sits down on the end of the bed, her head bowed.

"Grace," I whisper as I sit down next to her, grabbing one of her hands in mine. "I need to know if you're all right. Please, don't shut me out. If something's wrong, tell me. Maybe I can help?"

I`d do anything for her. She should know that by now. Even die for her.

She knows that, too.

"Boyd, why do you still accompany me when I have to give lectures like this one? We don't work together anymore. There really isn't any reason for you to do it," she says, not answering my question.

"Because I…" I stop, frowning as I look at our hands. Hers looks so small in mine. And it`s very cold. So, I place my other hand over hers as well, trying to rub some warmth into it. "You're cold," I mumble.

"Peter, please," she whispers. "Just tell me."

There is a long moment of silence between us. I keep rubbing her hand, doing the same to her other hand when the first one seems to have regained some warmth. I know we've come to the point where I'll have to lie to her, which I really don't want to do, or I'll have to tell her the absolute truth. I don't know which is worse.

If I lie, I might lose the opportunity to join her on these trips ever again. If I tell her the truth, I might lose her completely. And I can`t lose her!

"Why am I so afraid to lose you, when you're not even mine?"

The words come from nowhere, startling me. It was my voice that spoke them, and yet I had no idea I would say them. I keep my eyes on our hands, yet I feel her surprised stare on me.

"What did you say?"

I inhale deeply before I look at her, meeting those beautiful blue eyes of hers. I know I could get lost in them forever if she`d let me.

"I said, 'Why am I so afraid to lose you, when you're not even mine'?" I repeat, my voice strong.

"That`s what I thought you said," she nods, still staring at me. Her eyes seem to swim with tears, and a pain so intense rushes through me that I have to force back an undignified whimper.

I never intended for her to cry, and I get angry with myself for causing this. "I`ll leave," I mumble as I force myself to let go of her hand and rise from the bed. "I`ll be ready to leave tomorrow at nine."

I`m halfway to the door when her voice, strong and demanding, calls out.

"No!"

I stop dead, keeping my back towards her. I can`t face her, can`t let myself see what must be shown on her beautiful face right now. Because walking away is one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made when it comes to her. Offering my life for hers was easy; walking away from her a completely different story.

The warmth from her small body radiates towards my back as she`s suddenly standing behind me, and then I feel her tiny hand on my back. "Peter, we need to talk."

Of course! She wants to talk. What else is new?!

"Grace, please…"

"No," she interrupts me. "You don't get to say something like that and then just leave. Clearly, we need to talk about this."

"No, we really don't," I manage to say, my voice strangled.

Her hand is still on my back, and I relish the feeling of her touching me. I really should move away from her, get the hell out of her room, but it`s almost as if the hand touching me has somehow frozen me. I can`t move away from her.

"Why is it so important for you to come along with me whenever I go away for a lecture, Peter?"

Peter! She keeps saying my name – my give name – so softly.

"You know why, Grace," I mumble.

"But we don't work together anymore," she points out. "There's really no danger in me going alone to these things. You can go on with your life now."

I close my eyes, feel how my entire body grows cold. She has no place for me in her life. That is what she is saying. No need for me in her life. I am just deluding myself into believing that she needs me, that she needs me to protect her, to look after her.

Quickly I break away from her, from her touch. "Like I said, I`ll leave now."

"No, Peter," she protests. "You are staying here. Right here."

Before I know what is happening, I find myself face-to-face with a tearstained and pale face. But her eyes, those gorgeous sapphire eyes of her, though tearful, look up at me with an expression that I can`t really interpret. "Grace?"

She is poking me in the chest, forcing me to move backwards, back into the room. And her expression seems to change to anger even though I see something half-hidden behind that anger. Something I don't understand.

"You don't get to say something like that to me, and then just leave, Peter Boyd! You just don't!"

My calves hit the edge of the bed and I slump down on it, still watching that angry face of hers, not understanding what the hell is happening. She is angry at me, and I really don't understand why. If she didn't like what I said, what it implied, why won`t she let me leave?

"Why are you angry with me, Grace?" I dare ask her, watching different emotions flicker over her face. "I understand that you don't… feel the same way. I get that! And me telling you that, clearly makes you uncomfortable. So, just let me leave. We won`t talk about this ever again. And the next time you have to go to one of these things, I`ll stay behind in London."

She stands with her arms crossed over her chest. "The next time I have to go away to 'one of these things', you are coming with me," she tells me firmly. "And we will not sleep in separate rooms," she adds as she moves very slowly towards me. "The next time we go anywhere, it will be… God, you are such hard work, Boyd!"

What the hell is going on here?

Either I`m having a very strange, very vivid dream, or I have somehow moved to another dimension. Because what she just said, the implication of her words would suggest that…

"Grace?"

She doesn't answer me. Not with words, anyway. But she moves between my thighs, looking down on me, her eyes now sparkling with mischief. There is a soft smile on her lips as she cups my cheeks, tilts my head backwards. Then she kisses me.

Her lips are soft and warm as they brush lightly over mine, sending waves of electric current through my entire body. My hands move of their own accord, finding the place between her waist and her hips, holding onto her, pulling her just a little closer to me.

As her lips part, and her tongue darts out, I lean backwards, taking her with me. I smirk when she lands on top of me with a not-so ladylike squeak. She lifts her head enough to look down at me and meet my eyes.

"You catch on rather quickly," she murmurs before she kisses me anew. Only this time it`s not a light brush of lips. This time it`s different – deeper, more insistent. She is kissing me with a kind of barely-restrained passion, her lips moulding perfectly to mine, coaxing a response from me that I can`t hold back.

Our first kiss was fleeting, almost hesitant, yet it ignited a spark I could never ignore. Not with her.

Our second kiss holds a world of promises, and my hands move to her hips, steadying her, feeling the soft fabric of her skirt under my fingers.

Her kiss is exploratory, a mix of curiosity and need. The same need I feel as I let my hands move beneath the fabric of her top to find soft, warm skin. She takes her time, her lips tracing mine with a deliberate slowness that is drives me mad. When she finally parts my lips with her tongue, it`s like a dam breaking.

My heart is pounding in my chest, my senses are overwhelmed by her taste, her scent, the sheer presence of her.

Grace`s kisses are a revelation – each one deeper, more urgent than the last. And if I interpret anything – if I even could – I'd believe she is kissing me as if she is trying to communicate all the things we've never said, all the emotions that have been building between us for years.

I respond in kind – how can I not? I am a red-blooded man, and I have a beautiful woman on top of me. And it`s Grace. My hands sliding up her back, underneath her top, pulling her closer, needing her closer.

The world outside ceases to exist. There is only her and the way she kisses me, the way her body fit perfectly against mine. It's everything I have ever secretly longed for and more. In this moment, lying on the hotel bed with Grace above me, I know life will never be the same.

And I realise that that is all right. Because I don't want this to end, I don't want to be the same when I`m with her. I want to be more, better; what she deserves. I want her to look at me and feel as if the rest of the world disappears. I want her to…

"Stop thinking so much, Peter," she whispers as she lifts her head to gaze down at me. Her eyes are a deep midnight blue, staring intensely at me. She is breathing fast, just as fast as me, and her cheeks are flushed.

God, I love her!

The thought pops into my head, and I know my eyes must have widened in surprise because she gets an apprehensive look, and I feel she is about to move away from me as if she believes she has crossed a line she shouldn't.

Quickly, I place my arms around her, capturing her. "Oh, no you don't! If I can`t leave, neither can you."

"Boyd…"

"If you plan on kissing me like that, Grace, please use my given name, hm?" I lift my head and find her lips again. I can`t get enough of her. And I suspect I never will. A lifetime with her will not be enough to consume the need for her. I know it will only grow.

I close my eyes as our tongues meet, pulling her against me, wanting to consume everything that is her. I want to – need to – touch her, taste her, be one with her. This feeling is so intense, so all-consuming. I haven't felt it so deeply since I was a teenager, wanting to shag every female I met.

With some difficulty, I manage to break the kiss, looking up at her lovely face. "If we keep this up, there is only one outcome, Grace," I warn her.

She swallows. "I know that."

We stare at each other for what seems like a long time. Neither of us move. She is still on top of me, I feel her every curve against my body. And one particular part of me is very happy to be this close to her.

"I guess dinner will have to wait?"

Her voice is husky as she deliberately moves her hips against mine. "Dessert first?" I growl at her, lifting my hips up against her.

"Yes, please," she groans out.

Somehow, I manage to move us further up on the bed, kicking off my shoes in the process. And then, as we start to kiss again, things speed up quickly. Clothes are removed, thrown recklessly about the room, exposed skin is kissed and caressed, memorized. And then, finally, we are both naked, skin-against-skin.

By now, all I want is to be part of her. I want to feel her clench her muscles around my cock, I want to… I just want her.

