Disclaimer: I do not own the copyright for Waking the dead or its characters – all rights belong to the Barbara Machin and the BBC who should just jolly well bring it back!

Content: Season four – False Flag spoilers

Rating K

Thanks for taking the time to read this. This is dedicated with huge thanks and gratitude to Joodif – one of the kindest people I know – and to the OHT … please don't hate me to much! *hugs you all* xx

Defused

The noise reverberated around Frankie Wharton's modest sized living room as she slammed her beer bottle down loudly on top of the glass coffee table. Swearing harshly in frustration she reluctantly rose from the comfortable sofa she had been slumped in for most of the evening to answer the incessant knocking of her door. Her eyes glanced toward the clock on the wall as she passed; eleven-ten. Who would be calling at this time of night?

"Alright, alright I'm coming…" she shouted as she walked through the hallway, "Do you have any idea what the hell time it is?" she continued as she angrily pulled and wrenched at the locks and chains that were firmly securing her front door. Finally she threw it open to the elements, immediately shivering against the cold night air.

"Boyd?" she exclaimed in surprise as she observed the DSI standing confidently on her doorstep. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hi, Frankie," he opened lightly.

"You okay?" she asked taken aback at the concern that had instantaneously knotted in her stomach.

"Yip. Just thought we could maybe … err … talk."

Frankie sighed deeply as tangible relief at his assurance flooded her body before being swiftly overtaken by a shadow of irritation. "Boyd, it's ten past eleven, I've had a long day…"

"Oh... okay," he answered hesitantly, glancing inanely at his watch. "I didn't realise the time."

The streetlights which adorned the road and cut through the darkness accentuated his silhouetted form just enough to enable her to observe the deeply etched weariness on his face. "Have you only just left the office?" she inquired.

He nodded his head slowly. "Yea. Look, I'm sorry, Frankie, it's late, I'll leave you to it," he said turning on his heel to leave.

Frankie easily caught the unhidden despondency lacing his tone, "No, it's okay," she relented, "You look like you could do with a beer." Boyd turned his head towards her and smiled an easy smile that was alarmingly disarming, prompting Frankie to quickly suppress the involuntary and completely disconcerting reaction that it appeared to awaken deep within her.

"Beer sounds great," he answered still grinning boyishly.

She stepped aside and motioned towards him with her head. "C'mon then."

Boyd followed her into the dimly lit hallway, pausing only to remove his coat and haphazardly throw it over the banister before he continued into the living room. When Frankie joined him a few moments later, beer in hand, he was standing studying a photograph which was sitting on one of the alcove shelves and showed her with her arms wrapped around a young dark haired man, both of them smiling broadly. She observed him silently for a few moments. His presence in her house was unusual, but strangely not uncomfortable. Slowly she walked up behind him. "My brother," she said.

"Huh?" He rounded, obviously startled at her proximity.

"The guy in the photo, he's my brother," she replied holding out a bottle towards Boyd whilst her mind turned somersaults over why she felt the need to explain it to him.

"Ah," he nodded as he accepted the beer from Frankie's hand and placed it immediately to his lips taking a long steady drink. "Thanks, Frankie," he said still looking at the bottle he was holding. "I needed that. He dropped his weight heavily into the arm chair before continuing, "Have you spoken to Mel today?"

"Just earlier at work," she answered sitting on the large leather sofa and drawing her legs beneath her.

"She's pretty hacked off with me isn't she?"

Frankie shrugged. "She'll get over it."

"I just can't have her behaving like that, you know? Questioning my authority."

"She's young, Boyd, opinionated …."

"Still, she should know better."

"Maybe so, but, go easy on her, eh?"

"I did go easy. That was easy. She's lucky I didn't bounce her straight out on her ear today."

"You know what I mean."

Boyd once again smiled and Frankie was struck by how that one simple action caused the years to fall from him. "You're beginning to sound like Grace, you know that don't you?" he said amusement interspersing his tone.

Frankie's own smile widened mirroring his. "I can think of worse people to be likened to."

"What, me you mean?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," he sighed loudly taking another drink of his beer. "You know she's been ordered to submit a profile on me?"

"Hmm yea, she did mention it. How do you feel about that?"

"How do you think?"

