Disclaimer: I don't own 'Waking the Dead' or any of its characters, the BBC has that honour – I'm just taking them out to play for a bit.

Pairing: Boyd/Grace.

Content: Drama, Angst, Romance, AU.

Rating: T/M, for language, adult themes.

Spoilers: Series 8, 'End Game'; there will definitely be other spoilers but I'll add them as I go....

A/N: Since my muse has (hopefully temporarily!) abandoned me with respect to 'The Ashes of a Dove', I thought I'd have a crack at something new! This is an idea that's been bugging me for a long time; it's basically going to tell the Boyd/Grace back-story, how they met and why they have such a connection. It'll be set from the 80s to the present day....so as you can imagine, it might get a tad complicated and I haven't quite worked out how/if it'll work yet! As always, comments/criticisms warmly welcomed! :)

2010 – Directly post-'End Game'

Grace Foley closed her eyes slowly, the coiled knot of tension in her stomach tightening intensely despite her determined efforts to relax. Willing temperance to her pounding heart, she took a deep, cleansing breath, commanding the air in and out of her body in a calming circle, forcing herself to concentrate on the sensation, the rhythm of her chest as it rose and fell. I'm achieving nothing by worrying, she told herself firmly. It's a complete waste of energy, of brain power, of.... Sighing in resignation, she allowed the chain of thought to snap abruptly, aware of her body's betrayal as her hands gripped the bed covers of their own accord, twisting the material as she sought a physical outlet for her anxiety, and she felt her head fall back against her pillow. God, it's hopeless, she thought darkly, her stomach once more churning unpleasantly, spirals of fear, of foreboding snaking unbidden through the depths of her body. I'm not going to feel better until I know. Either way.

A gentle knock at the door startled her from her thoughts and she raised her head as a familiar figure stepped into the softly lit room, the strain of the previous few days evident across the expanse of his rugged features, the accentuated wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, traversing the breadth of his forehead. His smiled, though the expression was fleeting, flickering briefly before disappearing once more.

"Hi," Peter Boyd opened softly, his deep baritone quiet in keeping with the stillness of their surroundings, the lateness of the hour.

"Hi," Grace replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes absorbing the tension in his frame, the weariness pervading the depths of his expression. "Come in, Boyd."

He crossed the room towards her and dropped heavily into the chair at her bedside, his body crumpling forwards as he ran a hand roughly across his face before addressing her once more. "I wanted to come sooner, Grace, but I...."

She held up a palm to stop him, resisting the urge to touch his shoulder, his hair, his cheek. "Spence filled me in." She paused, their eyes locking together, currents of unspoken words flowing between them. "Are you alright?"

He sighed deeply, the sound rattling through the bones of his chest. "Physically. Yeah."

His lack of elaboration caused her heart to constrict, recent memories flooding her senses, and she allowed herself a moment for composure before continuing, poison coating her throat as she forced the question past her vocal chords. "And Linda?"

Boyd's expression was grim as he exhaled noisily once more. "She's alive...though if she wakes up from the coma she'll almost certainly be paralysed."

Grace reached forward to grasp his hand, an instinctive need to comfort him outweighing her lingering concerns over their boundaries. "It wasn't your fault, Peter. From what Spence told me, she damn near pulled you over with her."

He shook his head dismissively, though his fingers remained clasped with hers. "Even so...."

"Even so, nothing." Grace's voice was firm. "She was determined to end it on her terms, Boyd...."

"By proving me to be a killer?"

"....but she failed. You outsmarted her and yet again usurped her endgame; there's poetic justice in that, at least."

He blew out his breath. "Yeah, well, it might be the only justice that's forthcoming, Grace. She'll never be fit to stand trial."

Grace ran a thumb soothingly across his knuckles, the landscape achingly yet distantly familiar. "You have to let it go," she said softly, her throat constricting at the reactionary hitch in his breathing.

"She could have killed you," he intoned raggedly, his anger palpable, simmering beneath the veneer of his control.

"But she didn't." Grace sat forward, desperate to reassure him. "I'm fine, Boyd."

"It's not the point, Grace. She knew which of my buttons to push...,"

"Don't do this."

"....everything about how Luke was killed, about how Penny Cain...." He took a deep, shuddering breath, a desperate attempt to regain control despite the raw pain edging his voice, the cloying, bitter lump settling in his throat. "She used it all....and she held you up against it as a bargaining chip. I couldn't....It was an impossible choice."

"I know." Her voice was soft, comforting against the depths of his anguish. "But when it came to it you made the right one."

"You could have lost your life because of it. Because of me."

"You're not responsible. It was all Linda." She sighed, allowing her eyes to close briefly for a few seconds, trying to control the anger burning suddenly, hotly in her stomach as her thoughts progressed, the bile churning as she spoke. "With a bit of Jackie thrown in for good measure."

"Grace...."

"I made a serious error in judgement there, Boyd. She provided the way in for Linda, she was the catalyst who...."

"You confided in her professionally. You can't possibly blame yourself for that."

"Do you?"

He blinked in surprise and looked up at her, his dark eyes registering his shock, needing to be sure he had understood her. "Do I what?"

"Blame me. It'd be completely understandable."

He looked aghast. "You're not serious. Please tell me you're not."

She sighed shakily, tears prickling uncontrollably at the corners of her eyes, the words tumbling unbidden from her lips. "I feel like....I betrayed you...."

