A/N: Well...the end is here. Really. And Boyd is no longer lying on a dusty pick-up in Kabul. I promise.

Thank you for your interest and support for this story. Hope you enjoyed it.

Many thanks to Joodiff for being an awesome beta - all mistakes in here are definitely not her fault. And happy birthday to Scription Addict. This one's for you, dear.

And now...enjoy, please.

Epilogue

He didn't expect to be on this plane, and it's a safe bet that nobody at the hospital or the station expected him to be on this plane either. Only Grace, but Boyd doesn't question where her conviction came from. He has long since stopped wondering how exactly her mind works.

She's in the seat next to him while the plane climbs steadily into the morning air above Kabul to turn Northwest, and already her eyes are closed. She'll probably be asleep before they've reached travelling altitude.

Boyd watches her fondly, even though he inwardly shakes his head at the walking contradiction this woman has turned out to be. Despite the long years of working together, despite the long friendship, despite the highs and lows they've seen of each other, Boyd is still not entirely certain he knows Grace.

Not even six months being stuck in this Godforsaken place, in the incredibly small and cramped space they called home, have given him full insight. It has been all shutters up, and sometimes all shutters down, but he has not figured her out yet.

Grace opens her eyes sleepily, giving him a drowsy smile. He takes her hand and presses a quick kiss to the inside of her wrist. Her smile widens for a moment, before her eyes close again. She will be asleep within moments. How she can sleep like this...

It's the walking contradiction again, and Boyd knows he'll have time enough on the trip home to contemplate her. It will be many thoughts on many things, and many hours to follow them in his mind.

Beneath them Kabul becomes smaller and smaller and finally disappears from view. Their destination is Manas Air Base in Kyrgyzstan for the first leg, and from there it will go via Frankfurt to London. Endless hours of waiting, endless hours of cramped spaces, and endless hours of dealing with the painful itchiness of his wound and wound dressings. Boyd doesn't relish it at all, but at the end of it there'll be a brass bed he remembers having a heavenly deep mattress, a bathroom with a real tub, and an almost endless supply of hot water. There'll be a bottle of whisky or red wine; there will be takeaway or even home-cooked food. Most of all though, there will be privacy, space and safety.

Well, as much safety as one can have in London.

Small things, but if there's one thing Boyd has learned over the last months, it's that the small things are what life is all about.

There'll be Grace's kids and grandkids, the youngest just born, two more due in a few weeks. Family meetings, parties, dinners. He won't admit it to anyone yet, but he's looking forward to that.

What he doesn't look forward to are the debriefings, and the appointment at the Yard. He can't for the life of it imagine what the Met could actually want from him after fourteen months. He is sure he has gone down every imaginable road of thought since receiving the message from Maureen-bloody-Smith while he was in hospital, but each road appears more outlandish than the last.

The future is an odd thing at this particular moment in time, hazy as far as his professional future is concerned. He is of official retirement age now, but he can't imagine it really. Slowing down, yes. Finally. But not stopping altogether.

Finally there is something, somebody, to keep him home and entertained, but full-out retirement... He can't see it. Neither can Grace, who will probably write case studies and books until her last breath. They aren't like that, aren't 'sit back and relax'-types.

They've had those talks, they've had those rows, both admitting to some truths that came not altogether as a surprise. Grace would never be happy only working for a charity, and he couldn't do teaching. Probably not even consulting. They'd be both bored out of their skulls within months. That doesn't leave many options at their age, and Boyd doesn't think that a return to Kabul or a trip to Baghdad will be the right solution.

Another job anywhere in the world where it is exciting and dangerous might be the only thing that will keep him sane, but if he does there will be long, careful negotiations beforehand. Such give and take isn't exactly his forte, but he knows he'll give it his best try.

It might be the only way for Grace and him not to spectacularly screw up what is a miracle at their age and with their history.

One day, they will have to make a decision, but that's far off yet.

When the time comes, a lot will depend...

On Grace.

He's fairly certain that he'll put a ring on her finger before the year is out, quite possibly much sooner. He'll do it with a lot of grumbling and complaining, but it will be for show only. And Grace will see right through it and let him grumble, grumble right back, and in the end it will be just the way they need it.

Quite possibly end in an elopement too - Vegas, Gretna Green, Mexico. Who knows.

Her head falls against his shoulder as she moves in her sleep, undisturbed by the noise and the slight turbulences. She can still sleep through all the racket, the fears of the last months not having left too deep a mark on her. Though that might be wrong, too.

She must be simply exhausted, having spent the last two weeks alternately doing her job and spending the rest of the time at his bedside. With the weather having been as abysmally hot as it has been...he's been exhausted from just lying around; it must have been much worse for those having to work in those conditions.

But Grace has soldiered on, without complaint, without any sign of weakness. The men and women at the hospital and the rest of the base have watched her with great shows of respect at the end, admiring the small woman who put them to shame at times with her ability to endure. She has impressed him - time and again, in fact - over the last months.

Boyd is happy to leave this hellhole, but he knows that it was the right decision to come here, for them both. Grace will tell him so when he makes one of his flippant remarks, and though he will deny it to the high heavens, they'll both know it's the truth.

A memory appears, the Christmas dinner with her family that almost went so spectacularly wrong. She knew even then...Boyd realizes that now.

Tightening his grip on her hand, Boyd leans over, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. He places a tender kiss on the top of Grace's head, amused to note the instinctive tightening of her fingers around his.

"Inshallah," the locals say. "God willing."

God was...willing.

Thank you for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated.