A/N: Here at the end of all things...no, just the end of this story. "Nobody Move" comes to an end now and while you might not get what you hoped for - I hope you enjoed reading the story nonetheless. I certainly enjoyed writing it.
A whole bunch of thank yous goes to ShadowSamurai83 for all the hard work put in to beta and advise. I couldn't have done it without you, so thank you ever so much.
Also, this chapter is for Cat81 - Congratulations!
All previous warnings still apply - so, enjoy reading!
Nobody Move - part 13 - finale
The door rattled on its hinges, making the occupants of the office cringe. The clearly female steps didn't improve the situation in Spencer's mind, because a pissed off Grace was somehow worse than an angry Boyd.
An angry Boyd took revenge; a pissed off Grace got even.
They both had been on the warpath since returning from the countryside, the teasing questions quickly dying in everybody's throat upon seeing their faces as they arrived on Monday morning.
There were tales of the Commissioner shaking after Grace had left after her 'conversation' with him around lunch the same day. Boyd would have normally shouted, but he was a subordinate and therefore had, surprisingly, held himself in check. Grace, apparently, didn't give a tinker's damn about rank or propriety, or even general niceties. She had stormed into the office, yelled at and threatened the Commissioner for at least twenty minutes, and then marched out again, slamming the door.
Spencer knew that Hutchinson had played a somewhat fishy part in the weekend's proceedings, but simply being screwed over professionally wouldn't have caused such a reaction from Grace. There was also something deeply personal between Grace and Boyd that seemed to be causing a problem. Spencer wasn't normally the most perceptive of people, and quite frankly, where Grace and Boyd were concerned he didn't even want to know, but one could cut the air between them with a knife and that he noticed.
Eve and Stella had their suspicions, just like Frankie and Mel had had, and this time...
Another door rattled, this time announcing Boyd's return from a lunch meeting with the Commissioner. Stella looked up from the file she was working on, grimaced and quickly looked down again.
"Grace!"
The shout didn't surprise anybody. Surprising was how quickly the profiler followed the summons.
"So?" Grace almost fell onto the sofa in Boyd's office and gave him an expectant look.
He leaned against his desk, rubbing his face in mental exhaustion.
"Hutchinson was trying to honey me over."
"Uhum." Grace's reply was non-committal. "Should I expect an invitation for tea?"
"Probably dinner." There was just a hint of jealousy in his voice, Boyd knew that, and quickly tamped it down. "He's seen pictures from this weekend. I'm sure he wants to make the most of how you dress up."
The room was silent. It lasted so long that he looked up after a while and met her gaze across the room. She seemed unaffected, if you ignored the unholy glint in her eyes and the beginnings of a smirk. "You could get some of those Premier Cru-bottles out of it, you know," he explained lamely.
Grace's expression hardened for a moment before the smirk was back in full force. "You think?"
"A few hundred quid won't put him back too much."
Leaning back on the sofa, Grace adopted a neutral tone. "He might get the wrong impression, if I go out with him and wear one of those evening dresses for which I stupidly splurged out on before the weekend," she explained with forced nonchalance.
Boyd turned away quickly as images formed before his mind's eye. It should be him who saw her dressed up to the nines first. Despite it all, it had been their time, she had played his wife, and by rights he should see her first in and...out of it. Standing aside for the Commissioner was not part of the plan. Of course, there hadn't been a plan until now when he realized that the hazy images of future personal events included him and Grace. Not her going out with other men.
A timid knock interrupted his darkening thoughts, but he didn't feel better as Stella stuck her head in to tell Grace that the Commissioner wanted her on the phone. With an exaggerated gesture, Boyd allowed her to use his phone, his mood deteriorating with every word that was spoken.
"I'll let you know," she ended the call and turned to Boyd. "You were right. Dinner."
"Are you going to accept?" he returned with an edge to his voice.
She shrugged. She wasn't really keen on dining with the Commissioner. It felt a bit like selling herself out. Of course, it might be nothing; but it could give Hutchinson the impression that she'd be willing to compromise her principles if the price was right and her ego stroked enough. The suggested locale was doubtlessly impressive and pricey and if the circumstances were different...
