1981

"Ah, Kath, come on," Ray Doyle complained into the telephone receiver.

"I'm sorry, Ray. Really I am, but Mr O'Brien really needs me to come in this weekend. And you know we could do with a bit of overtime pay."

Doyle offered no reply, too busy fighting sudden anger and humiliation at the reminder that he could not support his own wife properly.

"I didn't mean that to be nasty, Ray."

Doyle sighed softly. "I know, love. Just a bit disappointed is all."

"Me, too." A small pause. "Listen, Ray, since I'll be working, why don't you go ahead anyway?"

Doyle let loose an inelegant snort of ironic amusement. "Yeah, right, Kath. I'll have a great time on a second honeymoon all by meself, won't I?"

"Ray... if it means that much to you...."

A master of the guilty conscience, Doyle let go of his own disappointment to assuage his wife's. "No, love. I know the job's important. Was in that position myself once." Before his wife could interpret his words as an attempt to assume the mantle of guilt himself, he continued. "Maybe I will go anyway. Could fish a bit." No need to remind her that he wasn't the fishing type. He'd never had the patience.

"And have a good visit with your mate, Jack Cramer."

"Yeah. There's that, too. See you Tuesday morning then, love." Doyle rang off and sat staring around his cramped office. "Great. Just great," he finally muttered in disgust.

* * *
"Well done, 3.7."

Bodie stared at the telephone receiver for a moment in surprise. "Ah, thank you, sir."

"You needn't sound so surprised. I give credit where credit is due."

Which was a bare-faced lie if he'd ever heard one. Bodie, however, was not about to point that out. "Yes, sir. Is there anything else, or shall I just get myself back to Town?"

"Aye, that's all. I'll see you in my office at 8:00 a.m. Tuesday."

"Tuesday?" Bodie echoed incredulously. True, he was due a bit of leave after the six-week op he had just completed successfully. In the years he had worked for Cowley's CI5, however, he had learned never to assume that being due necessarily meant receiving. He recovered himself quickly before Cowley changed his mind. "Tuesday, 8:00 a.m. Yes, sir. And thank you."

"Just remember it in future."

Bodie winced as the dial tone buzzed in his ear and replaced the receiver, then grinned in delight. He debated the wisdom of heading back to London immediately as he packed his case and loaded it in the car. It was only as he slammed the boot lid that he remembered he had, when he had first arrived, promised himself a visit with Jack Cramer to see for himself how the "grand experiment" was going. As he slid behind the wheel of the car and turned the key, his stomach gurgled beseechingly, reminding him it had been a long time since his breakfast of half-cold tea and soggy bacon roll. Deciding to let his belly make the decision for him, Bodie put the car in gear and headed out of town.

* * *
When Jack Cramer had been invalided out of CI5 four years ago, he had moved north and bought the land necessary to try a scheme he had wanted to try ever since he had visited Canada in his twenties. It was hard for Bodie to tell in the darkness of the October evening whether the resort as a whole was prospering, but the large main lodge which contained a restaurant and pub seemed to be busy enough when Bodie pulled his car into the car park.

Getting out, he made his way to the registration desk which was manned by a pimply faced youth barely out of his teens. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked as Bodie strode through the door.

Fronting up to the desk, Bodie let his eyes run over the room, noting the signs of apparent prosperity. "Is Mr Cramer here?"

The clerk shook his head. "Sorry, sir. Not expected back until tomorrow sometime."

Bodie debated silently with himself, but the fact of the matter was it would be very late when he reached his cold and empty flat with its very empty refrigerator. Not a happy prospect. He could, of course, just grab a meal and then go on, but there really was nothing to lure him back to London in any great hurry.

"Tomorrow, you say?"

"Yes, sir. Though I'm not sure exactly what time."

"Don't suppose you've an empty cottage by this time of the evening?" he asked, deciding he might as well hang about for at least one night.

The clerk laughed. "At this time of year, that's about all we've got. Only one other staying guest for the weekend. Off season, you know."

"How much?" Bodie asked, reaching for his wallet.

"Thirty pounds a night. Fifty pounds for the weekend," came the prompt response.

The price seemed reasonable enough to Bodie. He handed over the money in exchange for the registration card. A second exchange was made a few minutes later when he handed over the completed card for his key.

"No. 4, Mr Bodie," the clerk said. "Hope you'll enjoy your stay with us. Oh," he added as Bodie began to turn away. "If you want dinner, I suggest you hurry. The kitchen closes at 9:00 this time of year."

Bodie glanced at his watch and, seeing he had barely half an hour to spare, chose to forego a quick look at his temporary accommodations in favour of obtaining a proper meal. Satisfying his appetite had always been one of his top priorities in life.

The restaurant turned out to be a pub/restaurant combination and was still quite crowded. Giving the occupants of the room a cursory glance, he spotted an empty table and quickly moved to stake a claim.

Across the room, Ray Doyle lifted his gaze from the table just as he took a mouthful of his pint and, as a result, nearly sprayed everyone close to him. Half choking on the suddenly bitter brew, he swallowed hurriedly and stared in utter disbelief at the man who had just sat down at the last empty table. He would not have been more stunned if God Himself had sauntered into the place. Deliberately, he leaned back in the booth he occupied, knowing he was half concealed by shadows and hanging plants.

"Bloody hell," he murmured under his breath and drank in the sight of the man he had not laid eyes on for over two years.

Bodie. It was really Bodie sitting across the room calmly ordering his dinner from a waitress who was already showing all the signs of succumbing to that never-miss smile. The same man who had supported Doyle's decision to leave CI5. The same best friend who had stood as witness for him as he had promised to love, honour and cherish Kathy. The mate who had stood at the curb, a pint in one hand, a lecherous/drunken grin on his face, and seen Doyle off on his honeymoon. And that was the last time Doyle had seen him. When he and Kathy returned from a fortnight of sun, fun and sex in the sand, Bodie had vanished - CI5 flat vacated and no forwarding address or number. Oh, the missing agent still worked for CI5, but no one, from Cowley on down would give Doyle even a hint of where he had gone. At Bodie's request. Not that Doyle had given up that easily. No, it had taken nearly three months for him to accept the fact that Bodie never wanted to see or hear from him again. Accepted, yes. Understood, no. Nor had Doyle ever found a way to forgive him the deliberate cruelty.

Slowly, so as not to attract Bodie's attention and give him an opportunity to bolt, Doyle rose from the booth and made his way across the room to stand in front of the diner. "Hello, Bodie," he said softly. The other man's head came up with a near audible snap of the neck, and, for a brief instant, Doyle saw something in the handsome features he had never expected to see - sheer, unalloyed panic. "I ought to punch you right in the mouth, you bastard."

If Bodie really had teetered on the edge of losing it only a moment ago, not a trace of it showed in his expression now. Neither was there a trace of pleasure nor welcome, simply a watchful waiting that Doyle knew well. Bodie was waiting to see which way Doyle would break, so he could go the other. His tone, however, was falsely amicable. "Fancy meeting you here. Buy you a pint, mate?"

Doyle smiled, a feral expression that barely curved his lips and did not melt the polar regions of his eyes at all. He slipped into a chair, not across from Bodie, but to his right, blocking the door and leaving no easy escape route. "Oh yeah, mate. Let's have a pint... and a nice, long chat."

Recognising that he had been out-manoeuvred, Bodie leaned back in his chair, seemingly at ease, and signalled the waitress. The two men eyed each other like a couple of wary tomcats as they waited for the woman to fetch and serve their drinks.

"Nothing to say for yourself, you son of a bitch?" Doyle began the conversation he had imagined, even dreamed, hundreds of times in a voice low enough to carry to Bodie's ears alone, but sharp enough to flay the hide right off him.

"Bastard and son of a bitch, Doyle?" Bodie asked, his tone, in contrast, eminently civil.

Ray opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut again when the waitress appeared to deliver Bodie's dinner. He watched the big, capable hands take up knife and fork and wanted to sweep the dishes to the floor, knowing Bodie would use the meal as an excuse to focus his attention and block out Doyle, and Doyle had waited far too long for this to be blocked out by a sizzling steak.

"Those are only two of the names I've called you in the last two years. Two of the politer ones. Don't think they fit, eh?"

To Doyle's surprise, Bodie met his gaze, but the blue eyes remained guarded, giving nothing away of the thoughts going on behind them.

"Yeah. That and worse, I suppose," Bodie admitted before returning his attention to his plate. With deliberate precision, he severed a slice of well-cooked meat and chewed methodically.

Doyle found himself at a loss, suddenly acutely aware of the crowded room. He wanted to strip away Bodie's calm façade with his bladed tongue and hack and slice until the smug bastard was in the same emotional tatters Doyle had found himself in two years ago. But as much as he wanted to vent his spleen, he didn't want to do it in front of a room full of strangers.

Surprised that his tense stomach accepted the food at all, Bodie persevered in the speaking silence and under the watchful glare until both plate and glass were empty. He tossed some notes on the table to cover the bill and started to push back his chair.

"You don't have anything to say to me, Bodie? Nothing?" Doyle asked quietly. Sometime during the past few minutes of watching his former partner as he had watched him so many times in the past, the immediacy had gone out of his anger. Oh, he was still angry, wanted to wreak some kind of vengeance that would make Bodie feel the pain he himself had felt. But now, more than that, he wanted to understand.

"What's there to say? You've got your life, I've got mine," Bodie replied, just as softly, perhaps even as sadly.

"And ne'er the twain shall meet?"

Slowly, the ridiculously long lashes came down to veil the eyes Bodie obviously feared would reveal far too much. "Something like that," he agreed and climbed to his feet.

Doyle's hand flashed out to circle a sturdy wrist. "No, Bodie. No."

His grip tightened, forcing Bodie to look into green eyes from which had been wiped all emotions save anguish and bewilderment. "Please. I don't want you to vanish from my life again."

"Ah, Ray," Bodie said tiredly. "Can't you just let it go?"

"No, Bodie, I can't. It's been eating at me for two years. I need, at least, to understand why."