"That good, eh?"

He looked at her, clearly galled. "It's just another frigging bureaucratic waste of time to keep the suits in a job."

"Just give them what they want; it'll be fine."

"I don't wanna give them what they want. They can shove it."

"Running the risk of having CCU taken over?"

Boyd again sighed deeply as he ran his hand across his face. "It's infuriating, Frankie, the fact they are spending so much time trying to prove that I'm not fit to run the unit rather than leaving me the hell alone to do my job!"

"Then just let Grace do her profile, submit it and don't give them any more rope to hang you with."

He paused, seemingly considering her words before continuing. "So do you think Gerald Doyle was a terrorist then?"

"Dunknow, it's possible I suppose, and at the minute it seems the most likely explanation doesn't it?"

"Hmm," he mused. "I just hate the thought that we are running down the stereotypical warren hole just because he has an Irish sounding name, you know?"

Frankie raised her eyebrows. "Yea, but that's why we base our findings on the evidence and not on preconceived ideas."

"Mmmm. Yes, we do…. still it's hard not to jump to what appears to be the obvious conclusion, isn't it?"

"I'm a scientist, Boyd, I deal with facts. It doesn't matter to me what his name was, or the colour of his hair, or where he studied. If the evidence proves he was, then he was, and if not then …."

"You really are black and white aren't you, Frankie?" Boyd interrupted.

"Yea, well, only sometimes," she admitted coyly.

"When do the lines blur?"

"Sorry?"

"When are things not so absolute?"

"Oh I don't know. I usually manage to monumentally screw up anything that has to do with my personal life. I prefer to deal with absolutes; it's far easier than navigating the minefields that are interpersonal relationships."

"Is that why you're still single then?"

"Boyd!"

"No, I mean, you're an attractive professional lady, Frankie, you'd be a great catch."

"I'm not a fish, Boyd!" she admonished firmly, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his dark arcane eyes as they burned intensely through her skin. Suddenly feeling the need to escape his gaze Frankie rose from the sofa, "I need another drink, want one?"

"Yes, please," he replied finishing the dregs left in the bottom of the bottle before handing it to her. "So come on then," he called after her, "how come there's not a tall, dark handsome significant other lurking around?"

"I'm not discussing this with you, Boyd," she replied as she returned carrying two more ice-cold bottles and passing one to him.

"Why not?" he asked with a shrug.

"Because I'm not, okay?"

His bottom lip curled outwards as dejectedly he momentarily pouted. "Okay," he determined raising his eyebrows as he spoke. "Pity though, could have been a pretty interesting conversation,"

"Yea, for you maybe," Frankie replied sardonically before continuing, "Okay then, when was the last time the lines were blurred for you?"

"That's too easy."

"Spill it then."

"Not likely."

"You see, you don't like it when the tables are turned, do you?"

"It's just not that simple, Frankie," he answered raising the bottle once again to his lips.

"Of course it is."

He shook his head slowly swallowing down his mouthful of beer. "No, not when you're in my position it's not.

"As head of the unit you mean?"

Boyd stilled appearing lost in thought for a few minutes before relying simply. "Yea."

"You want everyone to be under the illusion that you have everything under control, huh?"

"I think we both know that's not the case, but yea, there has to be some sort of a pretence anyway."

"You should talk to Grace about that, you know."

"I don't wanna talk to Grace."

"Ah... I see," Frankie replied knowingly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Grace, she's part of the problem, yea? Don't get me wrong, I can see how that could happen. I mean, you are both close …."

"What? You couldn't be further from the truth, Frankie," Boyd answered shaking his head firmly.

"Come on, you don't have to keep up the pretence with me. You're not my boss."

"That's just semantics; I'm head of the unit which makes me …"

"Still not my boss!"

"Look, Grace and I are friends, Frankie, good friends. That's it!"

"But you'd like it to be more?" she teasingly probed.

He sat forward in his chair inclining his body to directly face her, his eyes meeting hers. "No. I'm quite happy with my relationship with Grace. What makes you think that I'm not?" He shrugged.

"Everyone thinks there's more to it, Boyd."

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Oh come on, you must have heard the rumours and you have to admit it's pretty easy to see how and why we would all jump to that conclusion."

