So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break
                            Billy Joel
 

April 2.
Friday, 10.15pm

Long dark shadows striped across the road, grown from a full moon
bright in the heavens. The air was crisp and sharp, it's edges shared
with the shadows, a single breath for each one. The street was empty,
a few cars parked either side, noises of the city banked in the
distance, and a cat mewling from somebody's door. Doyle's boots made
the only other live sound as he made his way towards his front door,
bag slung over one shoulder.

Worn out, exhausted and aching in almost every muscle, he climbed the
stairs to his flat, dumped the bag inside the hall and sank onto the
sofa, unwilling to move. Moonlight streaked in the windows, dappled
by the net curtains, suffused into a hazy blue glow, wonderfully
soothing after a day like today.

Macklin had it in for him; he had proof now. Only Macklin would
expect him, after a three-week ordeal, to return to normal fitness in
the space of a fortnight. And if he didn't, Macklin was making damned
sure he wouldn't get the blame for it.

Okay, so maybe Macklin wasn't expecting that much - but it sure as
hell felt like it. Worse still was the diet they had him on: high
protein, body building stuff. He'd already put on 5 pounds and they
wanted more. Always more. No accounting for some people.

Heaving a delicious sigh to indulge his own self-pity, Doyle climbed
to his feet and wandered into the kitchen. The good thing was, with
all this exercise, he had got his appetite back completely. The food
didn't taste that great, but he hardly noticed some days. He switched
lights on, turned the telly on in the hope of catching the late news.
He'd eat, shower and then sink into blissful sleep - he had another
day with Towser tomorrow, reflex training if he remembered correctly.

He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, enjoying the first
mouthful especially because Macklin had forbidden him any such luxury
until his retraining was over. Then he poked around for some
leftovers. Murphy and Kathy had come over for dinner the night before
and there was still some lasagne left. He pulled out the tray and
stuck it on the bench, digging in with a fork, eating it cold. He
almost preferred it that way.

It had been a funny night, with Murph and Kathy here. A good night -
but odd in that all three of them had avoided discussing Bodie. Not
even once. Because of that, and simply because he'd not got up the
bottle to ask, he still couldn't work out how much they knew. He was
aware that it had been largely those two who had helped Bodie through
the first weeks after the avalanche - but whether tight-lipped Bodie
had told them the truth was another matter - and Doyle couldn't
exactly come out and ask them.

And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

He took the tray and his beer into the lounge and sat in front of the
telly, volume down so he could just hear it.

Bodie had gone.

At least, that's what Central had reported. A number of attempts to
phone him had failed and then somebody had gone to his flat to find
it in a mess, sufficient clothes removed to suggest he had gone
without leaving word, even to Cowley. The Old Man had been
tight-lipped and anybody who knew him well, could see he was
genuinely hurt by Bodie's inexplicable behaviour - but Cowley had
also been up to his ears with government submissions for next year's
budget and work had been flagrantly busy with one thing and another -
so Cowley had put the entire matter aside, pending further
investigation. In a way, Doyle knew, Cowley was hoping Bodie might
sort himself out and come back of his own accord.

In a few weeks, Doyle decided, when he could face the subject again,
he would have a quiet word with the Old Man and explain the reality -
without getting into too much detail. It was only fair. Or at least,
fair to Cowley.

Perhaps by then, Doyle might just be able to think of that day, that
night, without taking the whole weight of it upon him. Such feelings
had threatened to drown him every day and only the sheer discipline
of training had kept him from that. It filled his days with
backbreaking physical torture - but at least it filled his nights
with sleep - even if his dreams sometimes took him to places he knew
he couldn't afford to visit.

But he was determined. After coming so close to death - a second time
- high on that mountain (regardless of what had driven him up there
in the first place) he was not about to let his life be destroyed for
anyone. No, not even Bodie. Especially not Bodie.

Yet, for all his discipline, he couldn't stop himself thinking,
remembering - not just over the last few weeks, but over the years
before. Bodie had always been with him - not on absolutely every job,
perhaps - but there, in the squad, available to talk to, to have a
drink with. Simple company like no other. His sense of humour had
always had a good effect on Doyle, his sheer persistence had more
often than not, kept Doyle from sinking too low. Now he was on his
own and he had to try harder to keep his own balance. But it didn't
feel right; instead, it felt empty. Empty and cold.

In a way, he missed the friendship more than anything else - largely
because anything else hadn't really happened; at least, not in pieces
he could understand. But the friendship was something else - and he'd
been trying to protect it when he'd left and gone to Scotland. Now,
he'd not only lost his chance at love - but he'd also lost the best
friend he'd ever had.

Training was also, in a way, more painful because Bodie was not there
with him. They'd always worked together against Macklin and if one of
them was retraining after an injury, the other would come by and give
support, buy a beer afterwards. That was one of the unspoken,
unwritten rules of partnership.

Of course, one of the others was - don't fall in love with your
partner.

For a moment, he forgot the telly, forgot his meal and his aches and
pains as he was sharply assaulted by a stab of deep regret, of an
agony that went so deep he didn't dare even glance at it. It pulled
him in so swiftly, he was caught unprepared and all his aches and
pains coalesced towards an image of Bodie. Holding him, kissing him,
making him believe in some kind of love, no matter how frail and
fragile. Steadfast, he hauled in a breath and forced himself to
relax, to let it go.

Even if he could never let Bodie go.

Again, the pain shifted into the background, where it lived day and
night and with a rueful smile at his own wilfulness, he drained his
beer and headed for the bathroom.

The door buzzer went. Doyle paused with a frown, glancing at the
clock. It was way too late for anybody to be visiting. Swiftly, he
turned and made for the door, putting his thumb to the intercom
button.

"Doyle?"

"Come up, Murph."

He stood there and waited, with the door open as the other man took
the stairs two at a time. Murphy saw him and came to a halt,
obviously in something of a hurry. "Sorry, Ray but it's Bodie. He's
had an accident."

"When?"

"An hour ago. He came off his bike - but he's not at death's door or
anything."

Doyle was already reaching for his jacket. He slammed the flat door
and followed Murphy down the steps, trying not to panic. "How do you
know?"

"He rang me from the hospital."

"He rang you? From where?"

"Guys. Ambulance took him there."

"Cowley's gonna kill him."

Murphy reached the street and glanced over his shoulder at Doyle,
"Cowley doesn't know - nor will he. Bodie didn't have his ID on him
so the hospital didn't know to call CI5." He led Doyle to his car and
opened up the back passenger door. Kathy was sitting in the front as
Doyle climbed in.

He sat as Murphy started the motor and pulled out from the kerb.
Everything that had been so neatly settled inside him was now
fluttering about, gusted out of place with a breeze of uncertainty,
an icy chill of fear. "Are you sure he's okay?" he heard himself ask,
though the voice didn't sound like his at all, all choked up and
strangled as though he were trying to kill off a month's worth of
tumbling emotions.

"No, I'm not sure. He sounded very strange. That's why we thought
we'd pick you up on the way."

Doyle nodded, his gaze going out of the side window. It was a moment
before the words actually sank in and he glanced up to see Murphy's
face in the mirror. "He told you not to tell me, didn't he?"

Murphy didn't bat an eyelid but Kathy turned in her seat. "Michael
told him he'd call you and Bodie hit the roof - but Ray, I spoke to
him and he did sound very odd. Not like him at all. We're worried,
both of us. He's been through a lot lately."

Doyle nodded vaguely, his gaze meeting hers, seeing only compassion
in her eyes, and some degree of understanding. "So you do know."

She nodded, "He told us a little of why you left for Scotland."

"I see." Doyle clipped back, turning to look out the window again,
deliberately shutting her out.

Great, the bastard could talk to Murphy and Kathy, spill his heart,
but he couldn't bring himself to say a word to Doyle, couldn't come
to him and talk, even explain in simple words why they couldn't be
together, why he had to run off, why he had to make life so damned
unbearable it was likely to get them both killed one day.

And now he'd come off his bike and got himself injured and now he
didn't even want Doyle to know about it, shutting him out again,
rejecting him again, closing him off because he either mattered too
much or didn't matter enough…

Or because… of what? Reasons - did they really matter? Was any reason
really good enough, sufficient to explain everything, to shut down
the ungodly mess raging inside Doyle's head? No, it didn't matter any
more why Bodie had made his decision, all that mattered was that he
had. Any other questions were a waste of time.

His jaw clenched as he forced the anger back down. Weeks of
discipline played him well, helping him to avoid punching his fist
through the car window. Then Murphy swung the wheel and pulled into
the carpark of Guys. Together they hurried into Casualty, inquiring
at the desk for Bodie. They were told he couldn't have visitors just
yet as he was in x-ray so they were forced to sit in the waiting
room. Murphy and Kathy sat, holding hands, patient, quiet and ready
to wait. Doyle, on the other hand, paced up and down, barely
containing his urgency to find Bodie and knock his stupid, stubborn,
pigheaded block off.

Finally, after an hour, his energy left him and he sank to a chair by
the door, putting his head in his hands. His brain simply refused to
work any more. A hard day with Macklin had made him ready only for
eight hours sleep - not this kind of stress. Then there was an arm
around his shoulders and Kathy was pulling him close, murmuring
nothing in particular to him. A moment of peace in amongst the
madness. Doyle wasn't immune to it. He kissed her cheek and let her
go. She met his gaze with something like a smile and he nodded.

Odd how some people just have a knack with understanding others.
Murphy was a lucky, lucky man.

But Doyle was still going to kill Bodie.

Murphy went off and found a doctor who knew something, bringing her
back to the waiting room. She was young but obviously knew her stuff,
a pair of glasses perched incongruously on her forehead rather than
her nose. She studied the three of them before lacing her hands
together.

"He's just about to come down from x-ray. I doubt the arm is broken
but I wanted to make sure. His other injuries are minor. He's a very
lucky man. If that truck hadn't stopped in time…"

"Truck?" Doyle squawked before he could stop himself.

"Yes. It hit the railing instead of your friend. Damage to the truck
- but Mr Bodie doesn’t look like a pancake as a result."

"Was anybody else hurt?"

"No."

"And Bodie? Will he have to stay overnight?"

"I don't think so, assuming the x-rays come back without a problem.
He had his helmet on and managed to avoid getting knocked out. You'll
be able to take him home as soon as I've seen the s-ray." She turned
to go then paused. "I have to ask this, what kind of work does he
do?"

"Why?" Doyle replied without glancing at Murphy.

"He has a lot of scars - some of them I'm sure are gunshot wounds.
But more than that, he's in a state of hyper exhaustion. I was really
wondering what kind of hours he works. I don't think he's getting
enough sleep."

"Well, er, he's not actually working at the moment."

"I see." She nodded and took her glasses off her forehead as though
she'd only just realized they were still there and not on her nose.
"Well, I'd say that's probably why he came off his bike. The average
person needs a minimum of three hours REM sleep every night. Now some
people can push that for a few days, perhaps even a week - but after
that, it starts to have a strange effect on both mind and body. We
did blood tests and everything as a matter of routine when he first
came in here. I also did a few others. Everything about his physical
condition suggests hyper-exhaustion. Normally I'd prescribe a number
of days in hospital together with some sedatives to get him to rest
but something tells me he's the kind of man who won't sit around a
hospital for long if he can help it. I hope one of you can make sure
he gets the rest he needs?"

"Uh, sure," Murphy replied because Doyle couldn't say anything. The
doctor was gone and they were alone again before Doyle could so much
as move. Then his feet took him to the window and he gazed out
blindly, unsure now whether he should start crying - or laughing
hysterically.

Kathy laid a hand on his shoulder. "Ray?"

"He said he was leaving me. They told me he'd gone. What am I
supposed to do now?"

"Ray," she continued, her voice gentle but firm, "you must try and
understand what he's been through. He thought he'd killed you."

Had he? Had he really believed that? Really taken so much guilt upon
himself? That couldn't be all there was to it. "I still don't know
what I'm supposed to do." Empty, that's all he could muster now. Just
emptiness.

"He's hurting."

"I bloody know that!" Doyle snapped, the fury back again - with a
vengeance. "And I'm not? But I can't help him - he won't let me. He
didn't leave CI5, Kathy, he left *me."* Abruptly, he hauled in a
breath and turned with an apology. Kathy shook her head and held up
her hand - again, so understanding. Incredible. "I still don't know
what I should do."

"Well," Murphy crossed the room to join them. "I can tell you what
you're going to do. You're going to take my car keys, collect Bodie
and take him home, make sure he gets a good night's sleep if you have
to knock him out with your bare hands. Kath and I will get a taxi
home. She has an early start and I've had a long day."

"And you don't want to be here when he realizes you brought me with
you?" Doyle added, trying for humour instead.

Murphy nodded, supplying his own wry smile. "You'll never know the
fine line the rest of us tread with Bodie. Here." He handed Doyle his
car keys and taking Kathy's hand, he left and Doyle was alone once
more.

Starting to be a habit, this.

Swallowing down his bubbling anger, he headed out into the corridor,
received directions and finally found Bodie's cubicle. The curtain
was already pushed aside and he was lying there, eyes closed before
Doyle even realized it was Bodie.

He looked awful. Skin deathly white, stretched over bones suddenly
too big for his face. A black line of stubble edged his chin while
deep grey shadows sat beneath his eyes. His shirt was cut back from
the accident and a number of bandages and dressings had been applied
to his chest, shoulder and back. His left arm was in a sling. The bed
was raised up so Doyle could see it all and the vision left him
dizzy. He stepped back, clutching at the wall for support.

He'd had no idea… Understand? Bodie had asked him to understand but
he'd made no attempt to try - but now he could see the evidence with
his own eyes.

It was killing him - and but for a moment's luck with a truck driver
- tonight it might just have succeeded.

Doyle's mind refused to think further for a moment as he surveyed the
damage of his own selfishness, his own need. Somehow, in loving
Bodie, he had blinded himself to what was really going on. How could
he have done that? How could he have so willingly ignored all the
warnings Bodie had given him? This wasn't just one hurt - this was a
whole host - and every minute brought a new one, wrapped up in the
love Doyle so much wanted to give him.

Pulling himself together, he moved forward, for the first time since
this whole thing had begun, finally knowing what it was he had to do.

He approached the bed slowly and quietly. Even so struck down, Bodie
retained all his beauty, all his royal bearing and as Doyle looked at
him, he knew he had never seen anything in his life he loved more
than this man.

They could never have had a life together. Cowley would have thrown
them out for one thing. Nor would their colleagues have accepted them
as a couple - and trying to keep their relationship a secret from the
whole squad would have been impossible. Murphy and Kathy were great -
but they were also unique.

No, it would never have worked and Bodie had been right to stop it -
even if he'd done so for all the wrong reasons.

Steady now, Doyle reached out and touched Bodie's hand. Instantly the
eyes flew open - and Doyle had to suppress a gasp of shock. The blue
was hazy and grey, almost totally drowned by the red suffusing the
whites of his eyes. And there was a wild, uncontrolled appearance to
them, as though they only moved towards him with the greatest amount
of effort.

Bodie frowned, "What are you doing here?" The voice, flat, dead,
empty, but the pitch was a little higher than normal, forced.

"Came to take you home, mate," Doyle replied warmly. Bodie needed to
know he was safe. And he was; couldn't possibly have been more safe
and secure. "Doc says you're ready, no bones broken. Come on."

"Where's Murphy?"

"Got called off on a job," Doyle lied happily. "Let's go." He took
Bodie's elbow and helped him off the table. He grabbed the remains of
the leather jacket, put it around Bodie's shoulders and sat him in a
wheelchair. Bodie didn't say a word as they extricated themselves
from the hospital, nor did he speak as Doyle drove him back to his
flat. He simply sat in the passenger seat, his eyes closed, but the
constant tapping of his fingers against his knee told Doyle sleep had
not overtaken him.

Not pausing to explain, Doyle took him into the living room, turning
on lights and surveying the mess Bodie had left behind. Somebody must
have cleaned it up - and strangely, the rest of Bodie's stuff was
still here. Cowley might not have got around to ordering it all
cleaned away. Didn't matter anyway, not for tonight.

Bodie was standing, swaying in the middle of the room, unable to
force himself to move. Doyle took his arm and led him into the
bedroom. He sat Bodie on the edge of the bed, ignoring faint echoes
of the last time they'd been in this room together. He removed the
bike boots, socks then pushed Bodie back onto the bed. There he
unzipped his jeans and pulled them off. Bodie didn't say a word the
whole time. When Doyle pulled the cover up to his neck, Bodie finally
moved to speak.

"Thirsty."

Almost smiling, Doyle nodded. He collected a glass of water from the
kitchen and brought it back, helping Bodie to sit up a little and
drink. Bodie laid back down again, his blue/red gaze locked on Doyle
as it had been since they'd come in to the bedroom. There was about
him such a look of the little boy lost, Doyle could hardly speak.

Bodie blinked, "You goin' home?"

"Yeah. You get some sleep."

"Can't." Bodie's voice made him sound like he was drunk, slightly
slurred and almost careless. "Can't sleep."

"Well, you can't have anything stronger to drink than water; the
doctor said so."

Those glowing eyes didn't shift. Doyle was in a quandary. He could
give Bodie a back massage - but if he touched Bodie now, he'd scare
him, make him afraid there'd be a repeat of that other night. Still,
Bodie watched him - and so he decided to take a chance. Anything was
worth it to get Bodie to sleep.

"Would you like a back massage?"

Bodie rolled over onto his stomach before Doyle could so much as
move. Carefully, to avoid the injuries, Doyle sat on the edge of the
bed and pulled the duvet back. With practiced fingers, he began to
kneed and press the muscles on Bodie's back. All his injuries
appeared to be on his chest, making it a much easier job. He worked
his way down the spine, fanning out before going back up again. Each
time, he increased the pressure more, easing out the kinks of stress
brought on by the fall off the bike. He wondered what condition it
would be in - and where it was now. Then slowly, eventually, he
brought the massage back down, finishing with a featherlite touch he
would normally continue for a few minutes longer - but it was too
tempting to make it a caress and he didn't trust himself that much.
He sat back, hoping by now that Bodie was asleep - but the moment he
stopped, Bodie rolled over again to face him.

"You going home now?"

"I'd better. I have a date with Towser in the morning."

Bodie nodded, vague, as though he knew he should remember Towser, but
just couldn't for a moment. Then a hand came out and hooked onto two
of Doyle's fingers. Bodie blinked, his breathing short, hesitant.
"Stay."

Doyle glanced down to where their hands were joined, oddly struck by
the gesture. Bodie gripped his hand a little harder and repeated,
"Stay."

With a pale frown, Doyle looked back at Bodie - and instantly Bodie
let go his fingers as though Doyle had just burnt him - but still the
gaze held, "Stay with me while I sleep."

Deliberately, Doyle eased the frown from his face and nodded before
Bodie was forced to say please. That would be too much - for both of
them.

He moved around the flat, setting the locks, filling Bodie's water
again, going to the loo, then he went back to the bed and stripped
off his jeans and boots. The moment he climbed into the bed, Bodie
reached out and took his hand, settling immediately into a position
for sleep, his eyes already closed. The simplicity of the gesture
completely knocked the wind out of Doyle.

For several long moments, he laid there, simply watching Bodie - but
then he moved, shifting the uncomplaining man until they were wrapped
around each other, Bodie's head against Doyle's shoulder, his body
almost a pillow. They settled, eased into comfort and almost
instantly, Bodie's breathing became even and steady as he slipped
into much-needed slumber. Doyle, for all his physical exhaustion, lay
in the bed, wide awake.

For more than an hour he stayed where he was, not moving a finger to
disturb Bodie. His gaze played across the ceiling where it was lit
from thin strands of light bleeding through the heavy curtains. Bodie
had chosen ochre velvet for the bedroom. He'd said it kept the heat
in better and the sounds of the city out - and the ladies loved the
idea of expensive velvet being used to cover windows. Doyle had
helped him hang them six months ago, amidst a string of jokes about
changing jobs to become an interior decorator and wouldn't the birds
be disappointed by it when they found out he'd changed sides.

Despite everything, Doyle smiled with the memory. That had been a
good day for both of them. Doyle had just about recovered from the
shooting, Bodie was in a good mood because they would be working
together again soon and Cowley had given him a few days off. They'd
gone for a drive to Cambridge, punted on the river, then picked up a
couple of local birds and taken them to dinner. Completely
comfortable with the day, they'd dropped the girls at home then gone
back to London. The sun had shone, the meal and the company had been
delightful. A day of total contentment, a rarity in the kind of work
they did.

When had it happened? When had Bodie begun to look differently at
him? Where had it all changed so that they could find themselves
here, in this awful place, snuggled up close to each other, but about
as far apart as two people could possibly be and still be on the same
planet.

"God, I'm so sorry, Bodie," he whispered, dropping his head to leave
a brief kiss on that matt of dark hair. "I'm sorry I ran away. But I
had no idea you would end up like this."

Now he shifted a hand until he could gently run his fingers over
Bodie's head, across and down one warm temple. He could feel the
stubble on the chin, the cool smooth flesh on his nose and brow.
Bodie didn't move, sleeping on in blissful ignorance.

"You tried to warn me but as usual, I didn't listen. I thought you
were just being pigheaded and arrogant. But this really is killing
you, isn't it? If we can't find some way to finish this, you're gonna
find some other way, aren't you? But what do we do? You've tried
leaving  - and you can't sleep. You won't let us be together yet you
know we can't go on being partners with things as they are. And I… I
haven't made things easy for you. I demanded your time and attention
when you knew it was a bad idea. I insisted you talk to me, spend
time with me. I thought if we slept together, it would finally bring
us closer together. Instead, it's just driven us apart."

He swallowed, taking a fresh breath, easing out the tension in his
chest. Still Bodie did not stir, sleeping on soundly and peacefully.
Doyle let his face drop a little until his lips rested on Bodie's
forehead, a featherlight caress.

"I wanted you to see what we could have, so you would change your
mind. I never realized you really can't give anything like that. I
didn't believe you. I didn't trust you. You don't belong to me - you
never did - and I was wrong to try and make you mine. I'm sorry you
can't love me, Bodie. I wish you could - but I won't keep you
prisoner any longer. I'll leave you alone. You go or stay - whatever
makes you feel free. You need that more than you could ever need me.
I understand now. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Doyle fell silent then, kissing Bodie's forehead one last time then
closing his eyes as tiredness blanketed him. Bodie slept on in his
arms, not knowing his fate had just been decided for him. But Doyle
didn't mind. He would know soon enough.

Bodie would be free.
 

April 4.
Sunday, 7.00am

Comfort.

Warmth.

Discomfort.

Warmth.

Turn and roll over again. Pull the covers up. Get the pillow just
right. Now, back to sleep, back to dreaming soft and warm,
comfortable, regain the image, the softness and warmth, floating in
between worlds of glowing clouds where the warmth is a person, his
hair soft like glowing clouds, his eyes emerald, his body wanting and
with him, warmth inside those eyes, inside that soul, drift where he
is, where his warmth is, be there, stay there, love.

Bodie opened his eyes with some degree of irritation. His bladder
needed emptying again and once more the physical had overridden his
dreams. Now he'd never get them back. Already they were receding and
by the time he got back to bed, he'd have forgotten all about them
and have to start again.

With an aggrieved sigh, he pushed the duvet back and climbed out of
bed. Almost instantly, his shoulder sent a warning shot down his back
- and he remembered again that he had to be careful. He pulled on a
robe and stumbled into the bathroom, trying to keep his eyes closed
just a little bit longer. But it was no good; peeing always made him
wake up. By the time he was washing his hands, he was alert enough to
see his face properly in the bathroom mirror.

The sight made him come to a complete stop.

Slowly, gingerly, he reached up and felt four - perhaps five day's
growth on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and as though feeling
left out, his stomach chose that moment to let out a huge growl of
protest.

But - how long had he been asleep?

Wait a minute -

He turned quickly and dashed back into the bedroom, cursing as he
went, suppressing panic - but there was no sign of Doyle. Nor in the
lounge or kitchen. The whole flat appeared notably empty. He came to
a halt in the middle of the lounge - and that's when he saw the note
on the table. An envelope, his name on the front. He picked it up,
turned it over in his hands. The back was glued down but it was
obviously from Doyle. Who else would seal an envelope but somebody
who had things to say not to be viewed by the casual beholder.

Bodie dropped the envelope unopened and set about making some
breakfast. With surprise, he found fresh bread, milk, cheese and eggs
in the otherwise empty fridge.

Maybe that's what the note was for: a bill for the groceries.

Bodie ate. Then he showered. By the time he was dressed and shaved,
he was hungry again and he ate again. Only then did he turn on the
telly for the breakfast news - and discovered that he'd been sleeping
almost two days.

He sank back into the sofa, sipping fresh tea, watching something
about a famine in Africa. More poor bloody kids dying because the
boys in charge didn't give a rat's arse about them. Even now, after
all these years, it was the kids he remembered most about Angola.
Playing football with them, chasing them off when he was reading and
they felt like mucking about, having them help him carry firewood
back to the camp. They were always so terribly trusting, and he'd
both loved and despised them for it - because he knew they would be
betrayed in the end, that the soldiers who'd come to help them fight
their war would one day leave them to it because there was no longer
enough money to pay them.

And that's exactly what had happened. They'd been left to fight their
own war. Even now, so long after, Angola struggled to survive each
day - and those children would never trust anybody again, they would
teach others that trust was a fool's game only the weak played. Trust
revealed a vulnerability designed only to be taken advantage of. And
he'd helped them to that understanding, knowing all the while exactly
what he was doing.

What kind of cynic did that make him?

He got up, collected his dishes and took them back into the kitchen.
When he picked up his mug from the table again, he noticed the
envelope still lying there. For long moments he stared at it,
wondering if it would go away all on it's own. Then he sat by the
phone, picked up the handset and dialled, the envelope in front of
him.

"Yeah, it's Bodie. Is Cowley there?"

"What time do you expect him out?"

"And after that?"

"Sure - if you speak to him. Tell him I want to see him. Thanks."

He replaced the phone, his gaze still on the envelope. Nope, it
wasn't going anywhere. Not unless he helped it along.

He stood and sauntered into the bedroom to pick up his old bike
jacket and helmet, collected his keys and went out.

The envelope remained on the table.
 

April 4.
Sunday, 1.10pm

He waited in Regent's park where newly returned birds squawked in the
budding trees overhead while blustery clouds tumbled over the sky
like great white bowling balls across the heavens. What sun there was
peaked out for whole minutes at a time, reminding him of how long it
had been since any had touched the earth. In all his life, he
couldn't remember a longer or worse winter.

He'd managed to get his bike back and luckily the damage was more
cosmetic than anything else. Murphy had arranged for it to be picked
up and repaired enough to run, good bloke that he was. Now it sat by
the footpath, scraped red paint displaying scars to the whole world -
if the whole world cared enough to look.

Of course, it was a foregone conclusion one George Cowley would look.

Bodie sighted him the moment he came through the door opposite.
Cowley paused on the Defence Building steps, frowned at the park in
general, Bodie in particular, then waved a pause at his waiting
driver.

Bodie stayed where he was, on relatively neutral territory. He waited
patiently as Cowley crossed the road and crunched over the gravel
footpath to where Bodie leaned against a grey-barked tree. For long
seconds, Cowley looked him up and down, his hands holding his slim
leather case in front of him. On another person, that gesture would
have been interpreted as a sign of defence, of insecurity.

Bodie wasn't that thick.

Then Cowley's gaze rose to meet his, sharp grey pinning him to the
spot - and to silence. After another minute, the Old Man nodded
slowly and spoke. "It's Doyle, isn't it?"

Only allowing the faintest ironic smile to shift across his face,
Bodie nodded.

Cowley glanced away, seeming to watch some tourists taking photos of
the park.

"How did you know?" Bodie murmured into the silence.

"Who else could do this to you?"

"Doyle's done nothing…"

"Och, don't get all defensive on me, laddie," Cowley cut him short.
"You know damned well what I mean."

"Yes, sir." Bodie kept his response quiet.

"And I take it his answer is no?"

"I haven't asked. I'm not sure I can."

Cowley's gaze snapped back, "Well you'd better if you want to see the
inside of CI5 again. Or are you going to walk away again, solve
everything by decamping to another life where things aren't so
complicated?"

Bodie didn't answer that. Instead, he dropped his gaze, hoping Cowley
wouldn't press further - at least, not yet.

Cowley stepped closer, his voice harsh in the strange quiet. "I tell
you something, Bodie; a man can only give his full loyalty to a
handful of people in his lifetime - but the first and always the most
important, is to himself. If you can't do that, I don't want you
back."

"No, sir." Bodie looked up, unable to deny that gaze or the justified
anger behind it. In that moment, he would have done almost anything
to take the whole damned mess back, just to remove that look of
disappointment from Cowley's face. The force of his reaction
momentarily took him by surprise.

"And you do want back in?" Cowley grunted.

"I dunno. It depends."

"On Doyle?"

"Yes."

"No it doesn't!" Cowley snapped. With a rough gesture, he ordered his
car brought up. Then he turned one of his best glares on Bodie. "You
have one week, Bodie. One week until Doyle is certified fit for duty.
If you have not resolved this by then - one way or the other - your
position in my organisation will be terminated and I will entertain
no discussion on the matter. I don't have time for this, laddie - as
you well know. If you weren't so damned expensive to replace, I'd
have tossed you out on your ear weeks ago!"

"Yes, sir," Bodie nodded. "I'm sorry, sir."

Cowley's eyes blazed anger but there was just the smallest twitch of
a smile at the corners of his mouth. He nodded and turned for his
car, pausing with the door open to reaffirm his determination at
Bodie. "I never expected this to happen to you, Bodie - but that was
my misjudgment, not yours. One week."

"Yes, sir." Bodie replied though Cowley wouldn't have heard it over
the roar of his car as it pulled away. He had to smile; it took years
to understand the oblique manner of Cowley's speech, longer to
comprehend the myriad of meanings behind it. No, it didn't surprise
him that Cowley had guessed what had been going on, nor did it
surprise him that Cowley didn't appear to care one way or the other
that one of his men had briefly and unsuccessfully pursued a
relationship with another man. What surprised him was that Cowley had
spoken to him at all, that he seemed prepared to take Bodie back into
the squad. Even wanted him there, regardless of Doyle's response.

Of course, they wouldn't be working together any more but that was
impossible anyway, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

Would he ever be able to stand alongside Ray, day after day and not
think about what had happened between them, what could never happen
between them? Was it possible for them to sit in a car, for hours on
end without Bodie rememebering what it had felt like to hold the man
in his arms, to taste his kisses, to feel his body respond to Bodie's
touch?

Would he ever be able to forget how it felt when those eyes looked at
him, deep and green and so much everything Bodie had ever dreamt of -
without wishing, even for a moment that he could somehow have it?

Most importantly, would thoughts like that impose themselves when
least needed, exposing them to danger simply because Bodie didn't
have that kind of discipline?

Bodie wandered over to his bike and sat astride it, taking the helmet
off the handlebar and placing it on the seat between his thighs. Then
he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the photo, resting it
on top of the helmet.

Crisp mountain air and a Ray Doyle about to change his life forever.
But that hadn't been the point where his life had changed. There'd
been the choice to go skiing, the choice to go north, the choice to
run out on Bodie, the choice be with Bodie in the first place, the
choice not to reject - and so on and so forth, backwards in time.
There was never one single moment, never a solitary earth-shattering
second where the paths of time met and diverged, where one choice
meant joy, the other despair. It was all part of the same weave, the
same path and all the choices he'd ever made in his life had brought
him to this moment, sitting on his bike, staring at a photo of Ray
Doyle.

A man who smiled without involving his eyes.

If Bodie asked, Doyle would say no. He knew that as surely as he knew
he was sitting there. He would say no because he would not trust
anything Bodie could say. Because Bodie couldn't tell him the truth,
couldn’t give him anything. Because, after all this, whatever he'd
felt for Bodie, would have turned to hatred by now. The existence of
that note said as much. Doyle would say no - so did Bodie really want
to ask him? Had Cowley given him a choice?

Yes, he had. Ask and get an answer - or leave CI5; not blackmail -
but a pair of diverging paths. Cowley simply wanted the matter
resolved. Bodie's decision would alter his life forever, but it
wouldn't be taken in isolation. It would simply be one of many.

And how many times in his life had he made this decision? Whether to
stay or leave? Whether to take a risk?

Most of his working life had involved mortal risk. Even daily life in
Africa had been survived largely by chance - the environment made it
so. But those were calculated risks, things he could measure against
his own skill, his own determination, his own ability and instinct
for survival.

Which was why every part of him told him to leave now.

Now, while he was lucid, awake and aware. While Doyle was nowhere
near him, confusing and distracting him.

But what was the risk? If he left, it would hurt. Not just leaving
Doyle - but CI5, Cowley. Murphy, Kathy and everyone else. Hurt meant
he'd become attached to them - but he'd known that for a long time.
So, leaving them would hurt. It would take him a long time to forget.

But he would, eventually. Probably. Maybe not Doyle, but everyone
else. Probably.

And what would he risk in staying?

If by some miracle, Doyle didn't kick him out, if Doyle still wanted
him - assuming he did in the first place - what would Bodie risk
losing?

His heart?

His sanity?

His freedom?

He'd been right all along; love hurt too much. And he'd fallen hard
for Doyle. Harder than he'd thought possible.

He would have to give something this time that he'd never risked
giving anyone else in his entire life. The small parts he had given
away before had been destroyed. Losing Doyle on that mountain had
been… But did he dare try it again? Already knowing the risk of
failure? Already aware that if he did fail, there would be nothing of
him left to run away with?

Doyle stared up at him from the photo but now he saw more of that
gaze than he'd noticed before. A typical Doyle gaze, the one that saw
straight through brick walls and scared the daylights out of
strangers because it struck straight through the mess of irrelevancy
and right into the soul.

No, Bodie knew nothing about love. Nothing that really gave him a
clue as to what choice he should make - especially when that choice
had such an effect on so many people he hadn't realized he'd cared so
much about.

He didn't understand love at all and after all of this, perhaps he
was really just too old to learn. Too old, too cynical, too afraid.
Loyalty to himself, first, Cowley had said.

Only a fool expects promises and guarantees. Then again, wasn't it
only fools who fell in love?

And there was no getting away from the fact that he was in love with
Doyle. Completely, hopelessly and permanently.

Very well then; no promises, no guarantees.

And no more questions.
 

April 8.
Thursday, 4pm

Doyle put his hands beneath the end of the long sofa and lifted.
Grunting, he inched it off the floor and shifted it to one side. With
another grunt he straightened up, bending the kinks out of his back.
He picked up the vacuum and proceeded to clean the dust and rubbish
that had collected over the last year. He worked, whistling to the
music he couldn't now hear on the radio. It was a kind of game he
played, listening until the music was drowned out by the vacuum,
whistling - and then seeing if he was still in tune and in time when
he turned the machine off. An idle game but it kept his mind occupied
while he worked.

He was officially on rest days now. There was just the damned dinner
tonight, then tomorrow he was planning to go down to Somerset where
Kathy and Murph had invited him to stay for the weekend. The cottage
was almost on the cliffs and it would be an opportunity for him to
clear his head, to do a spot of drawing and generally do all he could
to forget.

And he needed to. The shadow of Bodie hung around him all day now,
every day. Whereas before he had some degree of control over how he
felt, now he had little. It seemed that in giving Bodie his freedom,
Doyle had consigned himself to hell.

His fitness test was scheduled for Monday but he had no doubts that
he would pass it; Macklin had said as much. Kate Ross, of course, had
said much less - but even there he knew there wouldn't be a problem.
The only nightmares he had now had nothing to do with spending 3
weeks stuck in the snow - and he didn't tell her about those.

No, his life was about to return to normal and that was always the
kind of thing to put a man's mind to rest, give him something to
whistle about - if not to - and if there hadn't been any rumours to
worry about, he could almost believe he was content on the surface.
Almost. Happy was not something he even thought about any more.

But there were rumours and since he couldn't do anything to confirm
them one way or the other, spring cleaning was the only option left
to him - much as he hated it and it was really too early anyway.
Still, it was a good day to be doing it - unusually warm for April, a
bit breezy but quite a bit of sunshine there to be had. He had opened
most of the windows to air the place out, his curtains were down at
the laundry, cushion covers with them. He did the works; who knew
when he'd next get the opportunity? Of course, going by his usual
luck, the Old Man would probably choose next week for Doyle's next
rotation of flat shifting. Cowley always maintained that the best way
to avoid forming habits was to do everything according to whim. His
whim. So, whenever he felt it was time one of his agents should move
- they did. Doyle had been in this flat since he got shot in the last
one. Probably was about due for a move - especially if Cowley found
something he didn't like in Doyle's return to work, like his decision
to work without a partner - no matter the rumours.

When had he first heard them? Monday? Tuesday? At the pub. He'd met a
few of the boys for a drink after training and somewhere in there, in
the background was the suggestion. Sure, nobody actually said
anything to his face - they weren't that silly - and so Doyle had
been unable to do anything, himself. He'd just had to sit there,
pretending nothing was wrong. But the following night, the same thing
had happened and the rumours persisted.

Bodie was coming back.

That's what they said. Been seen training with Towser, on the firing
range, given back his ID and weapon, the silver Capri was no longer
in the car pool looking for a new owner.

Doyle knew that last to be untrue - he'd checked it out himself.
Bodie's old car was still sitting where he'd last left it over a
month ago.

And nobody had actually seen him at Central - though Cowley's driver
had hinted he'd seen the Old Man talking to Bodie and Cowley hadn't
shot him on sight. In many respects, the rumours were supported by
the long-held view that Cowley had some kind of soft-spot for Bodie.

Fortunately, the same was not being said of Doyle.

It threw all his plans into chaos. How was he going to go back to
work if Bodie was there? How was he going to handle it if they ever
had to work together again? It was one thing to behave in a
professional manner, to put personal feelings behind him for the sake
of the job - but this was not just any small problem that could be
glossed over long-term. Hell, it was already eating away at him and
he didn't even know if the rumours were true!

And how would Bodie react, having read Doyle's letter? Would he
understand? Agree? Hate him?

At least it seemed he was well again now. Cowley wouldn't have let
him anywhere near the squad if he hadn't been. The training with
Towser was just as likely to be Cowley's revenge than anything else.

But could the rumours be true? Had Bodie decided not to leave after
all? It seemed impossible.

Doyle finished vacuuming and got himself a beer, drank half of it
then emptied the vac into the rubbish bag. He tied the bag up and
headed outside to dump it in the big bin. He was down stairs and on
the pavement when he heard the noise. Unmistakable noise. He'd heard
it enough times over the last year - he'd never forget it. It sent
his insides tumbling down a precipitous slope.

Bodie's bike.

Roaring up the street.

Doyle stopped, dropping the rubbish bag without thinking. It was
Bodie alright. In full black bike leathers, new helmet on his head,
huge gauntlets on his hands. He slowed as he passed Doyle, roared on
down to the end of the street, did a u-turn and came back, coming to
a bone-breaking halt two feet away from Doyle.

He couldn't move. Astonishment and something bordering on a sense of
vague unreality hindered any reaction he might otherwise have
gathered. He just stood there and stared at Bodie as he pushed the
visor of his helmet up. Bright blue eyes gazed at him, eyes so
beautiful Doyle couldn't look away from them.

"Mornin' sunshine," Bodie yelled over the noise of the motorcycle,
"don't get all worried. I just came by to give you this." He fished
into his left gauntlet and extracted a sheet of paper - no, an
envelope.

*His* envelope. The letter he'd written - unopened!

Bodie reached out, grabbed one of Doyle's hands and slapped the
envelope into it. "I've never stooped so low as to leave somebody a
note on the pillow. I expected better of you, Doyle. Don't ever do
that to me again."

Then he was revving the bike again, glancing over his shoulder for
traffic - and suddenly the air was filled with deafening noise and
the thick stench of fumes as Bodie made his mark on the otherwise
quiet residential street. He was gone from sight within seconds.

It was easily a full minute before Doyle shook himself and tore his
gaze away from the now-empty street. Absently, he picked up his bag
of rubbish and dropped it into the bin. He turned and made for the
stairs back inside - but as he put his hand to the railing, he
noticed the envelope.

Bodie hadn't read it; so Bodie didn't know. And if he didn't know,
how could he just decide he was coming back and why hadn't he read it
and god how was he going to face work next week and…

*"Don't ever do that to me again…*

Bodie's words intruded on his thoughts in the way the bike had
intruded on the peace of the street, on that of his mind.

*"Don't ever do that to me again…*

What did that mean? What damned game was Bodie playing at now?

Doyle crumpled the letter in his hand and went back inside. He didn't
have time to worry about it now. It was almost 5 and Murphy was
picking him up in little more than an hour. He had to shower, shave,
tame his unruly hair - then climb into the tuxedo and be brushed and
scrubbed by the time his lift arrived.

Damned bloody ceremony! If it wasn't for that, he had a good mind to
go around and sort Bodie out once and for all, some kind of solution
that would involve kicking, screaming and perhaps even a black eye
for good measure.

But the Chief Constable of East Scotland wanted to give him a medal -
and the minister had chosen the night for it, deliberately combining
it with the Home Secretary's introductory bash. This new HS wasn't
too dazzled by CI5 and Cowley had impressed upon Doyle, Murphy and
the three other agents attending, that they were duty bound to do all
they could to change the man's mind. Future funding - their pay -
depended on it. That Doyle was about to receive a bravery award
between main course and desert only did them all a favour.

So Doyle headed off to the shower, forgetting all about Bodie…

Well, he tried. Hard. He tried very hard, indeed.

And failed miserably.
 

April 8.
Thursday, 6.45pm

The hum of conversation filled the glittering room along with the
chink of cocktail glasses. The gathering was relatively small; the
cabinet, Prime Minister, heads of both MI5 and MI6, Special Branch -
and of course, CI5. Along with them a further fifty or so people,
making movement through the room a little awkward.

Cowley had already arrived, in his usual debonair dark suit, playing
the courtier to the Home Secretary and their own Minister. Doyle
watched them from the other side of the room. His trained eye noting
how Cowley smiled at all the right times, how his gaze met the
Minister's every now and then, to share an unspoken thought, how the
HS didn't notice.

Doyle stuck to one side of the room, less uncomfortable in these
surroundings than Murphy. He kept tugging at the collar of his shirt
and sipping his champagne a little too quickly.

"Relax," Doyle murmured with a smile. "Somebody might think you don't
belong here."

"I don't."

"You do to the eyes of the security men in the room. I doubt the Old
Man would appreciate it too much if you ended up getting accosted by
somebody from Special and asked to show you credentials. Don't worry.
It won't be long before they troop us in to dinner."

Murphy raised his eyebrows and made a visible attempt to relax.
However, he still managed to drain his glass and collect another from
a passing waiter. "All I can say is, it's a good job they're giving
you this damned award."

"Why?"

"Gives me an excuse to be here. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Doyle frowned and turned his gaze on the taller man. Murphy's
expression was as shuttered as usual, giving rise to a glimmer of
discomfort in Doyle. "But it's just a damned stupid gesture. It's not
like I really did anything."

Again Murphy's eyebrows rose and he surveyed Doyle like one would
peruse the stocks and shares pages of the Financial Times. "I wasn't
there, so I can't really say - but I did go up there to investigate
your supposed death - and I saw the conditions you were operating in.
Now you and I both know the real ins and outs of bravery - but I have
to say, what you did still deserves a medal in my book."

"But why?"

Murphy shrugged, "You didn't give up. You didn't just leave Russell
for dead. You got back alive - and brought him with you. Sounds
simple I know, but to men like this, courage is simple. They want to
think it is. They want to believe that there are courageous people
out there - and they want to reward it when they see it. Personally,"
Murphy added, with a typical twinkling smile, "I think you've got a
lot of courage - but don't tell anybody I said it."

Doyle couldn't respond to that and after a moment, he looked away to
find Cowley signalling him over to meet the HS. Like an obedient
child, he did as he was told, shaking the man's hand, murmuring the
right words in all the right places, shrugging off his nominated
actions, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that reminded him
he'd done things that would rate as far braver in his normal run of
the mill day at work. Unfortunately, he couldn't say anything about
that to the HS - nor could he tell the man that he knew somebody far
braver than himself and that sometimes courage crossed the line of
physical risk and battered at the doors of the soul itself. Any man
who could weather that storm deserved a medal much more than Doyle
did.

Ironic that he was being given a medal for courage for getting out of
a situation brought about by his own cowardice.

That would wipe the smiles off their faces - if he told them all the
truth. The thought almost made him grin as he turned away, dismissed
for the moment. His face froze however, as he left them and noticed
somebody standing on the other side of the room.

Bodie stood alone, a glass of what looked like water in his hand. His
formal tuxedo, bristling black, complimented the shade of his neatly
cropped hair. His bearing was one of pride, broad shoulders back,
stance tall and graceful. Elegance personified. So damned
good-looking he drew the glances of more than a few women in the
room.

So damned gorgeous - but what the hell was he doing here?

The normal shift of people between them hid Bodie for a moment and,
suddenly terrified, Doyle took the opportunity to move away, find
another spot in the room where he wouldn't have to look at him, or
worse still, talk to him. He found a corner where a Grecian urn
filled with a spray of flowers could hide him until the call into
dinner. With any luck, Bodie might not have seen him, might not find
him until it was too late. His heart pounded in his chest and his
fingers grew cold and damp. He finished his drink and quickly
replaced it with another, downing half that before he could stop
himself.

He was being foolish, he knew. He'd only seen Bodie that afternoon -
why should he be reacting like this? Now?

What was Bodie doing here?

"One of these days," a low melodious voice behind him murmured, "I'm
going to find a way to stop you running from me."

Doyle started, swallowed hard - but couldn't stop himself from
turning. Bodie stood about three feet away from him, beyond him the
rest of the room spread out, oblivious to the sudden tension between
them. Doyle finished his drink before he could bring himself to meet
Bodie's gaze.

Electric blue zapped through him hard. For a moment, he couldn't
breathe. Carefully casual, Bodie lifted another glass from a passing
waiter and handed it to him, disposing of the dead one. Doyle took a
heavy mouthful, his eyes unable to look away from Bodie now.

The dark eyebrows were raised slightly, but the expression on his
face was anything but mocking. His gaze burned into Doyle, flaying
him alive, peeling back every layer he'd rebuilt over the last few
days, every rationalisation that promised he could live, eat and
breathe without this man in his life - and even those frail ones
which promised he could survive working in the same organisation.

It was hopeless - just as he'd suspected it would be. The only way
either of them would survive to old age was if they parted and never
saw each other again…

"You look beautiful enough to kiss," Bodie murmured, unconcerned by
the people milling behind him.

Doyle's heart did a massive thump and returned to its now-normal
hammering.

"But then you always did, even in your faded jeans and old t-shirts."
Bodie's expression gave absolutely nothing away, displaying nothing,
hinting nothing. Totally inscrutable. "Though tonight, in that getup,
you look particularly appealing. Don't know how anybody could keep
their hands off you."

Vaguely, Doyle noticed the tenor of the murmuring voices had changed.
People were moving into the dining room. He tore his gaze away from
Bodie for a moment, desperation driving his strangled voice, "What do
you want?"

Bodie's gaze shifted slightly, raking over Doyle from head to foot,
drinking in everything he saw, openly hungry. "I want to take you to
bed."

Doyle's stomach did a flip, a not entirely unpleasant sensation -
then was abruptly filled with butterflies. But fortune smiled upon
him, preventing him from having to find a reply. At that moment, the
announcement was made and he took his chance. He darted past Bodie
and headed for the door to the dining room, finishing his drink on
the way.

Pressed in on all sides by people in suits and evening gowns, Doyle
lost sight of Bodie. He entered the dining room and found Murphy
already seated. Name cards dotted the round table and he sat in his
place, heart slowing a little as he determined to settle himself.
Murphy, the bastard, said nothing at all - though he obviously knew
the source of Doyle's nervousness.

The escape didn't last long. A minute of peace - and then Bodie was
at his side, pulling a chair out from the table beside him.
Belatedly, Doyle noticed a name tag for him right there, beside his.

This just wasn't fair!

Bodie greeted his fellow agents warmly. The six of them had the table
to themselves and the others looked determined to make the most of
this luxury. Normally, Doyle would have joined them in making a real
night of it. Now, all he could think of was how long it would take to
get to the presentation bit and how quickly and cleanly he could get
away afterwards.

Bodie sat, his left thigh colliding with Doyle's. He tried not to
flinch - but then Bodie moved, reaching for the jug of water. He
poured, offered it to the others, then sat back again - this time,
bringing his thigh right up hard against Doyle's.

He could feel the warmth through two layers of cloth, searing his
flesh, sending unwelcome signals to other parts of his body. Even as
his mind cried out with anguish, his body remembered the touch of
Bodie against him, welcome, heated, wanting and desired.

He was being given an award for bravery - when the man sitting beside
him scared the hell out of him -

Because he knew that if Bodie made a move towards him, he would never
be able to resist, never find the strength inside to reject the
chance to make love to Bodie one more time, to feel at least the
illusion of intimacy, of love. He wanted it too badly, wanted Bodie
too much. Loved him too much.

Did Bodie know? Did he have any idea the effect he was having on
Doyle?

Bodie continued conversation with the others, his voice giving
nothing away. He was his usual charming self, catching up with the
others on current jobs, past glories. Doyle couldn't listen. He was
too busy counting the minutes, concentrating on how to get out of the
building without having to be alone with Bodie, all too aware of that
touch against his leg.

The first course of the meal arrived and Bodie tucked into his, while
Doyle picked at a lettuce leaf. Till now, always his greatest ally,
his body was now betraying him. Every muscle, every sinew strained
taught against the presence beside him. Every part of his soul longed
for what Bodie offered - even as his mind shrieked warning.

It would be just like before. Just like the last time and the aborted
time before that. Hadn't Bodie learned that just going to bed
together was the biggest mistake they could possibly make? Hadn't
they made it twice already?

Hadn't Doyle learned?

So why did he want it so much? Why did he still want Bodie so much?

The plates before him changed as more inedible food was brought
around. Doyle kept to the alcohol but after the first glass of wine,
Bodie glanced at him, boring into him again with those eyes so full
of heady suggestion, of lingering desire, smouldering just below the
surface.

"You'd better be careful with that. Don't want you to be incapable
when the time comes."

Doyle started, nearly spilling his wine.

Bodie smiled slightly, knowing Doyle read the suggestion, "You know -
when they call you up to give you your award."

Doyle couldn't stand it any more. "Why are you here?"

"I told you," Bodie murmured softly so nobody else could hear, his
gaze steady, drawing Doyle in, revealing open desire. "I want you in
my bed tonight." Then Bodie shrugged, hiding again, his voice
returning to normal, "Besides, we were the best team on the block.
How would it look if I wasn't here to applaud your courage along with
half of Whitehall? You know me, if there's any glory going around, I
want to be basking in it. Later, over port and cigars, I'll tell them
all how I taught you everything you know."

"Don't believe a word of it, Doyle," Anson said around mouthfuls of
roast beef. "He's here for the food, nothing else."

"Exactly," Bodie added, his gaze once more, only for Doyle. "Good
enough to eat."

Doyle felt a flush growing up from his collar and he tore his gaze
away, pinning it to his plate. But he couldn't do anything about the
rush of warmth at his groin, nor the shift of Bodie's leg against
his, increasing the area touched

Unwanted images sprang into his mind, of Bodie wrapped around him,
naked, hot and hard. Of Bodie's hands on him, his mouth. The promise
of exotic pleasures he'd only dreamed about. He swatted at them, but
they wouldn't shift.

"Ray?"

He looked up. A hand moved in front of him, taking his untouched food
away.

"What?"

"It's time. The Minister has introduced the Chief Constable. Do you
want me to straighten your tie?"

Doyle met Bodie's gaze again but this time he saw something different
there and the brief touch reached his heart, melting him. Wordlessly,
he nodded and his reward was a smile so small, anybody else would
have missed it. Then Bodie was fixing his tie and Doyle was coming to
his feet amid a hale of applause as his name was spoken.

How he reached the small podium, he didn't know. But then things
moved quickly. The Chief, a man his own height with a firm handshake
and steady all-seeing eyes, handed him a small plaque and stepped
back, offering him the microphone. For a second, Doyle was tempted to
turn it down and make a hasty retreat - but then, something stronger
came over him and he stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"Prime Minister, Cabinet Members, my lords, ladies and gentlemen," he
began, just as Cowley had trained him. "That it is an honour to
receive this award, almost goes without saying - but so much goes
without saying these days, we miss out on too much. I do appreciate
this award but I feel it leaves so much unsaid - of the Search and
Rescue teams who scoured the mountain looking for those of us still
missing, risking their own lives to save ours," he paused as applause
filled the room. When it silenced, he continued, "of those men and
women who work each day risking their lives to keep our society safe
from crime, who display each day a courage I couldn't begin to
emulate." More applause. He paused, listening, his gaze going
inexorably to Bodie. "I wouldn't honestly recommend spending three
weeks on a snowbound mountainside to anyone as an object lesson - but
in that time I learned more about courage than I thought possible. I
wasn't brave; I was just trying to survive, to get Russell to safety.
I didn't think about it in terms of fear and courage. I wasn't afraid
of the mountain - but it taught me," he paused again, swallowing,
suddenly realizing how hard it was to say this to a room full of
people. "It taught me that courage was feeling the fear - but going
on anyway. My thanks go to the Chief Constable and to the people of
the mountains, without whom many more would die from the cold each
year."

He stepped back from the microphone to resounding applause - and a
standing ovation. The Chief shook his hand again, Cowley came
forward, shook his hand and said something he didn't hear - and then
he was walking back to his table, shaking inside. As he regained his
seat, another speech began and desert was being served. Anson, Murphy
and all the others shook his hand, slapped his back and generally
made a rather silly fuss of him until he could get free of them and
sink back into his seat. He reached for his drink - and found it
handed to him.

The brush of Bodie's fingers over his set him alight all over again
and he looked up, knowing his desire shone in his eyes. Bodie read it
and smiled, sensuous, lingering and driven. "I'm proud of you,
sunshine. Sip only. Then coffee I think."

Doyle nodded, all will emptied out of him in that one second. He
would be Bodie's tonight - and they both knew it.
 
 

Bodie watched the speaches, the award, the applause, the crowd, the
waiters moving around the room, but none of it had any impact on him
at all. For long moments, moments that had him drifting in time,
standing apart and isolated, it seemed as if everything else in the
room faded to dim grey shadows, leaving him alone with Ray.

Every small shift in the man's expression, every tiny change in his
voice wound Bodie tighter until he knew that if he didn't do
something soon, he would explode. But this tension had none of the
old confusion to it. No. None of it. This, what he was feeling here,
amid so many strangers, was nothing more than pristine and absolute
clarity. Ray was his treasure, his prize, his goal.

Dressed in his sharp suit, hair clean and shining, Doyle needed no
bravery award to turn heads in this place. But Bodie couldn't have
cared less. His every breath, every thought was concentrated on the
man beside him. Never before had he felt so alive, so wired up, so
perfectly in tune with his partner.

Oh, yes, he saw the fear in Ray's eyes - but he also saw the desire,
the need. Alongside it all was the courage. Bodie only hoped there
would be enough for both of them to get through this. God knew he had
none of his own left.

So he breathed the same air as Doyle, watched him, watched over him
and counted the minutes until they could be alone, without these
shadows surrounding them.
 
 

Doyle had hoped that once he'd got his award, he might be able to
slip away without anyone noticing - especially not Bodie. A silly
hope perhaps, but of course, things were never going to be that easy.
As soon as the speeches were over, Cowley collared him, taking him on
the political rounds, introducing him here and there. More
handshaking, more nodding and smiling and saying all the right
things. He downed one cup of coffee after another, supplied by a
Bodie who kept appearing at his left elbow, somewhat like the devil
but infinitely more attractive. After an hour, he began to get hungry
and strangely enough, Bodie handed him a fresh buttered bread roll.
Another followed and still the rounds of introductions continued.

The stress of the whole night started to take its toll on him. He'd
drunk far too much on an empty stomach - and the coffee was beginning
to go to war with the alcohol. After too many trips to the bathroom,
he began to feel lightheaded, found his smile a little too fixed -
and then Bodie appeared again, murmuring some words he didn't hear to
Cowley. With a nod, Cowley released Doyle from further
responsibilities and suddenly Doyle found himself being steered out
of the room.

Panic struck him.

Bodie kept a firm grip on his elbow as they passed through the first
room where small knots of people now spilled out from the dining
room. Most likely, the evening would end up some kind of drunken
revelry - but Doyle was beyond it. He was out the door into the
entrance hall before he could get Bodie to stop. Even so, coats were
handed to them, Bodie helping Doyle put his on.

"Wait."

"Why?" Bodie replied, thanking the attendant. "You wanna stick around
a bit longer?"

"No. I…"

Bodie glanced at him. "Come on. We'll grab a taxi." When Doyle didn't
move immediately, Bodie took his elbow again and they left the
building. With a wave of his arm, Bodie hailed a taxi and they
climbed in. Seated in the back, Doyle tried to hide in the darkness,
but Bodie's leg rested against his again, his hand now half on
Doyle's thigh. As the dark city streets slipped past, Bodie's fingers
gently caressed his leg and once more his body responded, betraying
him.

Bodie didn't say anything. It seemed Doyle's complicity was expected,
that he needed no words, no explanation, that the last few nightmare
weeks had never happened, that all the turmoil had no cause. No, it
appeared Bodie believed Doyle would go along with this, spend the
night in bed with him and then pretend it never happened.

It didn't seem to matter to Bodie that Doyle didn't want this, that
he didn't want another empty tumble with Bodie, that going along with
it was tearing him apart because he knew he had no choice, that his
body wouldn't let him say no. That even as these thoughts flew across
his mind, he wished Bodie would lean close and kiss him - and damn
the taxi driver.
 
 

Bodie kept himself steady throughout the taxi ride only because he
knew it wouldn't take long. But having Ray sitting so close to him,
making no move to get away, made the ride so sweet, he almost wanted
it to go on. More than once, he allowed his fingers to idly caress
Ray's thigh, wishing that he was brave enough to turn his head and
take those lips in a tender kiss, something that might communicate
something to Ray, to settle the fear Bodie knew was rolling around
inside him. He wanted that fear to end, wanted to see Ray smiling at
him, wanted to see Ray want him, wanted to share the terrifying
clarity with him.

But he did nothing. Instead, he simply sat there and allowed the
warmth of the body beside him to seep into him, to feed him, to calm
him. He needed to be calm. He would never survive this otherwise.
 
 

They turned a corner and the taxi pulled up before a glistening
doorway Doyle didn't recognize. It looked like a hotel.

Great - they couldn't even bring themselves to do it in the warmth of
their own flats. This had gone beyond the realms of danger and into
the sordid.

Except the hotel didn't look particularly sordid. In fact, it looked
luxurious. Bodie paid the taxi and again, took Doyle's elbow, leading
him through the foyer to the lift. There however, Doyle's luck
turned; at the last second, an elderly couple got into the lift with
them and he was not alone with Bodie. All the same, Bodie stood a
little behind him, managing to bring a hand to Doyle's shoulder,
unseen by the couple. There a thumb gently caressed the side of his
neck, heightening the tension already flowing through his body. Any
more of this and he'd snap like a twig.

The doors opened and they left the couple behind. Like a child, Doyle
let Bodie lead him along a plush corridor and around a corner. There
he paused before a door, unlocked it and ushered Doyle inside.

The sighted that greeted him took his breath away.

On the wall opposite was a window that stretched the full width of
the room and there displayed for him to view was the whole of London
laid out, glowing in night lights and glistening with soft rain. His
feet took him to the window without thinking. There was a small
balcony beyond and he pushed the French doors open, letting the cool
night air touch his face, wake him up from this strange dream.

From up here, London didn't look at all like the city they'd toiled
the last five years to keep clean of drugs and guns and terrorists.
From up here, it looked beautiful.
 
 

Bodie watched Doyle cross the room, heard the short intake of breath
as he saw the view. With the soft lights picking up the auburn glints
in his hair, he looked so beautiful to Bodie, it was all he could do
not to instantly take the man in his arms, hold him and cherish him,
make love to him, right there.

Surely Ray would understand. He had to. He knew Bodie, understood him
like no other ever had. He simply had to understand - or Bodie would
be lost forever.

For a second, panic assailed him but he kept his gaze on Doyle and
allowed that presence to steady him again. Again. As it always had.
Only then, when he was ready, did he finally move.
 
 

Doyle felt a presence beside him. Bodie handed him a glass of
champagne. He took it, sipped briefly, then spoke, his voice filled
with the awe he was feeling. "It's incredible. This must have cost
you a fortune."

His answer was a vague shrug.

Doyle turned to look at the room - or rather, the suite. They stood
in the living area where crisp cream and gold décor flashed against
dark honey carpet and subtle olive trim. Antique furniture graced the
corners while a huge comfy sofa stood in front of a fireplace. To his
left was another door open to the bedroom. Even from here he could
see the size of the bed and suddenly he remembered why they were
here. "Bodie?"

"Yeah?"

"Bodie… I…"

The voice that spoke to him was very close, "Just say no, Ray. That's
all you have to do. You don't need to run - just say you don't want
me and I'll take you home."

Doyle struggled for a moment, then turned, catching Bodie's gaze on
him. Those blue eyes bored into him, sending a spike of anticipation
right through his soul to his groin. Of course Doyle couldn't say no.
That's why Bodie had gone to this trouble, this expense.

Taking his silence for agreement - which of course, it was - Bodie
reached up and placed his hand against Doyle's face. The touch was
cool and gentle and so very welcome. Then he leaned forward and
buried his face against Doyle's neck. Involuntarily, Doyle moaned.
How could he want this so much - and yet not want it at the same
time? Why couldn't he be just like Bodie and take the sex and run? It
would be incredible, he knew - so why did it bother him so much? Was
love really so important? If Bodie could live without it, couldn't
he?

The forgotten glass was taken from his fingers and put aside as Bodie
continued his seduction. Kisses were left across his throat and up
onto his jaw, bringing his flesh alive with tingling. Hands rose to
undo the tie. It fell open at his collar like a flower opening to the
sun. Then the buttons of his shirt, one at a time, slowly,
deliberately. When Bodie's hand slipped beneath the cloth to touch
his skin, he shuddered, leaning closer despite the war going on
inside his head. Another moan escaped him. His arms moved around
Bodie's neck, his eyes closed and then without warning, Bodie's lips
were on his, touching deftly, lingering, soft and wanting, strong and
hard all at the same time.

It was a good thing Bodie was holding him because Doyle's knees chose
that moment to weaken. With a little laugh, Bodie pulled him closer,
deepening the kiss, drowning Doyle and for a moment, blotting out all
the arguments he'd ever had in his entire life.

God he was good at this. And so beautiful; what choice did Doyle have
but to love him to distraction? So damned wounded and deprived, and
needing the love Doyle would have given him so freely, if only he'd
ask, if only he wanted it.

At last Bodie drew away, his arms around Doyle, his eyes gazing
steadily, deep, deep blue, so devastating, Doyle wanted to live in
them and forget forever all his reservations.

Bodie brushed the hair from his face, "Bed."

Like a creature without will, Doyle let Bodie take his hand and
together they walked into the other room. Bodie shed his jacket as
they stopped before the bed then turned to slip Doyle's from his
shoulders. Then they were on the bed, lying side by side as Bodie
gathered him up again, pressing more moist kisses into his throat,
down to his chest. The shirt was spread open and Bodie's mouth took
the first nipple he found.

Doyle stiffened, biting back a groan but Bodie had already moved on,
his hands feeling the flesh beneath them, wanting, searching and
seeking, finding. Doyle had no choice but to respond. Already hard,
his breathing now worked in tandem with Bodie's movements as the
other man gently loosed more of his clothing. Each step he took,
brought them closer to damnation - and Doyle knew it, felt it with
every bone in his body - even as he craved it so badly. If a man was
to go to hell, this was the best - the only way to do it.

But now he could make no move of his own - and now he understood how
Bodie had felt that night after the river incident. Wanting and not
wanting. Needing and yet rejecting. Fighting with every breath,
complicity in silence.

All he had to do was say no - and yet all he wanted to do was say
yes.

Bodie kissed him again, once more hushing the raging thoughts. His
lips were sweet and tasted of champagne. More than that, they tasted
of Bodie, of the man he loved more than his own life. They tasted of
pain and passion, of loss and desire, of longing and belonging and
the depth of it all broke Doyle's heart utterly. As Bodie moved on
again, Doyle pulled in a breath, his whole body stiff against the
onslaught.

"Christ, Bodie," he whispered, tears stinging his eyes. "Just fuck me
and get it over with."

Slowly, Bodie's head came up, his gaze steady, locking onto Doyle's
without a hint of mercy. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes. No. I mean yes… I mean…"

Something like surprise wafted across Bodie's face - then it
disappeared into a frown. He gently disentangled himself and got off
the bed. Without a word, he turned to the window and pushed it open
wide, bringing cold air into the warm room. He stood with his back to
Doyle, saying nothing.

Doyle saw his chance to leave. If he got up now and walked out, Bodie
wouldn't stop him.

But it would also be the last time he ever saw him.

He'd run away before.

But to go to him now?

He didn't know what to do. This was a mood he'd seen before and while
it scared him, he couldn't just leave Bodie to drown on his own.

He slid off the bed and walked carefully towards the window. He could
have stopped there, but he needed to see Bodie's face, needed to read
what was there. He turned to find Bodie's gaze ranging across the
view for a moment. Then it hit on Doyle again. Resignation, confusion
and a kind of anger turned completely inwards. The gaze searched
Doyle's for long minutes, achieving little but making Doyle more
concerned with every second.

"Bodie, I'm sorry."

Bodie stiffened and hissed in a breath, the words acting like an open
flame to a fuse wire. He turned away, shaking his head, his shoulders
a solid wall. "Don't you damned well start apologising to me. Do you
hear? It's not your bloody fault, Ray, it's mine! This whole stupid
thing, from start to finish! You apologize one more time and I'll
bloody well hit you!"

In a flash, Doyle's bewilderment vanished, replaced by simple fury.
"Well, what the hell am I supposed to say? You told me to say no if I
wanted."

"Yeah but you didn't, did you?" Bodie still kept his face averted.
"You just told me to fuck you, reducing it all to just… making it out
like it was…" His voice trailed off, compressed anger bringing in
hoarse breaths.

"Sordid?" Doyle supplied, unable to help provoking the anger further.
"What did you expect, Bodie? You tell me you want to take me to bed,
you bring me here - and yet it's all just like before, isn't it? All
one great big seduction. Did you want me to run off again? So you
could blame me? Make it all my fault? Or did you want to be able to
blame yourself, like you blamed yourself for my supposed death?"

Bodie whirled around at that, his eyes wide and for a moment,
uncomprehending, savage with a self hatred so overwhelming, Doyle
lost his own anger completely. "Jesus, Ray," Bodie hissed, his voice
coming from the depths of hell, "don't you understand - I could have
killed you! I almost did! For three weeks, I had! All because I
couldn't bring myself to…"

"To what, Bodie?" Doyle replied, keeping his voice level, even as the
rest of him was falling.

Bodie frowned, his mouth pressed in a thin line, his eyes darkening,
"Why?" he said, almost to himself, "Why can't I resist you?"

"Then take me to bed and let's get it over with," Doyle growled, hope
dying in each word. "I won't say no, Bodie. I'll give you what you
want. I should have done it the first time." Suddenly the words were
getting difficult to say, his throat constricting as he fought back
the depths of his despair. Tears pricked at his eyes but he ignored
them. "If sex is all you want, then let's do it."

Bodie stared at him, mouth open, unmoving as Doyle's words sank in.
For a moment, he said nothing, then he shook his head slowly, the
anger fading with each second. Then, his voice soft and full of
wonder, Bodie murmured, "Christ, Ray, I don't want your body."

Doyle looked away. He couldn't stand there and watch Bodie again,
watch him try to find some new way to remove love from the question.
Perhaps he should have just gone, when he could. "You expect me to
believe that?"

Bodie's hand came up to Doyle's cheek, touching softly, his voice low
and open. "Yes, I tried to seduce you that night. No, I didn't give
you enough time to think it through. But I need to know, Ray. I need
to know why you're saying no."

Wanting to lean into that touch but afraid to, Doyle kept his face
averted and tried to keep his lungs bringing in air. Something heavy
was settled on his chest and energy was required to keep him going -
energy he no longer had at his disposal. Words were beyond him.

Bodie came closer until Doyle could feel the breath on his cheek.
"You do want me, don't you?"

"You didn't read the letter."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I already knew what you wanted to say."

"And what was that?"

Bodie's voice dropped to little more than a whisper, "Do you want
me?"

The touch against the side of his face made Doyle's skin burn; the
voice made him die with each word spoken. A cold, worse than that
coming through the windows, was filling him inside, hard and deathly,
just as he'd always feared. An empty abyss he would have to live with
for the rest of his life. Tears welled in his eyes again as he shook
his head, a denial of what he knew to be true. Hoarse words came out
of him, condemning them both at the same time. "Please, Bodie, just
let me go."

"No."

"Then…" Doyle stood there, stripped of every sense he had, stripped
even of his soul. "Then let's go to bed and we can finish it. Please,
Bodie. I can't take any more. It hurts too much."

"You run away from me again and it will be over."

"Oh, Bodie, it already is. It was over almost the moment it began.
Can't you see that?" Doyle could hardly see the city below, his eyes
were glazed with tears he couldn’t stop shedding.

"Then why are you still here?"

"We both know this will never be finished until we do it. That's what
you wanted from the start." Doyle's voice faltered then. He'd already
given his life into the hands of this man, his heart, his soul - why
not his body? Even if it never meant anything, even if it destroyed
him, he would do it because it had to be done. There was something in
Bodie that needed this and Doyle no longer cared what it did to him.
They had to be free of one another - and if that meant nothing more
than sex, then that was what he had to give.

"Jesus, Ray."

Doyle began to tremble as Bodie leaned closer, his lips brushing the
side of his cheek. Terror warred inside him with a desire that failed
completely to warm the ice in his heart. He would never touch love,
not now, he would only ever glimpse it, see enough of it to know that
he wanted it but would never have it.

But if a glimpse was all he could have with this man, he would take
it, no matter how scared he was.

Bodie turned him, placing a hand on each side of his face, his eyes
open with wonder, desire and something inexplicable. "Jesus, Ray," he
repeated. "You are so beautiful. And you're still here." With that,
he leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to Doyle's lips. Fingers
brushed away the tears as Bodie held him close, whispering in his
ear. "Bravest man I ever met."

Unable to move, Doyle felt his voice catch, a sob sitting just below
the surface. "Please, Bodie, just do it."

"Oh, god, Ray, I don't want your body," Bodie whispered into the
silence. "I want *you*." Bodie kissed him again, lightly, holding his
need in check, cradling Doyle's face like it was a thing so precious
it scared him. "I want you, Ray. *All* of you."

Doyle looked up then, his fear making him shake within Bodie's hold.
The blue eyes that gazed steadily at him no longer held anything but
certainty, a deep well of it, a chasm so full of warmth Doyle wanted
to bury himself in it. Shock held him frozen, parts of him desperate
now to fall into that heat, warm the ice inside him. He needed it so
much.

But Bodie simply shook his head, a gentle smile lighting the sky in
his eyes. The silence stretched between them, long and empty as
Bodie's gaze remained fixed on Doyle, his hands steady. Then his
eyebrows rose a little, a tiny frown flashed into existence and was
gone. Taking in a deep breath, Bodie murmured, "It scares the hell
out of me. You scare the hell out of me… but…" Bodie paused, the
smile returning, "but I do love you so much."

Suddenly Doyle couldn't breathe. He blinked, frowning, half his body
making some strange effort to break away.

Bodie's smile simply widened. "Never thought I'd hear myself say it.
Promised myself I wouldn't. But I should have done it a long time
ago. I didn't bring you here just to seduce you - I wanted to try and
show you that I love you. You needed to know even if I couldn't say
it. Was never much good with words."

His whole body trembling out of his control now, Doyle couldn't find
any words of his own to say. He wanted to - desperately - but he
couldn't take his eyes from Bodie, from what he'd just said, from the
surprise, shock, disbelief, damn it, everything that was making a
complete unholy mess inside him right now. His whole body felt like a
warzone and only Bodie's steadiness and calm kept him in one piece.

"But you were right," Bodie continued, softly, evenly. "Only a fool
expects guarantees from love. And that's what I wanted, that's what I
kept expecting because I was so scared of getting hurt again, of
losing myself. I never realized that what I should have been doing
all along was *giving* guarantees. Giving promises." Bodie smiled
again, bringing his face close, touching his lips to Doyle's
forehead, his voice low and thick with emotion. "I love you, Ray. I
will love you every day of my life. If you want me, I'm yours, till
death us do part."

"And…" Doyle struggled, fighting, going down, fighting and coming
back up again. It was hard… but… "And if I don't want you?"

Bodie pulled him close, buried his face in Doyle's hair. "I'll still
love you. Nothing will change that. But… if you don't want me… if you
were only doing this because I wanted it then… I will take you home,
now. I'll let you go. If you need to be free of me, then you will
be."

"If I need…?" Doyle hissed in a breath as though he hadn't taken one
since this night had begun. His head spun at the sudden infusion of
oxygen but he kept his eyes open, his hands going to Bodie's arms,
pulling him back so he could look into that blue again. A blue that
was warm enough to melt the glacier. "You said you were going to
leave me."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Bodie half-smiled in that boyish way.
"Couldn't. I kept telling myself I was just being weak, vulnerable -
and yet the answer was sitting there, staring at me in the face. It
was already too late."

Doyle shook his head, not understanding at all. "Too late?"

"This is my life. Here and now, with you. With Cowley and CI5. This
is what I made it - and I made it because this was what I wanted. I
could no more leave this - you - than I could leave myself. So much
of what I am is what you made of me. And I wanted you to do that. I
needed it. Does that make any sense?"

"I don't know." Doyle said nothing more for a moment as his gaze
tried to absorb what his heart was desperate for. Bodie was standing
there, telling him about love, about pain, about himself, about need
and about wanting - and every sound, every touch soaked into Doyle,
feeding him, bringing him alive. No man dying of thirst in a desert
wanted that drink more. But he was still so scared. Scared that it
might be a dream, that Bodie might be hiding something, doing or
saying whatever he thought Doyle might want in order to keep him.
Silly, foolish, unjust fears - but fears nonetheless. "Bodie, are you
sure?"

"That I love you?" Bodie frowned a little, "Yeah, positive."

"But… "

"What?"

"Isn't it just possible…" Doyle picked his way through the minefield
of words he could choose from, "that it *is* just sex?"

 "No." Bodie shook his head, then paused, a shadow forming around his
eyes, a plain display of his own fears. "No, I'm sure." He paused
before continuing. "Ray, I never wanted to tell you this but -
remember that day I went off, came into work late?"

"Yeah."

"Well… I knew what I was feeling for you and I… well… I needed to
know if it *was* just sex. I… er… went to Birmingham, to a gay bar
and…"

"You picked a guy up?"

"Well," Bodie dropped his gaze, his hands holding Doyle's arms only
lightly now. "It was more like he picked me up, but you get the
idea."

Something inside Doyle wanted to laugh. Something really broken and
shattered and now suddenly made whole again. He wanted desperately to
laugh - but he knew Bodie would take it the wrong way - so he kept
his voice steady as he asked, "What happened?"

"Not a lot." Obviously uncomfortable with the confession, Bodie
didn't look at him. "I just wanted to know if a man… well, a man's
body would really…you know, turn me on - in reality. Whether just any
man would do or if it really had to be you."

"And did you find out?"

"Oh, yeah." Bodie nodded.

"Tell me?"

Bodie stayed silent so Doyle did the only thing he could do. He
reached out, pulled Bodie in close and kissed him. Deliberately.
Slowly. With everything he'd wanted to show Bodie but had been afraid
of. When they parted, Doyle gazed steadily into that blue and
repeated, "Tell me."

Blinking, Bodie replied, "I made him come and yes, his body, his
touch did turn me on. He offered to… well, my… body wanted it but… I
just couldn't, you know? Didn't want… him. Wanted to be doing it with
you."

And Doyle smiled. He couldn't help it. The muscles on his face had a
mind of their own and right at that moment, they wanted to smile and
they just did. The gesture ran right across his face, up to his eyes,
down his throat and into his heart. With an almost audible sound, the
ice sealing him up, cracked and split open, leaving him raw and
vulnerable, but not even remotely afraid.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you… "

"Yeah."

Hesitation, fear and vulnerablility flowed across Bodie's face then.
"I mean… you don't have to say anything… I know I've been an ass and
I don't deserve an answer… but I would like to know… whether you…"

"Yeah, I do."

"What?"

"Want you." Doyle let his smile say the rest, then gathered Bodie
into his arms and kissed him again and suddenly Bodie's arms were
around him, holding him so tight he thought he might break. For long
blissful moments, Doyle lost himself, let himself drown, coming up
for air before going down again. He didn't mind. This was what he
needed, this baptism, feeling the need in Bodie's arms, his whole
body. Bodie kissed him with ferocious desire, blending them together,
making a new whole, washing away the past with a determination for
the future.

And then they were parted, standing there, like silly teenagers,
grinning at each other, catching their breath and again, Doyle wanted
to laugh.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

Bodie smiled a little, pausing, needing and trying to find a way to
express it. "Do you think maybe… you might… some day… love me?"

This time, Doyle let himself laugh, low and husky, his hands coming
up to brush over Bodie's lips, something he'd wanted to do for a long
time. "You're right, you are an ass. You never asked me why I ran
away."

"No." Quiet, hesitant, unsure.

"Ask me, Bodie. Ask me why I ran away."

"What?" Confusion over that beautiful face made Doyle laugh again.

"Just ask me, Bodie."

"Okay. Why did you run away?"

"Because when you started kissing me that night, I discovered I'd
loved you for a long time. Wanted you for a long time and just never
knew it. I ran because I was afraid you couldn't love me and I didn't
want to lose the friendship. I didn't want us to make love and then
face each other the next day, knowing we'd ruined it all."

"Would we have?"

"Yeah," Doyle's smiled softened as he nodded. "We both would have
regretted it because it would never have been what either of us
really wanted - but neither of us was in a position to ask for that.
We would have ended up hating each other."

"I suppose so," Bodie nodded. Then abruptly, he frowned, "Hang on,
did you just say… you loved me?"

"Uh huh."

Half of Bodie's face rose in a silly smile, "Really?"

"Yeah. Of course, I was an idiot to run all the way to Scotland - but
I was scared."

Bodie simply shook his head and pulled Doyle closer, "Yeah, me too.
Doesn't matter now. You're here and that's all I care about."

"Really? That's all?" Doyle swallowed, feeling every inch of Bodie's
body against his. Inside, the cold left him completely and was
replaced with something that was singing - ridiculously - but singing
nonetheless. Bodie - his Bodie - loved him! As far as he was
concerned, his insides could sing all they damned well liked!

Doyle's fingers came up and traced the edge of Bodie's jaw, his lips
followed, breathing in the scent of the man. He let his body go very
still, suddenly unable to do anything but say the words on his
tongue, "So you don't want to fuck me?"

"Jesus, Ray, of course I do!" Bodie breathed, all smiles gone,
replaced by an awed stillness which matched Doyle's. "But what I
really want right now is to know what you want."

The devil in Doyle made him grin, "So you want to know if I want you
to fuck me?"

Bodie stiffened and closed his eyes, letting out a moan of stifled
lust, "Jesus, Ray, you could get a rise out of a man dead for ten
years! Do you want me to rape you?"

"You," Doyle murmured, his smile softening as he touched his lips to
Bodie's. "Can do anything you want with me."

"Ray," Bodie said, warning.

"You can do anything you want because I'd do anything to make you
happy."

Bodie shook his head, "No. That's still only what I want. This isn't
just about me. You tell me the truth."

In answer, Doyle took his hand and led him back to the bed. He pushed
Bodie down and laid on top of him, allowing their matching desire to
press together. "I love you, Bodie. I want you. Please fuck me."

A small laugh escaped Bodie then, but before Doyle could say another
word, his mouth was caught hungrily, Bodie's tongue exploring the
inside, hard and wanting. He felt Bodie's body stiffen against his,
felt the hard cock push against his own. And he wanted it. All of it.
The love, the sex, the togetherness - and the fighting and arguing
and everything. He wanted it so much he could hardly think straight.

Bodie's hands claimed his body, pushing the shirt away to run his
fingers through the soft down on Doyle's chest. Doyle for his part,
made quick work of Bodie's shirt buttons and tie, briskly revealing
that perfectly smooth chest and the skin he so loved to touch.
Longing brought them both to the edge very quickly - and they were
still half-dressed. Deliberately, Bodie slowed things down, taking
his time over preparing Doyle. He pushed Doyle's hands away from him
and shifted. Carefully, he undid Doyle's trousers, pulling the zip
down over the stiff bulge. The act in itself was a caress, almost
driving Doyle wild. Then the hands were on him, deftly releasing him
from his clothes. In a flash, Bodie had him naked from the waist
down, his hands claiming his cock and his balls hard, striking a
thrill through his whole body.

Doyle arched up at his touch, moaning for Bodie to get on with it -
but Bodie still took his time. His mouth came down, his tongue
licking at the head, playfully, making Doyle moan again and again.
Then Doyle took things into his own hands - literally. He reached for
Bodie's groin, swiftly releasing the erection into his own waiting
fingers. Now it was Bodie's turn to shudder. His movements stilled as
Doyle's hands worked on him. Doyle leaned over and attached his lips
to Bodie's right nipple and was gratified to feel the cock in his
hands leap.

His mouth still touching Bodie, Doyle murmured, "I hope you came
prepared."

"Mmn," Bodie murmured, coming out of his haze. "S'not a good way of
putting it - but yes, I did."

With an uncoordinated movement, he reached across to the beside table
and pulled the drawer open. He returned a moment later with another
deep kiss. Then he was pressing a tube into Doyle's hands, "Only if
you want me to do it."

Doyle didn't bother answering. He wasn't sure he had words anyway. He
was entirely caught up with a long and deeply held need to be
possessed by Bodie, properly and completely, wholly and totally, to
give himself utterly. He needed Bodie inside him, needed them to
occupy the one body, if only for a few minutes. Pain and pleasure
were to him, at that moment, one and the same.

On his knees, he bent to give Bodie's cock some direct attention.
Holding it between his hands, he ran the tips of his fingers up the
tender under side, around the flared head, to the tiny opening at the
top where a drop of fluid appeared. Gently, he touched his tongue to
it, tasting it, feeling Bodie stiffen beneath him, hearing the moan.
But Doyle had to do this first. Had to know this part of Bodie, had
to look and touch and taste before it was put into his body.

Carefully, he let his tongue run around the head, slowly, gently.
Then, feeling Bodie's hands in his hair, he took the head into his
mouth, sucking only a little.

"God, Ray, stop." Bodie moaned.

Doyle took it from his mouth and let his tongue slide the length of
the hard shaft from balls to tip, feeling the heavy ridge all the
way. Now Bodie hissed urgently, "Ray, if you don't stop now…"

Reluctantly, Doyle pulled back and he shot Bodie a brief smug grin.
Bodie was watching him, his eyes veiled, smoky with desire. Satisfied
for the moment, Doyle turned back to Bodie's cock with a mind to
preparation and again, his stomach twisted with anticipation at what
was about to happen between them.

The tube came open and he smeared the cool gel the full length of
Bodie's cock. Like a rod of steel, it sat up proudly and Doyle took
his time lubricating it well, enjoying the touch and feel of the
silky smooth skin, savouring the knowledge that in only a few
moments, this part of Bodie would be entering a part of him never
touched before.

Again reluctantly, he put the tube down and lay on his back facing
Bodie. His eyes still dark with passion, Bodie took some lubricant on
his fingers and slid his hand between Doyle's thighs. Without
thought, Doyle opened to him, spreading his legs wide to permit the
probing. Bodie's breath was coming in short pants now, Doyle's
matching it. Then Bodie was shifting over until he lay between
Doyle's open thighs. Again he kissed long and deep, his hand still
pushing against the tight hole. He inserted one finger, then two and
all Doyle could think about was what he wanted to happen next. The
fingers slipped deep inside him, stretching him, warming him, making
him want more. A third finger joined the others and Doyle began to
moan softly. He couldn't take his eyes from Bodie's and the sheer
open need expressed there, that Bodie needed to take him as much as
Doyle needed to be taken. His hand slid down Bodie's arm, urging the
fingers deeper into him and in response, Bodie took a nipple and
sucked hard, his own urgency flowing through his body.

"Please, Bodie, now," Doyle managed.

"Yeah," Bodie grunted against his chest. "Now."

Bodie shifted again, putting his hand under Doyle's thigh to lift it
slightly. Then, his mouth joining Doyle's he placed the head of his
cock against the entrance to Doyle's body and pushed.

Doyle moaned as pain struck him but Bodie's gentle movements and
constant kisses made him relax and he opened up, slowly but surely,
taking Bodie into him, wanting him there. Bodie's cock entered him in
one smooth stroke, filling him, joining him, completing him until at
last, he was sheathed completely and they were one.

Doyle's arms came around Bodie as he lifted his legs to go around
Bodie's waist. Then, abruptly awed by their actions, the whole night
- the last few months, he gazed into Bodie's eyes and heard the words
speaking to his own heart. "I do love you, Ray, so very much."

"Oh, god, Bodie, I love you, too."

Bodie's response was a kiss so gentle and profound, it brought tears
to Doyle's eyes. Slowly he began to move inside, pushing against the
pressure, creating heat, building the joy between them like a tidal
wave. Bodie snaked a hand between them to grasp Doyle's cock, nearly
making him climax at once. Then he settled into a slow steady rhythm,
kissing Doyle's nipples one moment, nipping his shoulder the next.
The cock inside him was so hard, Doyle gasped with every thrust,
hearing faint whimpers of pure pleasure coming from his own mouth.
The reality of this was so far and above what he'd expected. He'd
known he needed it - that Bodie needed it - but he'd never realized
it would feel so incredible to have Bodie moving inside him,
pleasuring them both. He wanted to freeze the moment, to hold it
right there, but he kept his eyes open, watching Bodie's face each
time he withdrew, paused, then pushed deep inside Doyle again. Though
nothing had been said, it was obvious that Bodie also wanted their
first time to last as along as possible.

This was his Bodie doing this to him, fucking him, driving them both
towards a climax that would be both the ending and the beginning of
them. And his whole body wanted it, his hips raised to take each deep
thrust, wanting more, deeper, further; his legs spread wide to give
Bodie all the room he needed, his muscles holding him close, holding
the cock inside him tight and hot.

All the years before this came to him then, the years together, the
struggles, the steps they had taken to be partners, the sacrifices,
the pains, the deliberate compromises. The danger and the peace, the
certainty that they had always been joined like this, always a part
of each other, giving and receiving in like kind, two minds, one
heart, one path, always the same, travelling together. Always a part
of each other.

The incredible closeness and intimacy was too much. With tears
falling down his cheeks, Doyle let out a cry, stiffened and spurted
his seed into Bodie's hand, and immediately, Bodie jerked hard and
shot hot semen deep inside him. Doyle felt every blast, their lips
joined as they tumbled over the edge and fell together, gasping,
fulfilled, sweaty and hard.

For long minutes, neither of them moved. They simply stayed together
as long as they could. Then Bodie lifted Doyle's hand to his lips,
kissed the palm. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving this to me. I was afraid I would hurt you. That you
wouldn't enjoy it."

"Oh, Bodie, I enjoyed it alright." Doyle chuckled.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." Doyle gasped as he felt Bodie slip from him. For a second, the
loss felt unbearable. Then Bodie moved, pulling Doyle with him until
they lay side by side again, kissing softly, touching, simply being
together.

Eventually, Bodie moved back a little. "So I didn't hurt you?"

"No. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd done that before."

"Well, I have had the odd fuck over the years." Bodie said with a
completely straight face.

"Have you fucked a man before?"

"No. You?"

Doyle raised an eyebrow. There was just a hint of jealousy in Bodie's
eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Bodie pursed his lips and glanced away, "That friend of yours, Jeff.
You told me you didn't know if he was gay. You… lied to me."

Feeling the fine tension in Bodie's shoulders, Doyle snuggled closer,
"I'm sorry, Bodie. I shouldn't have. Dunno why, really. I guess I
didn't know what you'd think if you knew I had gay friends."

"That wasn't what I was worried about."

Doyle raised his eyebrows, "You thought I'd been with him?"

Bodie blinked once, hesitating for a moment, "I know he wanted you."

"He's been at me for years - as long as I've known him. But I never
went to bed with him. I'd never been to bed with a man until I met
you. There, it's all your fault."

But Bodie wasn't ready to leave it just yet. "So why did you go and
see him the other night?"

"Before I went to your place? I guess I just needed confirmation,
somebody to tell me what I should do about what I was feeling. Wait -
how did you know…" Doyle caught in a breath, "You were following me."

Bodie shrugged, still not meeting Doyle's gaze, "I was worried about
you. I'd rather not talk about it any more."

"Why not?"

With half a grin, Bodie glanced up, "Because I have you and he
doesn't so it doesn't matter a damn how jealous I was, does it?"

Doyle had to laugh. Seeing Bodie at his irrepressible best was
something he'd missed over the last few weeks. Bodie nodded and got
up, ignoring Doyle's moan of displeasure. He only got a few steps
before he realized he was still half-dressed and his trousers were
going to trip him over. Shaking his head, he stripped them off and
padded into the next room with only his shirt flapping about him. He
shut the windows in the other room and came back with the champagne
bucket and the two glasses. He set them down beside the bed, closed
the bedroom windows and settled back on the bed next to Doyle. He
poured out more champagne and handed a glass to Doyle.

Doyle sat up a little, slipping into the comfort of Bodie's arm as he
rested back against the headboard. The champagne was good; sitting on
top of the rest of the alcohol he'd had that evening, it did even
better. Now he glanced around the bedroom as he'd not had time to do
before. If anything, it was even more opulent than the other room.
Again he was seized by Bodie's forward planning - and his good taste.
Doyle hadn't even known this hotel existed.

"How much did you pay for this?"

"Oh, a bit," Bodie replied evasively.

"How much?"

"A bit. Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it matters."

Bodie shifted a little and Doyle glanced up to see that fabulously
inscrutable expression again. He had to smile as he remembered how
afraid he'd been the last time he'd seen it.

"Well?"

"Actually, strictly speaking, it didn't cost me anything."

"You know, you're beautiful when you're trying to hide something."

Bodie glanced at him so surprised and quizzical, Doyle almost doubled
up laughing.

"Come on, give."

Still sanguine, Bodie shrugged, "I give you my heart, my body, my
soul - and still you want more. Typical! Alright, it didn't cost me
anything because I own it."

Doyle frowned glancing around the room again, "You own this? A hotel
room?"

"Not exactly."

"Be exact." Doyle turned back.

Bodie raised an amused eyebrow and tried hard not to smile, "I own
the hotel."

Doyle's jaw dropped.

Bodie added, "Except that as of this afternoon, you own half of it -
so don't go breaking anything."

"I own…" Speech failed him and he stared open-mouthed at Bodie - who
took the opportunity to kiss him. Far from fighting it, Doyle
welcomed it - until it appeared they would spill their drinks all
over the bed.

When Bodie had him settled again, he began to speak, "I told you
before we got all hot and sweaty - I'm yours till death us do part.
That includes everything I own."

"But you never have any money. How can you own something like this?
This place must be worth a small fortune!"

"Yeah, but it earns its keep."

"But how could you afford something like this?"

Bodie reached over and topped up his glass. "Ill-gotten gains."

"Nothing illegal I hope."

"Hah! As if you'd let me give you anything purchased with crime
money! Nope, all due to a few years fighting other people's wars in
Africa - and some money my father left me. You have no idea how much
they pay mercenaries, do you? Well, I didn't either and that's why I
put up with it for so long. But then I chucked it in and joined the
army - more fool me. In between leaving Africa and signing up, I only
had a couple of months off. Not enough time to spend the money I'd
earnt - and there was nothing to spend it on in Africa. So I invested
it - with the help of a rather debonair Swiss Banker. The meagre
shillings I earned in the Army and the SAS added to it a little, but
my banker is a canny fellow. He suggested I buy this place a couple
of years ago - so I'd have something to fall back on if I found
myself invalided out of the squad."

Doyle felt a wonderful drowsiness come over him. Comfort and warmth
and champagne and Bodie all contributing. Bodie especially. "So why
are you telling me all this now?"

"Because I love you. Because I only loved Marikka a little - enough
to get hurt. Because I didn't love the girl Krivas killed, Marice.
Because he killed her anyway, even though I didn't love her. Because
I've never had anyone to give anything to, never loved anyone enough.
Because I want to. Because I want you to know I mean all this.
Because I want you to know you have something if anything happens to
me or your career gets cut short by some wound." Bodie paused,
finishing his drink. "Mostly because I love you."

Stunned, Doyle twisted around in Bodie's arms until he could see that
sombre face. "Jesus, Bodie, I don't know what to say."

Doyle moved then, putting glasses away and pushing Bodie down onto
the bed beneath him, smothering him with kisses and drowning further
talk. It didn't take long for his body to react again. Soon he had
the remnants of their clothes tossed aside and Bodie was putty in his
hands. Now the first fires of desire were dealt with, they could take
it slower, learn more about each other. He wanted to spread his legs
for Bodie again but he was held back by strong hands. Hands which
directed him to another choice. Then Bodie was lying on his stomach
beneath him, his hips raised with a pillow and Doyle was pushing into
him, holding him, wanting him, once again, making them one.

The climb to the top of the peak took longer this time, was in its
own way, more delicious as a result. Doyle held Bodie with one hand
while the other gripped the stiff erection pressed into the pillow.
Bodie moved with him, wanting him. Taking Bodie this way somehow made
it right and complete and gave them both something they needed. Then
Bodie murmured magical words.

"Love you, Ray. You're my freedom. Means nothing without you."

And Doyle tumbled into insanity, taking Bodie with him.

Sleep took them after that, Doyle resting in the safety of Bodie's
arms, feeling none of the cold that had plagued him all his life.
 
 

Bodie woke to sounds of birdsong from beyond the window. He glanced
across the pillow to find Doyle still there, beside him, fast asleep.
Somehow in the night, they'd become detached and for a moment, Bodie
was tempted to snuggle up again, the old fear abruptly rearing its
head again.

But he fought off the temptation, normal bodily functions taking
precedence. Carefully, he slipped out of bed and crept to the
bathroom. He flushed the toilet and winced at the noise - but before
he could go back to bed, he glimpsed sight of himself in the mirror.

He looked different.

Hard to pinpoint how - he just did. Different.

There were the same old blue eyes staring back at him, the same face
- in need of a shave - but the same nonetheless. But still he looked
different.

He grinned.

He turned and headed back into the bedroom and came to a halt beside
the bed. Ray was stretched out on his stomach across the mattress,
one leg bent, one arm over his head, naked as the day he was born,
that incredible arse showing curves Bodie was only just able to keep
his hands off. The auburn curls tangled around his head, long now,
just the way Bodie liked them, caught in the sunlight coming from the
balcony. The window eyes were shut, holding in sleep, the full lips
slightly parted, the angelic face turned slightly towards him,
displaying that mysterious shattered cheekbone.

What had happened to that face? And why did Ray never talk about it?
Nobody seemed to know - not even Cowley. But still there was a story
there, of deep, old pain, buried beneath the look of fear Bodie had
seen that one time he'd asked, at Murphy's birthday. At the time,
he'd been angry, in pain and had lashed out at the one thing he knew
would hurt Ray. But a greater hurt had been done to him, to break
that bone, a hurt Bodie wanted to know about, perhaps to help heal.
But there was nothing more he could say to Ray to encourage him to
talk about it - nor would he ever ask again. No, if Ray ever told
him, the gift would be his alone to give, his choice, his desire.

And Bodie would love him either way, this man spread across the bed
before him. A wild wanton creature of hidden passions and delicate
sweetness. A man every inch the equal of Bodie. A heart that was his
to hold and cherish.

And so incredibly beautiful, Bodie lost his breath and for a moment,
couldn't bring himself to move.

So this was what he'd been afraid of all these years. Feeling this.
And it was terrifying; would probably remain so for the rest of his
life.

But somehow, he knew he could do it now. Even if Ray woke up and
changed his mind about them; Bodie knew he'd deal with it, be able to
go on living, would be able to keep hold of himself through the whole
thing. And why?

Because in giving himself to Doyle, he'd been given something back;
something infinitely more valuable and cherished than he'd ever
imagined. And feeling this love filled all the emptiness inside him.
It made him strong where he'd feared weakness, made him indomitable
where he'd feared vulnerability.

He'd been right to be afraid - but what he should have been much more
scared of was the prospect of never feeling this any time in his
life. Once again, Ray had given him a reason; this time, the best
reason of all.

A wave of awesome tenderness came over him from nowhere that he could
name and he crept forward to get back into bed. He didn't want Ray to
wake up alone.

Doyle shifted as Bodie put his arms around him, coming gently awake.
Without asking, Bodie took that beautiful face in his hands and
covered it with soft kisses, trying somehow to communicate the dizzy
thoughts assaulting him so early in the morning.

But Doyle didn't argue. Instead, his strong arms came up to hold
Bodie close, his mouth finding Bodie's, taking kisses in equal
measure. For long minutes they simply laid there, making out like
they were a pair of teenagers, flushed with the first breaths of
spine-tingling sensation.

Then Doyle moaned softly, rolling over until Bodie was trapped
beneath him. Bodie grinned and held him tight, planting a goodmorning
kiss on his nose.

"How do you feel, sunshine?"

"Wonderful," Doyle stretched - then winced as he felt certain twinges
he'd not felt before - in places he'd never felt them before. "Yeah,
wonderful. You?"

"Never felt better in my life. Are you sore? I was a bit… rushed last
night."

"A little sore - but I don't mind. What about you?"

"Fine. Hungry?"

"Don't tell me this hotel of yours has room service too?"

"Hotel of ours - and of course it has room service. Would I buy it if
it didn't?"

Doyle chuckled, throaty and delicious, sending all sorts of things
spiralling through Bodie. "Sorry. What's the choice?"

"Whatever you want."

"But I want you."

"For breakfast?'

"For lunch and dinner."

"Might get a bit boring after a while."

Doyle paused, lifting an inquiring eyebrow, "Are you serious?"

Bodie did a classic double-take, "No - I didn't mean that as it
sounded. At least, I don't mean it. You make up your own mind."

"Whether we stay together, as a couple?"

"Yeah."

Doyle grinned, "Doesn't sound boring to me at all. I'm in. So what's
for breakfast."

Bodie began to laugh, holding Doyle to him for safety's sake. This
was getting way too ridiculous for serious thought. Things as good as
this simply didn't happen in the real world.

He quickly rattled off a suggested menu, rang it down to room
service, then wrapped his arms around Doyle again. "You know, I think
I'm going to kick myself at least once a day for the rest of our
lives together."

"Why?"

"For not seeing the error of my ways sooner."

"Oi! Guilt's my trick! Get your own!"

Bodie dissolved into laughter again. When he finally sobered, he
shifted until he was half sitting against the headboard, Doyle
stretched the length of him, arms wrapped around each other. Bodie
felt a strange but not unpleasant desire never to move from this
particular spot for the rest of his life.

Doyle settled against him, growing quiet. Bodie waited, knowing
something was bound to come out of last night.

"Bodie?"

"Yeah."

"I love you."

"I know." He nodded. "But?"

"But… you are sure about this, aren't you? About us being together?
Staying together? I mean, it won't be easy."

"Hell, it hasn't been so far. Why should the future be any different
from the past?"

"Because something has changed, Bodie. We've changed. You know as
well as I do that not everybody is going to be as happy about it as
we are."

"Yeah, I know." Bodie stroked his hand slowly down Doyle's arm. "But
we'll survive."

"But you are sure? Sure that you want to go through that?"

"Ray," Bodie said carefully, "there is no alternative. Not for me. I
don't care what opposition we get. I'll fight to keep you as long as
I know you love me."

Doyle sighed against him, "Then it's going to be a long hard battle.
Of course, the worst part is going to be Cowley."

Bodie chuckled a little, making Doyle twist until he could see
Bodie's smile.

"What?"

"He knows already."

Doyle frowned. "What do you mean, he knows? You told him before you
told me?"

"Hell, Ray, I didn't even tell me before I told you. No, he guessed.
At least, he guessed that what was bothering me were my feelings for
you. He didn't seem unduly concerned by it. Only that I find a
resolution. Now, go on, I dare you."

"Dare me to what?" Doyle asked, knowing full well what Bodie was
suggesting.

"I dare you to claim that I did all this just so I could get my job
back."

"Well, I thought that much was obvious," Doyle replied with a
completely straight face - and Bodie nearly died laughing. "After
all, you did tell me you didn't want me for my body."

"Ah, you believed that too. Damn, I'm good at this lying thing! Wish
I'd tried it years ago. I could have had you all this time. Guess
I'll have to make up for it now." And to back up his words, he made a
dive for Doyle, struggling until he had him pinned beneath him, a
giggling, tousled mess of muscle and bone.

But even amidst the laughter there was desire and he felt Doyle rise
as well. Things progressed rapidly, however, before they could get
too involved, the door buzzer went off.

"Damn!" Bodie lifted his head reluctantly from Doyle's tender
regions. "Food. How inconvenient."

Doyle blinked, shook his head and dropped his jaw in amazement. Then
he began to laugh, "Well, now I really have heard everything!"

Bodie simply grinned smugly and got off the bed. He grabbed a robe
and headed off for the door, Doyle's delighted laughter floating
after him.

All this and room service too.

He wheeled the trolley into the bedroom as Doyle got up and put on a
robe. They sat opposite each other on the bed, feeding each other,
laughing and saying little - at least with words. Finally, with
crumbs scattered everywhere, Doyle leaned back and gazed at Bodie,
his eyes smiling enough to melt.

"What?"

Doyle blinked and shook his head, "Where do we go from here?"

"Well, neither of us needs to be anywhere for the next three days. We
could just stay here and… I'm sure we'll find something to do."

A husky chuckle was the first response. "Yeah, I'm sure we could."

"Why?"

"Well… it's just that Murphy and Kathy are expecting me at the
cottage."

Bodie's face fell, "Oh. And you want to go?"

"I hate to say it, Bodie, but after all the time I've spent cramped
up indoors, I really don't want to spend my last free weekend for a
long time here, nice as it is."

"I see." Bodie got up and began clearing plates away, piling them
back on the trolley.

A hard serious voice stopped him. "God, Bodie you really are an ass."

Bodie glanced over his shoulder to see Doyle get off the bed and come
towards him. "You really think I want to go anywhere without you?
Sure, if you want to stay here, we can. I just thought you might like
to get out of London for a while, you know, get some fresh air, walk
along the cliffs - especially since Murph and Kathy know all about us
and don't give a damn."

Bodie ducked his head, not understanding where this sudden fear came
from. "Are you sure they don't care?"

Ray came close, putting his arms around Bodie. "They care - and I
think they deserve to know that we're okay now. Let me ring them and
tell them we're coming."

Bodie couldn't answer. He just stood there, not looking at Ray, not
doing anything.

"Come on, Bodie, talk to me. What is it?"

"Nothing." Bodie lied.

Ray reached up and kissed him, soft and gentle and at last Bodie
moved, bringing his arms around the man. "Bodie, tell me what's
wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, really." He struggled to put his feelings into
words, words that would make some kind of sense. "It's just that,
here, we're safe, you know? Nobody knows we're here. Not Cowley, not
the real world. It's just you and me."

"And room service."

A small smile escaped Bodie then and he sighed. "Sorry. I know it's
stupid."

"No, it isn't. I understand."

Bodie blinked, capturing those wonderfully green eyes as if for the
first time. "You do?"

"Yeah. But you and me? We're not going back to that place. Ever.
We're gonna make new places, together. You need to start trusting
yourself, Bodie. I meant it when I said we've changed. But we changed
because we wanted to. Yeah, the real world is going to try our
patience with its prejudice and fear and hatred. But it won't break
us up."

"No," Bodie began to smile at the famous determination he saw in
Ray's eyes. "I don't think it has a hope."

"Exactly. So?"

"So… make the call - and I'll get a shower. Just break it to them
gently, will you?"

Ray laughed, "As gently as I can."
 
 

The drive out to the coast was long and delicious. Doyle had stopped
by his place long enough to throw a few clothes in a bag and to grab
his camera. Bodie had almost disuaded him at one point, making noises
about a certain bed that was calling to him, but Doyle had simply
kissed him, pushed him out the door and locked it behind him. One
more brief stop at Bodie's place - where the same comment was made
about another bed making noises - and they were on their way.

The weather beamed at them all the way, a warm invitation to spring
that made Doyle want to hang out the windows to enjoy it fully. He
let Bodie drive largely because he didn't trust what a pair of
unoccupied Bodie-hands might do if he didn't.

As the last hills began to rise and fall before them, Bodie glanced
at him, "So what did Murph say?"

"Jesus, Bodie, that's taken you nearly four hours!"

Bodie chuckled, "I didn't want to appear anxious."

Doyle grinned. "No, I'll bet you didn't."

"Well?"

"Oh, you know Murph, cool as a cucumber."

"Oh, yeah."

Glancing aside at Bodie, Doyle smiled, "Actually, he was frantic with
worry."

"Really? Why?"

"Because he'd seen me leave with you last night and hadn't heard
anything since. He'd tried ringing your place and mine."

"Christ, what did he think I'd done with you?"

"I didn't ask," Doyle replied dryly.

"So what did you tell him?"

"A carefully edited version of the truth."

"Edited, eh?"

"Well, didn't seem to be much point in telling him *all* the
details." Doyle stretched - and winced as his elbow touched the roof
of the car.