Sighing softly, Bodie gently disengaged his arm. "Come on then. There's no need to let the world view our squabbles. I've got a cottage."

Stopping at the bar on the way out, Bodie bought a bottle of whisky. Once outside, he turned towards he car park, shrugging off Doyle's restraining hand.

"I said I'd stay," Bodie growled, exasperated. He was backed into a corner. He knew it. He hated it. Worse, he had no glib lies prepared, and the truth was the last thing he was about to offer. "I have to get my bag."

Doyle relaxed a little. Realistically, there was damned little he could do if Bodie decided to make a run for it. Bodie could outrun him over the short haul, and, even should Doyle manage to catch him, they'd always been too evenly matched to fight each other without inflicting grievous harm. As difficult as it now was, he was going to have to trust Bodie.

It took only a few moments for Bodie to retrieve his bag from the car, and even less time for them to make their way to cottage four. Fumbling only slightly with the key, Bodie swung open the door and stood back to let Doyle precede him into the room.

Doyle looked around the cosy sitting room as Bodie deposited his bag in the bedroom, turned on the central heating and collected glasses from the tiny kitchenette. Optimistic that the chill dampness would soon be dispelled, Bodie shrugged out of his jacket and laid it aside along with his holster and gun. Seeing that Doyle had chosen to claim the stuffed chair nearest the door - obviously still not 100% certain that Bodie wouldn't bolt - Bodie took up an uncomfortable perch on the sofa.

"You want a drink?" he asked, already reaching for a glass, and received a shrug in reply. Accepting that as a yes, he poured two liberal splashes of whisky into the glasses and leaned forward to hand one to Doyle. He took up his own glass and forced himself to relax as he eased back into the cushions.

Doyle had always been as tenacious with a mystery as a terrier with a rat, and had been second only to Cowley in the more subtle arts of interrogation. Bodie, however, comforted himself with the knowledge that he had resisted even Cowley's sneakiest attempts to learn what lay behind his sudden rejection of his former partner. Bodie waited patiently for the questioning to begin, not particularly surprised when Doyle avoided a straight drive to the heart of the matter.

"So what are you doing up here anyway, Bodie?" Doyle asked, taking a small sip of his drink and never taking his eyes off the unrevealing face.

Bodie shrugged. "On an op."

"That's informative." Doyle gestured his own comment away. "But then I don't have security clearance any more, do I?"

"That's right. You don't," Bodie agreed bluntly. For a moment it appeared he would offer nothing else, then relented. "Finished a few hours ago. The Cow gave me a couple of days off."

Doyle contemplated that titbit for the time it took to swallow another cautious sip. "Don't tell me he's mellowing in his old age."

Bodie snorted. "Not so's you'd notice."

"I'd've thought you'd scarper back to Town. Not much around here this time of year."

"Hungry. Nothing to eat since breakfast," Bodie admitted. He was unable to suppress a small smile of his own in response to the grin that suddenly flashed across Doyle's face.

"Always said that belly of yours would get you into trouble," Doyle laughed, then sobered abruptly. "Really dropped you in it this time, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Bodie agreed sourly and knocked back the rest of his drink. He reached for the bottle, noted the barely depleted level in Doyle's glass, and refilled his own.

"Why, Bodie?" Doyle suddenly asked baldly.

"Already told you, Ray," Bodie repeated tiredly. Now that he was sitting down, stomach full and the tension of six weeks undercover beginning to leech away, he realised how exhausted he was. This was no condition in which to face the probing of a man as determined to obtain answers as Doyle.

"That's your story and you're sticking to it, eh, sunshine?"

Bodie winced as the pet name abraded his raw sensibilities. Seeing Doyle again was enough to knock him for six. He reached up to roll the glass he held against his forehead, hoping the cool pressure would ease the headache beginning to pound in his temples.

"You're knackered, aren't you?"

Bodie opened his eyes to find the round face wearing the expression that had gone a long way to delivering Bodie into the impossible position he had been dealing with for too many years. He would rather deal with Doyle in a vicious temper any time than this open expression of concern and affection. He had absolutely no defence that would stand up to a solicitous Doyle.

On the other side of their locked gazes, Doyle knew he might never forgive himself for what he was about to say. His anger, however, had never been proof against his concern. Bodie was so stoic it was easy to fall into believing him to be an iron man. For years that belief had allowed Doyle to indulge his own nature, striking out at the seemingly impervious ex-merc to relieve his frustrations. That façade only made Bodie appear that much more vulnerable whenever a crack or two did appear, and Doyle had always found himself with no defence to that vulnerability.

"If I let you get your head down, would you still be here in the morning?"

Bodie's eyes widened in surprise. "You'd trust me?"

"Only if you give me your word," Doyle qualified his magnanimity. "You've never broken your word to me. Nor lied to me, for that matter, unless I knew it was just one of your stories."

Except by omission, Bodie qualified silently. "Yes. I'll be here in the morning." And, if he could stay awake long enough, maybe he could come up with some lies that Ray would never know were lies.

"Good night, then." Doyle came to his feet in one smooth motion and stalked to the door. He hesitated only a moment outside, wondering if he was making a mistake. Shrugging, accepting that he would only know for sure in the morning, he set off for his own cottage.



Bodie woke the next morning to a pounding at his door that had him tumbling out of bed and scrambling for his gun before he was even partially awake. He got as far as the sofa before coherent thought and memory kicked in. Realising who had to be on the other side of the door, he yelled a hoarse acknowledgement and retreated to the bedroom to reholster the gun and shrug into his bathrobe. Despite the fact he would have liked to tell Doyle to sod off for a few more hours, he opened the door.

"Letting me in or not?"

Bodie eyed the soul of belligerence planted on his doorstep, tempted to just close the door in his face. Then his eyes fell to the heavily laden tray Doyle carried.

"Knew there's no sense trying to get sense out of you in the morning without tea and grub."

With a you-win gesture, Bodie swung the door open and waved Doyle in, watching in resignation as he set the tray on the table and began uncovering plates laden with a full English breakfast. He left him to it, retreating to the bathroom to attend to the clamouring of a full bladder and to attempt to reaffirm his impersonal demeanor. He splashed his face, combed his hair and looked up to find the eyes of a cornered rat looking back at him from the mirror.

Pouring tea and setting out plates, Doyle waited as patiently as he could for Bodie's return. When he had fiddled all he could, he took up his own plate and cup and retreated to the chair he had occupied the night before just as Bodie emerged from the bathroom, settled himself on the sofa and picked up his cup.

Bodie took a long gulp of the jump starter and met the waiting green gaze. "Nice of you," he commented, indicating the food.

"Yeah. So get it into you."

With a resigned shrug, Bodie tucked into the food, idly wondering if this was how the condemned man felt. Usually able to devote himself whole-heartedly to any passable meal placed before him, the strained silence soon had his favourite foods sticking in his throat.

"What are you doing up here? Visiting Jack, are you?"

Doyle shrugged, putting his own picked-at plate on the table beside him and wrapping both hands around the cup. "Could say that."

"Except you're not."

Another shrug, another sip. "Was supposed to be a second honeymoon," he admitted reluctantly.

Bodie digested the words, the tone, the wary expression. "So where's Kath?"

"Working."

"Oh." Bodie devoted himself to his food once more, managing to get down a few more bites before the watching silence prodded him into further speech. "You and Kath okay?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Doyle answered after a pause to consider the question. It was neither entirely the truth nor a lie. No need for Bodie to know of the tension his wounded masculine pride sometimes caused between him and the wife who supported him. At the moment, he refused to be sidetracked.

With relief, Bodie forked the last bit of sausage into his mouth and laid the plate on the table.

"Reprieve's over, Bodie. Why?"

Not having come up with any lies, believable or otherwise, Bodie opened his mouth to attempt a further delaying action, but was saved by a knock on the door.

"Bit early for maid service," Doyle observed drily to cover his frustration at this further delay. He had lain awake most of the night before thinking. Seeing Bodie had stirred up so many memories, both good and bad, and set him on an emotional rollercoaster that refused to slow down long enough for him to get off.

"Clerk told me there wasn't any at this time of year. That I'd have to shift for myself," Bodie commented as he left the sofa and moved towards the door.

The knock was repeated before he could reach it and an impatient voice demanded, "Come on, Bodie. Get those old bones out of bed."

Bodie swung the door open and watched with a welcoming smile as Jack Cramer limped into the room.

"Well, if it isn't the double act," Cramer exclaimed when he spotted Doyle. "I couldn't believe it this morning when I saw both your names on the register cards." Finished shaking Bodie's hand and thumping his shoulder, Cramer moved on to Doyle to administer the same treatment.

"Good to see you, Ray. But I thought you were bringing the missus." Easing himself down on the sofa, Cramer looked expectantly at Doyle.

"Kath ended up having to work," Doyle explained.

"And you had to make do with this great lump?" Cramer exclaimed, punching Bodie, who had taken up a seat beside him, lightly on the shoulder. "Hardly seems a fair exchange."

Doyle opened his mouth then closed it abruptly as he remembered that Cramer had been invalided out of the squad at least a year before his own resignation. Cramer knew he had left, and of his marriage, but not of the situation between Bodie and himself. He saw no reason to alter that state of affairs.

Forcing himself to adopt a bantering tone and expression, he eyed Bodie up and down, unaware of the effect this had on his former partner who barely restrained the urge to pull his robe more tightly around himself. "At least he'll pay for his own meals."

"Speaking of money," Cramer said, reaching into his pocket, he removed an envelope and handed it to Bodie. "Here's yours back. If I'm not going to charge your partner, I can't very well charge you."

Bodie tried to return the envelope. "Hey, this is your living."

The former agent shrugged. "It's off season. Come 'round in the summer and I'll make you pay through the nose. If I've got a free cottage, that is. But not this time of year."

"Business doing well then?" Doyle asked, watching in dismay as Cramer shrugged out of his jacket and poured himself a cup of tea from the pot. Obviously Cramer was settling in for a good long visit.

"Yeah. Has been for the past two years, anyway. Getting repeat customers now. Looks like the grand experiment is gonna work. I'm not rolling in it, but doing well enough. Restaurant and pub are popular with the locals and that helps. Keep them open all year."

Doyle grimaced, wishing he could say the same of his own business. He caught Bodie's interest in his reaction, but kept his attention on Cramer, who, unfortunately, had also noted his expression.

"How's the gym doing?"

Doyle shrugged, very aware of Bodie sitting there all ears. He raised his hand and waggled it in a so-so gesture. "Didn't have your payout to set up with."

"Nor the pension," Cramer commiserated. "Was many the month I was glad to see that cheque come when we were getting started."

Once again, Bodie pushed the envelope of money at his friend. "Just think of this as a bit of a bonus from CI5 then," he suggested with a grin. "I'll put it on my expenses."

Jack accepted the envelope this time with a reminiscent smile. "Expense chits. Ah, that brings back memories. Do you remember the chit Barry Martin handed the old man after the Blake/Harmon op? I thought Cowley was gonna have apoplexy."

With Jack well and truly into the do-you-remember routine, Bodie relaxed into the cushions, prepared to milk the reprieve for all it was worth, while Doyle did his best not to let his fuming frustration show.



"Not a very English arrangement, I admit, but it seems to be catching on," Cramer explained as he lead Bodie and Doyle out the back door of the lodge. Before them lay a playground, sad and empty now, littered with autumn's abundance of dead leaves and twigs, but the bright colours of the equipment hinted at the summer brilliance and the damp breeze seemed to carry an echo of the shrill laughter of children. Twelve cottages, well spaced for privacy, stood in a half circle, their back doors opening onto the playground. In the summer, parents could take their ease on their own patios while keeping a wary eye on their offspring.

"Reproduced the camp I stayed at in Canada as well as I could remember, " Cramer continued, limping across the grounds with Bodie and Doyle in tow. He pointed out the beginnings of three hiking trails and explained that the third one lead down to the docks. "Swimming in the summer and I've a few boats to rent as well. Can still fish if you've a mind to."

Both Bodie and Doyle shook their heads in rejection of the idea. Sitting for hours on end watching a bit of line that often as not did nothing was a bit too reminiscent of the long boring days of surveillance to suit either former or active agent.

Cramer chuckled. "Never acquired a taste for it myself," he admitted.

"What's going on there?" Bodie pointed towards a half-completed building some distance from the main lodge. He could actually care less if Cramer was planning on building a replica of Buckingham Palace. His only interest lay in keeping Cramer, figuratively and literally when he could manage it, between himself and Doyle as much as possible.

"It's to be a stable. Come on, I'll show you," Cramer invited.

Two silent sighs, one of relief, the other frustration, met the invitation, but both men followed along behind their former colleague without complaint.



"To partners," Cramer proposed, lifting his pint and waiting expectantly.

Doing his best to avoid the glare of his former partner, Bodie clinked his glass against Cramer's and, when Doyle had reluctantly raised his own glass, against that one as well before taking a small sip. Cramer and been indulging fairly heavily since lunch which was fortunate for the ex-partners. Despite being a once highly skilled agent himself, so far Cramer had seemed oblivious to the tension between his two guests. Bodie managed to keep up his end of the conversation, mostly asking questions which prompted Cramer into verbosity; Doyle on the other hand, had barely uttered enough words to constitute a complete sentence.

"Dinner's on the house. Order anything you like," Cramer invited, unknowingly granting Bodie a further reprieve.

Doyle ground his molars in frustration.



"See you in the morning then?" Bodie suggested without much hope as he unlocked the door to his cottage.

"Not bloody likely," Doyle growled as he rudely pushed past the other man and stalked into the room. After a solid twelve hours of reminiscences, which had continued throughout lunch, a tour around the camp, then dinner, his patience was reaching far past its limits. He wasn't about to let Bodie wriggle out of it again. He plunked himself down in the now-familiar chair with the air of a man who was prepared to grow roots.

"Dutch courage?" he sniped as he watched Bodie shed his jacket and head straight for the whisky bottle. "Ironic that," he laughed bitterly. "Was you that accused me of having the yellow streak down me back. Know better now, don't I? It's you that's the coward."

Bodie accepted the insult with barely a flinch, but altered his path away from the liquor. Despite Cramer's offers, he had been careful to limit his alcoholic consumption to only a couple of pints all evening. He had known this confrontation was inevitable and the last thing he needed was his self-control weakened by booze. He prowled for a few minutes, then settled at the window, his back to Doyle. All he could see was his own face in the rain-streaked glass, reflecting back his discomfort.

"You must have something to say to me, Bodie," Doyle pursued.

"Already told you, Doyle. You had your life and I've mine," Bodie repeated, gazing into his own anguished eyes.

"And since I wasn't your partner anymore, I couldn't be your friend either?" Doyle asked. He leaned forward, propping both elbows on his knees, studying the tense figure for some sign of a thaw. "You never said anything when I talked about leaving the mob."

"Had to be your decision, didn't it?" Bodie countered. He remembered how he had bitten his tongue, literally and figuratively, as Doyle had gone around and around the subject. "Not the kind of job you do if your heart's not in it." There was no surer way for a man to end up dead. "Besides, you know, except for a few exceptions like Jax, marriage and CI5 mix as well as petrol and flame."

Doyle absorbed that, let it sift around with all the whys and wherefores he had tried to come up with himself, but it refused to settle. Bodie wasn't telling him the truth. At least not all of it. He got to his feet and moved slowly towards where Bodie stood.

Bodie saw him coming, reached out and yanked the curtains together, not wanting to see the emotions Doyle wore so openly on that fallen-angel's face, nor have the perceptive ex-copper get a good look at his own eyes. They were known as the windows of the soul for a reason, and Doyle knew him far too well to miss seeing the emotions in his. Every moment he spent in Doyle's presence just made it harder to maintain the rest of his mask of indifference.

"Was it Kath then?" Doyle asked from only a few feet away.

The broad shoulders shrugged. "Nah. A nice girl, your Kathy. Better suited to you than that Holly bitch at any rate," Bodie allowed, stepping on his own emotions ruthlessly to keep them out of his voice. True, Ann Holly had hurt his friend, but she had, in the end, left him his friend.

"Then why, Bodie? Just tell me why and I'll leave. Left you alone, didn't I, after it really sunk in? Give me a straight answer and I'll leave off."

Bodie nearly laughed at the choice of words, but managed to contain his black humour.

"Come on, Bodie. Just spit it out, will you," Doyle persisted stubbornly. "Tell me what I did that you'd toss me in the rubbish. Make me understand and I'll bugger off."

Bodie winced. Trust Doyle to twist it around until it was all his own fault that the man he had thought his best mate had deserted him without so much as a fare-thee-well. Why couldn't he just curse Bodie out as a cold-hearted bastard and leave it at that?

"You self-centred, little...." The rest of what Bodie planned to say stuck in his throat when he swung around to find Doyle standing much closer than he had thought, almost close enough to touch. Automatically, he took a step back and froze when he felt the curtain-padded window press into his spine.

Doyle moved in when he saw Bodie's eyes dart left and right looking for an escape route. Sensing he almost had the answer in hand he had sought for so long, he was not about to lose it now. Bringing both hands up to bracket Bodie's head, he leaned ever so slightly into the big body. He felt Bodie's heart thundering wildly against his own chest and knew the other man was in full fight-or-flight mode. He brought his hands down to circle the hard biceps and immobilize, however briefly, the lethal hands. It was up to Bodie now. If he wanted to avoid talking he was going to have to perform some GBH on the same body he had protected for three years.

Bodie tried one last time. "You won't like it."

"I don't like what I've been thinking either," Doyle shot back, tightening his grip.

Knowing he was trapped, Bodie gave the bloody-minded, devil-take-the-hindmost side of his nature its head, and that mad bastard reckoned that if Bodie was going to pay the piper, then he might as well be calling the tune. Slipping his hands around Doyle's slim waist, he leaned forward and sealed his mouth to lips that had tormented him, waking and sleeping, for far too long. Assuming that in a mere moment he would be in need of urgent dental care, Bodie put everything he had into that one moment, using all his experience, sensuality and hopeless yearning to kiss Doyle as he had never been kissed in his life.

Having decided to carry on kissing Doyle until Ray himself put a stop to it, Bodie found himself caught in a fantasy that went on almost long enough to convince him that the passive creature in his arms was real. Not that the mouth he was so leisurely tasting responded. No, no responsive questing met his own passionate exploration, but neither was there resistance. It was that which finally caused Bodie to end the kiss, for never, in all the years of fantasy, had Bodie conjured a Doyle who would simply fail to react.

Bodie lifted his head just far enough to look into wide, confused eyes. He dropped his hands from where they had been gripped convulsively in Ray's shirt, but Doyle stayed where he was.

"You cut me off because you wanted to kiss me?" Doyle asked stupidly.

No one could be this naïve, certainly not the sensuous siren of Bodie's dreams. "No, sunshine," he murmured, unable to resist the temptation to slip his fingers into too-long curls. It had been so very, very long since he had been able to touch Doyle. "Even you can't be that thick. I wanted to fuck your gorgeous arse into the floor."

Now Doyle did move away, not violently as if he intended to vent a justifiable rage, but gently, stepping back just far enough to separate their bodies. He let his eyes roam down the front of the black-clad figure. They paused at the evidence of Bodie's arousal, then skipped back up to blue eyes that refused to drop in shame.

"How long?"

A reasonable question, Bodie supposed, but it certainly was far from the reaction he had expected. "Ever since I stopped hating you."

"A long time," Doyle murmured, finally turning away and running a hand through his curls. He paced about for a few moments, trying to sort out the thoughts in his head. It did no good, they were too busy careering around and ricocheting off each other to settle down into anything remotely coherent. He would like to take an hour or two, or maybe a week or two on his own to sort it out. If he left now, however, Bodie would be in his car so fast that he wouldn't displace air. Whatever else Doyle might be confused about, he knew one thing - he did not want Bodie to disappear out of his life again. Two years had dulled the ache left by Bodie's loss, but not the need for him. Partnership. Friendship. Companionship. He had called it many names, had acknowledged its many facets. Could Bodie's desire for him be just another manifestation? More to the point, why had Doyle never sussed him out?

