(Arabella, Colleen and Bodie Bear first appeared in "...Amid the Noise and Haste")

The power of the world works in circles.
   -- Black Elk

The day had dawned November-grey and rainy. It was the sort of day Doyle dreamed of spending in front of a cozy fire, reading, sipping brandy laced with tea, his troubles soothed away by the crackling sound of the fire, the patter of raindrops and Bodie's rhythmic breathing as he dozed nearby. Now, when he could have at least half of this fantasy, he was too tense, too restless to sit still, let alone read or enjoy the fire, no matter how chilled he felt.

The last of his tepid tea slid down his throat. He flung the mug into the fireplace. The shattering sound satisfied him for only an instant. Immediately, he was on his feet. Grimacing as he hoped the noise had not awakened his sister, sleeping in the next room, he went to check on her. Colleen Doyle, a small woman, seemed lost in the king-sized bed he shared with Bodie. She was still asleep, thanks to the sedative Kate Ross had administered an hour ago.

Grateful, he returned to the sitting room and began to pace. He hated the waiting, the not knowing that came with it. Every time he passed the telephone, he willed it to ring. As he walked by it a fifth time, he began shivering, which made him realize that he was nearly out of control, frustration and worry driving him too near the edge for reasoning and deduction. To snap himself back from the precarious precipice, he slammed a fist into the wall, the pain helping him focus his thoughts. Sucking his stinging knuckles, he forced himself to sit in the chair by the phone.

"Ring, damn you, ring," he shouted, confident he'd not rouse Colleen from her drugged state.

Since the phone would not obey, Doyle jumped up. Shoving his hands into his hip pockets, he paced the room once more. The mindlessness of his action finally helped him calm down. Feeling cold inside despite the fact that he was wearing Bodie's wool, SAS-style sweater, he stopped in front of the fireplace to warm himself. Eventually, he spun around to face the mantle.

Arabella, holding her stuffed cat Jasmine, met his eye from a framed photo taken on her last birthday, nearly five months previous. Carefully, he picked up the picture and examined it. His niece was one of the most beautiful children he'd ever seen.

"I know I'm biased," he said to a black bear sitting nearby. "But I'm supposed to be." He had long ago abandoned the notion that it was silly to talk to the bear. In the years he had had Bodie Bear, the stuffed animal had become one of his closest confidants.

Smiling, Doyle put the picture frame down and lifted the bear, drawing him close. "Ross would have me committed in a flash if she knew I talked to you, hugged you when I feel lonely, and slept with you when Bodie isn't here."

The bear stared at Doyle with its guileless, glass eyes.

The thought of Bodie brought back an awareness of the nervous tension coiled in the pit of his stomach. Doyle glanced at the photo again. Retrieving the picture, clutching it and Bodie Bear, he turned his back on the fire; its warmth did nothing to counter the chill he felt.

"Why don't they call?" Doyle asked his bear.

When he realized he was waiting for an answer, Doyle shook his head. His fear grew with each passing -- silent -- moment. "Why don't they call back?" he queried again.

"I know, you don't know the facts, do you, so how can you answer?"

Going to the sofa, Doyle sat down, the bear resting on top of the photo, both nestled in his lap. "Comfy?" he inquired, glancing down. "Good," he added, interpreting the silence as agreement. "Detective rule Number One: Review the facts in the case. Rule two: Go over and over the facts till you can't wring any more out of it, and then go over it again." He sighed. "Two hours ago, Colleen called to tell me Arabella was missing, that she had been kidnapped. Five hours ago, Colleen and Arabella had a fight over the fact that Colleen was having gin and tonic with a fight over the fact that Colleen was having gin and tonic with her oatmeal. Arabella ostensibly went off to school but never showed up -- something Colleen learned from the head mistress.

Assuming that Arabella had run away again just as she had two months ago, Colleen drank herself ... no, that's not fair. I don't know that she spent the next four hours drinking, I'm just assuming it ...." Doyle's voice trailed off as he absentmindedly stroked the soft fur between the bear's ears. "Colleen ...."

His thoughts turned toward their childhood years, difficult ones as he and Colleen were the only Doyle offspring in a houseful of O'Malley's by their mother's first marriage. Older, the five O'Malley brothers had been the bane of Doyle's young life. His half brother, Nick, had caused the fight over Colleen which resulted in Doyle's broken cheekbone.

Beautiful, sweet-natured, a wisp of a girl, the ethereal Colleen had been the object of Nick's teenage lust. Protective of his young sister, Doyle had defended her against the larger, older boy. In retrospect, it had proved to be the easiest of the battles he'd fought for his sister. Never particularly close to reality, it was what made her, in adulthood, a respected painter and poet. She had followed Doyle to art school, staying only long enough to be swallowed up by the local drug scene.

Doyle could still remember the night he'd gone to take Colleen to dinner, only to find her dying from a heroin overdose in a corner of her tiny bedsitter. It was her second suicide attempt, the first having come years earlier when she'd slashed her wrists. Frightened, for she was the only real family he had left, their mother and father having died several years earlier, he'd forced her to accept the wisdom of a rehab program and therapy for what he recognized to be a manic-depressive cycle.

The doctor who'd treated Colleen helped her kick her habit by focussing her energies on her talent. Painting, at first a therapy, became a consuming vocation that now provided Colleen with a reasonable income which Doyle managed. The program had also given Colleen Arabella. Ever the free spirit, she had had a brief affair with her psychiatrist, one that ended when the man insisted on an abortion, which Colleen refused.

For the first four years of her life, Arabella had provided Colleen with a previously missing link to reality. Raising the child had brought out the best in Colleen, but the last three years had been somewhat more strained as Arabella became aware of her mother's pain. The drinking and abuse of prescription tranquilizers were not lost on Arabella.

He and Bodie had tried to help. They took Arabella with them on vacation, on free weekends, whenever their erratic work schedules permitted. For a year or so, it had seemed to help, but it was increasingly apparent that their involvement wasn't enough. Arabella, Doyle realized, was beginning to blame herself for her mother's problems. That was why, two months ago, the child had run away for the few hours it took Bodie to find her.

Bodie and Arabella. It was a combination that worked, though Doyle didn't know why. It wasn't that Bodie didn't like children. He clearly did, but he had never expressed any desire to have any of his own and he didn't seem to regret the choice. And yet, the man was smitten with Arabella. Never once had Bodie complained about spending their precious free time with the child. In fact, he was the one who most often suggested they include her in their plans.

"I'm not sure I understand," Doyle commented out loud, moving the bear to the back of the sofa so they could be eye to eye.

"He's changing, and I'm scared," he confided. "I can tell he's beginning to hate this job. Can't say as I blame him, but if he goes off CI5, will he go off me, too, even though three months ago we married ourselves out by the Peter Pan statue?"

The bear's patient silence prompted him to continue. "If he'd talk about it, maybe I wouldn't feel so nervous; but whatever it is, I'm not sure even he understands it yet, and he won't say anything till he does." Doyle sighed. "I don't need this." He glanced over at the phone, hoping Bodie would call.

Earlier this day, Colleen had received a strange phone call which made her decide that Arabella had not simply run away for a few hours. When she'd picked up the receiver, Arabella's voice had said, "Mama," and the line had gone dead. Frantic, Colleen had called for help.

He and Bodie had been at headquarters, finishing their lunch as they worked on a report. Afraid of what she might do when he heard the level of hysteria in her voice, Doyle had dropped his half-eaten sandwich, pulled Bodie out of his chair, and dragged him off to Colleen's Notting Hill flat. It had taken Bodie's special brand of calmness, his soothing voice and concerned blue eyes to elicit the details.

Cowley, when informed, had released them from other duties, sent several agents to help search and put the organization's internal resources at their disposal. He was proceeding from a worst case scenario which suggested Arabella had been kidnapped because of her relationship to Doyle, or even Bodie.

While Bodie and the others took to the streets, Doyle had brought the anxious Colleen to the flat he shared with his partner. Kate Ross had paid a visit, using a sedative when talk did not lessen Colleen's hysteria. Promising to check back, the psychiatrist had left an hour ago. With Colleen's phone line tapped and switched over so it would ring here, Doyle had remained by the phone waiting for the kidnapper to call back

Experience told him they still had a few hours before it was time to consider the alternative, namely that Arabella had not been snatched by someone bent on revenge, but rather for her own sake by someone who wanted a child for any number of purposes, ranging from the misguided to the perverted. Refusing to think that someone had taken the girl for what a beautiful child could bring on the black market or in the porn industry, Doyle looked at his patient companion. "'Would you like some tea?"

Without waiting for an answer, Doyle put the photo on the sofa and carried the bear into the kitchen where he began preparing another pot of tea. When the bear caught his eye, he said, "I know, I know. What you really want are some of those fancy German biscuits Bodie brought home yesterday." Walking over to the cabinet, he took out the half empty package. "Looks like you and your namesake had a late snack," he allowed, shaking his head. "How can either of you expect to stay trim if you're sneaking about eating biscuits in the middle of the night!" Despite his words, he set out some of the dipped-in-chocolate wafers. "No nibbling before tea," he told the hungry looking bear as he placed the treats well away from the clever paws.

As he stood staring at the kettle, waiting for it to whistle, memories of a tea party they'd given for Arabella, Jasmine and Bodie Bear as well as other "friends" nearly a month ago came back. Though Arabella was quite grown up for her age, she was still young enough to be whimsical. In this, she was the perfect match for Bodie.

Hoping the water wasn't quite at a boil, he dashed into the other room, retrieving a photo album from the bookcase. He put the album down on the table beside the plate of cookies. When the kettle did finally sound, he fixed himself a cup of black currant tea -- Bodie's favorite -- scooped up the bear from the counter and sat down.

He opened the book and began flipping through the photos, stopping frequently as he remembered various scenes captured by the camera. Finally, he came to the pictures he'd taken of that tea party. It had been a magical afternoon really. In addition to the others, Fred Flamingo had also attended. Fred was enormous nearly Arabella's size. He'd been discovered in a small card shop in Chicago when Cowley had sent them to check security for the Prince of Wales' visit. To this day, Doyle wasn't sure whether Fred was Bodie's or Arabella's. He laughed as he remembered how the blue eyes had lit up when they'd spied Fred.

Another attendee had been Raymond Rabbit. He was quite special, and Doyle wished he, instead of his niece, had been given Raymond. The floppy, limp creature was Bodie's childhood companion. Sighing wistfully as he wondered yet again how he could coerce Arabella into giving him Raymond, Doyle studied the rabbit proudly sitting on Bodie's lap as they watched Arabella pour tea.

Raymond wore a red and white checked shirt and blue baggy trousers held up by blue suspenders. He had no eyes, only pink-rouged cheeks and long, long ears that hung to his waist. Water-stained and worse for wear, the homemade rabbit bore the evidence of Bodie's love quite well.

Doyle fondly recalled the night before Bodie had given Raymond to Arabella. He'd come home from the market to find Bodie asleep on the sofa, the TV blaring, and Raymond Rabbit blithely sucking off Bodie Bear in the rocking chair.

"Was it good?" he asked the bear now, presuming him to understand.

The smug look on the bear's face suggested it had been.

Reaching for a cookie, Doyle was surprised to see that only three of them remained. He frowned, eyeing the bear suspiciously. "Little pig," he admonished as he bit into the chocolate treat. The taste made him think of Bodie, which drew him back to the photos. Bodie, dressed in tight, black jeans and a black turtleneck, had the countenance of a six year old. "A sexy six," Doyle commented as he studied his lover's face. The blue eyes sparkled with laughter. His obvious delight in the proceedings was almost tangible.

"This one is the best though," Doyle told his bear, holding the album so his companion could see the photo in question. It was a timed exposure that captured them all, teacups raised in toast. The animals looked content and well fed as did Bodie, who'd managed to consume the lion's share of the sweets. Colleen and Arabella glowed with happiness. The photographer wore the soppy smile that told of his love for all involved.

The momentary lapse into childhood had been good for both him and Bodie, Doyle knew. Whenever they questioned the why's of the job, Arabella reminded them that they toiled on behalf of the children of England, so that they, too, might have a few carefree moments in life, for such a magical tea party.

Wondering if they would ever again be able to recapture the innocence displayed at the party, if this frightening experience would leave Arabella too old for such whimsy, Doyle closed the photo album. He sat for some time, sipping his tea, trying to figure out who would kidnap his niece and why children had to be pawns of adult revenge.

In reaching for another biscuit, Doyle was surprised to find there were none left. "How could you eat so many so fast?" he queried, dismayed because the bear had eaten even the crumbs. Sighing, Doyle poured himself more tea and fetched the package of biscuits. "We must leave one or two for Bodie; he'll need them tonight, I'm afraid."

As he chewed, Doyle remembered the day he'd attended a party at Hereford with Bodie. There had been a change in command. Because he kept up with many of the men in the regiment, Bodie had been invited. Curious as to what SAS men did at a party, Doyle had agreed to accompany his lover, even though he was certain Bodie had expected him to decline. The smile that had claimed the man's lips when he heard the acceptance told Doyle how important it'd been to Bodie that they attend together.