"No, Grace...."

"Well, what else would you call it?"

"I'm not going to say it again."

She shook her head, guilt flooding her chest. "Without the things I told Jackie, there was no way Linda could have known what she did about Luke. Not to that extent."

"She'd have found other ways. She was hell-bent on destroying me, Grace, by whatever means."

"But I directly set in motion a chain of events that placed you in that situation, I...."

He exhaled forcefully, frustration lapping at the periphery of his consciousness. "For Christ's sake, you didn't have a crystal ball. You trusted Jackie, there was no reason for you not to."

"What I told her, Boyd...,"

"It doesn't matter...."

"It does matter. It was a professional sharing of information but it...." She broke off, sighing, the words catching as she silently debated how honest she could will herself to be.

"What?"

The sincerity of concern in his eyes was almost overwhelming and she swallowed hard, forcing the words through her larynx. "It was....it was almost like an emotional debrief. You and I weren't communicating and I desperately needed to unload everything I was feeling, to try and make some sense of it."

He held her gaze unwaveringly, despite the surge of pain in his heart at her words. "So you turned to a fellow psychologist. It's understandable."

"Well, be that as it may....I'm sorry, Boyd. I'm so sorry."

The anguish in her voice was at once too much for him and he stood quickly, only to shift his seated position to the edge of her bed, his hands grasping her shoulders to pull her roughly into his embrace, feeling her fragile body shudder as he held her against his chest, her breathing laboured as she struggled for control. He kissed the top of her head gently before settling his cheek against her hair, inhaling its jasmine scent, his fingers delicately stroking the length of her back, the contours of her body long-forgotten yet comfortingly familiar. Momentarily she pulled away, her expressive eyes bright with unshed tears, and he leaned towards her, his thumb caressing her cheek as his fingers traced the length of her jaw.

"What were you saying before, Grace? About letting go?"

"It's not that easy."

"No, it's not. Not alone, anyway."

The undertone to his words made her gasp softly but she forced her voice to remain neutral, despite the sudden pounding of her heart. "What do you mean?"

He looked at her steadily. "You know exactly what I mean."

"Peter...."

"I know there's a lot of baggage with us, Grace...."

"That's rather understating it, wouldn't you say?"

"....but I feel like I'm finally seeing it all in focus. And at this point I'm not sure whether I should be thanking Linda or wringing her fucking neck."

Grace smiled briefly, her nerves tingling as he continued his ministrations across her cheek, butterflies tickling her stomach as they skirted enthusiastically beneath her skin. "We've been doing this dance for nearly twenty years, Boyd...."

"So I'm slow on the uptake. I thought you knew that."

She sighed, the sound cutting through his attempt at levity. "I just don't think...."

"Grace...." He murmured, leaning forwards to brush his lips across hers, the merest caress of her generous mouth before he pulled away to look at her once more. "I don't want to get through this alone. And there's no way I'll let you do it either."

She felt her body tremble at his long-awaited admission, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she tried to formulate a response, feeling her tears spilling over onto her cheeks, running in rivers across his hand. "I can't promise you an easy future, Peter," she whispered hoarsely. "Even assuming we make it through all of this....I don't know how long my health will...."

"So we've got as long as we've got. No different to everyone else on the planet, Grace."

"I don't want you to waste your life on me...."

"That's not your decision to make." His voice was firm, determination lacing his tone, despite the pain arcing through his chest at the dejected resignation of her words.

"You could be sentencing yourself to a lifetime of misery, Boyd. Being with someone who's ill can be soul destroying...." She broke off, sighing. "I've been there, remember? I know what it's like to live with those kinds of pressures."

"That was different."

"How?"

"Because I'm making an active choice, whatever the consequences. When you married Jack he was well, with no thoughts on the horizon of...."

"Right. And look how I handled it once things got difficult."

He sighed at the guilt that flashed through her sapphire eyes, the cloud of self-loathing that had settled about her shoulders. "Look, Grace....the bottom line here is...."

"Is what? That you want to play the knight in shining armour after all these years?"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on. What do you take me for?"

"I don't need to be rescued, Peter. And I certainly don't need your pity."

He stared at her incredulously. "You don't honestly think that's what this is all about?"

"I've managed on my own for a long time...."

"So have I. And we've both been unhappy."

"Shared trauma is no basis for a relationship, Boyd. I want to be quite clear on that."

He leant forward intensely. "So, what would be, then? Tell me that."

She laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, I don't know. An uncomplicated history? A deeply respectful and consistent friendship? A...?"

"What about the simple fact that I've been in love with you for the better part of twenty years? Would that cut it, do you think?"

His words were spoken with such quiet and forthright honesty, his dark eyes smouldering with sincerity, that Grace felt the breath leave her body in a sudden rush, shock pervading every inch of her being, her mind refusing to believe the sentiments she could feel echoing around the bones of her skull as his question replayed in a constant loop against her senses. "You....Peter...."

"What's it to be, Grace?"

She opened her mouth to answer him, twenty years of churning emotion passing between them in a single instant as their eyes connected; two decades' worth of friendship, of longing, of bitter regret inextricably mixed with a complicated myriad of something deeper, something almost intangible, something beyond the grasp of coherent thought, of sensible reason. I owe this to both of us....Steeling herself, Grace took a shaking breath and began to speak.