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"Positive. Just a small bruise."

As though he didn't really believe, Bodie reached out and took his
hand, throwing him a smile, "Well, that'll teach you not to attack me
in the shower without warning."

"I should have thought telling you I love you was sufficient warning.
Besides, I didn't attack you - you attacked me. I just went in there
to shave."

"Oh? You always shave under the spray, when somebody else is in
there? Somebody who has such shameless designs on your wet, naked
body?"

Doyle was laughing.

"I see," Bodie nodded, smugly. "I'll have to remember that."

"Not much chance you forgetting, is there?" Doyle lifted Bodie's hand
to his lips and kissed gently. The look the caught in Bodie's took
his breath away for a moment. So much love flowing in one simple
glance. Hell, did he look at Bodie the same way? Probably. He glanced
at the map, at the next road sign and pointed for Bodie to make a
turn. "Next on the left. I think it's that house with the cliff
behind it. Looks the way Murph described it. Bodie, are you sure
you're okay with this? Us being together, with them around?"

"Sure."

"I mean, I don't want you to start feeling uncomfortable - or awkward
about touching me or anything."

"Ray, I'm fine about it. I promise you. Remember, I was the one who
told them about us in the first place."

"Yeah, okay."

Bodie pulled into the drive next to Murphy's car. Nobody came out to
greet them but he wasn't surprised. Murph had said they should just
go in as he and Kathy had planned to go out for lunch.

Leaving their bags in the car, they went inside the small cottage -
and Doyle fell in love with it immediately. Bodie looked a little
uncomfortable, as though the place wasn't quite big enough to hold
him. Doyle just laughed at him, grabbed his hand and together they
wandered through, up the stairs to find two bedrooms, one with a note
on the door saying this was theirs. The room had a double bed and a
window which faced towards the sea. For some reason, that made Doyle
nervous and he turned and headed down the stairs before he could stop
himself.

Bodie caught him in the kitchen, "Stop, Ray. What is it?"

As Bodie's arms came around him, Doyle shrugged, feeling silly. "My
turn to behave like an ass. I guess…"

"You're more worried about coming out than I am, I think."

"Maybe. It's a big step."

"With two people who not already know about us, but appear to approve
wholeheartedly? You're right, Ray, you are being an ass. Just relax."
With that, Bodie held him close and kissed him, long and deep, making
him remember the rewards for the risks, payment in full, the best
prize ever.

"So it's true."

The voice from the door made Doyle start like a guilty creature. His
head whipped around to find Murphy standing there, Kathy with him, a
smile on her face. Close by, Bodie began to laugh. "Sure, it's true.
Why, did you think I was holding a gun to his head while he phoned
you?"

"Wouldn't put it past you." Murphy replied, his usual understated
humour filling his eyes.

"Wouldn't have needed to from the look of them," Kathy laughed,
coming forward to give Doyle and then Bodie a hug. "All I can say is,
if it is true, then I'm happy for both of you. Really, I am. So is
Michael."

Doyle looked into her eyes, then at Murphy, then back at Bodie. With
a grin, Bodie put his arm around Doyle's shoulders, giving them a
squeeze. "Relax, love. The worst is yet to come."

And that was enough to make Doyle laugh, emptying the residual nerves
from his body. When Kathy suggested a cup of tea, Doyle insisted on
making it.

It was the least he could do.
 
 
 

The nights were drawing out longer and Bodie was glad. Glad that the
winter was finally over, that darkness gone, the terror, the pain and
agony it had brought him. Even now, with Ray walking beside him,
holding his hand, he wasn't sure he was ever going to be able to face
snow again and not shiver with the memory of what it had, for a few
weeks at least, meant to him.

Loss. Death. Not just Ray's - but his own along with it. But for a
stroke of luck, a minefield of courage, he might have lost Ray
completely. Not only missed what they had together now, but
everything.

Of course, he could still lose Ray, one day in the line of duty. It
might happen, no matter how hard Bodie might try to watch his back.
It was a risk they both took - and yet, they both knew they couldn't
stop working, couldn't change they way they were, how important the
work was to both of them. Sure, it was going to be a battle to get
Cowley to agree to them remaining partners - but Bodie would rather
resign than leave Ray to somebody else to look out for.

And maybe, just maybe, Cowley would understand enough to know that
they would be fine working together as well as living together. And
they would be. Largely because, ultimately, nothing had changed, not
deep down. All that had happened was they'd actually acknowledged the
thing that had been growing between them all these years, the source
of their bond, the specialness of how they worked together. It was
all about love, always had been. They'd always protected each other
fiercly - and would continue to do so.

And now, if he lost Ray, he would at least have the memory of love to
live on. Not the pain, not the agony - but the love. Enough to
sustain him. That's what Ray had given him. He'd handed Ray his heart
and had received it back, enriched and nourished with so much love,
Bodie was staggered by it.

Staggered - and happy. An odd feeling, unfamiliar, but nice. Yeah, he
could live with this.

They walked along the cliffs, following a path that took them up and
down, pausing to gaze at birds as they hovered in the breeze, or to
watch the heavy swell pound against the rocks below. They were
utterly alone and Bodie was glad Doyle had suggested this. Outdoors
was Ray's natural environment and he'd blossomed the moment they got
out here.

Even now, Bodie smiled at the memory of Doyle's shock at them being
caught kissing in front of Murphy and Kathy. Bodie didn't care. It
kind of made it more real.

Ray came to a halt where a few boulders piled up at the cliff's edge.
He sat and pulled Bodie down beside him, instantly snuggling into the
arm Bodie put around him. Bodie glanced either way along the path,
then turned Ray's face towards him, taking and receiving a gentle
kiss for his troubles. For long wonderful minutes, they sat there in
silence, listening to the gulls, the wind and the waves, watching the
sky slowly edge towards sunset.

"'S'nice, this." Bodie murmured into Doyle's ear, his lips lingering,
drawing in the scent of the man he loved. He shifted slightly, so
Doyle could sit between his legs, lean back and have both Bodie's
arms around him.

"Yeah, glad we came."

"Me too."

Doyle was silent a moment then said, "Do you think we'll be ready? To
go back to work?"

"I think so."

"And Cowley?"

Bodie almost smiled, having just had this conversation with himself.
Doyle was a born worrier and nothing - not even a relationship with
Bodie was ever going to change that. "What about him?"

"Well, you said he didn't seem too bothered about us. Are you sure? I
mean, what if he won't let us stay partners."

"He will."

Doyle shifted, expressing concern in his movements. "Are you sure?
You know his rules about relationships within the squad as well as I
do. Hell, you've broken them often enough. But then you were able to
hide it from him."

"Don't kid yourself." Bodie grinned.

"He knew?"

"Christ, Ray, he knew about you and me - and he hardly saw either of
us. There's virtually nothing in this country that old man doesn't
know about. How the hell do you think he's managed to survive so
long? No, it'll be okay. We'll just tell him he doesn't have a choice
and he'll learn to live with it."

Doyle chuckled, "Oh, yeah? Like we have the power to force him to
agree."

"Ray," Bodie leaned close, "he wants us in. He said as much to me. He
also said that if I wanted to stay, we had to find some resolution.
We have - so why should he complain? He may bluster about us staying
partners but we'll volounteer to give it a trial period, to prove to
him that our work won't change. And even then, if he doesn't agree,
we'll just threaten to resign."

Again, Doyle chuckled, easing back against Bodie, getting
comfortable. "Can't wait to see the look on his face. I suppose he'll
see the bright side."

"And that is?"

"If we're living together, there'll be money to be saved."

"His first thought, I'd bet."

The sun now crept towards the horizon but Bodie didn't want to move,
not just yet. This was too nice, too real. Dinner was more than an
hour away anyway so there was no real need to rush. He could find his
way back to the cottage in the dark without a problem.

"Bodie?"

"Yeah?"

A long silence had Bodie a little worried. Doyle took his hands and
held them against his stomach, as though he were afraid they might
leave him. When it seemed he wouldn't speak, Bodie prompted him.

"Ray? What's wrong?"

Doyle held a breath for a moment, then let it out. "Before you talk
to Cowley, there's something I have to tell you."

"Go on."

Another agonizing pause and Bodie's instincts were seriously aroused.
But this time, he said nothing, allowing Ray the time to put it
together on his own.

Eventually, the voice came to him, level, on a small gust of wind
coming over the cliff. "I am sorry, you know, for lying to you about
Jeff. I know it was important you to, especially at the time and you
didn't deserve something like that - but, it was so hard to tell you,
you know?"

"It's okay, Ray. I understand."

"No, you don't."

"Okay, explain." Bodie pressed a kiss to the side of Ray's face, a
gesture of security he hoped would sink through the veil of worry
clouding his partner. "I'm here, I'm listening."

"You know when… remember that night at the pub? Murphy's birthday?
When I said you weren't easy to confide in?"

"I'll never forget it. It was the night I realised I loved you."

"Oh, Bodie," Doyle breathed, more sorrow than anything else. "I'm not
surprised you were scared. I mean, there I was accusing you of never
giving anything of yourself and I was busy doing the same. And then
you found out I'd lied to you, about Jeff and well…"

A hushed silence came over Doyle then, a silence Bodie didn't like at
all. He waited but again, had to prompt. "What?"

"You couldn't trust me. And with reason."

Something cold gripped Bodie on the inside. "About Jeff?"

"No, not about him. Nothing to do with him. Something much older,
much worse. Something you wanted to know, something I've never told
anybody." When Bodie would have asked further, Doyle stopped him by
taking a hand and raising it to his face, to press Bodie's fingers
against that dented cheekbone.

Instantly Bodie breathed, relief, whatever. Didn't matter. He pulled
Ray close again, kissing his neck, instilling his whole body with
reassurance. "It's okay, love. You don't have to tell me."

"I know - except that, I think that's why I have to."

Bodie frowned at this obscure piece of logic. "But if you've kept
quiet about it so long, there's no need to…"

"Yes, there is, Bodie. You were right about giving guarrantees. About
giving. I do have to tell you."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because… it hurt too much."

The simplicity of the response made Bodie ache inside. "Please, love,
don't…"

"I was sixteen," Doyle paused. Bodie wanted to hear the story -
needed to hear it - but he didn't want Doyle to go through it unless
he wanted to.

"Ray.."

"Please, Bodie. Just listen. It's important." Doyle shifted until he
could see Bodie's face. "I had this friend, Joe. We used to run the
streets together. We were pretty wild, getting into everything."

"You told me a little about those days and how the cops never caught
you."

"Yeah, well this time they should have. Joe had an older brother. He
was into dealing. Anyway, Joe and I were pretty bored one day and
broke into his brother's room. We took some of his stuff and ran off
to an empty warehouse, a place we knew junkies hung out at night."
Again, Doyle had to pause to take in a breath. Bodie said nothing,
simply caressed his shoulder with one hand, held his other. "So it
was almost dark and we couldn't make up our minds what to do with
this stuff. I think we had it in mind to sell it then go do something
with the money. Probably buy some booze or something. Anyway, it was
after a couple of hours and nobody showed up so we decided that…
that… well, the best way to work off a few hours was to… shoot up."

For a second, Bodie froze. Then he relaxed, letting his fingers
continue the gentle encouraging caress.

"We knew how to do it. We'd seen it plenty of times. Joe went first,
then he helped me push the needle in my arm. We thought we were
pretty tough, imagining all sorts of things happening to us before
the drug really had a chance to affect us. But then it did and well,
you don't need to hear how it felt. After about half an hour, when we
were on the point of being really off our faces, these guys came into
the warehouse. Joe wasn't worried, but I was. I scrambled out of
sight just in time to see Joe's brother find him. He knew Joe had
stolen the stuff - he was a mean bloody character, I tell you. The
next thing I knew, he was kicking Joe, his mates joining in like it
was some kind of bloody festival. Joe screamed for help but I
couldn't move."

Bodie shifted until he held Doyle tighter, feeling the tension in
that body, the horror of the story.

"He screamed and screamed and then he went quiet and I still didn't
move. Then the guys left and I stayed where I was. My head was still
spinning and I was all over the place but… after a while… I just got
up… and ran off. I went home. I must have thrown up a dozen times on
the way there. By the time I got to my street, I was pretty much over
the heroin and sober enough to ring the cops from a payphone. Then I
ran home and didn't leave my room for two days. When I did, I rang
the hospitals until I found Joe."

Doyle ran out of words so Bodie prompted him.

"What happened?"

"He was alive - but comatose. He recovered slowly but he remained
pretty much a vegetable for the next three years. He died one night
in his sleep."

"And your cheekbone?"

"His brother found out I'd been there - I don't know how. Joe must
have screamed my name while they were kicking him to death. Anyway, a
few weeks later, I was walking home from school and he caught me. He
didn't do too much - he just threatened the same for me if I ever
talked - then he pushed me down a set of concrete stairs."

"Christ!"

"I didn't remember too much after that until I woke up in hospital a
week later with my face all smashed in. Broke two ribs and fractured
my collarbone at the same time."

"Damned lucky you didn't get killed!"

Doyle nodded then slowly turned and looked at Bodie. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do you still love me? Knowing all that?"

Bodie sighed comfortably, "I told you, you idiot, I'm going to love
you for the rest of your life. Jesus, Ray, I knew it had to be
something pretty terrible or you would have talked about it of your
own accord. That's why I wanted to know."

"But it really is terrible."

"Yeah. It's called a crime in the legal books."

"So?"

"So what? You think I was a saint when I was a kid? Sure I never used
drugs, I admit - but you know I had reasons why I ran away to sea."

"What reasons?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow. The point is, we don't end up in this kind
of work because we twaddled about all day as kids, looking after old
folk and taking care of our devoted mothers. We landed in this job
because we aren't saints - but we've learnt which side we want to be
on. We chose this side because - from experience - we know it's the
right one. I learned that from you. So you made some mistakes. So did
I. I can live with that. Either way, it sure as hell aint gonna stop
me from loving you so you can get that idea out of your head right
now."

Doyle stared at him, his gaze searching and uncompromising for long,
deep seconds. Then slowly, he shook his head, "God, I do love you,
Bodie. You are one of a kind."

"Yeah, well," Bodie grinned, "World couldn't take two of me, could
it?"

"No, one is just enough."

"Are you sure?"

"One of you is all I want." With that, Doyle leaned close and kissed
Bodie, putting his arms around Bodie's neck, holding him tight. Bodie
kissed him back, revelling in the taste and feel of him, of being
allowed to do this, of allowing himself the privilige of loving. It
was rare and precious and surprising and totally intoxicating.

But it was also his.

As Ray settled against him once more, he gazed out to watch the last
of the sun dip into a calm and undisturbed ocean. There would be days
when the wind would whip up a fury, days when lives would be lost
upon that sea and others when no breeze would scurry a whitetop. But
that was the nature of the beast, the nature of the sea, the nature
of life.

Bodie held Ray tight, pressed his face to the soft curls, left one
more kiss beneath an ear, using each movement as part of a tiny
ritual. Step by joyous step he let the last of it go in a long sigh.
"Yeah, this is really nice out here."

He could hear the smile in Ray's voice. "Glad we came?"

"Oh yeah. You cold?"

Doyle shook his head, leaving an imprint over Bodie's heart. "No,
Bodie, not cold at all."

~

And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows.

Billy Joel
 

Finis