"Why'd you never try it on before?" Doyle finally asked.

"Almost did a few times. Didn't want to lose my partner... or my friend," Bodie admitted. He remained at the window, half leaning against the pane, watching the lithe figure stalk the confines of the cottage sitting room.

"But since I wasn't going to be your partner anymore..." Doyle deduced, letting his restless stride carry him back to Bodie, stopping when only a couple of feet separated them and cocking his head to the side, waiting for Bodie to fill in the pause.

"Knew I wouldn't be able to resist seducing you," Bodie supplied obligingly.

"Not trying to seduce me?" Doyle asked, remembering Bodie's monumental ego and also remembering that no one had ever known him as well as Bodie did.

Bodie grinned that haven't-a-thing-left-to-lose grin that Doyle knew so well. He shook his head. "Nope," he stated with utter confidence.

Once again Doyle let his gaze rake Bodie's body from sapphire eyes to muscular thighs. Bodie had never flaunted his body the way Doyle did, but his ex-partner, of all people, knew exactly what lay beneath the layers of cloth in which he chose to shroud his masculine beauty. When combined with the emotions that already existed between the two men, Doyle had to admit that Bodie's confidence was merited.

"Yeah," he agreed softly.

"You'd have thumped me one. Gone a few rounds with your conscience." Bodie paused to savour the truth of the words he was about to speak. "Then you'd have fucked my brains out."

Doyle looked away, unwilling as yet to face the knowledge in Bodie's face, but he had never been able to hide from himself. Bodie was right, and just the sound of that well-remembered voice speaking their truth was firing his body, heating his blood with the expectation of Bodie keeping his promise.

"Then," Bodie continued, finally, at last and irrevocably bringing his truth out into the open, "royally fucked up your life. Not worth it for a bit on the side, mate. Even if I am tall, dark, beautiful and...."

"Engagingly modest," they finished together, and, for a moment, everything that had been the very best between them was alive and sparkling in their laughter.

Bodie sobered first, reached across that two-foot chasm and flicked a soft curl one last time. "My secret's out at last. I love you, angelfish." With that, Bodie tried to brush past, but Doyle's hand circling his wrist stopped him.

"Don't go, Bodie." Doyle hadn't even known he was going to say it, but he meant it. He was no longer confused. He knew exactly what he wanted - Bodie. Here. Now. And damn the consequences to tomorrow.

Bodie opened his mouth, but the protest died unspoken when the fingers of Doyle's other hand came up to silence him.

Moving with the breath-held caution of a man walking a tightrope, Doyle replaced his silencing fingers with the warm, wet persuasion of his lips and tongue.

To give Bodie his due, he tried to hang on to his integrity, but honour was no match for a determined Ray Doyle. Words of caution trapped in his throat emerged as a moan of surrender, as Bodie opened himself to the magic of his personal sorcerer. He rallied long enough when kiss-swollen lips left his to once again try to protect Doyle from his own nature.

"You'll regret this, Ray."

Doyle shook his head. He already knew that. He also knew he would regret it more if they parted now. "Just the weekend, Bodie. Right here, right now."

"Just a temporary aberration?" Bodie asked bitterly, wondering suddenly how often Ray had broken the vows Bodie himself had suffered so much to preserve.

"No, Bodie. A step out of the reality of our lives. A time for something that should have happened long ago."

Offering no further protest, Bodie silently allowed himself to be led into the bedroom. He stood passively as Doyle began to undress him, a soft moan the only sound to escape him when Doyle went to his knees to remove shoes and socks and the battered cheek pressed for a moment to Bodie's aroused cock.

Doyle stayed on his knees as he carefully slipped the fastening of Bodie's cords and eased the strained zipper open. Sliding his fingers into the gaping material, he eased trousers and pants down together until Bodie could step clear of them. Once again Doyle leaned forward to rest his face against the throbbing organ, marvelling that he felt no strangeness at touching another man so intimately for the first time. But then, this was far from just another man, this was Bodie, and he had been much more intimate with Bodie during the years of their partnership than this mere physicality could ever be. He had sometimes felt as if Bodie had permeated his very soul. Sighing softly, he turned his head and pressed a kiss of benediction on the empurpled head.

Gasping at the gentle touch of lips, Bodie entwined his fingers in the auburn curls, barely restraining himself from falling into fantasy and forcing entrance into the warm haven. The soft lips left him and he looked down to find the round face tilted up, watching him intently.

"Is this how you want it?" Doyle asked.

Gently, Bodie ran his thumb over the full bottom lip. He shook his head. "Want you naked and in my arms."

"Get into bed," Doyle commanded, coming to his feet smoothly and reaching for his own clothes. Hastily, he discarded layers of constricting material, never taking his eyes off the muscular body as Bodie stripped back the bedding and slid onto the bed. In only a few moments, Doyle was stretching out beside him, reaching out to stroke his hand down the smooth expanse of Bodie's torso from sternum to groin. His fingers caught in the black curls, tugging gently until Bodie rolled and took him in a firm embrace.

"Oh yeah," Bodie sighed as their nude bodies came together from shoulders to knees, each breath they took, every squirm of their close-pressed bodies making itself into a tantalizing caress of sensual delight. Bodie knew this was going to be fast. He had wanted the man in his arms for far too long for any semblance of control to be anything but a cruel joke.

Like a greedy child, Bodie grasped at his pleasure, clamping both hands onto the ripe cheeks of Doyle's arse and thrusting frantically into the heated welcome between their tight-pressed groins. Then, without warning, he was there, his whole body freezing but for his pounding heart and the aching clench and strain of his cock as his semen pumped between them.

Only a step or two behind his friend's frantic climb, Doyle continued to writhe as the slippery heat and gush of Bodie's semen spread between them, yanking him from almost there to the point of no return and beyond, he added his heated offering and echoing cry to Bodie's.

Muscles suddenly deprived of strength, they fell apart and lay gasping side-by-side on the wide bed. Long after labouring lungs had calmed and clamouring hearts had ceased trying to jump out of their chests, they continued to lie in a silence that soon became awkward and strained.

Bodie let it stretch for as long as he could stand it. "Told you you'd regret it."

The only reply he received was a soft snore.



Bodie slept only fitfully, waking repeatedly through the night to confirm that he had not been dreaming once again. Each time he woke, he reached out to touch, and every time he touched, Doyle would cuddle just a little closer, a tiny smile of contentment sketching around the full lips before all expression faded into deeper sleep.

Like a miser, Bodie drank in the soft expressions and stored them away. He knew, or at least feared he knew, that when full consciousness returned, Doyle's mood would be far removed from the contentment that presently cushioned his dreams. Ray's conscience tended to torment him over all the ills of the world, surely it would never let him off easily for adultery. Even if this were not the first time, and Bodie did not really want to believe that, for it made his own pain such a useless exercise in futility, then Doyle would find something else to agonize over.

Still, morning was several hours away with whatever it would bring. Bodie set aside his brooding thoughts and allowed himself to simply enjoy the here and now.



By the time the late-autumn dawn began to light the eastern sky, Doyle sat at the kitchen table, sipping absently at a tepid cup of tea and wrestling with his conscience. For one of the few times in his life, his conscience was losing. He knew he should not have done what he had with Bodie. He knew it was wrong to be unfaithful to Kathy. He knew that when the weekend was over and he returned home, he was going to suffer the guilty torments of the damned. The bottom line, however, was that right here, right now, he didn't give a damn.



As a consequence of his earlier wakefulness, when Bodie finally slipped into sleep, he fell deeply, not even rousing enough for complaint when his bedmate slid out of bed. Ignorant of the departure, he could not yet mourn it, but slept on blissfully unaware until, prompted by a dream of his coveted lover in his arms, he reached out and found the cold place where Doyle had been. He had no time to even begin grieving before his nose and his ears advised him he was not alone in the cottage. Wafted on the air of the central heating came the smell of coffee and the sounds of someone clattering about in the kitchenette. He hoped there was only one person that someone could be.

Even as he thought it, Doyle appeared in the doorway with a mug in each hand. Bodie struggled upright as he watched Doyle, who had appropriated his bathrobe, seat himself on the side of the bed he had previously occupied and set his own cup on the bedside table. Bodie reached for the second cup, but Doyle withheld it, leaning over to brush a good morning kiss onto Bodie's lips before placing the cup in his hands.

"Who are you and what have you done with Raymond Doyle?" Bodie had to ask.

"What are you pratting on about?" Doyle countered, taking up his own cup.

"Just that the Ray Doyle I knew would've been wearing a hair shirt by now at the very least." Bodie remembered his suspicions. "Unless, of course, he's become inured to the morning after the night before."

For a moment, Doyle's expression darkened, but as quickly as they had come the grey clouds cleared. He shook his head. "No, Bodie, I've never been unfaithful before."

"Then I suppose it's my turn to ask why."

Doyle considered his answer through several more slurping sips of his coffee, the sound taking Bodie back through a hundred memories of other times and places in the space of only those few moments.

"It's mostly what I said last night, Bodie," Doyle finally broke the silence. He set his cup aside and turned to sit cross-legged on the bed facing Bodie, his expression earnest as he tried to explain in logic a decision that had been made by instinct and based on memories. "All of this should have happened years ago. With everything we were to each other when we were partners, we should have been lovers."

"You're not trying to tell me...." Bodie's outraged accusation faded into horrified silence. Was Ray about to tell him that he had wasted literally years of his life wanting someone who could have been in his arms all along?

"That I wanted you back then?" Doyle finished for him, then shook his head. "No, Bodie, never have thought of going to bed with a bloke. But I cared about you...."

"Oh yeah, just what I'd dreamed of, a mercy fuck."

Once again the auburn curls bounced as Doyle indicated an emphatic negative. "I cared about you," he repeated, "more than I'd cared for anyone in my life, and I knew that you had let me further inside all the walls you live behind than you'd ever let another living being. If you'd made a move on me then, Bodie, it would have been just like you said last night - we'd have fucked each other senseless."

Bodie swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the painful lump that seemed wedged in his throat. "And you never would have left," he finally rasped, gaze fixed on the cup he held clenched between both hands.

Gently freeing the cup from the death grip and setting it aside, Doyle covered Bodie's fists with both hands, stroking softly with his thumbs until the fingers uncurled and entwined with his. "No, Bodie," he admitted. "I can't say that. Maybe I wouldn't have met Kathy if we'd been together, but...." He squeezed softly. "You were right about the life I wanted. Home, wife, kids someday. I love Kathy."

"Then how can you...." Once again Bodie trailed off, unwilling to throw away with both hands what little he was being offered. Just the weekend, Doyle had said. He could accept the prize that had landed so unexpectedly in his bed and just enjoy what he could get. It was, after all, the way he had so often lived his life. The truth was that if he didn't love Doyle, he could. But he did love him and that made all the difference.

"Because I care for you, too, Bodie. And I've missed you so bloody much." Doyle shifted again, kneeling now at Bodie's side and disengaging their tight-clasped fingers to slide his hands up Bodie's arms to circle the bulging biceps. "When you cut me off, Bodie, something inside me opened up and ached and nothing could fill up that space and make the pain stop. Nothing, Bodie, until you kissed me last night. I'm too damned selfish not to want to have you again, in every way I can, if only for a few days. I know that when I let myself think about being unfaithful, I'm gonna hate myself. But I've hated himself before and got over it. If I don't stay with you now, don't let myself have these days, I'll never ever stop regretting it. I won't screw up my life, I won't tell Kathy, I promise you that, but I will have this time now."

Bodie cupped the anguished face between his palms. "It's all right, Ray. You don't have to convince me," he murmured and drew the beautiful mouth down to his for a kiss of love and desire and bittersweet sorrow.



"Bodie?"

Bodie rumbled an acknowledgment of the whisper in the dark. It was Monday night. In just a few hours they would have to leave. As completely, utterly and totally exhausted and satiated as he was, Bodie nevertheless refused to let himself sleep away these last few hours.

"I can't say goodbye," Doyle admitted. He rubbed his face against the smooth skin of Bodie's shoulder. "I'm gonna leave while you're asleep. Don't know that I could...." His throat closed up, trapping the rest.

Bodie ran a loving caress down Doyle's back from nape to thighs. "I know, sunshine."

"I wish...."

"Sh. Don't say it, Ray. I'm sorry. I can't be your friend without being your lover. A man's gotta know his limitations," Bodie growled in his best Clint Eastwood imitation to try to lighten the intense atmosphere.

Doyle tightened the arm and leg that lay over Bodie in a vain attempt to hold back the inevitable. "Can feel that place aching again."

"Yeah," Bodie agreed softly. "Got a lot more memories to take the edge off now."

He was going to come back here, Bodie decided then and there. On the third Friday of October next year, he was going to come back, take out the memories and live them again, and for the rest of the year, he was going to tuck them away with other memories too painful to think about. If he didn't, he wasn't certain he could remain sane.

Now it was Doyle's turn to rumble a reluctant agreement. Memories were just going to have to be enough. "Hold me, Bodie. Then go to sleep before I change my mind."

* * *
"Ray, are you sure you're all right?" Kathy Doyle leaned against the door of the bathroom, behind which her husband had locked himself.

"Christ! Can't a man use the bog without his wife interrogating him!" Doyle shouted back, giving the wood a solid thump. He glared at it, willing Kathy to leave him alone, until he heard the sounds of her retreat to their bedroom.

Staring into the mirror, Doyle sought once again to see what Kathy saw. To his own eyes, he looked every bit as guilty as he was, and yet Kathy seemed to sense nothing amiss. So much for the much-vaunted women's intuition.

"It was a one-off," he reminded his mirror image. "I can't call him and do it again, even if I wanted to. It was just something that I had to get out of my system. It'll never happen again."

It was a familiar litany. The same one he had been chanting every one of the past fourteen nights since his return from the North. He hoped he would begin to believe it soon before Kathy did sense something wrong. It was enough punishment that he felt like a bastard. Making confessions and breaking Kathy's heart would only compound his crime. After all, it was only a one-off, and it wasn't going to happen again.

* * *
Mouth set in mutinous rebellion, Bodie glared at the woman across the desk.

Kate Ross forced her frustration away from her as she returned the heated glare with a cool, professional regard. "I really will not be able to recommend that you retain active status unless you are willing to be honest with me. There has been some quite dramatic alteration in your life since your last review in May. Your tests all indicate an instability in your emotional equilibrium."

"If you deactivate every agent on the squad who's unstable, there wouldn't be a one of us on strength," Bodie quipped.

"You don't seem to realise the seriousness of what I'm saying, Bodie." Ross leaned forward earnestly, indicating the papers before her with a wave of her hand. "These results all indicate an alarming tendency to swing from elation to despair and back again for no apparent reason...."

"Why don't you just tell your story to Cowley," Bodie suggested. He'd finally had enough of this woman's poking and prodding. He knew exactly what emotional state he was in and why. He had no intention of sharing its cause with Ross, and, therefore, Cowley, or anyone else. He knew his results in all other areas were A1 and that, as usual, the squad was under-strength. Unless Ross could offer something more concrete than her usual psychoanalytical claptrap, Bodie knew that Cowley was in no position to stand him down.

"I'm not your enemy, Bodie," Ross pointed out.

"Not exactly my best mate either," Bodie countered with a charming smile that completely camouflaged the man behind it. "We could work on that, however, if you're free tonight."

Closing the file with a decisive snap, Ross allowed a small glimpse of her emotions to show. "Oh get out of here before I...."

Bodie obeyed with alacrity.

* * *
Doyle sat with barely concealed impatience while his wife carefully picked the tape from the beautifully wrapped package. "Plannin' on usin' that bit of paper again, are you?"

Kathy gave a pointed look at the tattered paper littering the floor around her husband's feet. "You do it your way, I'll do it mine."

Doyle rolled his eyes and settled back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and preparing to wait until Doomsday before he would show his impatience again.

Giving her attention to the Christmas gift, Kathy teasingly picked every piece of tape free before allowing the paper to fall away. Her heart pounded faster, then sank when she saw the velvet jeweller's box. What had Ray done? Feeling his eyes intently upon her, she lifted the lid to reveal a sparkling solitaire diamond ring.

"Oh God, Ray, we can't afford this," she murmured, falling in love all over again as she remembered just how careful her husband was with his money.

Doyle already knew that. It was he, after all, who had done without lunch for two months to save the down payment and who would continue his spartan diet from breakfast to dinner for many more months to come. He was irritated, however, that his gift could not be accepted with more appreciation.

"Can't think of anything nice to say?" he snapped.

Kathy's head came up, brown eyes brimming with happy tears. "Oh, Ray, I'm sorry. It's beautiful. Thank you so much."

Slipping to his knees by her chair, Doyle lifted the box from her hands and plucked the ring from its slot. "Thought it was about time you had an engagement ring," he explained, sliding the ring onto her finger until it rested snugly beside her wedding band.

"Ray, I love you so much," the happy wife exclaimed, throwing her arms around Doyle.

Accepting Kathy's embrace and returning it, Doyle hid his disappointment that his gift had been only half successful. As a way to delight his wife, it was an unqualified success; as a sop for his guilty conscience, however, it was a miserable failure.

* * *
Bodie woke up Christmas morning with a raging hard on and a hangover the size of Wembley Stadium. Both conditions were his own fault. He had drunk too much while sitting morosely alone on Christmas Eve. Cowley should have left him on duty. What did he care if he worked through the entire season of brotherly love? There was only one 'brother' that Bodie wanted to love and he was the reason for the second uncomfortable state Bodie suffered. Bloody wet dreams! Could have at least waited to wake him until he'd come instead of leaving him with the erotic dream image of Ray Doyle writhing underneath him begging to be impaled.

"Could've at least let me fuck him in my dreams," he admonished himself. He rolled to his side, determined to do nothing about either pathetic condition he found himself in in the hopes that one or the other would kill him before he had to go back on duty.

---

1982

"Listen, Bodie, if you don't want me for a partner, why don't you just say so instead of trying to make my life so bloody miserable," McCabe complained.

Bodie leaned back in his seat, scrubbed both hands over his face tiredly, then sat staring morosely out the windscreen. He knew the other man was justified in his complaint, just as Anson, Murphy, Jax and four others had been. McCabe was Cowley's eighth attempt to repartner him in two and a half years, and the Controller was not going to be amused by yet another failure.

"Sorry, mate," Bodie finally apologised.

The soon-to-be-ex partners sat in the car park, listening to the pop and creak as heated metal cooled along with their tempers.

"Not your fault, you know, Mac. It's okay with you as a partner. Same as it was with Murphy, Jax.... But okay isn't enough. Christ!" A frustrated fist connected with the steering wheel a couple of times before fingers curled around the padded leather and squeezed. "Doyle knew what I was thinking before I did, same as I did him. Fuck, knew every single time which way he'd...."

"Belt up for fuck's sake, Bodie!" McCabe demanded.

Bodie closed his mouth, staring a moment at the back of McCabe's head before averting his eyes to give the other man some privacy.

"Anyone else'd gone on like that I'd thump 'em, but I know you understand. Ah, Doyle isn't dead, but he's just as gone as Lucas...." McCabe's voice husked out on the name of his dead partner.

"Sorry, mate," Bodie apologised again, reaching out and offering a comforting squeeze to a leather-clad shoulder.

Bringing himself back under control, McCabe shrugged. "You want to go talk to Cowley now or in the morning?"

"I'll do it," Bodie offered, determined this time to force Cowley to submit to his demand to be classified permanently as a solo agent. "If you're lucky, I'll give him a bloody stroke and you won't have to face him at all."

* * *
Doyle sighed with satisfaction as he closed his ledger. For the first time since he had started the gym, every single one of its monthly expenses would be paid by its own income. There was even enough left over to allow him to take a draw and finally pay off Kathy's engagement ring.

Easing back in his chair, looking through the glass panel of his little office out onto the main room where half a dozen men tested themselves against various pieces of equipment, Doyle acknowledged that he had one person to thank for his comparative prosperity. Only he couldn't thank him. Couldn't speak to him. Couldn't contact him in any way.

The fact remained, however, that the names of more than a few of Bodie's old mates now graced Doyle's membership roster, and every time he encountered one of those men, it brought Bodie to mind. Bodie his partner. Bodie his friend. Bodie his one-time, one-weekend-by-his-own-decree, lover.

With a second much less satisfied sigh, Doyle went to try to work off the heavy mantle of guilt that lay on his shoulders.

* * *
"Ray? You asleep?" Kathy whispered softly, conscious of the fact that her parents slept only one paper-thin wall away.

Doyle rolled, grimacing at the squeal of bedsprings that announced to one and all every move he made. "No, Kath."

"Are you feeling guilty about something?" Kathy asked in that same soft tone.

Of course he was feeling guilty. He had been feeling guilty for six months and Kathy had to pick now to notice while they were spending the weekend with her parents. There was a difference, and perhaps it showed, Doyle thought. Up to now, he had felt guilty for cheating on his wife that October weekend with Bodie. Recently, however, his guilt had been compounded by the fact that he wanted to do it again.

"Why do you ask that?" he whispered in belated reply.

"You're being nice to my family. I know you don't like them, Ray."

Which was the understatement of the bloody century, Doyle thought, nearly letting loose a snort of sardonic laughter. He remembered at the last moment that they were surrounded by a horde of Bakers. Don't like them just wasn't in it. Even after three years, Doyle had yet to figure out how a bright girl like Kathy had emerged from a family that thought being called thick was a compliment. That there had been a switch at the hospital was the only possible conclusion.

"Hell, Ray, I don't always like them very much myself," Kathy admitted.

Doyle reached out and drew his wife into his arms, pressing her face against his chest to stifle her giggles at the resulting chorus of yowling bedsprings. God, he loved this woman. So why did he still want Bodie?

* * *
"Are you demanding the next four days off, Bodie?" Cowley asked with the deadly quiet that presaged a verbal storm.

Standing at parade rest, Bodie had his eyes front and hands clasped behind his back. "No, sir. Asking," he clarified. "I've had no holiday time in a year and only a day or two of sick time. I'm asking for Friday night to Tuesday morning."

"And if I need you here?" Cowley probed, seeing rebellion cross the handsome face for a moment and preparing to meet it with indomitable will.

"Then I'll stay here," was the surprising reply. What did it really matter, Bodie wondered. No real person was anticipating the pleasure of his company. His companion this weekend would be a fantasy and would be just as available a week, a month or a year from now.

"So it's not so important as you'd have me believe," Cowley concluded, assuming Bodie had found some lass willing to be whisked away for a romantic weekend with this troublesome agent of his who possessed far more charm than was good for him.

Bodie abandoned the neutral spot above Cowley's head and met the probing gaze, lowering a few of the barriers he habitually maintained against the world. There was only one man who had ever penetrated those walls completely and he was gone from Bodie's life. Cowley, however, was also the recipient, whether he fully knew it or not, of all of the rest of the more positive emotions that Bodie allowed himself.

"It's important to me, sir," Bodie admitted softly. "But so is the squad."

Cowley searched the candid gaze, trying to sense if he was being manipulated. He knew he was often far too lenient with Bodie and it had given rise to some speculation by other members of the squad. But Cowley had never, up to now at least, caught Bodie out in a deliberate attempt to take unfair advantage. Nor was it the case this time, he decided.

"Away wi' you, lad. I'll see you on Tuesday morning."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Bodie replied automatically, feeling none of the elation he had expected. He'd turned to make a quick retreat, but Cowley's voice stopped him short of the door.

"And don't be late," the older man admonished.

"No, sir," Bodie promised with his sauciest grin and fled before the Cow could change his mind.

* * *
Doyle reached out, snagged his wife around the waist and dragged her down onto his lap. He kissed her laughing mouth soundly while she pushed playfully at his shoulders.

"Leavin' me, are you?" he accused when he allowed her to escape the kiss.

"I told you ages ago I was going to go stay with Sheila for a few days when she came home with the baby," Kathy protested. "Want to get in some practice," she teased, cradling an imaginary bundle in her arms and rocking it.

"Just teasing, love. I don't mind doing for myself till Tuesday," Doyle reassured her. In fact, he was bloody grateful to Kathy's sister for managing to produce her first born just at this time. He knew he was going to be rather unpleasant company for the next few days.

With a last peck on Ray's wonderful mouth, Kathy climbed off his lap and resumed her packing. "I don't know why you don't run up and visit that mate of yours. Jack Cramer, wasn't it? Was this time you went last year and you seemed to have had such a good time."

Unnoticed by his wife, Doyle stiffened at the suggestion, heart leaping at the thought of another stolen weekend with Bodie. The excitement died stillborn. He had no way of getting in touch with Bodie. He had tried a time or two to contact him through CI5 HQ but, on Bodie's instructions, the receptionist had refused to even take a message from him. Obviously, Bodie had no intention of allowing himself to be tempted.

Satisfied that she had everything she needed, Kathy reached out and slipped her fingers into her husband's hair, lifting the curls to reveal the silver at the temples. Her thumb rubbed at the crease that had developed beside his mouth some time in the past year. "You've been working too hard, love. Why not take a few days?" she urged again.

Doyle covered her hand with his and turned his head to press his lips into her palm. Why not indeed? If he was going to wallow in memories, why not do it where those memories had been made?

"Maybe I will at that."

* * *
In sheer frustration, Doyle closed his eyes, plunged his hand into the closet and pulled out the first thing he laid his hand on. He cracked one eye open and cursed, tossing the sweat shirt he held away and went back to scrutinizing the clothes he had brought to the cottage with him. He hadn't been this nervous since.... Hell, he couldn't remember a time when he'd been this nervous.

When in doubt, keep it simple, he decided, yanking out a pair of black jeans and white shirt. He stalked into the bathroom, shedding his travel-wrinkled clothing as he went and stepped into the shower. When he realised he had washed himself twice from head to foot, and certain strategic areas three times, he balled up the flannel and sent it flying into the corner of the tub where it landed with a sloppy squish.

"Bloody hell," he chastised himself as he rubbed at his tingling skin with a towel. "I don't know what makes me think he'll even be here." There was no reason, of course, but he had a feeling that just refused to leave him alone.

Despite his pessimistic admonishment, he nevertheless took extra care to shave as close as possible and ensure that his hair was tangle free and attractively arranged. Chosen clothing in place, he faced himself in the full-length mirror.

"Well, you're certainly worth a two-hour drive in the rain," he told his reflection. "Yeah, right, pull the other one," he growled, grabbed up his black sports coat and stalked off to the restaurant.

* * *
Having performed the obligatory shower and shave routine he adhered to while preparing for an evening out, Bodie paused a moment to reconsider the clothing he had laid out. The poloneck, cords and leather jacket, all black, were almost a uniform for him and he had been told more than once how well the combination set off his dark hair and fair skin. Bodie, however, was remembering one off-hand comment of Doyle's when they had occupied this cottage last year.

"Bloody hell," he admonished himself. "He's not really going to be here, you idiot." Nonetheless, he picked up the black poloneck and exchanged it for a white one. He just had the strangest feeling in the back of his neck.

Satisfied with the reflection he saw in the mirror a few minutes later, Bodie scooped up his key and headed for the restaurant.

* * *
Doyle thanked whatever deity happened to be listening that he was already seated at a table when Bodie walked through the doors. Had he been on his feet it would have been a toss up which would have embarrassed him most - his trembling knees or his instant hard-on. He saw Bodie spot him, the momentary surprise, and then watched as the arrogant strut ate up the small distance between them, and had to absolve himself of guilt. There were just no two ways about it - the man could get a rise out of the dead.

"This seat taken?" Bodie asked in a casual tone completely belied by the way the blue eyes devoured every inch of Doyle they could see.

"We look like the fuckin' Bobbsey twins," Doyle growled to cover his discomposure.

Bodie grinned cheekily as he slid into the chair. "Looks like we co-ordinated all right." Despite the tone, he did feel a bit conspicuous and slipped off his jacket.

Doyle bit back a groan, narrowed green eyes taking their turn at making a seven-course meal out of what was so obviously on offer. He'd spent the first six months after he'd left here convincing himself that the interlude with Bodie had been a one-off and the next six wishing it hadn't been. He had never, however, truly believed that Bodie would actually come sauntering into the restaurant tonight, just as he had a year ago. Doyle had never had that much faith in luck, at least not of the good variety.

"You just had to wear the white, didn't you?" he growled. He could barely restrain himself from jumping across the table and ravishing the body that had been featured in such erotic detail in his dreams.

"Problem?" Bodie asked innocently, unable to resist the temptation to flex his shoulders, feeling the muscles slide beneath the silky material of his poloneck.

"Nah, I'm just strangling here, you sod." Doyle's voice had dropped even further from his usual husky tone until it seemed to vibrate along Bodie's sensitive nerve endings rather than in his ears.

"Teach you to wear your pants so tight," Bodie taunted, but reached for his jacket. "But perhaps we should count dinner well lost in the cause of rescuing bits of your anatomy."

"Rather important bits," Doyle emphasized, careful to button his jacket decently before climbing to his feet. Painfully constricted as he was, he wondered if he could make it across the room without doing himself an injury, never mind all the way back to his cottage.

"Vital bits," Bodie murmured as he sidled up behind Doyle, using the other man's body for cover while he slipped on his jacket to make himself fit for public consumption.