The different circumstances would involve another man, she could be honest about it. That man, however, was momentarily frowning at her and his distant and grouchy behaviour of the last days made it unlikely he'd want to spend personal time with her. Why that was, she still hadn't figured out, and it hurt.
"Are you?" Boyd asked again, the long silence doing nothing for his nerves.
Grace shrugged. "Do you think I should?" she asked, in a way hoping he'd say 'no' on principle.
He looked at her for a moment, several emotions playing over his face at once. Then his expression closed off and she knew that it was a lost cause.
"I have no say in this. We aren't married."
"No," came her flat reply as she struggled up from the sofa and made for the door. "Of course not."
It was the same thing, the same mood, the same behaviour that had stood between them since Sunday morning. The wall was back up, higher and thicker than it had been before. Boyd didn't look at her, didn't smile, didn't joke, didn't touch...and generally treated her as if she didn't exist on a personal level.
She should have known.
Without another word, she left the office, missing the almost agonised expression on Boyd's face.
The taxi stopped gently on the side of the road. Without even opening her eyes, the woman riding in it leaned forward to hand over the money and made ready to get out of the car.
"Madam?" The driver was a little worried and glanced over into the small front lawn of the house. "You sure you're going to be alright?"
The house was in a nice enough area, but there was movement in the shadows by the front door and all dressed up, the lady didn't exactly look like she could take on a burglar, or worse. From his position, the driver could see it was a man in the shadows and you never really knew.
"Should I call the police?"
Grace started. "Why?"
Nodding towards the man by the door, the driver said, "There's some bum sitting on your doorstep. Shall I call the police?"
She looked over into the shadows, then slowly shook her head. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. "No. It'd be no use. He's one of them," she replied tiredly and gave the driver an assuring smile.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Thanks, though."
With a last worried glance, the driver nodded and then went on his way, leaving Grace on the pavement to consider whether she shouldn't have gotten back into the taxi and found another place to sleep. If he was here, it wouldn't be a silent stand-off as it had been the last four days, and she was too tired for another confrontation. Last Saturday seemed so far away, all their easy banter and arousing kisses a thing of the distant past. Yet a part of her was elated to find him here and that part made Grace step forward.
"You shouldn't be loitering outside my door. People could call the police, thinking you are here to attack me."
"I would never..." Boyd bristled, but stopped before he could finish the sentence. "They should find something better to do," he finally went on.
"So they should," she agreed, but then fell silent. What was she supposed to say? "Erm...why are you sitting outside?"
He smiled for a brief moment. "The neighbours wouldn't find it odd that there's light in your house when you are out?"
"Uhm...yeah. Right."
"I thought I'd better not wait in the car in case I fell asleep and...miss you coming home." Even to his ears, his words sounded inane. But if he kept talking, Grace couldn't send him away,... could she?
Grace gave him a long look; her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed her instinctive reaction. "It's getting a little cold, though..." he offered, deliberately leaving the sentence open.
Grace narrowed her eyes, knowing what he wanted, but wasn't sure if she wanted it as well. Another minute or so later, during which Boyd almost felt the seconds tick by, she finally nodded and made for the door.
Inside the house it was invitingly warm. Grace made straight for the living room and almost immediately for the small assortment of bottles. "You want a drink to warm up?"
"Yeah. Tea would be nice."
"Tea?"
He shrugged, then shrugged again and grinned what he thought was charmingly. "Scotch, please."
She raised an eyebrow but nodded and turned around to pour, grateful for this moment of privacy. The situation was awkward, they barely knew what to say to each other. For the umpteenth time, she wondered where it had gone so wrong. They had been in complete agreement after Sir Miles' absurd suggestion, hadn't fought over anything, and yet they couldn't even talk to each other any more. Still, Boyd was here and even if she wanted to ignore it, she could feel his eyes on her every move and that alone caused butterflies in her stomach.
Handing him the glass, she tried avoid touching him, but Boyd took her hand in his as he accepted it. The tingle rushed up her arm instantly, heating up her body and flooding her with want. Feeling herself drown in the moment, Grace quickly stepped back, but the room seemed too warm and she took off her coat, carelessly throwing it onto the sofa.