He could still remember the silence that fell when he'd walked in with Bodie. Though wives were present, they were as much a part of the regiment as their men. Doyle was an outsider. To his credit, Bodie stayed with him, introducing him around. Doyle had decided to make a tactical retreat as soon as they'd eaten. He wouldn't have stayed that long, but they'd had nothing since breakfast and the variety of interesting dishes, supplied by the party goers, made him too hungry and curious to leave immediately. Besides, he was anxious to see how his contribution would be received. The dinner was potluck, and Bodie had coerced him into making, not only his renowned gingerbread, but a new dish, an American- style barbecued beef.

Conscious of the covert stares as the others tried to guess his relationship to Bodie, Doyle had eaten quickly, replying only occasionally to the conversation Bodie attempted to maintain. Just as he was ready to leave, the guest of honor, a tall man with fiery red hair and hazel-colored eyes approached him. Bodie introduced him to the regiment's new adjutant, Jim Sanders.

"You should have been there," Doyle told Bodie Bear. "My jaw must have been hanging about my knees when he was through talking." He shook his head, hearing again the first words out of the man's mouth. "So, this is the famous gingerbread maker. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Doyle. I must tell you that your gingerbread is the best I've ever eaten."

"Both he and Bodie claimed the Secrets Act when I tried to find out how he came to taste my gingerbread before that party. I never have found out," Doyle said to his companion as he fixed a third cup of tea.

Suddenly, the phone rang, startling him into spilling the water. "Fuck," he muttered as he scrambled for the phone, kettle still in hand. His heart beating fast, he grabbed the receiver.

"Ray, it's Murph."

"Is she okay?"

"Don't know. We found Jasmine about 20 minutes ago under the bushes a few houses from Colleen's. Hoping we wouldn't find Arabella there to Bodie decided we should wait to call till we were certain she wasn't here."

"So you have no idea where she is?"

"No. No one seems to have seen anything, which is unusual. They all generally keep up on the weird doings at Colleen Doyle's. She has a bit of a rep as the neighborhood oddball."

Irritated, relieved and worried all at once, Doyle said, "We have to keep the line open, Murph."

"Yeah. Just wanted to tell you about the cat."

"Is she safe and dry now?" Doyle blurted out, realizing how inane his question must sound. His anger with himself for asking grew as he heard his fellow agent try to hide the laughter in his voice as he replied.

"Yeah. Bodie has her tucked under a blanket in the back seat of the Capri."

"Doyle had to laugh as he pictured his tough partner acting so paternally toward the stuffed animal.

"It was quite a sight. Tim found her and came up, holding her upside down, by the tail. Mount Bodie somehow managed not to erupt, but Tim has certainly reached a new level on Bodie's shit list."

The two men shared a good laugh over the fact that Tim, who was perpetually on the top of that list, now seemed destined to remain there forever.

Just as he was about to hang up, Murphy said, "We'll find her, Ray. Whoever did this won't escape the wrath of William Bodie."

Nodding, Doyle put down the receiver. "I hope he's right." Deciding he needed to pee before he could drink more tea, Doyle carried the photo album and the bear into the living room. Indulging the whimsicality the bear both elicited and encouraged, Doyle sat him by the fire so he'd stay warm while Doyle peed and then checked on Colleen.

When he returned, he intended to look at more photos, but he was too nervous to sit still. Pacing again, he stopped in front of the stained- glass, decorated mirror Colleen had made for them. Scowling at his reflection, he decided music might help divert him from his frustrating vigil. Turning back toward the fireplace, he asked the bear, "Who do you fancy? And before you say it, no, we can't listen to Queen. I need something more soothing. How about a bit of Bach?"

"What did he say?" a quiet, sleepy voice asked as Doyle approached the stereo.

Blushing as he realized what Colleen had caught him at, Doyle spun to face his sister. "I thought you were asleep."

"Obviously," Colleen replied as she walked over and sat down beside the bear. "Do put on the Bach. We'd like to hear it," she added, picking up Bodie Bear. Hugging him to her, she began to cry.

Concern crowding out embarrassment, Doyle turned on a quiet fugue, hoping it would calm Colleen. He then knelt beside her and put his arms around her, trying to comfort her. Knowing it'd be best not to mention Murphy's phone call, he stroked her long hair and rocked back and forth, murmuring soothing platitudes he didn't believe.

When the woman stopped crying, he moved her and the bear she clutched to the sofa. For some time, he sat staring into the fire. Colleen, her head resting in his lap, fell asleep. When Doyle finally looked at his sister again, he wondered why they were so different, why Colleen was filled with such pain that she continually sought oblivion in a bottle of alcohol or pills. Carefully, he lifted her wrist to his lips, kissing the scar of one, botched suicide attempt. "How much longer will it be, Colly, before you succeed?" He was not surprised when tears slid down his cheeks. Already, he was mourning her passing.

The tension in his stomach tightened into a knot of pain. If and when Colleen died, Arabella would become his responsibility. He didn't want to consider the changes this would force into his life and his relationship with Bodie. Coming full circle, he wondered again what was going on inside Bodie's head, what having Arabella to care for would do to the dissatisfaction the man was beginning to express.

"Don't worry, Ray. Bodie will find her," Colleen said softly, reaching up to touch her brother's creased face.

"I know," Doyle replied, leaning down to kiss her. "Are you hungry? It's been ages since you've eaten ...."

Colleen shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"Colly, you have to eat."

"Not till Arabella's back."

"And then what good will you be, passed out from hunger?"

"All right." The woman conceded, more to appease Ray than because she had much of an appetite.

Pleased, Doyle helped his sister sit up. When they were in the kitchen, he was surprised to see that she had brought the bear.

"What does he eat?" Colleen asked matter-of-factly as she and Bodie Bear sat down at the table.

Looking at his sister, Doyle smiled. Colleen had never lost touch with the whimsical side of her nature, but it had taken Bodie to rekindle Doyle's more fanciful side. "Sweets and steak," he responded, "but I'm afraid we'll all have to settle for a large spinach salad."

"With that wonderful hot bacon dressing you make?" Colleen inquired, studying the kitchen decor.

Doyle nodded as he set about fixing the meal. Over the salad, Colleen chatted calmly about her latest book of poems that had just been accepted for publication and the gallery showing a friend was arranging. She also said she'd poured all of her liquor down the drain after the discussion with Arabella.

Though he knew it wouldn't be long till Colleen bought more, Doyle nonetheless leaned over to kiss his sister, a silent form of support.

"Oh, Ray, I wish I could stay with you all the time. You make me be so good."

"Colly, you have to be good for yourself first, not for me. I can't 'make' you do anything."

"You sound just like my therapist, Raymond Martin Doyle." Though he wrinkled his nose at the sound of his hated middle name, Colleen continued, her voice low, "Sometimes I just don't know if I can get out of bed, Ray. It's so very hard."

Taking her hand, Doyle decided to ask a question that he'd never had the courage to ask. "Why is it so hard, Colly? Where does the pain come from?"

"I wish I knew, Ray. It's always been there inside me, for as long as I can remember."

"And the fact that I love you, that Arabella loves you, doesn't help?"

"Some, yes," she answered, nodding. "It's just not enough any more. It was for a while, but now -- I'm so scared, Ray."

When his sister began to cry, Doyle took her into the living room. He sat down in Bodie's rocking chair and pulled her onto his lap. Long ago he'd accepted and learned to deal with the fact that Colleen was seriously manic-depressive, but that knowledge did not help him when he could do so little to ease her suffering. Still, just holding her was the one form of comfort that penetrated the aura of pain she lived within. Briefly, he wondered if perhaps he should move in with her, if it would really help. Deciding to ask Kate Ross, he focussed his attention on his sister.

Colleen cried herself to sleep, safe in her brother's arms.

Carrying her into the bedroom, Doyle tucked her in and went back to stoke the fire. He then cleaned up the kitchen. Returning to the living room with Bodie Bear, he resolved to keep himself occupied. The jigsaw puzzle Bodie had bought him last week caught his eye. Putting on another Bach tape, he sat down at the small table he kept set up for puzzles. After dumping the pieces out, he sorted them and began working. Slowly, the joy that came from successfully placing a piece filled him. For nearly an hour, he sat chatting to the bear, who was no help at all, adding a piece here and a piece there till suddenly he'd finished a corner of the Monet watercolor.

Stiff from the nervous tension lurking in his body, and from sitting, he stood to stretch, catching sight of the phone. "Call me, Bodie," he begged quietly, wanting to hear the reassuring voice even if there was nothing new to report. Deciding that he was getting too soft, he moved the bear to the mantle and rearranged the living room furniture.

"It's better than breaking dishes," he allowed when the bear cast a quizzical glance in his direction as he cleaned up the remnants of the mug he'd thrown into the fireplace.

Task completed, he paced the confines of the living room once more. On his fifth turn around, the bear, dizzy from watching, suggested he do one of the aerobics routines Macklin insisted they perform each day. Quietly, Doyle retrieved his track suit from the bedroom. Stripping quickly, he put on only the sweatpants as the room was warm from the fire. It took him several minutes to locate the portable cassette player, the head phones and a suitably energetic Queen tape. With Bodie Bear standing in for Towser, he went through the workout three times before he had dissipated enough nervous energy to satisfy both himself and the bear.

When he was in the kitchen washing up, the phone rang. Steeling himself to deal with a kidnapper, he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi, sunshine."

"Bodie...."

"What do you fancy for dinner, Chinese or pizza?"

"You found her."

"No. But almost. She wasn't kidnapped. Once she calmed down after the fight with Colleen, Arabella went to Lizabeth's -- before school. They decided to go shopping and to the museum. Evidently, they tried to call Colleen to tell her not to worry, but they didn't have enough change for the phone. When they were cut off by good old Brit Tel, they didn't think any more about it."

"The kidnapper's call cut off," Doyle interjected, relieved but aware of the new emotion filling him -- irritation.

"Yeah. I've just caught up with Lizabeth, who decided it was best to confess immediately."

Doyle laughed. He could easily picture the scene. Once Bodie found her, Arabella would have some fast talking to do if she were to escape the man's wrath. "Just remember, Arabella had good reason for what she did," Doyle said. The words echoed in his memory. Often as a child, he'd used the same explanation in defense of Colleen.

"Don't worry. After I beat the fuck out of her for causing this, I'll buy her an ice cream."

Chuckling, Doyle, who knew he'd be hungry by the time the pair cam home, returned to an earlier question, "Chinese."

"See ya soon."

"Eat my fortune cookie, and you're dead meat," Doyle replied, hanging up.

Tension dissipated, he ran into the bedroom to tell Colleen the news. Finding her still asleep, he didn't have the heart to wake her, so he quietly retired to the other room. Grabbing the bear, he told him, instead, that Arabella was okay.

As he put another on the fire, he caught sight of himself and the bear in the mirror. "Best wipe that soppy smile off your face, old son. We have to be avuncularly stern when they get here."

The bear ignored him just as the real Bodie often did. Suddenly quite tired, Doyle sat down on the sofa, unaware of when he fell asleep. Bodie Bear snuggled close as he, too, was exhausted.

---

The giggling woke him, but Doyle remained still, pretending to be asleep. "Shh!" he heard Bodie caution; the giggling increased. Though it was dark in the flat, he could see by the clock in the stereo unit that it was 10 p.m. Wondering what they were up to, where they'd been, Doyle was trying to decide what to do when Bodie rather dramatically discovered that the furniture had been rearranged.

"Ouch! How the fuck ...!"

"Shh! Uncle Bodie!" cautioned Arabella.

"Shh! Uncle Ray!" Bodie hissed, his hand closing quickly over Doyle's mouth. "We're takin' you hostage till our ransom is paid," he whispered into Doyle's ear.

Playing his role, Doyle mumbled into the hand holding his lips together.

"What did he say?" Arabella asked.

Doyle frowned, wondering where she was. Bodie was now on top of him, having come over the back of the sofa.

"What the fu...," Bodie murmured as he reached down to grope his captive. "What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling the bear out from between him and Doyle.

"Protecting me from terrorists obviously," Doyle replied, though not too clearly.

"What?" Bodie asked as he took his hand from Doyle's mouth.

"I said he was protecting me from terrorists like you two."

"Well, he's not doing a very good job," Bodie pointed out.

"Yes, he is," answered Doyle as he pushed against Bodie, rolling the man over and onto the floor.

They wrestled around, neither getting the upper hand until Bodie came into solid contact with the newly relocated coffee table.

"Ouch! Who rearranged -- oh." Bodie shut up, realizing just how impossible it must have been to sit around, waiting for a phone call.

Just then, the lights went on.

"I thought you were gonna take Uncle Ray prisoner," Arabella commented when she saw Doyle straddling Bodie's torso.

"I was, princess, but he had help." Bodie pointed to the bear who was sitting on the couch, disdainful of the ruckus being raised.

Giggling, Arabella came over to kiss her uncle. "We were going to take you hostage and make you bake us gingerbread to get free. But since you've got Uncle Bodie, what shall we make him do for us?"

When Bodie started to make an outraged comment, Doyle quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. "Well," Doyle began thoughtfully, looking down at his lover, "we could make him take us shopping at the book fair Saturday."

"He's already promised to do that," Arabella responded as she collected Bodie Bear from the sofa. She, the bear, Raymond Rabbit and Jasmine climbed into the rocking chair.

"We could make him give us a great big kiss," Doyle said wistfully, smiling at Bodie.

Grabbing hold of his purloined sweater, Bodie did as requested..

"Thanks," Doyle whispered into the second kiss, pulling away before he succumbed to the desire to stretch out on top of Bodie for the third.

"I think," Arabella announced, watching them closely, "that we should make him take us to McDonald's for hamburgers and French fries."

"You just had a whole plateful of wor sue gai and fried rice," Bodie sputtered, his eyes wide with wonder.

"She's seven, Bodie," Colleen said from the doorway of the bedroom.

"Mama," Arabella shouted, jumping out of the chair and running to hug her mother. "I'm sorry, Mama. I really am. I didn't -- "

"It's all right, sweetheart. It's all right," Colleen whispered as she knelt to kiss her daughter.

As the two spoke in quiet tones, Doyle leaned down and asked Bodie. "What happened?"

"Found her about an hour after I called you. She was home in bed -- napping -- waiting for Colleen to come home. Had no idea about the fuss she'd caused."

"Did you really buy that old line?"

"For a while," Bodie answered, admitting his gullibility where the child was concerned. "But I was so nice to her, she finally confessed over the won ton soup."

"Tricky bastard."

"Yeah," Bodie responded, grinning broadly. "We had a long talk, and I'm hoping she learned from her mistake. And if she didn't, if she ever does this again, I told her I would beat the shit out of her."

Doyle's eyes widened. "You didn't?"

Nodding, Bodie sighed, or rather, tried to sigh. "Will you move, please? You weigh a fuckin' ton." He hoped his sarcastic tone would divert his partner.

Unable to read the truth in Bodie's eyes, Doyle moved and asked again, "You didn't really tell her that?" He was still trying to decide if he'd been had or if Bodie had really made the threat when Arabella came over to him.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Ray. I didn't mean to upset you so. I just didn't know what else to do. So, I hid in the bushes for awhile and then went to Lizabeth's. She told me that shopping would cure my blues." Arabella concluded her explanation with a shrug.

"I'm just glad you're okay, sunshine," Doyle replied, choking back the laughter evoked by the Bodie-like solution. He hugged his niece, unable to muster any of the stern words he'd promised himself he'd invoke.

Whispering into his ear, Arabella said, "I promised Uncle Bodie and I promise you that I'll call you if I need to go away or need help. I won't do this again."

Doyle hugged the child even closer when he felt her tears on his neck. He glanced at Bodie. The focus of the blue eyes was on Arabella, the love Bodie felt for her obvious. Wishing he could touch the Bodie he saw, Doyle instead pulled back, brushing away his niece's tears. "It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay. I don't love you any less." The bright smile he received made him see Colleen again as a child when he used to dry her tears, too.

"Well, I don't know about anyone else, but, ah, I, ah, could do with a cup of cocoa and a few of those biscuits I bought yesterday."

"McDonald's is open till 11:00," Doyle offered hastily.

Still able to read her brother's body language, Colleen played along. "I fancy a hamburger myself; haven't eaten since breakfast." She winked at her sibling.

Her eyes lighting up, Arabella gathered up her stuffed animal friends and walked over to Bodie. "We're ready, too."

Recognizing a conspiracy when he saw one, Bodie graciously acquiesced. As they were going out the door, he held Doyle back a moment. "Am I to understand that someone has finished off the last of me German, expensive German, biscuits?"

"Don't ask me. That pig of a bear must have eaten 'em all," Doyle answered innocently.

"I suppose he also rearranged the furniture?"

"Busy little bear, he was."

"Come on, you two," Colleen called up the stairs. "If you don't hurry, we'll have to go to Wimpy's instead, and I hate their hamburgers."

"Coming," Doyle replied, taking the stairs two at a time.

---

It was 2 a.m. before Colleen and Arabella were tucked in and Bodie and Doyle had returned to their own flat. They quickly settled into an exhausted cozy tangle.

"I can't tell you how many times today I looked into a drain pipe, pulled aside a bush, peeked into a cellar, expecting to find her raped, beaten to a bloody mess and left half-dead. I kept trying to figure out how I would tell you she'd been killed or ...." His voice trailed off as he shrugged. "I never did find the right words."

His emotions very near the surface after the difficult day, Doyle felt tears building.

"Are you going to cry?" Bodie asked in an accusatory tone, expecting this response now that they were alone and the crisis had passed.

"What if I am?" Doyle demanded defensively, still embarrassed by the fact that he cried so easily. To him it was just another emotional release, akin to punching the wall.

"I want a towel, that's all," Bodie said, reaching over to the nightstand for a Kleenex. Just as tears were Doyle's release, Bodie took refuge behind sarcasm.

"Prick."

"I'm tired, Ray."

Shifting so he could see his partner, Doyle looked into the blue eyes. "You really did take this hard, didn't you?"

"I don't think I've ever been on a more difficult job, excepting those times I've had to find or save you."

Touched by how deeply Bodie cared for Arabella, Doyle found himself wishing he could ask the questions coming to mind. He sighed as he fought to restrain his curiosity.

"Uh oh," intoned Bodie.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You want to talk, don't you." It was a statement. In the years they'd been lovers, Bodie had quickly learned what situations would bring on a heart-to-heart chat.

"No," Doyle replied, anger in his voice as he settled himself against Bodie. His ire was irrational, but he always felt a need to protect himself from Bodie's cynicism.

"All right," Bodie stated as he switched off the light.

The tension between them was palpable. Even the moonlight streaming into the room now that the rain had disappeared didn't help. They had long ago decided never to sleep on an argument; it was an agreement they rarely ignored.

Finally, into the strained silence, Bodie asked, "What are we fighting about?"

"Nothing."

"Then that's why you're this hard knot of muscle and bone attached to my right side instead of the soft, warm body I'm used to cuddling."

"I'm not soft."

"Oh," Bodie said as he realized what this was about. "I never said you were soft."

"But you think it."

"No. What I thought was not that you're soft. You're not ... especially now. Bodie decided to risk saying, "I just said you were ready to talk. That has nothing to do with being soft."

"In your mind they're the same."

"Why do you think I think that?" Bodie felt himself growing angrier with each of Doyle's responses. The issue of Doyle being soft was a familiar, defensive circle designed to keep him from what was really troubling his lover. Because this last query was one which he always used to call Doyle's bluff, Bodie had a moment to think. He really was too tired for the careful, verbal circling needed to get to the heart of what bothered Doyle; but he'd refused to be drawn in often enough in the past to have experienced the disastrous consequences. He switched on the light and sat up.

"What are you doing?" Doyle asked, well aware of how inane the question was.

"Havin' tea with the Queen Mum. What does it look like I'm doing?" Wishing he could recall the words because he knew the harsh edge in his voice hurt Doyle the most, Bodie grabbed one of Doyle's arms as the man started to leave the bed. "I'm sorry, Ray I'm truly exhausted "

"If I wasn't so bloody soft inside, I wouldn't get so upset," Doyle interrupted.

"Why do you think you're soft?" Bodie asked, deciding he might as well have an answer to the question, once and for all. He pushed and pulled till Doyle was lying almost perpendicular to him, head pillowed on his lap. It was important that they touch, that they see one another when they spoke of such personal matters. Doyle had shown him this truth. "Because of this?" Bodie queried, reaching up to grab Bodie Bear, who frequently kept watch on the headboard . "Is it because you talk to this stuffed animal; is it because you sleep with it when I'm not here? Don't look so shocked; I've come in unexpectedly and found you doin' both. Is it because only a month ago you hosted a tea party for a gaggle of stuffed animals and two children, one seven and the other, well, just a bit older."

"You were six," Doyle pointed out.

"Okay. If I was six and having tea with a floppy rabbit, a blue-eyed bear, a pink flamingo and a worn, green-eyed cat, why the hell do you think you have the market cornered on soft?" He let the bear kiss Doyle's nose.

Not quite ready to discuss what really troubled him, Doyle took the bear from Bodie. Sitting him on his abdomen, Doyle looked at the bear and said, "He's my conscience."

Aware of most of his lover's stalling techniques, Bodie accepted the fact he received no answer to his question. He sat silently, playing with the curls near his fingers. The tension between them was gone, replaced by the more typical comforting, quiet companionship.

"I try to live up to his ideas of nonviolence. He's who I'd like to be when I grow up."

Smiling at the wistfulness in Doyle's voice, Bodie leaned over to kiss the man's forehead.

"I'm really worried about Colly. I don't think she has much longer."

Though Bodie knew the woman's history and saw her as somewhat unstable, he hadn't thought of her as soon to end her life. There were fibers of steel in the woman he knew and a strong will to survive. "Why do you say that?"

"She told me it's getting too hard for her."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe she just wants your attention?"

Upset by the coldness in his partner's voice, Doyle sat up to face Bodie. "The last time she told me this, I thought just that. Later that night, I found her ODed."

"Don't get pissed, okay? I have a hard time fathoming suicides."

"Ross says it's what we're doing, only the slow way."

Bodie groaned loudly. "Do you believe that?"

"No not for us, but for Colly...I don't have any choice but to take her seriously."

"You have a point, sunshine. It's just that the woman I see...well, she doesn't act very suicidal."

Curious, Doyle inquired, "What do you see when you look at her?"

For a moment, Bodie was silent as he considered. "Don't get upset...."

Doyle smiled. "I do want to know. There can't be anything you can say about her that I haven't thought before." He pulled the duvet up over his shoulders.

"And just how am I supposed to stay warm now?"

"Love, my son, will keep you warm," Doyle intoned.

"Yeah, that and your bony little freezer of a body."

"He may be sleepin' on the sofa tonight," Doyle told the wide-eyed bear solemnly.

"You're crazy , you know that." Bodie ruffled they dishevelled curls.

"So are you."

"Agreed," Bodie said, chuckling. "I know but I don't intend to tell anyone.''

"What if I tell?"

Bodie grabbed the bear and responded with, "You talk to this bear. You are not going to turn me in."

Laughing, Doyle soon found himself in hysterics as Bodie Bear, with a bit of help from his namesake, began tickling and kissing. This turned into lovemaking. Doyle fell asleep wondering if and hoping that the semen would wash out of the bear's black fur.

---

Over breakfast, Bodie casually brought up the subject of Doyle's sister. "So, you think Colleen might do herself in?"

Doyle, who'd been sipping his coffee, nearly choked. "Your timing is wonderful."

"You thought it was last night," Bodie replied, winking.

"Yeah, it was," Doyle agreed, smiling as he remembered the moment Bodie's lips closed around his throbbing cock. "How the fuck did the bear get so messy?"

"He's your conscience how should I know?" Bodie shrugged, well aware of just how the stuffed animal came to be covered with semen.

"His tag says he can go in the washer; I hope so."

His eyes enormous, full of indignation, Bodie said, "You're not going to put that little fellow in the washing machine."

Doyle frowned.

"Where is he now?"

"In with the dirty clothes."

"Doyle!" Bodie exclaimed, pushing away from the table. He'd just eaten Doyle's toast and bacon so he felt it wise to follow through with the diversionary tactic. "Poor little bugger." It wasn't till Bodie was safely in the bedroom, sorting through the laundry basket that Doyle finally noticed the lack of food on his plate.

"Bodie, you pig," Doyle shouted.

Deciding it'd be better for the bear to enter the kitchen ahead of him, Bodie had him peer around the door jamb first. When Doyle dissolved into laughter, Bodie stepped around the corner, only to have a cup of water hit him squarely in the face. "Doyle, you'll pay for this."

"You have to catch me first," Doyle challenged, wondering where the foolish words had come from since Bodie was blocking the only doorway. Doyle was giving serious thought to the kitchen window when the phone rang.

"Oh, shit, we're late," Bodie said, moving away from the phone.

Doyle grabbed a towel and tossed it to his partner as the pair headed for the front door.

When they paused to kiss, as they always did before facing the fates, Doyle asked, "What if it's Colleen or Arabella?"

Sighing deeply, Bodie replied, "Better answer it then." He put the smelly bear and the damp towel on the sofa while Doyle picked up the receiver.

"4. 5?"

"Vhat?" Doyle queried, his voice several octaves higher, thick with a mock German accent. "Who is dis?" He hoped the new dispatcher would buy the wrong-phone-number scam.

"I'm sorry, ma'am --"

"Vhat?"

"Is this --"

"Vhat? Oh, stop dat, you big lug!" Doyle shouted, his voice even higher since Bodie goosed him. He hung up the phone quickly.

"I gather that was not the relations."

"On your bike, laddie," Doyle replied, imitating Cowley.

Giving a Nazi salute, Bodie led the way out the door.

It wasn't till dinner that evening at their favorite Chinese restaurant that Doyle found the right moment to return to a discussion of his sister.

The last of the pot of tea had just been poured by a familiar waiter who made it known that he thought Bodie's "date" of the previous evening was prettier than Doyle.

"She is a beauty," Doyle agreed as Chen walked away.

"Takes after her uncle," Bodie said, smiling.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Bodie winked at his lover.

Returning the smile, Doyle began, "I really am worried about them."

"I know."

"You never did answer my question last night. Tell me how you see Colly."

"Well," Bodie replied, pausing to sip the ginseng tea, "I can't say that I like much of her painting -- a bit too abstract for my concrete little brain -- but I do admire her poetry. When I read it, I think of --" He paused again, wondering if he really should admit what he thought. The hopeful look in the green eyes reminded him of how much this would probably mean to Doyle, so he swallowed his trepidation along with a bit more tea and continued, "Whenever I read her poetry, I feel as if you were writing it to me." The soppy smile on Doyle's lips told him he'd said the right thing. "Her haiku are -- 'A bee finds a rose/There is that joy in this heart/Whenever you smile so."'

Chin on hand as he rested his elbow on the small table, Doyle stared at Bodie's face, awash in the light of a candle. The pale skin had a golden glow; the blue eyes were darker by contrast and full of love. "And I sometimes wonder why I fell in love with you," Doyle said softly.

Determined to face the loving gaze he usually turned from, Bodie's resolve was interrupted by Chen wanting to know if they were ready for more tea and their fortune cookies.

The moment now but a happy memory to be savored in a blue mood, Doyle looked over and nodded at the waiter. Bodie's eyes had an introspective gaze so Doyle said nothing to distract him.

His thoughts still lost in the beauty of the woman's poetry and how well it captured his relationship with her brother, Bodie was silent till the new pot of tea arrived with the cookies. The sound of Doyle cracking one open brought him back. Smiling sheepishly, he picked up the remaining cookie. "Sorry."

"For what, for letting me see that you are in love? I just hope it's with me." Doyle knew it was probably unwise to voice his concern and curiosity about whatever was troubling his lover, but he needed reassurance.

The comment startled Bodie. "Who the fuck else would I be in love with?"

"I don't know. You look that way when you see chocolates."

Leaning over the table, Bodie whispered, "I ought to slap that cruel little mouth of yours for that remark."

"Do it if it's the only way you can tell me you love me." Doyle shot back, wondering if they would ever outgrow these needlessly painful exchanges.

The two stared at one another for several long moments. Finally, Doyle sat up straight and sighed. "The tea's getting cold."

"I haven't been living up to my promise, have I?" Bodie asked, aware of his guilt.

"No." For a moment Doyle wasn't inclined to go on; but love overcame his pride. His partner's surprised reaction gave him additional courage. Voice full of concern, he inquired, "What's wrong, Bodie? Have you fallen out of love with me? Because if you have, I --"

Bodie put his finger against Doyle's lips, knowing it was the only way to stop the rush of words. He had been troubled of late. The job was beginning to wear on him. There was too much death in his life. He wanted to work with the living, to stop killing. Arabella, he knew, had forced him to consider just what it was he did for a living. Each day he was finding it harder and harder to go on. He had shied away from examining his unrest because he was afraid of the consequences. If he couldn't do CI5's bidding, he couldn't watch out for, protect the person he loved most, Raymond Doyle. And he had no idea of what he could do if he quit. Working for a private security firm held no appeal. Being a bounty hunter wasn't much different from what he was currently doing. And while a job at McDonald's would feed him, it wouldn't keep him satisfied for long. What he needed was a complete change. As he looked into the anxious green eyes, he also knew he wasn't ready to discuss this with himself, let alone with Doyle.

Seeking to divert his lover, yet reassure him at the same time, Bodie quoted another of Colleen's haiku. "'Nurtured by time/A sapling becomes an oak/So does my love grow."

"Oh, Bodie," Doyle whispered, wanting to kiss his lover's lips.

Bodie glanced around. The dark intimacy of the corner booth they favored afforded them considerable privacy. When he was certain no one could see them, he risked everything as he leaned over and kissed Doyle.

"The tea's getting cold," he added when he was again against the solid wood back of the booth. His heart was racing. Location, love and circumstance made it one of the most thrilling kisses of his life.

All Doyle could do was breathe deeply as he tried to calm down, to keep the building tears from sliding down his cheeks.

Feeling a need to defend Doyle from his own savage opinion of how soft he was, Bodie said lightly, "I admire you, you know. The ability to cry is one of our greatest gifts. It doesn't mean that you're soft, Ray. It just means that you feel, that you're human."

The tears did fall then in a silent., silvery cascade down Doyle's cheeks.

Bodie reached over, his fingers brushing away the moisture from the cheekbones, lingering then to caress. When Doyle kissed his palms, Bodie hastily retrieved his hands. He tossed some money on the table, grabbed his untouched fortune cookie and hauled his partner out of the booth.

They walked hurriedly and in silence to the car, Bodie's hand on Doyle's shoulder, keeping the mood alive. Since it was snowing, they both scuffed their way to the car, parked in a deserted, dark alley. Glancing around as he unlocked the door, Bodie climbed into the Capri's cramped back seat. Doyle followed quickly, pulling the door closed behind him.

Hidden from prying eyes by the snow and the steamy air which blanketed the inside of the windows, they were soon a tangle of hot bodies, opened shirts and desperate lips. Doyle was working on Bodie's zipper when the dashboard radio beeped. He ignored it till 30 seconds later when their pocket R/T's bleeped simultaneously.

"Shit," Doyle cursed, fumbling around for an R/T. He finally found Bodie's. "4.5."

"4.5 report to Alpha at headquarters immediately. Do you know where 3.7 is?"

"Yeah. I'll pick him up and bring him along."

"Base out."

Bodie moaned. Doyle put a finger on his lips and tossed the R/T into the front seat. His mouth closed over Bodie's pulsing cock. He sucked, teased and licked till the fat prick was limp and Bodie was breathing hard, drawing in ragged, deep breaths that spoke silently of his pleasure.

"Come on, sunshine, we'd better get a move on. I'll drive. You fix yourself up."

As Doyle moved away, Bodie held onto the man's shoulder. "What about you?"

"It's still in my jeans, it'll go away. But you were out. No way to stuff this big boy back in," Doyle replied, leaning over to kiss the cockhead. Wishing he could see the languor in Bodie's eyes, on his face, Doyle squirmed his way into the front seat. "Keys."

When Bodie handed them to his partner, he kept hold of the man's hand, signing "I love you" in the palm.

Doyle giggled at both the light touch and the wonderfully whimsical way Bodie had expressed himself. That did not, however, stop him from driving to headquarters at breakneck speed, tearing sharply around corners as Bodie was trying to dress himself.

They arrived at Cowley's office slightly out of breath and somewhat still unbuttoned. As Doyle fastened a missed button on Bodie's blue silk shirt, Bodie knocked at the door.

"Come," Cowley said.

Opening the door, they were quite surprised to see Arabella Doyle sitting on the desk showing the CI5 chief a drawing. Crayons rolled helter- skelter over the desk top, mingling with classified documents. In horrified silence, the two agents waited for their presence to be acknowledged. Finally, Arabella turned toward them.

"Hello," she said happily. "Mr. Cowley has, just asked if he might have this drawing for his wall. He thinks I'm going to be a famous painter one day, and he wants to be the first to have my work."

Doyle felt his eyes grow to the circumference of small peaches. He crossed the room to where his niece sat. "What ...."

"Mama's at the hospital, and I had nowhere else to go." She slid off the desk and hugged Doyle.

Stroking the head of silken hair dangerously near his still semi-erect cock, Doyle took a deep breath and stooped down to be on the child's level. "What happened?"

"Mama fell down and hit her head. I called an ambulance and then I called you, but Mr. Cowley answered."

Bodie looked at the CI5 boss.

"I was in the dispatch room when her call came in."

"He was so nice, Uncle Ray. He came and got Jasmine, Raymond and me, and we all went to the hospital to see that Mama was all right. Then, he took us to McDonald's and brought us here to wait for you. He's awfully nice. I don't believe any of those stories you and Uncle Bodie tell about him."

"When Cowley snorted, Doyle, to mask his laughter, buried his face in Arabella's hair. Bodie turned away to hide his own smile.

"Don't cry, Uncle Ray," the child said, trying to soothe what she thought were sobs. "Mama's okay."

"And you're okay, too?" Bodie asked when he noted the child's confusion and concern. "And Jasmine and Raymond, where are they? Are they okay?"

"Yes. They're sitting over in the chair, napping."

"Well, wake them gently, and we'll take you all home."

Doyle, finally in control again, kissed Arabella's cheek before he released her. As she put on her coat and retrieved the animal, he watched her for a moment before looking at his boss. He was relieved to find amusement in the usually hard eyes.

"Thank you, sir. I ... we ...."

Cowley held up his hand, gesturing away Doyle's explanation. "Colleen is in St. Luke's. She's being kept overnight for observation."

"Concussion?" queried Bodie.

"Yes. She should be able to go home tomorrow. You two will be busy so I've arranged for Betty to pick her up and stay till Arabella arrives home from school."

"Thank you, sir. We'll be off now," Bodie answered, taking Arabella's hand. Jasmine and Raymond peeked out from his jacket.

"Good-bye, Mr. Cowley," Arabella said, freeing herself from Bodie. She went over to the desk. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed the older man's cheek.

He smiled in response and reminded her of their Friday dinner date.

Doyle hastily shut his mouth when the discerning CI5 chief's eyes dared him to comment.

Before anyone could say anything further, Arabella came around the desk. She took Bodie's hand once more and reached out for Doyle's. He moved closer, taking her hand.

"'Night, sir," Bodie said for all of them as they left the office. When the door was closed, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"He really is a nice man, Uncle Ray."

"Why's he taking you to dinner on Friday?" Bodie asked suspiciously.

"He said he wanted to take the prettiest girl in London on her first date."

"Should we be worried?" Doyle inquired in all seriousness as they headed for the stairs.

"Nah. I forgot. Santa's supposed to be at the club Friday," Bodie replied.

The solemn tone of voice reminded Doyle that Bodie was supposed to be Father Christmas for the bash. He'd already helped Bodie "practice."

Bodie took a deep breath as he thought of the moment when Doyle had climbed onto his lap and wiggled suggestively as he asked for a ten inch vibrator for Christmas. He glanced over at his partner and winked.

By this time they had reached the front door. After checking to see that the child's coat was buttoned all the way up, Doyle pushed open the door and the three of them ran toward the car, slip-sliding on the icy base beneath the snow. A snowball fight ensued as Doyle and Arabella ganged up on the handicapped Bodie who had Jasmine and Raymond to protect from the elements while he also tried to defend himself. When Bodie managed to scramble into the safety of the car, Doyle lobbed his last snowball at Cowley who was watching from the window above.

Waving at the shadow of the man, Arabella climbed into the car.

A pot of cocoa and two hours later, the child was finally sound asleep on the sofa. Fetching the peppermint schnapps from the sideboard, Doyle carried the two remaining cups of cocoa, laced with the alcohol, into the bedroom. Bodie, naked, was standing by the bed drying his hair. "Any hot water left?" Doyle asked, all too aware of his partner's penchant for long, hot showers.

"A teaspoon or two," Bodie answered, pulling back the down-filled duvet. "Why don't you take a quick one, and I'll give you a rubdown."

"You'll be giving me a lot more than just a rubdown," Doyle said suggestively, draining the warm mixture from one of the cups.

"At the rate you're putting away the schnapps, you'll be out as soon as you hit the pillow, old son." Bodie frowned when he realized that his lover wasn't listening to him.

Lost in his own concerns despite his remark of a moment ago, Doyle sat on the edge of the bed. "Yesterday, Colly said she should live with me. After tonight, I think it might be a good idea. If she is increasingly unable to care for herself, then maybe I should move in with her. Someone has to be there to help her and to look after Arabella." He spoke mostly to hear his thoughts out loud.

Because Doyle's attention was focussed elsewhere, Bodie was able to stare at his partner for several moments, his thoughts fixed more on how beautiful Doyle was than on what the man had said. When he felt his cock stir, he went over and began unbuttoning Doyle's shirt.

"What are you doing?" Doyle queried when his shirt was pulled free of his waistband.

"Takin' you to bed."

"No," Doyle replied, shaking his head. He brushed aside Bodie's warm hands and stood up. "I'm going to have a soak in the tub. Don't wait up."

The brusque dismissal irritated Bodie. "If that's what you want...." He walked over to his side of the bed.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can cope with my own guilt if she kills herself and I don't know -- there's so much I need to think about."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bodie asked, belatedly realizing that his partner had mentioned moving in with Colleen.

Nodding, Doyle finished stripping. "Let me shower first."

"Okay," Bodie said as he climbed into bed.

When Doyle returned to the bedroom, Bodie was lost under the covers, curled up against the chill of the night. Shivering himself, Doyle slid into a heavy terry cloth robe and walked over to his lover's side of the bed. Carefully, he peeked under the duvet to see if the man was asleep. When he saw that he was, Doyle smiled affectionately. It was just as well, he decided as he went to check on his niece. He really needed time alone to sort out his feelings and review his options. Seeing that Arabella was fine, he turned up the heat a bit before going into the kitchen to make tea.

Carrying it into the living room, he sat in the handmade, wooden rocker Bodie had bought in Scotland last year. His thoughts firmly fixed on the future, he wasn't sure when the scenes he saw became dreams.

The cold hand on his leg woke Doyle instantly. "What's wrong?" he asked of the sleepy child staring up at him.

"I'm cold," she whispered, climbing onto her uncle's lap.

After she, the cat, the rabbit and his bear were settled, Doyle pulled the blanket she'd dragged along over them all and began to rock. He sang her an old Irish lullaby that his mother used to sing to Colleen when she was a baby. The rhythms of the song and the chair combined as sleep overtook him again.

Bodie found them all still asleep in the rocker when he came to wake Arabella for school. Tipping the chair back slightly, he leaned over to kiss the top of his lover's head.

The motion roused Doyle and he arched his neck backward inviting a kiss on the lips.

Obliging, Bodie had just deepened the kiss when he realized Arabella was awake and watching them closely. Hoping to divert her from questions he didn't intend to answer, he kissed the girl's forehead. "Morning, princess."

"Do you and Uncle Ray do what Mama and Mr. Jenkins do in bed?"

"Who's Mr. Jenkins?" Doyle asked, ignoring the question.

"He's the man who's showing Mama's paintings at the gallery."

Deciding this was already a conversation fraught with too many subjects he'd rather avoid, Bodie tried to slip away unnoticed.

Doyle, ever alert to Bodie's evasive tactics, grabbed onto the man's robe and held him in place. "Sit down, Bodie."

"I need to start breakfast."

"Sit down."

Giving in because he knew his partner would simply follow him into the kitchen, Bodie sat on the sofa.

"How long has she been seeing Mr. Jenkins?" Doyle began.

Arabella shrugged. "A long time. Since...." She shrugged again, her sense of time as vague as her mother's. Shifting, she looked over at Bodie.

He blushed slightly when he realized that his loosely belted robe and spread legs gave her quite a view.

Climbing down, Arabella walked over to Bodie. Kissing his exposed knee, she said, "Yours is bigger than Mr. Jenkins'."

His blush deepening, Bodie swallowed hard. He looked at Doyle and frowned. Leaning over, he asked Arabella, "How do you know that?"

The question prompted Doyle to probe further. "Has he shown it to you?"

The girl nodded, looking from Bodie to Doyle and back again. "Last week at breakfast."

"Where was your mother?" Bodie asked gently, trying to control his growing anger.

"In the shower. We were going to the Tate and she went to get ready. He was finishing his coffee and toast."

"What, exactly, did he do?" The question was Doyle's.

"Well...," Arabella began, sensing something of the tension now present. She reached for Jasmine.

Understanding, Doyle knelt beside the girl. "We're not angry with you, sweetheart. Please tell us what happened."

For a moment, Arabella looked into Doyle's eyes, drawing courage from the love and concern she saw. "He told me to come over to him," she began finally, holding the cat close. "And...," she stopped, shrugging.

"Would it be easier to show me?" Doyle asked. When she nodded, he looked at his partner. The gathering storm in the blue eyes alarmed him.

Since she felt quite safe with the two men, Arabella approached Bodie. "He was sitting at the table and when I came over he told me he had a pressie for me." She took a deep breath and pulled Bodie's robe apart, exposing him. "He told me to touch him like this." Gingerly, she reached over, her finger hovering just above the head of Bodie's penis. "But it wiggled and I ran away." Imitating her own actions, she returned to Doyle's side. Suddenly seeing the fury in Bodie's eyes as he covered himself, she frowned and edged away, wondering what she'd done to evoke this reaction.

"Bodie...."

The softly spoken word from Doyle drew Bodie's attention. Realizing that he'd frightened Arabella, he said, "I'm not upset with you, princess."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Doyle told her, kissing her forehead. "Mr. Jenkins did."

The girl glanced over at Bodie.

Smiling at her, he added his assurance. "As your Uncle Ray said, princess, it was Mr. Jenkins who did something wrong when he asked you to touch him. You understand that, don't you?"

Arabella nodded.

"We'll have to have a chat with Mr. Jenkins." Bodie added.

" No," Arabella shouted. "He'll be mad. He told me if I told anyone, he'd make Mama take her paintings from his gallery."

Kneeling beside the child, Bodie looked her in the eye.

"Don't worry. Your mother won't want to show her paintings in his gallery when she hears what he's done."

"Well, I think we'd better get some breakfast," Doyle finally said, unsure of what else to say to his niece. "I'm glad you told us. It was the right thing to do."

Bodie smiled his agreement.

For a moment, the child stood looking at the two men.

"It's okay, princess. It's Mr. Jenkins we're upset with, not you." Bodie kissed her hand and Jasmine's head.

Accepting this, Arabella put the cat in the rocker and headed off toward the bathroom.

"Phew," Bodie exclaimed when she'd gone. "Now what?"

"Well, I suppose I should put on the kettle. You go help her take a bath," Doyle suggested, fully expecting Bodie, for once, to volunteer for kitchen detail. When the man nodded his acceptance of the assignment, Doyle looked more closely at his partner, surprised to say the least.

"I mean, what do we do about Jenkins?"

Doyle asked, "Do you know what the Cow's got on for us today?"

Bodie shook his head. "I doubt if it's much, though."

"Think he'll let us have a bit of personal time?"

"After last night, when we tell him why, yes."

"Sure of that, are you?" Doyle asked, smiling at his lover, before pursing his lips.

Bodie kissed the pouty lips. "What if she asks about us again?"

"We tell her what she wants to know."

Blue eyes rolled heavenward. "What do you think she knows about sex?"

"Maybe a little, not much...probably, but who knows these days?" Pausing, Doyle stood up. "You volunteering to tell her?"

"Moi?"

"Yes, toi." Doyle extended his hand toward his partner.

Levering himself up, Bodie put his arms around Doyle. "I'm not old enough to be a parent."

"If something happens to Colleen " A finger was placed against his lips. Doyle kissed it.

"I think you should talk to Ross about Colleen and what to do about Arabella."

"I thought you didn't buy all that psychological mumbo-jumbo."

"I don't," Bodie replied, "but she's also got a lot of common sense."

"It's a good idea," agreed Doyle. "It's also awfully quiet in the bathroom." Suddenly, Doyle caught sight of his niece peeking around the door jamb. Indicating his discovery with his eyes, he also decided they might as well be as open as possible with Arabella. He stepped closer to Bodie, putting his arms around the man's neck and kissing him lightly on the lips. "I love you, Bodie," he said.

Following his lover's lead, Bodie replied, "I love you too, sunshine."

A broad smile lit Doyle's lips. He took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen. "Make sure she brushes her teeth."

Bodie watched him go, pleased with the reaction to his words.

Wondering why he'd not turned down the task, he set off to see that Arabella had a proper bath.

---

Bodie reached the squad room only to find that his partner had not yet arrived. While Doyle had gone to check on Colleen and talk to Ross, Bodie had taken Arabella to school. Wondering how much longer Doyle would be, Bodie sat down to wait.

His thoughts turned to what his lover had been musing about last night. The idea of Colleen and Arabella living with them or Doyle moving into Colleen's sent a shiver through him. Seven months ago, after several years of living together, he and Doyle had had a major disagreement. After four months apart, they'd resolved their differences and affirmed their commitment to one another. It'd been only three months since then and Bodie didn't want anything to stress the arrangement. And yet, he knew his lover had a very strong sense of responsibility toward Colleen.

Colleen -- he liked her primarily because she was Doyle's sister, but Bodie felt she was out of touch with reality. This made him edgy because he couldn't predict what she'd do next, which meant he couldn't control her or the effects she had on his life. He didn't like that.

Arabella was a different matter. He loved her a great deal already. She was a bright, perceptive child who somehow managed to bridge the gap between her mother's world and the everyday one. There was an ethereal side to the child; she could be as vague as Colleen, but more frequently, Arabella was as practical as her uncle.

There was no doubt in Bodie's mind that the girl was the embodiment of the young Ray Doyle. She was also, with her black, but curly hair and green eyes, the perfect image of what his and Ray's child would look like. The thought of her being his responsibility -- he ignored how much responsibility he already took for her -- made him cringe. As he'd told Ray, he wasn't old enough to be a parent. Nor did he feel he had the patience or the temperament it took to see a child through to adulthood. His concern in this regard was compounded by his own unrest and growing dissatisfaction with his job.

Suddenly, he realized he was being watched. Turning, he saw Doyle standing in the doorway.

It wasn't often Bodie could be caught in a clearly reflective mood which made Doyle wonder again what the man was mulling over. Wanting to be supportive, he said, "Whenever you're ready to tell me what the problem is, Bodie, I'll be here to listen."

Damning Doyle's perceptiveness, Bodie stood and walked out of the room. He stopped outside Cowley's office. When his partner reached him, Bodie quickly knocked to forestall further comment.

"Come."

Reluctantly, Doyle followed his lover inside. Bodie's unwillingness to talk hurt, but the pain was overshadowed by concern. Now, however, was not the time to pursue the matter. He swallowed noisily and focussed on his boss.

"What is it?" the CI5 chief finally asked, his attention on the papers before him.

Doyle looked over at Bodie. "My family, sir, I --"

"We," Bodie interjected. Even though he wanted to stay away from the problems Doyle's family represented, he also felt honor bound to be there to assist in solving these difficulties. Sending his partner to Ross had been more of an attempt at a solution rather than avoiding the subjects Doyle needed advice on.

Again, Doyle glanced at his partner, pleased and somewhat amazed at Bodie's willingness to deal with his family. "We would like the day to settle a few things, sir. Colleen will be very upset when she gets home. It'd be best if I see to her. Also, we learned this morning that the man she's dating has been making advances toward Arabella."

The mention of possible child molestation made Cowley lift his head. "Who is the man?"

"A Mr. Boyd Jenkins, manages a respectable art gallery. He's showing Colleen's work."

"Is he coercing your sister?"

"I believe so. Colly...Colleen has never had much awareness of how the world works, sir. Unfortunately, that lack of awareness is too obvious. People take advantage."

"Has he hurt Arabella?"

"No, sir. He just exposed himself to her, wanting her to touch him. She was frightened and had the sense to run away from him. I'd rather he didn't try again." Doyle paused, noticing the drawing his niece had done hanging on the wall behind his boss. Restraining a smile, he continued, "It's complicated by the fact that this showing means a great deal to Colleen. She sells her paintings by word of mouth. This is her first showing of a body of work...." He ended with a shrug.

"I understand, Doyle. Will the day be sufficient to settle everything? Your family is beginning to interfere with your work. I want them taken care of so you can focus on your job without distraction. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry about last night."

"Don't apologize. Your niece is a very charming young lady. A lapse here and there reminds us of who it is we sacrifice for. But when personal concerns intrude too often, they make us careless." The blue-grey eyes locked with Doyle's.

Doyle nodded, having heard the lecture about how much it cost to train and maintain an agent, about how it was better to head off problems rather than let them interfere to the point where an operative was killed on the job.

"Have you considered moving in with your family?"

"Yes, sir. But Colly's always been very independent."

"A family trait, I gather."

"Perhaps," Doyle admitted, smiling slightly. "So I've not suggested we live together. But she's getting worse. I thought Arabella had brought stability to her life but as she gets older, Colly seems less and less able to cope. Two days ago she said she thought she should move in with me, that I made her be good."

Bodie frowned, understanding now what Doyle had been trying to talk about. He felt a twinge of guilt for the times he'd distracted the man from that discussion.

"At Bodie's suggestion, a few minutes ago I spoke with Dr. Ross about it. She met Colleen when Arabella ran away and apparently, Ross went to visit Colly last night, so she has some sense of what my sister is like."

"And....." Cowley prompted when Doyle stopped.

"I really haven't had time to think about what she said...."

"What did she say?"

"Well, she said she'd like to see Colly on a regular basis because she thinks she's being overly medicated for her manic depression." Doyle hesitated, wondering if Cowley would agree to this, although Ross had explained that treating the entire family was all part of her job.

"Go on."

After a glance at Bodie whose eyebrows shrugged, Doyle obeyed. "And she thought it was, for the moment, better for Colleen to have responsibility for her own flat and for Arabella. She thought they helped and even if it's more difficult, that may come from the poor quality of her medical care. Until Ross can make a better assessment and begin a new treatment program, she thinks it best to leave Colly on her own. 'Compromising her independence could create additional trauma,' or so she said."

"Did you tell her about Jenkins?"

"Yeah. She thought Arabella was probably okay, but that we need to discuss it with her, tell her how to handle it if it ever happens again. We also need to find out what she knows...," his voice trailed off. He really didn't want to tell Cowley this much about his family, but the man did have a right to information that might affect his agents. He also knew that if he didn't explain, Cowley would question Ross.

"And you, Bodie, what's your part in all this?"

"Doyle's my partner, sir. What affects him, affects me," Bodie replied smoothly. He looked his boss in the eye, daring him to probe further. The man had never directly commented on the love relationship that had developed between his two agents.

Frowning somewhat in response to the challenging blue eyes, Cowley issued orders. "Take whatever time you need, but settle this. And Doyle, after you check on the gallery owner and Jenkins, bring the reports to me. I'll see that your speaking to Jenkins does not adversely affect your sister's showing."

There was unmistakable dismissal in the man's tone of voice. Scurrying out of the office, the pair retreated to the empty squad room, pleased but not really surprised by Cowley's reactions. While they waited for the check on the gallery owner and on Jenkins, Bodie asked a few questions of his own.

"Do you think Ross' suggestions are okay?"

Hand on head, elbow on desk, Doyle sat and stared out a window for a moment before answering. "I don't know."

"I think she has a point though about the drugs," Bodie began. "That witch doctor she's been going to gives her entirely too many pills."

"Is that a compliment, Bodie?" Kate Ross asked, having come into the squad room in search of Doyle.

"From these lips?" quipped Bodie.

"Good. If it had been, I'd have you in for an examination."

"She just wants me to lie on her couch with me clothes off. It's my body she's after," Bodie told his partner in a loud, conspiratorial tone of voice.

"Must be, sunshine. It certainly couldn't be your mind she wants."

Ross laughed. "One of these days, Bodie, I'm going to catch you displaying that IQ of yours."

"He hasn't got any," Doyle pointed out.

"He's right. I work for CI5." While he laughed at the comment, it brought Bodie back to his own problems. Though he dismissed them quickly, he realized that both Ross and Doyle had caught that flicker of self-doubt. Wondering when he'd become such an open book, he left to get coffee.

"What's his problem?" Ross inquired of Doyle.

"Just his time of month," Doyle replied evenly, protecting Bodie.

Accepting this, Ross turned to her reason for seeking Doyle out. "Will you have Colleen in and settled by, say, eight this evening?"

"Yeah."

"I'd like to come by and talk to her. Until she feels comfortable with me, I think it best to see her at home where she feels safe. I might not press as hard, but the possibility of her over-medication concerns me a great deal. In order to change her medicines, I must get to know her better, and she me."

"You seem very interested in this."

The coldness in Doyle's voice did not escape Ross. "Manic--

depressives and suicides are my specialty." The strange expression on Doyle's face made her put a hand on his shoulder. "Ray, your sister is very troubled. Surely, you must be prepared for her death."

"Can anyone 'prepare' for that?" Bodie queried, his voice filled with cynicism. Cat-quiet, he had returned in time to hear the doctor's last comment.

"Contrary to what either of you may think, I am very concerned about Colleen and about you both."

The defensiveness in the Psychiatrist's tone of voice made both men realize they'd drawn blood. It surprised them.

To Doyle's further amazement, Bodie apologized.

Emphasizing the sincerity of his words, Bodie offered the woman one of the two cups of coffee that he held. He then moved to his partner's side. Wise enough to understand the seriousness of the situation, he was determined to accept whatever might help Doyle. He knew that even he might not be able to cope with Doyle's emotions if and when Colleen killed herself.

Pleased with the evidence of Bodie's mature attitude, Ross addressed Doyle once more. "I am convinced that Colleen will experience a suicidal bout of depression in the near future. That's why it's so important I begin to treat her immediately. But I feel obligated to tell you that no medicine, no therapy, can stop her if she reaches bottom. I don't know whether that will happen now or in the future."

"Why? I don't understand why," Doyle shouted, pounding his fist on the arm of the chair. "What have I done; how did I fail?"

The anguish in the green eyes made Bodie wince. Without thinking about the psychiatrist's discerning gaze, he put a hand on Doyle's shoulder.

"I believe that a manic-depressive begins life on the edge of a pit. As they live, they plumb its depths. Each attempt at suicide, no matter how half-hearted, is a response to the pain they experience at each new, lower level. One day, they touch bottom. A few are able to survive the suicide attempt and can return to a higher level, where the pain is great, but not overwhelming. Most are unable to cope with it and succeed in finally ending their own suffering."

"But why?" Doyle asked again.

"I have spent my entire professional career trying to learn the answer to that question. I have yet to find even a satisfactory combination of reasons. It could be chemical, a brain enzyme deficiency. It could be upbringing. It could be a holdover from a past life. I have no answers."

The reference to a past life made Doyle focus on the doctor. "That's reaching, isn't it?"

"Perhaps. But I would like to know why myself. My mother was a manic-depressive. She killed herself when I was 13."

Doyle turned away from the grief he saw in her eyes. Her pain would be his to know.

The doctor, knowing she'd revealed too much, but willing to do so because she had to establish her credibility if she was to help Colleen as well as Doyle, turned away, needing to hide the tears which threatened. As she tried to leave, Bodie blocked her way. He caught her and pulled her close, offering a comfort no one else had, even when she was 13. Grateful, she held on, crying into the crease where his neck and shoulder met. When she felt more composed, he drew her aside to a desk. Sitting her down, he carefully wiped off her runny mascara. "You may be a pig, Bodie, but you do have good instincts." He wrinkled his nose and made oinking sounds at which she laughed. "He'll need more than a hug to get him through," she said sadly, looking at Doyle, already wallowing in guilt.

"I know," Bodie replied with a deep sigh.

"You're the only person who can convince him that he's not responsible."

"You don't know Ray very well if you think I can do that."

"On the contrary, Bodie, when he accidentally killed Paul Coogan, you were the one he listened to. You convinced him he wasn't guilty."

"No. I tried, but --"

"You underestimate yourself. I'm sure he didn't pop out with 'Oh, yes, you're right, of course, let's go have an ice cream'; but he did eventually come to see your point. You gave him the perspective he needed to understand why he wasn't guilty. You'll have to do the same here, Bodie. It will require enormous resources to see him through this."

"He's not some unstable, shallow, emotional wimp, you know," Bodie stated defensively.

"I know that. There are only two events which would rock him sufficiently for me to be professionally concerned. One is your death, particularly if he's involved in causing it or can't save you. The other is the loss of Colleen. Given his guilt complex, either of those events could rip apart an otherwise very resilient, strong, emotional fabric."

The psychiatrist's words hit home, summoning the uneasiness Bodie felt whenever he allowed himself to think of why he wanted out of this job.

"Whatever is troubling you, Bodie, you'd better solve it before Ray needs your help; or Colleen could tear you both apart." She looked Bodie in the eye to emphasize her point. "I'll stop by Colleen's about eight, as I said." With that, she turned and left. At the doorway, she paused, however, feeling she owed Bodie something for being brave enough to reveal to her, the enemy, his more nurturant side. "Bodie."

Shaking off the sense of doom which the doctor's words brought, Bodie spun around to face her, steeling himself for an attack now that he'd exposed a vulnerability.

"Thank you for what you did. It may not have seemed like much to you, but it meant a great deal to me." She wanted to add that she would be there to help him with whatever he was wrestling with as well as with Doyle; but the narrowing of the blue eyes told her she'd said enough so she walked out into the corridor, closing the door behind her.

Surprised, Bodie turned to see how Doyle was. Ever alert, the sharp green eyes had missed none of the exchange with Ross.

"She's right, you know. There are only two, well, maybe four, things that would make me go off me nut," Doyle said speculatively.

Frowning, Bodie asked, "And what are the other two?"

"Arabella, for one," Doyle answered.

"And the other?" Bodie inquired.

"My stuffed bear," Doyle replied seriously, his facial expression as earnest as possible.

Bodie's laughter dispelled the feeling that fate was closing in.

Doyle smiled, pleased to have lightened his partner's somber mood. The ability they each had to make the other laugh was one of the strongest arguments for why they had to stay together. "Shall we see how the report on Jenkins is coming?"

Nodding, Bodie turned to leave. Before he opened the door, however, he asked, "Do you think leaving Colleen on her own is the best decision?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. What I do know is that it's the only decision I can make. My sister is very important to me, Bodie, but she is not more important than you. What would happen to us with her living with us? I'm not willing to risk us. If we're destroyed because of her, I won't have anything left."

This declaration of Doyle's love touched Bodie deeply, reaffirming for him that staying involved with Doyle was one of the wisest choices he'd ever made. Since the room was empty and the door closed, he leaned against it, pulling Doyle to him.

Without further encouragement, Doyle took the kiss he needed from Bodie. Pressed close, feeling safe within the circle of his lover's arms, he added, "Bodie, if they were living with us, what we thought had happened two days ago could really happen. That kind of guilt, knowing that being with us had caused harm to them, I wouldn't get over it."

"Wise beyond your years, my son," Bodie commented, ruffling the curls. "On your bike, laddie," he said, taking his turn imitating Cowley.

Delivering the Nazi salute, the customary response among the agents, Doyle stepped back.

Bodie opened the door, bowing Doyle out.

Together they went to face the consequences of the decisions that had just been made.

---

The ringing phone dragged Bodie out of the pleasant dream, the aftermath of his lewd phone conversation with his lover.

"'Lo," he mumbled into the receiver, sure it was Cowley, trouble or both.

"Hello," replied a faint voice.

Feminine and young, Bodie decided, frowning. Fully alert now, he wondered if it was his next door neighbor's little girl, who had taken a fancy to him. "Hello," he said loudly, prepared to be properly angry with the child if she was playing on the phone.

"Bodie?"

"Princess, is that you?" inquired Bodie, realizing it was Arabella.

"Yes." He was just about to question her when an older, female voice interrupted.

"Ray?"

"No, Colleen, it's Bodie. Ray isn't here. Is something wrong?" Turning his head slightly, he peered through the dark at the luminous dial on the clock. It was 2:30 a.m.

"No ... Bodie," Colleen answered after a few silent seconds.

The way she spoke worried Bodie. Trying to draw the woman out, he began a conversation. "How are you and my princess?" A queasy feeling knotted his stomach when Colleen did not answer. Every instinct told him something was very wrong.

"We're ... both ... fine .... I'm... sorry...."

Alarmed now, Bodie replied, "It's okay, Colleen. You're not disturbing me. Is there something you need or want, something I can do?"

"No...I ... well ... Ray ...."

"Ray is out of town, Colleen. I'll be glad to help you if there is a problem." Talking to Colleen often required that he use every interrogation skill he possessed.

When the silence stretched into a full minute, Bodie inquired, "Colleen, are you still there?"

"Yes ... please ... Ray ...."

Scared by the desperation he heard, Bodie switched on the light and began to put on his clothes, talking all the time to reassure the woman. "Colleen, please talk to me. Are you still there? I'll be over as soon as I dress. Can I get you anything on the way? Colleen, don't hang up. Please talk to me. I'm lonely here without Ray. Are you feeling lonely, too?" That seemed to strike a nerve.

"Yes."

There was an abstract wistfulness to that reply which sent chills through Bodie. "Colleen, did you take anything to make you feel less lonely? Colleen, please talk to me. I'm so scared without Ray. I miss him, Colleen. Do you?" Dressed in black cords and a white silk shirt, he fumbled in the sock drawer, dumping it finally. Doyle believed socks should have the freedom to commingle; he never sorted them into pairs. "Fuck," Bodie swore softly, finally finding two black socks. They didn't belong together, but he didn't have time to waste. "Colleen, are you there? If you are, please talk to me."

"Ray ...."

"Yes, Colleen, what is it?"

"Ray ... please ...."

"I'll be over in a moment, Colly," Bodie replied, lacing his trainers. The lethargy in her voice, her inability to distinguish him from her brother all suggested she'd swallowed too much of something. "Colly, are you there?" Bodie asked once more, using Doyle's pet name for his sister.

"Ray ...."

The hopelessness in her voice made him wince. Ross had warned that the woman was approaching a crisis point. But no one thought it would come this quickly. "Colly, I love you very much. Please don't leave me."

"I love you, Ray. I ... just ... Ray ...."

"Shit," Bodie muttered to himself. "Colly, may I speak to Arabella. I want to tell her that I love her."

"Okay ... Ray ...."

Nearly a minute passed before Arabella spoke into the phone. "Uncle Bodie?"

"Princess, I need your help. Your mum's not well. I'm coming over. What I want you to do, princess, is talk to her. Keep talking to her until I get there. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Afraid?"

"Yes."

"It'll be okay, I promise. Smile for me." Bodie swallowed hard, just as frightened as Doyle's niece.

"Okay."

"Are you smiling?"

"Yes.

"Good. Talk to your mum and keep smiling. Okay?"

"Okay."

"See you shortly, princess. It'll be okay. And remember, I expect to see your gorgeous smile when I get there."

The whispered "Hurry" evoked a shiver. Bodie put the phone down and ran into the living room, grabbing his black leather jacket from the closet near the door. He fumbled for his keys in all five jacket pockets as he took the stairs two at a time. A cold blast of December air hit him as he pushed open the building door. As he reached the sleek, silver Mercedes he'd used to chauffeur Cowley and an Arabian guest to a high level Christmas party, he glanced up into the clear night sky. Spotting the constellation of Gemini, his own, he wished upon Castor and Pollux as he had so often as a boy. "Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might, get the wish I wish tonight." Silently, he added his request, that Colleen come through this and that if she didn't, someone else would tell Ray. He knew it was two wishes but two were allowed, even expected, when you wished upon twin stars.

Use of the siren brought him to Colleen's flat within ten minutes. It was, however, enough time for him to consider the likely possibility that the woman had ODed. He rang the bell impatiently. Waiting, he remembered the dead bolt and safety chain they'd installed a few months ago; he hoped Arabella could cope with it. The sound of metal sliding told him the child could manipulate the lock. Pleased when a small, concerned face peered through the crack permitted by the chain, that she had been careful to see who was at the door, he smiled broadly. "Hello, princess. Can you do the chain?"

"Yes," came the firm reply as the door was closed. There were sounds of a chair being moved and a sliding noise. A moment later, the door swung open.

Entering, Bodie scooped up the young girl and kicked the door shut. He kissed her. "That's for not opening the door till you knew it was me. Where's your mum?" He tried to keep his tone light. The child he held, a small girl, almost delicate, was tense and frightened. When a graceful hand pointed up the stairs, he began talking. "You're getting to be quite a looker, princess. Won't be long till the boys come callin' on you."

Arabella hugged him hard. He returned the pressure, well aware of the fact that his physical presence was more reassuring than anything he could say. "Don't be scared. It'll be all right. I promised, remember?" By now he'd reached the top of the stairs. Stopping, he drew back to look into the girl's face. "Where's my smile?" he chided gently, his eyes coaxing it out of her. "That's better, princess." He kissed her again.

Absently noting how much her lips were like his lover's, he entered Colleen's bedroom. The woman was sprawled on the bed and appeared to be unconscious. That she'd slipped so far in so few minutes worried Bodie greatly. He put Arabella down near her mother and bent over the prone, inert figure.

"Colly, Colleen, can you hear me? It's Ray, Colly. Wake up, please," he called repeatedly, gently shaking her shoulders. When she didn't respond, he ran down the short hall to the bathroom. Instantly, he spotted the open, empty bottle of Valium. Racing back to the bedroom, he grabbed the phone, dialing first the emergency number to summon an ambulance and then Kate Ross. He left a message for her, as she wasn't in.

Once more, he attempted to rouse Colleen, a task he knew was futile as soon as he smelled the Scotch on her breath. "When did she stop talking to you, princess?"

"Just after you hung up."

Aware of her concerned scrutiny, he persisted in his effort. "Princess, get me a wet towel for your mum's forehead." An encouraging smile sent her on her way.

"Shit," he muttered, looking down at Colleen. She was delicate, small in size and her features -- green eyes, lipsticked lips and a shock of fiery red hair, every bit as curly as Ray's -- made her look very similar to her brother. There was no doubt that Colleen Doyle was a beautiful woman.

Bodie took a deep breath. "Why did you do this now?" He leaned over again to shake her. "Pricks," he mumbled, cursing the psychiatrists who simply prescribed Valium for a woman's depression without taking her troubles seriously. "Colleen ...."

"She won't answer, Uncle Bodie," Arabella said from the doorway. "She's going to die, isn't she?"

Alarmed by the words, the despair in the child's voice, Bodie spun around. Arabella, framed in the door, backlit by the hall light, stood clutching the empty Valium vial. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Bodie shook his head as he asked himself how he could cope not only with Ray's guilt but also with the fact that Arabella was obviously going to blame herself for her mother's death. Wondering why love made people feel responsible for loved ones' misdeeds, he knelt in front of Doyle's niece. "We don't know that she's going to die."

"That's what she wants."

The bleakness in her eyes made Bodie wince. He wanted to lie to her, but he couldn't. He felt it important to tell her the truth.

"I'm afraid it is." He put his arms around the shivering girl and drew her close. "But it's not your fault, princess. Your mother was born wanting to die. She first tried to kill herself when she was eight."

Sniffing, Arabella leaned back to look at Bodie. "She did?"

The incredulity gave Bodie hope that he might convince her she wasn't to blame. "Yes. You know the scars on her wrists?"

"Yes."

"They're there because when she was eight, your mother went into the bathroom, ran hot water in the tub and sat in it. She then took a piece of window glass and cut her wrists. The hot water made her bleed harder, faster. But before she could die, Ray found her. He saved her life." Bodie stopped speaking, aware of how graphic his description was. But the girl's wide-eyed stare urged him to go on. "When she was 18, she took too much heroin. Again, your Uncle Ray found her and saved her."

"Why?"

"I don't know why someone wants to die so badly."

"No," Arabella said, "why didn't he let her die?"

Understanding that the unrelenting honesty children demanded was one of the reasons he avoided them, Bodie swallowed hard. He resisted the urge to deflect the question by suggesting she ask Doyle himself. "Because he loves her."

The sound of sirens rang through the quiet neighborhood. Bodie, glad of an excuse to escape the questioning, dashed down the stairs to unlock the door. He led the paramedics to Colleen. As he told them what had caused her condition, he caught sight of Arabella standing near the window, out of the way but positioned to see everything that went on. Since he had little hope for Colleen, he shifted his attention to the person who needed him more. He went to Arabella's room, collecting shoes and socks as well as Jasmine and returned just as they put Colleen on the stretcher. As they went back downstairs, he grabbed the girl's coat off a nearby hook and slammed the door shut.

"We'll ride with you," Bodie told the ambulance driver. When the man tried to suggest he take his own car, Bodie pulled out his CI5 badge. "We'll ride with you," he stated, bundling Arabella into the back so she could sit alongside her mother. When the big, green eyes were focussed on him, he smiled and took Colleen's cool hand. "It's to let her know she's not alone," he said softly, nodding encouragement as Arabella reached for her mother's other hand. Memories of that time he'd ridden with Doyle haunted him. He put his other hand over Arabella's.

When the stretcher was wheeled into a cubicle in the emergency room, he took Arabella to the desk, knowing there'd be papers to sign.

"I want to stay with Mama."

"I know, but we need to give them every chance to save her. We'd only be in the way, he added, remembering when he was in the way as Doyle lay dying from Mai Li's bullets. It'd taken Cowley and a very determined doctor to get him out of the emergency room. "Sit down for a minute and I'll see about getting us back to where she is. Okay?"

Despite her outward stoicism, Arabella remained standing beside Bodie.

Reaching down, he took her hand, holding it till the clerk was ready to discuss admitting Colleen Doyle. Admiring the child's tenacity, he hoisted her and Jasmine up to the counter where they sat, silently watching everything.

"Now, Mr. Doyle, we need you to sign this form. It's a permission form...."

"I know," Bodie replied, signing Raymond Doyle's name with experienced ease.

"If you'll have a seat in the waiting room...."

Bodie picked up the child sitting close to him and carried her to the chairs. He was about to put her on one when she grabbed his jacket. Understanding, he sat down, settling her and the cat on his lap.

"Why can't we see Mama?"

"In a few minutes. We have to give them a few minutes." Though he knew his badge could have them by Colleen's side immediately, he decided it would be best to spare Arabella as much of the ordeal as possible. And, he had to admit to himself, he needed a few minutes to think. It was grossly unfair of Colleen Doyle to do this to him. He was not her brother and, for a moment, he resented her thrusting this sort of familial responsibility upon him. For his entire adult life, he'd carefully avoided such entrapment. Silently cursing the fates and Colleen, he glanced at the child sitting on his lap. The green eyes were watching him intently. The scrutiny made him nervous and he shifted, idly wondering if the child could feel his cock. The thought irritated him.

"You're scared," Arabella said quietly.

Alarmed by her perceptiveness, he realized he was projecting his emotions too freely. The face might be composed, the body language under control, but he could rarely contain his strongest emotions. Again feeling that he owed the girl an honest reply, he licked his lips, which were suddenly dry. "Yes, I'm scared."

"Do you think Mama will die?"

The desolation in the small voice cut through Bodie, echoing a question he'd voiced years ago when the Cuban soldiers had raided the hospital/mission where his family lived. He had asked the question of the missionary who hid him and his sister as their parents were being led away. Picturing that scene, his parents in handcuffs, bleeding from cuts inflicted when hand grenades blew up their regional clinic, he felt tears building. Back then, a boy of nine, he'd refused to shed them; now was not the time either. Instead, he did what he had so many years before, he embraced a young child depending upon him for direction.

His sister had been Arabella's age when he took responsibility for her, though they had remained at the Catholic mission for several years before relatives returned them to England. They had been split up, Tess going to live with a cousin's family in Brighton while he stayed in Liverpool with their uncle. The distance had not kept him from his sister while he lived in England; but when he ran away, he shed the bond that tied him to her. When he had re-established contact, years later, she had entered a convent. He rarely saw her now. Her condemnation of his mercenary- military life style and the killing, rang in his ears every time he thought of their last meeting.

"Uncle Bodie, Uncle Bodie...."

"What is it, princess?"

Arabella moved so she could see the man's face. "Should we let her die?"

The query drew Bodie away from his reverie. He took a deep breath, wondering where he was going to find the wisdom and strength to deal with this child and her difficult questions. "I don't think we have much to say about it right now. Do you want to let her go?"

"No."

The reply was barely above a whisper. Bodie smiled, trying to will away the dark shadows in the green eyes. "That's okay. You have a right not to let her go. She's your mum. That's different from Colleen and Ray. Kids and their parents have a different sort of responsibility to each other than brothers and sisters." Bodie spoke from painful experience. His sister's rejection still hurt him deeply.

"Do you have parents?"

He resisted the urge to tell her that he had sprung full grown from the bowels of the earth. She was too young, too intent for his dark humor.

"They died when I was a little older than you." He was not surprised when the girl's eyes opened even wider.

"How?"

Bodie frowned, not really wanting to discuss the subject.

"Please?"

The parallels were too great for him. As they huddled together on a makeshift pallet in the missionary's bedroom, his sister had asked the same difficult questions. "We lived in Africa in Angola. My parents were doctors at a hospital. One day, soldiers came and blew up the hospital. They took all the people who could walk to a prison camp. My parents were among them. After that day, I never saw them again." Despite his best efforts, a few tears slid down his cheeks.

"Were they killed?" Arabella asked, reaching up to touch the moisture on Bodie's face.

"Yes." He could not bring himself to tell her that they had been tortured and finally murdered.

"Were you sad?"

Nodding, he licked his lips and added, "I had my sister to take care of, so I didn't have much time to be sad."

"What's her name?" Arabella kissed the traces of tears on Bodie's cheek. "Do you see her often?"

The curiosity, so like her uncle's, made Bodie chuckle. "Her name is Tess and no, I don't see her."

"Why not?"

"She doesn't like what I do for a living."

"But CI5 helps people."

"I know. But she still thinks it's wrong."

"You should let me talk to her. I would tell her how good CI5 is. I would tell her to love you again."

Tears from a different corner of his heart threatened Bodie's composure. As he smiled his thank you, he acknowledged how very much this child meant to him. She was a second chance, Tess all over again. The possibility of succeeding with her where he'd failed with his own sister made him ignore the rejection he might face.

Coming back to what concerned her most, Arabella asked, "Did you cry when your parents died?"

"No."

"Then I won't either." Turning to her stuffed cat, she said sternly, "Now remember, Jasmine, we can't cry. We have to be brave."

Puzzled that a seven year old could ask such questions, even though he'd been nine once and asked them too, he stared at Arabella. The green eyes that met his were full of so many conflicting emotions that he did the only thing he could think of to ease the pain she projected. He hugged her very close.

"What'll happen to us?" Arabella inquired after a few moments of silence.

Petting the top of Jasmine's head, Bodie said evenly, "We'll take care of you. Don't worry, you won't be sent away." The words echoing in his ears, he mulled over the implications of what he'd just said. The thought of the changes that would occur made him shiver. At nine he hadn't been old enough to be a parent. At thirty, he still wasn't. Deliberately, he steered his mind away from consideration of the consequences of Colleen's death. "She's not going to die," he stated, startled to hear the words come out of his mouth.

"She wants to die."

"Why?" Bodie asked, wondering what had triggered the suicide attempt.

"Because she finished her painting. She's always sad then."

Stroking the child's hair as he held onto her, Bodie probed further, deciding this might help him determine how much guilt Arabella would attempt to assume. "But she's finished pictures before. Why was this different?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't know."

Not one to be deterred by a seeming dead-end, Bodie pursued another line of questioning. "What else happened today? What did you do at school?"

"Nothing."

Bodie smiled. "You just went to school and sat staring out the window all day?"

"No. I didn't go to school."

Warning bells went off in Bodie's mind. "Why not?"

"Because Mama was drinking again."

Before Bodie could question her further, the doctor came out.

"Mr. Doyle."

Nodding, Bodie tightened his hold on Arabella. When the doctor hesitated, eyeing the child, Bodie inquired, "How is she?"

"Well," the man took a deep breath, "she's suffered an overdose of Valium. The problem was compounded by the rather large quantity of alcohol."

"Will she live?"

"I can't say yet. We've pumped her stomach, but her vitals are ... well, weak."

"Then it's up to her," Bodie interjected, bending slightly to kiss the crown of Arabella's head. He felt an eerie wave of deja vu; another doctor once told him the same thing about Ray.

"Precisely."

"We'd like to stay with her."

"It's not customary... but I've spoken with your Dr. Ross, and she, aahh ... suggested... you be allowed to sit with Mrs. Doyle. Once she's situated, I'll have a sister fetch you."