Walking stiffly side by side with a carefully maintained three inches of cool, drizzling space between them, they headed for Doyle's cottage, chosen silently, but mutually, by virtue of the fact that cottage No. 3 was several steps closer than cottage No. 4.

Once again blessing an unnamed being for the forethought of putting his key in his jacket rather than his jeans where he never would have been able to retrieve it, Doyle fumbled with the bit of metal in his trembling haste to get them on the other side of the door. He had barely had time to register his success before he was being dragged through the portal and pressed up against its closing surface. A heartbeat later, the body he had been craving was slammed up against his and the mouth of his fantasies was trying to devour his tonsils.

Right where he'd wanted to be for a year and had never hoped to be again, Bodie took shameless advantage of his greater strength to jam his thrusting body against an equally enthusiastic one. With both hands tangled in soft curls, he devoured the perfect lips in unashamed hunger.

Lust giving him uncommon strength, Doyle dragged his lips free long enough to make a desperate demand. "Off!" he gasped before his mouth was once again filled with a demanding tongue.

As if the one word had jogged his memory, Bodie eased back just enough to let their hands get between them. Unable to coax the hands away from his own shirt long enough to drag the poloneck over Bodie's head, Doyle settled for shoving it up until he could run frantic fingers over the smooth skin of heaving chest and belly.

Bodie's soft moan of pleasure became a dual groan as he finally succeeded in getting Doyle's shirt open and the furry torso plastered against his own. Nipples already teased erect by grasping fingers flashed fire at the soft/rough caress of the other's hairy chest.

Once again exerting super-human willpower, Doyle pushed his lover away. "Vital bits," he reminded, dragging Bodie's hands to his belt. Abandoning the efficient fingers to working him out of the stranglehold his clothes had on him, Doyle set to work at freeing Bodie from his somewhat less-constricting trousers.

A moment later, naked flesh thrust together from nipples to knees, both men froze as climax overtook them, pulsing between their tight-pressed bodies. Locked muscles gave way suddenly and they slid down the door together to land, sprawled, side-by-side on the carpet.

When he thought his trembling muscles might just hold him, Doyle propped himself up on an elbow, leaned over his panting lover and ran lazy fingers over the slickness wetting Bodie's abdomen. Languidly, he brought his fingers to his mouth, reaching out with a tongue tip to delicately lick their combined seed with relish. A lazy hand wrapped around his, bringing the sticky fingers within reach of Bodie's kiss-swollen lips.

"Does this mean you're glad to see me, angelfish?" Bodie murmured, only to find himself suddenly flat on his back with Doyle leaning over him.

"Well that wasn't a roll of sovereigns in me pocket," Doyle growled and pounced, latching onto the smooth white column of Bodie's throat with all the tenacity of a vampire bat.

* * *
On hands and knees in the middle of the bed, Doyle rocked back demandingly. "Come on, Bodie. Do it already."

"Easy, love," Bodie soothed as he got the cap off the KY which he had brought with the expectation of it being only an aid for his lonely masturbation. "Have you done this since last year?"

"Course not," Doyle panted, too aroused to be offended. He'd tear a strip off Bodie about it later, if he didn't die of sheer frustration first. He wriggled enticingly, trying to coax Bodie into getting on with it.

Bodie ran a soothing caress down the long back, then gripped a jutting hip bone as the other hand reached between rounded cheeks. "Slow down, Ray. I'm not gonna take the chance of ripping you up because you're a one-minute wonder."

Doyle moaned in his throat as he felt the cool dab of gel against his anus. Blunt fingers spread the fast-heating slickness all around and he pushed backward, trying to force the caresses into him. His moan was one of disappointment this time as the fingers left him, then deepened to a groan as they returned with more gel and one ventured inside him. "More."

"Oh, yeah. I'll give you more. Gonna give you it all, mate, but gotta get you opened up first," Bodie insisted, pushing his finger as far up as he could, searching for the bulge of Doyle's prostate.

"Yesss," Doyle hissed when Bodie found what he sought. "Do it, Bodie."

"No." Bodie was implacable, despite the eager agreement clamouring at him from his weeping cock. He worked in a second finger, twisting and scissoring them carefully.

"'m gonna die if you don't fuck me soon." To prove his point, Doyle thrust back harder, trying to force the strong fingers deeper inside him.

Finally satisfied, and with an aching 'at last' throbbing in his groin, Bodie shifted to replace fingers with the blunt tip of his cock.

Doyle went suddenly and utterly still, waiting in anticipation for Bodie to claim him. He felt the head breach him and his whole body quivered with tension as Bodie opened him with one long, exquisite slide all the way in.

Watching his engorged cock disappear inch by inch, watching Doyle's body stretch to accept him was nearly Bodie's undoing. He teetered on the edge, trying to hold himself back, but he had wanted too long.

"I'm close, Ray," he warned, easing back, eyes squeezed shut to block one small portion of the sensory overload that claimed him.

"Yes! Give it to me," Doyle demanded, surging back, feeling the hot bulk of Bodie slam up into him. It was too much. He threw back his head and howled, feeling the pulse and throb of the cock inside him as Bodie was forced into climax with him.

It was several minutes before Bodie was able to gather enough wit to ease his slowly shrinking cock from the still softly spasming tunnel that sheathed him. Carefully, he eased himself to the side of his sprawled lover and gratefully flopped onto his back. After a few moments of breath catching and wit collecting, Doyle rolled to tuck himself, limpet-like, along his side, and Bodie put out a long arm to complete the contented embrace.

"All right, love?" Bodie asked softly. He had got a bit carried away there towards the end, and Doyle had little experience with being fucked. Next best thing to a virgin, in fact, especially with a whole year passing since the last time.

"Bit sore," Doyle acknowledged, happy to suffer the slight discomfort in exchange for the glorious pleasure that preceded it.

"Want me to check?"

"What? Kiss it all better, will you?"

Bodie gave the question due consideration. "Yeah. If you like."

"Christ, Bodie. Is there nothing you won't do?" Had he not been as close as dammit to purring, Doyle might have been able to invest his tone with a bit of outrage.

Once again, Bodie gave the question his most serious consideration. "No. Nothing," he finally admitted, "with you."

When Doyle fell silent, Bodie let it settle comfortably around them like the duvet he was too lazy to reach for. He opened his eyes in time to watch Doyle licking his own spent semen from his fingers. "Bit orally fixated this year, aren't you, sunshine?"

Doyle brought his hand to Bodie's mouth and slicked the pursed lips. "Taste's different."

Bodie's tongue flicked out to test the observation for himself. "Course. 's just yours this time. Deposited mine elsewhere, didn't I?"

Doyle refrained from commenting immediately, but lowered his hand to rub the remaining stickiness into the smooth skin of Bodie's chest. "Did you know, Bodie," he finally said, "that there's about a million sperm in this lot?"

"Just find that out, did you?" Bodie asked, sensing this was going somewhere but content to let Doyle get there in his own time.

"Nah." Doyle ruminated a bit longer. "Gym's doing better."

Bodie didn't blink at the non sequitur, familiar with Doyle's habit of creeping around a subject. "That right?"

Doyle poked the soft skin just below Bodie's last rib, earning a satisfying twitch from the big body. "As if you didn't already know," he accused.

Eyes widening in feigned innocence, Bodie let his expression voice the 'who me?'. Doyle met the beguiling eyes with a mild glare.

"Only mentioned the place to an old mate," Bodie finally admitted.

"One? That why I've got dozens of ex-paras on the roster?"

"Word of mouth, Ray. Swear it. Mentioned it to Bob Morely. He must've liked your place and passed the word."

One of the few people who could tell when Bodie was lying, Doyle accepted the truth of the assurance and settled back into the warm embrace.

When enough time had passed that Bodie was beginning to think about bestirring himself to seek out some breakfast, but knowing from experience the way something on his mind could bedevil Doyle into a tailspin, Bodie, as usual, chose a frontal assault. "Something on your alleged mind besides sperm and ex-paras?"

Doyle's lips puckered as he thought, unknowingly almost tempting Bodie to cast aside discussion in favour of further play. "Yeah," came the hesitant admission, eyes intent upon the drying evidence of their passion upon Bodie's creamy skin. "Kath wants to start a baby. She's pushing 30 and with the business bringing in a bit...."

"Thought that's what you always wanted, Ray. Wife. 2.4 kids." There was a long pause while Bodie considered whether he wanted the answer to his next question or not. No one, however, could ever call him faint-hearted. "Feel you're wasting it, do you?"

With only three days to fill with memories of Bodie and the too-sharp loneliness of the past year without any contact fresh in his mind, Doyle was not as oblivious as he once might have been to the trepidation behind Bodie's light tone. His arms wrapped around the muscular torso and squeezed until Bodie's breath left him in a rush.

"Nothing that feels this good could ever be a waste."

Bodie accepted the fierce embrace and returned it. "'s what you always said you wanted, Ray."

"Want this, too."

"No reason you can't have it. Talked about that last year - this is a time out of your real life. Could have a dozen kiddies if you want. It's not like it would ruin your boyish figure."

Doyle let the humour invade him, banishing the doubts. "Yeah," he breathed in relief and yet still feeling the betrayer. "Haven't you ever wanted children, Bodie?"

Somehow Bodie managed to look amused, scandalized and horrified all at once. "Bite your tongue, mate. Bite your tongue."

* * *
"I really should pack and get back to Town," Doyle said reluctantly, letting his fingers stroke the black silk of Bodie's hair.

"Mmmm. Me too," Bodie mumbled, face pressed into the smooth side of Doyle's throat. "I'd suggest one for the road, but haven't another in me, I'm afraid."

"Me neither," Doyle admitted although he still made no move to shift himself or release Bodie. He turned his head to stare into the embers of the fire. The two of them had spent all day on the rug before the fireplace, making love when both flesh and spirit were willing, talking when neither were, and simply cuddling in silence when the mood took them. It seemed to him that the three days had passed in the blink of an eye.

"Bodie...?"

"No."

"You don't know what I was going to say," Doyle protested.