"What happened to 'I only base things on fact', eh?"

"Well, you and Grace get on very well, don't you?"

"Yes," he conceded easily.

"And you both enjoy one another's company, right?"

Boyd nodded gently in agreement.

"You are both single, similar in age, spend a lot of time together, so it makes sense, don't you think?"

"No, no I don't think, nor, for that matter would Grace."

"And you're sure about that, are you?"

"Completely."

"You've talked about it?"

He shook his head. "Don't need to. We have known each other for years. Believe me, I'm not Grace's type."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I'm far too unpredictable for Grace; reckless. She'd spend the rest of her life driving herself nuts trying to figure me out."

Frankie laughed at the thought. "Hmm, you're probably right actually. It's a shame really," she concluded, "I think you could be great for each other."

"Not gonna happen, Frankie," he said steadily holding her gaze. "Not now, not ever."

There was something displayed in his eyes and infused throughout the tone of his voice that Frankie couldn't immediately determine. A raw honesty, one that appeared to echo his need for her to believe him. For a few seconds she found herself completely lost in his intensity before his deep voice broke mercifully into her thoughts. "Do you have any more beer?"

Internally she tried to shake off the unnerving feeling that had crept up on her uninvited, pushing it deeper into the pit of her sub-consciousness, reluctant to analysis it further. Regaining control of herself she answered steadily, "Sure, in the fridge, and when you're getting yourself one, you can bring one for me too." He turned and looked at her prompting her to laugh amusedly at the disgruntled face he pulled.

"You really are a crap host, Frankie," he said rising to his feet. "You know that, don't you?"

"Well, that's what you get when you turn up unannounced," she replied still laughing easily.

"Today," the disjointed voice called in from the kitchen.

"Hmmm?"

"The lines became blurred for me today," he continued as he wandered comfortably back into the lounge.

"In what way?"

"Professional and personal feelings colliding with one another."

"With Assistant Commissioner Dyson?"

Boyd's head dropped as he groaned loudly. "Aw, did you have to mention that damn infuriating woman's name? I'd just managed to forget about her."

"Not Dyson, then?"

"No, most definitely not Dyson. Unless of course you include the unimaginable pain I dreamed of causing her."

"Boyd!"

"Well … you didn't have to listen to her," he sulked.

Frankie smiled. "Fair point. So if not Dyson, who?"

He sat back in his chair taking another long swig of his drink before seemingly changing the direction of the conversation. "Why did you risk your life today?"

"I didn't."

"Frankie, you defused a bomb." His eyes widening as if to emphasise the enormity of his words.

"Yea, but I was fine, wasn't I? I told you, I did a course."

"You could have been killed," he said firmly, the concern in his voice not lost on Frankie.

"It was never going to go off, Boyd," she dismissed.

"You didn't know that, not for sure."

"I was pretty certain."

"Still, there was a possibility it could have gone wrong, wasn't there?"

"Of course. There is always a possibility, you know that. It's the same for you when you rush out on a shout. You don't think of the consequences, the adrenalin begins to pump and you just act, don't you?"

"Yea, but that's different."

"In what way?"

"I am responsible for you Frankie; you risked your life, my career …"

"Ah, so you're upset that I almost caused Dyson to fire your sorry ass."

"No … I ..."

"Well then!" She shrugged nonchalantly. "What's the problem? Everything worked out okay. The bomb didn't go off, Dyson didn't throw the book at you, and CCU lives to fight another day."

"I didn't like it."

"Didn't like what? Honestly, Boyd, you're making even less sense than you normally do."

"I didn't like the fact that you put your life in danger, okay?"

"I thought we just established that I didn't. The bomb was safe."

"Yea but, I didn't know that, did I?" he replied softly looking deep into her eyes.

"True …" she accepted feeling the heat begin to blaze within her as his eyes continued to search hers.

"And you didn't help matters by asking me to choose which wire you should cut."

Frankie laughed deeply. "Now that was funny."

"No it wasn't. I was terrified you were going to cut the wrong one and blow us all up."

"Aw, I'm so touched. Look, I'm sorry for laughing, but your face really was a picture."

"Oh, I'm so pleased it amused you."

"It did - a lot!"