"Thank you," Bodie replied, warmed by the fact that Ross had responded so completely and quickly.

When the doctor was gone, Bodie tipped the child's face so he could see her expression. He wanted to get more details about what had triggered Colleen's depression; but he could see the fear in Arabella's eyes, so he focussed instead on what they had to face. "In a few minutes, we're going to see your mum. We'll be able to stay with her till ... she's out of danger. It's very important that we tell her we love her and how much we want her to come back to us. She'll be unconscious, and we won't know for sure that she can hear us, but it's important we try." He paused, his thoughts shifting naturally to the time he'd spent with Ray in a similar situation. Doyle had maintained that the encouragement helped.

"Will it really help?"

Bodie nodded. "We all have to be very strong, not only for your mum, but for Ray. And speaking of Ray, I need to call him princess. Can you and Jasmine sit here while I do that?"

Slowly, chewing on her lip as she considered, the girl nodded.

Kissing her forehead, he went across the room to the bank of telephones. He'd just been connected with Cowley when Arabella came and sat by his feet, her back against his legs. After explaining and being granted whatever time it took, he hung up. A moment of silent gathering was needed before he could face Doyle. Cowley had offered to call, but Bodie knew with sickening certainty that he had to perform the unpleasant task. Wondering if it was too late to back out of the relationship with Doyle, he picked up the receiver once more.

"Doyle," answered a sleepy voice.

"Ray --"

"What's wrong?" Doyle interrupted, knowing something was, as everything had been fine several hours ago.

"Calm down. It's Colleen. We're at the hospital. She ODed on Valium and booze."

"Fuck."

"My sentiments exactly."

"Sometimes I wish she'd just do it and get it over with," Doyle said, anger and pain in his voice. "I'm sorry ...."

"Doyle ... Ray...you have a right to feel that way." Mindful of Arabella listening to every word, he added, "Talk to me, Ray. I'm all ears."

"Arabella?" Doyle queried, deciding she would be the only reason Bodie couldn't speak freely.

"Yes."

"How's she doing?"

"She's a Doyle. All broody quilt and big green eyes."

Doyle chuckled. "She's lucky you're there. I have to face this alone."

The line was quiet for several moments. Over the years, when separated by their job, they'd often called one another only to say nothing, the silent companionship being what they needed most. Finally, Doyle asked, "Is she bad?"

"Yeah, very weak vitals. We'll be with her though. If anything can bring her back, that's about all that will."

"You sound so certain."

"I am. Been through it with you, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Doyle's voice softened as he recalled that eerie moment when Bodie's touch had warmed him enough to let him live again.

"Doyle," Bodie stated sternly, suspecting what his partner was recalling. "Doyle ...."

"Yeah, I'm here. Just thinkin'."

"That's what scares me."

"Very funny. Will Cowley --"

"Already arranged, lover." The word slipped out as he tried to offer some comfort.

"I love you, Bodie."

"Same here."

"What about Cowley?"

"I don't love him," Bodie quipped. There was no response. Noting that his attempt at humor had apparently fallen on deaf ears, Bodie provided a serious answer. "He's already arranging a replacement. He'll call you shortly."

"It'll be hours before I can get there."

"Yeah, and we're short-handed too."

"Why the fuck do I have to be in Aberdeen?"

"I think I'm glad you are."

The comment drew Doyle out of his self-pity. This was hard on Bodie, too, he realized, fear crawling up his spine with tingling swiftness. Whatever had been troubling Bodie, there was a good possibility this could require too much of him. Without meaning to, he blurted out the question that had suddenly come to mind. "You won't leave us, will you?"

Bodie sighed deeply. The query, voiced at last, made him aware of how remarkably patient his lover had been. The famed curiosity had been admirably restrained. Looking down at Arabella who was quietly, desperately clutching Jasmine, he replied, "No. No matter what happens...."

"Do you promise?"

Chuckling, Bodie promised. "Why does that give you confidence?" His partner's inane assumption that he didn't break promises had always puzzled him. There were many who could tell of the vows he'd broken, Tess being among the first of them.

"Because you've never broken a promise you made to me."

"Yeah, well, you have a short memory, sunshine. I seem to recall a carrot cake meant for Murphy's birthday that I promised not to eat but did--"

"Sins of gluttony don't count."

Pleased by the amusement he heard in the man's voice, Bodie was just about to retort when a woman in a nurse's uniform came around the corner. "Ray, we're going to see Colleen now. I'll take care of what I can."

I don't know which would be better, to let her die or to keep her."

"Ray, this was her choice. To force her to live, when it's so obviously against her will, is selfish. She does have a voice in this." Though Bodie addressed his lover, he spoke to Arabella as well. She stood up and he took the hand she offered him. "Is she Catholic?"

"Yes," Arabella answered.

"Want to talk to Ray?"

Nodding, the girl took the phone. While she spoke, Bodie went to see the woman waiting patiently a few feet away.

"How is she?"

The sister shrugged. "No change. Should I call for a priest?"

"Yeah, you'd better. We'll be a few more minutes --"

Smiling, the woman reached out to touch Bodie's forearm. "I'll arrange it and come back for you."

Bodie smiled as he watched her go off down the corridor. Though she wore a nurse's uniform, she reminded him of his sister, a nun who still wore a traditional habit. A soft voice brought him back to the present.

"Uncle Ray wants to say good-bye."

Taking the phone, Bodie said, "We have to go."

"No heroic measures, Bodie," Doyle stated, his decision made. Bodie was right. This time he would respect Colleen's right to die; this time, he would not stand in her way.

"You've made the right decision, Ray."

"Is staying with us the right decision for you, Bodie?"

Without hesitation, Bodie responded, "Yes." He glanced around. No one except Arabella was in earshot. "I love you."

"That'll get me there, sunshine."

"Okay. Be careful on the drive home." Bodie hung up.

Stooping down, he asked Arabella, "Ready, princess?"

Shaking her head, the child put her arms around Bodie's neck. "What if I can't be brave?"

"I won't tell anyone." He picked her up, grateful for her small size, as she needed the comfort that could only come from being held close to a protective adult. Her breath on his neck tickled, and he'd just leaned back to look at her when the sister returned.

"If you'll come with me, Mr. Doyle, I'll take you to Mrs. Doyle. I've arranged for ... everything," the woman said, mindful of Arabella's presence.

Bodie nodded. Lagging a few paces behind, he followed her.

"Why does everyone think you're my father? Arabella whispered.

"Because a princess as beautiful as you are would have to have a father as handsome as I am." He didn't add that with her black, curly hair and green eyes she was just the daughter he and Colleen might have produced. "Besides, I signed Doyle on the forms so they would do what they had to do to treat your mum."

"Oh," the girl replied.

That his first remark had failed to elicit even a smile told Bodie how difficult Arabella was finding this. He did not, however, ask if she would rather not be here. Like her uncle, she had a grim determination to meet even the worst, head-on. Wondering how she'd acquired this trait in Colleen's household, he crossed the threshold into the woman's room.

Arabella turned her head. From the safety of Bodie's arms, she looked at her mother. Biting her lip, she refused to cry.

"If you need anything ... ," the sister said to Bodie.

Squinting at her, he tried to read her name tag.

"Mary Bowen," the woman stated, realizing what he was looking at.

"Thank you, Mary. If we need anything, we'll ask."

"Thank you," Arabella offered, glancing over at the woman.

Leaving, Mary said, "I'll check back."

When they were alone, Bodie asked Arabella where she wanted to sit, in a chair or on the bed.

"On the bed," the child answered softly, the fact that she wished to be elsewhere but felt it her duty was obvious in her voice.

After putting the girl on the side of Colleen opposite her connections to the various machines, he pulled a chair close on the same side and sat down. Knowing he had to provide an example for the girl, he took Colleen's hand. "It's Bodie, Colleen. I'm here with Arabella. Ray is on his way. He said to tell you how very much he loves you and will miss you if you die."

"I love you, Mama. Please don't die. I need you. I'm not old enough to have no mother. Jasmine misses you, too. She loves you almost as much as I do."

They continued talking to the unconscious woman till the arrival of the priest interrupted them.

"Father Donovan, Mr. Doyle," the man said by way of introduction as he reached out to shake Bodie's hand.

Smiling at Bodie, Arabella extended her hand toward the priest. "I'm Arabella and this is Jasmine."

"Hello, Arabella," Donovan replied, petting the cat between the ears. "Do you know what I am here for?"

"Yes. Does it hurt?"

The man chuckled. "No, but you do have to help me."

"How?"

"I want you to stay there holding your mother's hand while I give your mother the sacrament. Then I'll want you to say a prayer for her with me. Then, I'll say a prayer for you and your father. Okay?"

Nodding, the girl glanced at Bodie. When he winked, she looked back at the priest.

"Now, Mr. Doyle, if you'll just join your daughter ...."

Bodie did as he was instructed, standing behind Arabella. He put a hand on her shoulder. Together, they watched silently as the man set about his job. When he began saying an "Our Father" for Colleen, Bodie found the old prayers coming back.

Seeing the priest also evoked memories of the hospital where he'd spent the first years of his life. He had often helped the missionary perform this sacrament. Though a devout believer in those early years, he'd lost faith when his prayers for his parents went unanswered. Nothing he'd seen since, not even Doyle's recovery which he arrogantly attributed to his own love for the man had brought Bodie back to his old faith. As he watched, he wished there was a God, but he didn't know whether Arabella's prayers or Colleen's desperate act of a prayer should be the one answered.

"And I ask Thy help for Your children gathered here in prayer. Let their love be a measure of their prayers for Colleen. Hear their prayers in her behalf. This we ask in the name of Jesus, Thy son. Bless them all, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

The words evoked an automatic reaction from Bodie, who frowned as he realized he was performing the expected sign of the cross.

"I'll look in on you later," the priest said as he put his oil and cross away.

"Thank you," Bodie answered, looking at Arabella. The softly chanted prayers of Extreme Unction had made her sleepy. "Why don't you lie down, princess. I'll wake you if anything happens." Without waiting for an answer, he tucked her beside her mother. After settling Jasmine beneath the cover as well, he leaned over, kissing Arabella's cheek. Impulse made him kiss the cat, too.

A slight swishing sound told him he wasn't alone. Looking up, he blushed when he saw the tender smile on Mary Bowen's lips.

"Would you like some coffee?"

The kindness in her voice eased Bodie's embarrassment. "Yeah, that would be wonderful." He accepted the cup she handed him. "Thanks," he said, smiling.

When she left, his gaze turned back toward the Doyles in the bed. No matter how much he wished it could be different, they were his responsibility now. Somewhere in the last hour he had accepted, shouldered the fact that change was sweeping into his life much as water stole across dry sands, changing the tide. Hoping he wasn't in over his head, he sat down to wait.

Bodie was startled awake a few hours later when George Cowley's hand shook him gently. Surprised, but not unduly so, Bodie noticed Kate Ross hovering in the doorway. He looked from her to Cowley to Colleen, whose hand he still held. "How is she?"

"The same," Ross said softly, stepping into the room. "Her vital signs are still weak. She truly meant to kill herself this time."

"Do you know why?" Cowley asked.

Bodie shook his head. "Arabella said she was going through a customary bout of depression because she'd finished a painting, that she'd been drinking this morning; but it's not as if she's never finished a picture before or had a drink." He shrugged. "Do you have any idea?" he asked of Ross.

"No. Colleen, like her brother, is not quick to give her trust. We were still establishing a comfortable patient/doctor relationship. The run- away incident seems to have taken ...." Ross stopped, Bodie's sudden glare making her wonder what she had said to make him react so hostilely.

"Outside," he commanded, gently releasing Colleen's hand and going around the bed. He had just thought to check on Arabella. She was awake and listening intently.

Obeying, both the doctor and Cowley preceded the agent into the hall.

Carefully closing the door, Bodie stood near the pair. "The last thing I need is you letting that kid hear that she may be in any way responsible for her mother's suicide."

The tightly leashed anger made Ross scrutinize Bodie. Before she could say anything, Bodie spun around and returned to Colleen's room.

"Well...," Cowley prompted.

"You're right. He's taking all of this quite well. His responses are most mature. You do realize that by giving him the chance at rehabilitating himself, you'll probably lose him as an agent."

Cowley nodded. When he'd taken Bodie into CI5, he knew the man was a time bomb, though quite different from the usual sort. Instead of hardening further, Bodie had begun, while still with the SAS, to counter the damage inflicted by his harsh childhood. The killing and the undercover work had taken a further toll. When his tour was up, the man had willingly left the regiment for CI5.

Bodie reminded Cowley of himself at a crossroad in his life. When given the choice, he had taken a difficult path, the one that precluded much companionship. In retrospect, it was a road he would take again, but it was not one he would recommend for anyone else, especially someone with as much to give as he suspected there was in Bodie.

Now that Doyle and his family had forced the emergence of the man now standing watch over Colleen, Cowley's emotions were mixed. On the one hand, he was witnessing the beginning of the end; Bodie would leave the job in under six months, sooner if Colleen Doyle died tonight. He was disturbed by the course of events because the loss of Bodie could mean the loss of Doyl