Boyd, who was watching her every move with the same heat rushing through him, swallowed. Hard.
The black evening dress and jacket covered her demurely, but did nothing to hide her curves. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the tantalizing image away. It was no use, he could feel the satiny warmth as if he were touching her. If the evening had gone the way he had wanted, he'd know how the material mixed with her perfume, but it hadn't been his evening.
Something shot up in his gut, hot and acid. Dressed up like this, she had spent the evening with Hutchinson. Of course, Boyd had suggested himself that she go, even joked about how she could get a few bottles of Premier Cru out of it. After all, the Commissioner did have some major sucking up to do to placate one of his star profilers, especially since Grace had basically torn him apart over the Rockton-incident. The Met would be talking for years about the shouting orgy that had taken place in the Commissioner's office, leaving the man shaking in his boots and a pissed off Doctor Foley storming through the building, out for blood. Boyd felt a wave of pride rushing through him. He'd pay a year's salary to have a tape of the incident. The momentary good mood didn't last long, however.
If Hutchinson was in any way smart, he had chosen an upmarket restaurant to impress her and grovel, and to show her off. Boyd could understand that only too well. If he had been smart enough, Grace would have been his to show off tonight. But he hadn't, and now he wondered if the opportunity had passed him by completely.
"Nice evening?" he pressed out through clenched teeth.
She shrugged and sipped her own drink. "It was very much about making an impression."
Sitting down on the sofa, he leaned back and took a sip of his drink. It was an attempt to appear politely interested, hiding his burning curiosity. "And?"
Over the rim of her glass, Grace gave him a look that burned into his skin. In the dim light, her eyes glinted calculating and dangerous, an image that Boyd found strangely seductive. "Did he impress?" he asked again, with a slight edge to his voice.
"The wine did."
"Premier Cru, huh?"
"Yeah." With a shake of her head, she turned away and placed her glass back on the cart. Rubbing a hand over her neck, she heaved an audible sigh. She just wanted this day to end. No more awkward conversations, no more explanations, no more men who didn't say what they wanted to say.
Before she could finish the thought, Grace sensed him behind her, so close that she could feel his body heat burning through both of their clothes. "Did he...?" Boyd searched for the right word. "Did he make you uncomfortable?" Lame, really, but articulating himself was difficult, almost painful. Going out and clobbering Hutchinson would be so much easier.
"Uncomfortable?" Grace snorted the word before staring at Boyd in disbelief over her shoulder. She hadn't noticed he was that close. If she leaned just an inch back...
"My God, yes! Did he crowd you? Or come onto you too hard. Belittle you. Blackmail... Whatever..." Gesturing wildly, Boyd began to pace. "You know, that sort of thing!"
"Like you would?"
"Grace!" His shoulders fell as he heaved an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, like I would."
A flicker of amusement crossed her face. "No." She shook her head, the smile widening a little. "He was very polite."
"But?" His voice turned louder again. "Come on, Grace, what was it then?"
For a moment there was a tense silence in the room, both of them waiting for the other to break it.
It was Grace who gave up first. "It wasn't what I planned for this evening, alright? Not the dinner I wanted."
"What do you mean?" The question was inane, he knew, the answer obvious, if he was honest. Which he wasn't.
"I wanted to have dinner with you! Not with Hutchinson, smiling politely at his attempts to convince me that he isn't a manipulative bastard," Grace snarled, then turned away. "And now, go, please."
Rooted to the spot, Boyd gaped. "Why?"
Grace stared at him in disbelief. "Because I'm tired and want to go to bed."
"I mean why did you want to have dinner with me?"
In an eternal gesture of 'spare me', Grace moved over to the sofa, slumped down on it and buried her face in her hands.
Boyd was confused, something that frequently happened with him and women, but especially Grace. "Something I said?" he finally ventured.
On her part, Grace wasn't sure whether she wanted to slap him, throw him out or kiss him senseless. Considering Boyd's current behaviour, the kissing would probably make no change. Slapping wouldn't work either and she was too tired to try and throw him out. So, in a way, she was out of options.
With a groan, she got up again, suddenly feeling too confined sitting down and with the jacket still on. Starting to pace, she began to jerkily unbutton the material and threw it onto the sofa. It was childish behaviour, not at all what you expected from a woman her age, but she'd be damned if she catered to anybody's expectations any more tonight.