I flip her over on her back, want to be the one in charge this first time. And I lock gazes with her as I push into her, slowly. The feeling of her body giving way to mine almost breaks me, and I just want to pound into her so hard, so fast, until I`m so deep inside of her that I don't know where I end and she begins.

She is so tight, so warm, and so very wet. And I`m sorry to know that I will not last very long this first time.

I start to move, and she brings her pelvis up to meet every entry after I`ve retreated, pumping into her furiously. "Grace," I groan. "Come for me, sweetheart."

Seconds later she explodes, screaming my name. "Peter!" She digs her nails into my back as I enter her one last time with a tortured groan, letting her milk me as I find my own release.

Hiding my face against her shoulder, still covering her body with mine, still being conjoined with her, I murmur against her skin, "I love you, Grace."

Her arms embrace me as she whispers back. "I love you, too, Peter." Then she adds, and I can hear the smirk in her voice, "Took you long enough to figure that out, didn't it?"

And I smirk myself. Because she is absolutely right. What happened here, at this very moment, could easily have happened over ten years ago. Probably should have happened over ten years ago.

Unfortunately, of the two of us, I was not ready for this. For us. And maybe she knew that back then, and that's why she held back. "I`ve known for years what you mean to me, Grace," I confess. "Sadly, what my heart knew and what my head believed were far away from each other. But yes, I got there in the end."

I roll over on my back, taking her with me, tucking her into my side, my arms securely around her. She places her head on my shoulder and one arm over my chest. "Why didn't you say anything after the Unit was shut down?" she asks quietly as I somehow manage to pull the bedcovers over us both.

"How long have you known me, Grace?" I ask back. "Why do you think I made you swear never to go without me to these lectures?"

Her index finger is – absentmindedly – making patterns on my chest. "Because of your need to protect me. I`ve always known about that. But like I said before, I don't need your protection anymore."

"Oh, honey!" I chuckle as I kiss the top of her head. "Just because we're both retired, and no longer facing 'danger' every day, doesn't mean I've stopped worrying about you. If I could, I'd lock you up, never allow you to go out into the world, just to make sure you are always safe."

"You should talk to someone about this overwhelming need to protect and worry about me," she laughs. "Sounds very unhealthy."

Maybe it is. Or would be if I actually did lock her up. But we both know I never would. And I have known for years that she has simply humoured me whenever I have worried about her. Just as I know that when the need to protect her – really protect her – has risen it has always been justified by real danger.

Like when Linda Cummings threatened her life.

"Maybe it is, but I can`t help how I feel about you," I finally say as I make her turn over on her side, allowing me to spoon her from behind, making sure to have as much of my body as possible touching hers. "And if you could ignore what Grace the psychologist would have to say about my next words, I hope that Grace the woman would understand where they're coming from."

"Which words?

"You are mine, Grace. Mine to protect, mine to worry about." I kiss her neck. "And mine to love. Hopefully, for the rest of our lives."

She entwines her fingers with mine. She doesn't say a word. And usually, that would worry me, but somehow, I know she is just processing everything that has happened since we entered her room.

Eventually, she turns over and look up at me. Her sapphire eyes are glossy with tears. "I love you a great deal, you do realise that? I always have. Even when you didn't seem to take any notice of me. Even when you paraded other women in front of me."

I inhale deeply and close my eyes. "I know I have hurt you over the many years we have known each other. Unintentionally, most of the time. I know I`ve said things I could never take back, and believe me, I remember them all. I still live with everything I have ever said or done to all the people I`ve cared for in my life."

"Peter…" she begins.

"I know what you are thinking, Grace," I cut her off, keeping my voice soft. "I've made peace with it. With Luke`s death, with how my marriage to Mary ended. Even with our fall-out years ago. I've made peace with all of that, and with everything else that has happened in the past." I smile at her, trying to reassure her. "But making peace is not the same as forgetting it happened. It only means I know how to live with it as part of my life. A part of my past. And not letting it ruin the future I`m hoping to have. With you."

She lifts a hand to gently caress my cheek, her fingers rasping over the stubble there. "A future with you," she mumbles with a soft smile. "I like the sound of that."

"I thought you might," I grin at her. "After all, you were the one saying we would share a bedroom next time we went away together!"

Her laughter is genuine and contagious. Soon, we are both laughing while looking at each other. And all I can think of is how beautiful she looks.

I have always found her beautiful, always appreciated her looks, but I've never told her or shown her. She is funny, smart, easy to talk to, and I know she sees more than she lets on. And she actually seems to like me, even though she knows what I am.

"You are really beautiful, you know that?" I whisper, leaning down to kiss her.

"You not half bad-looking yourself," she smirks.

"Oh, I`ll get you for that. Later. Right now, I think maybe we ought to get ourselves something to eat." I move away from her reluctantly, already addicted to touching her, being touched by her. And I miss the softness and warmth from her skin the second I sit up on the side of the bed.

"Let`s order room service," she says, her eyes locked on me as I rise and stretch my back.

"You don't want to go out to dinner?" I ask.

"All I want are some sleepy cuddles and lots of inappropriate touching."

As her words register, I turn around and look at her; her eyes are filled with mischief, her smile is highly amused. "Naughty girl," I grin at her as I follow her gaze. I`m standing next to the bed, stark naked. And, apparently, she likes what she sees. "If you expect something to happen with regards to 'inappropriate touching', you need to feed me, Grace," I order her.

"All right. All right."

She stretches while she is still lying on the bed, the bedcovers move away, revealing her breasts. I know I stare; I can`t stop myself. I`ve just had her, and just one look at her naked body, and I want her again.

I stretch out my hand, taking hold of hers, pulling her up and towards me. "A shower, dinner, and if you behave, you may get to have your wicked way with me again a little later. In fact," I tell her as I pull her flush against me, the feeling of her body close to mine still new, but so very addictive, "I can hardly wait for us to do that again." I kiss her passionately before releasing her from my embrace. "Want to join me in the shower?"

"I would, if I believed it would save time, which I know it won`t," she chuckles. "Go. As soon as you are finished, I`ll have my shower, and we may go out to that dinner you so desperately want."

"What I desperately want, is you, Grace," I growl, moving away from her and towards the bathroom. "Sure you don't want to join me?"

She just smiles and shakes her head at me, starting to pick up the clothes that seem to be all over the room. She places them in two different piles on the bed just as I disappear into the bathroom.

It`s past midnight and the woman next to me – I am actually sharing a bed with Doctor Grace Foley! – is sound asleep. She is curled up on her left side, I`m curled up around her, her head resting on my arm, the other arm placed securely around her waist.

She is snoring softly, something I will have great fun teasing her about tomorrow morning.

My nostrils are filled with the scent of her every time I breath in. It is a sweet, light, flowery scent that I have missed ever since the Unit closed. For years we have stood close to each other, sat close to each other, and that fragrance has surrounded me every time.

For six months now I have walked around missing it, just as I have missed her. Missed seeing her every day, listening to her voice every day.

Yes, I guess I have become sappy in my 'old' days, but am I not entitled to be so? I love her, and the fact that she loves me back despite knowing me as well as she does, is something I never believed could ever happen.

We went out to dinner, had a lovely walk afterwards before heading back to the hotel. As she unlocked the door to her room, she quickly took a strong hold of my hand, pulling me with her back inside.

That gorgeous smile of hers shone up at me as the door closed behind us. "Did you really think I would allow you to sleep in your own room tonight?" she asked me in a very husky voice before standing on tiptoes to kiss me.

If I thought our first encounter was short, but amazing, our second time was out of this world. The demure Doctor Grace Foley that the world gets to see changed into a very sensual, demanding hellcat in the bedroom. Just as demanding as me, with a few surprises of her own.

I am not complaining. Far from it. Seeing this side of her, knowing she feels secure enough to let me see her like this, is heartwarming and a little startling. The trust she puts in me makes me humble.

"Go to sleep, Peter."

She hasn't moved, and neither have I. But maybe, on some kind of unconscious level, we have always been in tune with each other. And that is why she is now half awake.

"I`m not tired," I murmur against her shoulder, my lips lingering there. Her skin is just so soft to touch, to caress.

"Well, I am," she murmurs back. "Be a good boy and go to sleep. Tomorrow, I promise."

I chuckle. "Darling Grace, I want you, there is no denying that," I whisper as I push my hips against her, letting her feel just how much I want her. "But I`m not sixteen, I can wait. That's not why I am awake."

"Then why?" she yawns.

"I simply relish holding you in my arms, watching you sleep, knowing you are safe, alive, and – in caveman language – mine." I kiss her shoulder again, pulling her just a fraction closer, my hand moves up to cup one of her breasts. "Go back to sleep. I`ll sleep soon, too."

"You really should talk to someone about these caveman tendencies you have," she mumbles, and I can hear she is drifting off to sleep again.

"I`ll tell you all about them when we get back to London, my darling," I promise her. "I`ll even show you."

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply so that the last thing I recall as I, too, drift off to sleep, is the sweet, light flowery scent of Grace.

~The End~