His tone changed, sincerity lacing every word. "Standing on the other side of that door, not knowing what was happening, or how you were, was really quite harrowing," he said seriously.

"Yea, about that, you really shouldn't have been there, Boyd."

"I told you, I wasn't going to leave you to face it alone."

"You do realise, don't you, that if it did explode you would have been just as dead as me?"

"Yea, well like I said, I wasn't leaving. It did blur the lines, though."

"In what way?" Frankie asked with a frown.

"Between knowing that what you were doing was the best thing for the unit, yet wanting to do everything in my power to stop you because I was terrified you would be hurt."

"It was my choice, though."

"But surely you can see that I'm still ultimately responsible, and anyway I'm not speaking as head of the unit," he told her impatiently.

"I don't follow."

"At that moment I wasn't worried about the unit, my career, the case, or even Dyson, my only concern was you."

"Yea, and what a pain in the ass finding a new forensic pathologist would be."

"I'm serious, Frankie, I felt sick at the thought of losing you."

"From the unit?"

Boyd shook his head slowly. "From my life," he admitted quietly.

The words had quickly fallen from his lips but their impact on Frankie was insurmountable. She felt her heart begin to pound as she spoke, "What are you saying, Boyd?"

He ran his hand roughly through his thick silver hair, nervously clearing his throat. "I dunknow. We get on don't we?"

"Yea, most of the time."

"I suppose …. well, I suppose I just realised today that liked having you around," he smiled gently.

"I'm not going anywhere, Boyd."

"I really hope that's true," he said sincerely.

Frankie's breathing hitched as her heart slammed relentlessly against her rib cage at the implication of his words. Over the years both she and Boyd had playfully flirted with each other, but this was deeper. The atmosphere sparked in the space between them, laden with the headiness of attraction and growing desire as they silently continued to hold the other's gaze. Slowly, fluidly, he moved towards her.

"Boyd..."

"Ssh ..." he quietened her, brushing his fingers gently across her cheek.

Frankie instinctively closed her eyes, momentarily lost in the sensation of his touch. "We shouldn't..." she whispered.

"Why not? What's stopping us? You've just spent the last hour convincing me I'm not your boss," he said continuing to expertly caress her face.

"That's not the point," she huskily replied, fighting inanely against her own desire.

"Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop," he said confidently.

"Boyd, I ..."

"Just say the words, Frankie, and I'll walk away and we'll never mention it again," his voice was almost a whisper as he moved his face closer to hers.

"I ..."

Closer, ever closer he slowly moved, his voice low and gravelly. "Say it ..."

She swallowed back her words as she felt his breath on her skin. Her head screamed her folly but she already knew it was too late; she was lost in him - to him. He closed the final gap, his lips tenderly capturing hers. Tentatively, carefully, expertly, he explored her mouth, igniting vividly every sense she possessed. Her body burned like fire at the nearness of him. Her hands ran through his hair of their own volition as she possessively pulled him closer. Nothing had prepared her for this. Not the passing covert glances, or the accidental touch of their hands, not even the fleeting thoughts her mind momentarily entertained over the years of how it would feel to hold him.

He pulled away from her slowly, a smile resting gently on his lips. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"I think so," Frankie replied, wondering if he could feel how hard her heart was beating.

"You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that."

"Really?" she said in surprise.

"Yea really." He nodded. "Did you seriously not have any idea?"

"No, none!"

"I must be losing my touch then," he said reaching for her hand and interlacing it with his own.

"Oh I wouldn't say that," Frankie replied pulling him closer and reaching her mouth to his. If he was in any doubt of her willingness for this to happen she was going to ensure that she would dispel his misgivings.

"So what happens now?" she asked once they had parted from their embrace.

"Dunknow, haven't thought that far to be honest." he answered placing his arm securely round her and allowing her to nestle into his side. "How about we just enjoy tonight and figure the rest out as we go?"

"Hmmm yea, I think I can live with that."

"Good, 'cause it's the only plan I have. One condition, though," he said placing a light kiss on the top of her head.

"What's that then?"

"You don't try to dismantle any more bombs, twenty years old or not."

"Oh, I think I can just about live with that too." She smiled turning her head towards him and reaching to kiss him again.