"Forget it, Boyd, and just get out, okay?" she yelled.
There was no answer. Instead she found herself confronted with a pair of eyes virtually burning into her skin. There was no mistaking the meaning of that look as his eyes raked up and down her body. Suddenly she felt naked, knew that in his mind she was.
"Boyd?" she whispered hoarsely, and took a tentative step towards him.
The next second, her breath rushed out of her as Boyd roughly hauled her into his arms, his face barely an inch from hers. "Did you take your jacket off in the restaurant?" he asked demandingly.
"What?" Shocked by the sudden assault and with her body going into overdrive at his sudden, very charged, proximity, Grace was confused.
"Did you take that jacket off in the restaurant?" Boyd growled again, his hands rushing and brushing over the smooth and warm material.
"Why?"
"I told you before, I'd have to beat up every idiot for ogling you. Or better, I'll kill everybody in that restaurant. Hutchinson first..." As he carefully nuzzled her cheek with his nose, a slow smile spread over his face. He loved this perfume on her, even though it did all sorts of things to drive him to distraction. Being so close, he could hear her breath hitch in her throat as she reacted to his ministrations and it made his grin just a little wider. "And where would we be then?" he added as an afterthought.
"You can't beat up everybody who sees me in an evening dress," she breathed, her body very consciously straining closer to his.
Pulling back a little, Boyd let his fingers run over her opposite shoulder, down the thin strap of the dress. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch, making her blush and him smile. "Then I hope to God you did not show this to anybody else."
She swallowed again, but the corners of her mouth twitched. "Hutchinson wasn't the company I had hoped for."
"Did you take it off?"
She didn't answer, a smile slowly spreading. "I'm having a bit of a dj vu here. Are you going to kiss and grope me now?"
One of his hands brushed over the very exposed skin of her cleavage, while the other travelled down from the small of her back. "Are you going to slap me if I do?"
"Isn't it a little late for this kind of question?"
"I haven't kissed you yet."
"Which is an inexcusable oversight on your part and a shirking of your duty as my loving husband."
Boyd chuckled lightly, the acidic burn in his gut slowly disappearing. Leaning forward, he gently brushed his lips over hers. "I wouldn't want to be accused of neglecting my duty...wife."
"If it's such a chore..."
"Best chore of the entire last weekend. I..." His next sentence was cut short as Grace's hands, which had miraculously travelled underneath his jacket, were scraping over his exposed skin. The slight scratch of her nails on his skin made him jump, a moan escaping unbidden.
"Shit, Grace..."
"Tsk, language, Boyd," she scolded, the impish glint in her eyes betraying her.
His hands kept wandering, mapping out lines and curves and touching bare skin. The flush on her skin spread and deepened, her breathing becoming as uneven as his own. Their bodies were moving against each other, slowly and sensually, their movements becoming more intimate and less subtle by the second. "You're a dangerous woman, Grace. I shouldn't let you go out alone any more. You in a dress like that is very dangerous."
"But imagine what we'd miss. I have a few more of these." Her voice was low and breathy and damn it, if he could still think straight.
"Everybody would know that those pictures from last weekend weren't faked. I couldn't keep my eyes and hands off you."
"And this would be a problem...why?"
"Because I told you, I'd have to beat up every man who ogles you. And that would be every man. I'm serious. I'd be too busy with that, instead of doing my...marital...duties."
Grace smiled a little bashfully as she looked down for a moment. "Maybe we should find a place and an occasion, then, where I can wear this and..."
"Next weekend? You and me?" Boyd was surprised how calm he sounded, despite the nervousness rushing through him. It didn't take a genius to figure out what his proposal meant and if they did this...
Grace's response of a brilliant smile and a nod put an end to his nervousness. As their mouths met to seal the plan, their kisses quickly grew out of control
But then, who was there to interrupt them this time?
A long time later, Grace suddenly pulled back to look at him and the moment she did, Boyd knew what was coming.
"Do you think we'll find another bed like that?"
Yes. Exactly that.
FIN!
Hope you enjoyed reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.