Bodie propped himself up on an elbow to look down into the face of the man he loved. "Sure I do, sunshine. Going to say you wanted us to see each other in Town, and the answer is no. I won't be your piece on the side."

Doyle reached down and gathered Bodie's genitals into his hand, giving the soft flesh a firm squeeze.

Bodie covered the caressing hand with his own and gently moved it away. "Ah, but this is a time apart, Raymond. Nothing really to do with real life," he reminded gently.

With the same hand, Doyle traced the stubborn expression, wishing he could erase it with the caress alone. "But I miss you so much, Bodie. You're my best friend. I'd promise to keep my hands to myself." Even as he made the vow, Doyle knew he was lying.

"And what makes you think I could?" Bodie asked, rolling away and climbing to his feet. "You don't get it, do you, Doyle?" The determination was now hardened by the spark of anger in the blue eyes. "I told you, I'm in love with you."

Intimidated by the muscular figure looming over him, Doyle also sprang to his feet, bringing them face to face in defensive poses more suited to the streets.

"Love me?" Doyle asked sarcastically. "So much you're happy to be with me three fucking days out of the year."

It took all Bodie's willpower not to strike out and wipe the taunting expression from the face of the man who had held him so tenderly only a few moments ago. Taking deep, calming breaths, he forced his hands to relax from lethal fists into those of a lover once more. He reached out and gently traced the soft swell of Doyle's lips.

"Ray, you love Kathy. You know you do. And now you're going to go home and start a family. It's what you always wanted. There's no place for me in that. Know you, don't I. You'd tear yourself apart with the guilt of it."

Temper melting away into tender despair, Doyle stepped into the embrace Bodie offered. He buried his face in the smooth, white throat, swallowing convulsively himself to ease the ache of tears and feeling the echoing ripple in the flesh beneath his cheek. "Promise you'll be here next year," he finally demanded in a husky whisper.

In a voice every bit as emotion choked, Bodie swore. "Won't let even the Cow keep me away, love. Promise."

---

1983

"9684."

"Jane? This is Bodie."

"Yes?" The voice held a wariness and chill that was far from welcoming.

Bodie shifted the phone to his other ear and picked up a sheet of paper that lay on his desk. "I got your letter."

"I would imagine it came as a bit of a surprise." The tone remained every bit as frosty.

Smiling slightly at the understatement, Bodie agreed, then, "Listen...."

"I don't think I'm being unreasonable...."

Bodie cut in on the fire under ice. "I agree."

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line and then, "You do?"

"Yes. Seems fair," Bodie said, his eyes skimming over the lines of type before him.

"Well, uh... maybe it would be best if you came around to talk about the details."

Now it was Bodie's turn to hesitate. He thought about the suggestion, and all that agreement would entail, for a moment, then, "All right. Tomorrow afternoon, around 2:00?"

"Unless you get called in, of course." The chill had returned with a vengeance.

Bodie grinned wryly. "Yeah. Unless I get called in."

Tucking the letter away, Bodie was making a last check in his pockets for keys, more than ready to seek out a little sustenance and then his bed, when Cowley appeared at the door.

"Are you still here 3.7?" the Controller asked. "I believe I dismissed you well over an hour ago."

Shrugging, Bodie picked up a folder and handed it over. "Thought I might as well finish that report while all the details were fresh in my mind." It was neither a lie, nor exactly the truth, or, more accurately, the whole truth. Bodie suspected that his complete truth had come to resemble Cowley's far too closely. Sometimes devotion to duty was only loneliness in disguise.

"Very conscientious of you, Bodie." Cowley opened the file, let his eyes run over the neat, if unadorned, report, then closed it, looking up at his expectant agent. "I don't suppose you've had your dinner then."

"Not yet. Was just about to go 'round to the takeaway." Bodie paused. He was tired and all he really wanted was a long bath and his bed. Still, it never hurt to be polite. "Would you like me to pick up something and bring it back for you, sir?"

"No, Bodie," Cowley said, turning toward the door. "I want you to straighten your tie and come with me. As neither of us has eaten, we might as well dine at my club."

Having finally learned to always look a gift horse from Cowley in the mouth, Bodie restrained his pleasure and waited for the other shoe to drop. Cowley didn't disappoint him.

"I might as well brief you on your next assignment now as in the morning."

Tickled by the knowledge that even George Cowley was predictable in some things, pleased at the prospect of once again sampling the fine cuisine at Cowley's club, Bodie trailed contentedly along behind his boss.

* * *
"Don't you think it's about time you came to bed, Mrs Doyle." Propped - no, posed - he admitted to himself, in the doorway of the nursery, Doyle tried to attract his wife's attention.

"Hmmm? Oh yes, Ray. I'll just be a few minutes," Kathy assured absentmindedly, her attention focussed on the bit of lace she was attaching to the skirt of a cradle.

Failing with the pose, Doyle sauntered into the room, but once again his wife never even looked up. "You've at least three months to do that. Do you have to do it tonight?"

"I feel like doing it tonight," Kathy insisted.

Moving in behind the rounded body, Doyle laid his hands on his wife's shoulders, feeling the muscles tense as if to shrug him off, and began a gentle massage to forestall the now-familiar rejection. "I feel like doing it tonight, too," he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle her neck.

"Oh, Ray, it's so uncomfortable."

Doyle grimaced, wondering why no one had warned him before he'd gone ahead and got his wife pregnant. The baby wasn't even here yet and already.... Now that was just too ridiculous - feeling as if he was losing his wife to his child.

The problem was, of course, that Doyle had far too much free time on his hands. He had become so used to having none that he had let his previous interests lapse. Now he had a bit more time on his hands and with Kathy wrapped up with preparations for their unborn baby, no one to spend it with. He had never made friends easily, preferring to hold people at the acquaintance level. All except Bodie, that is. Bodie who had invaded his life completely. And who Doyle had no business thinking about while trying to seduce his wife.

Resuming his nuzzling, Doyle added gentle touches to swollen breasts to his persuasion. "Come on, love. I'll make it good for you. You know I will."

Knowing he spoke the truth, Kathy allowed her husband to sweep her off to bed.

* * *
"And you're still content to be solo?"

Bodie took a small sip of the scotch Cowley had bought him and let his gaze wander over the familiar decor of the Red Lion as he tried to double-think his boss before answering. He and Cowley had fallen into the habit of spending an occasional evening together and, for the most part, Bodie enjoyed them. The social atmosphere, however, never prevented Cowley from adding business to pleasure, and Bodie had learned to keep his guard up. Like tonight, conversation between them had been general until Cowley's latest comment, and Bodie was determined to avoid Cowley matching him up with some other partner after his repeated failures to mesh with anyone. On the other hand, it never paid to lie to the wily old bastard. It was like trying to lie to God. Finally taking the path of least resistance, Bodie shrugged wide shoulders.

"Ach, lad, that's no answer," Cowley complained mildly. "Speak up, man."

"Well enough," Bodie finally conceded. Solo had many drawbacks, but it was preferable to the awkward fit of an incompatible partnership. "I manage."

"Aye, you do," Cowley agreed. "You've done well on your assignments."

Bodie heard the thunderous 'but' hanging at the end of that sentence and waited, under no delusion that Cowley would forebear to finish his thought.

"But your injuries have more than doubled," Cowley obliged.

Bodie shrugged his shoulders once again, hand wrapped around his glass as he gazed into the amber liquid as if seeking enlightenment. "Nothing I've had to take medical leave for. To be expected, I'd think, with no one to watch your back."

"I told you once a partnership was like a marriage," Cowley reminded. "Are you certain you haven't been a divorcé long enough, Bodie?" He raised a hand to hold back the protest he could see forming on the pursed lips. "I've no intention of ordering you, Bodie, I'm asking."

Bodie shook his head mutely.

"Still no one to take Doyle's place, eh?"

Standing abruptly, Bodie pushed in his chair and offered a stiffly polite smile. "Thanks for the drink, sir, but I'd best be off home. Early day and all tomorrow."

Cowley debated for a moment the wisdom of demanding a response but decided to let it slide. "Good night, Bodie."

* * *
If this went on much longer, Doyle knew he was going to go spare. He had suffered torture himself, had even inflicted it a time or two, but he had never before felt so helpless. The thought was quite appropriate, he thought darkly, as he stared down into his wife's tormented face. It was his fault that Kathy was writhing on that bed now, emitting pitiful little whimpers. He wished she'd just go ahead and scream.

The near bone-crushing pressure on his hands eased and Doyle realised that the contraction must have ended. Freeing one hand, he stroked the sweat-soaked hair away from his wife's flushed face.

"For pity's sake, Kath, this has gone on long enough." Fourteen hours according to the clock, but it felt more as if the two of them had been shut up in this little room for a small eternity. "Let them give you something," he pleaded.

"No. No drugs," Kathy panted. "Not good for the baby."

Doyle had known hardened terrorists who were less dedicated to an ideal than Kathy was to this whole natural birth bullshit. Allowing, hell no, encouraging a woman to put herself through this kind of agony in this day and age was nothing short of barbaric. At this moment, Doyle could have cheerfully wrung their doctor's lovely neck.

"Oh God, Kathy, I don't know how much more of this I can take," he blurted.

Surprisingly, Kathy found a smile and the will to tease. "How much more you can take? Careful what you say, Ray Doyle, or it may not be your hand I grab when the next one hits."

A lump formed in Doyle's throat and he realised once again why he loved this woman.

"That would certainly give him a clearer picture of the situation, wouldn't it, Mrs Doyle?"

Doyle straightened up from where he leaned over his wife to find Dr Walker had joined them.

"A bit fraught, Mr Doyle?" Walker asked tartly as her eyes scanned Kathy's chart.

"A bit," Doyle agreed sarcastically, retreating around the head of the bed. He knew all about staying out of the way of the professionals in a hospital room. He barely suppressed a snarled demand for help as he watched Kathy go through another seemingly endless contraction. How could Walker stand there so calmly and watch another woman suffer this?

The detachment disappeared abruptly as the choked off whimpers of the woman on the bed were overridden by the sudden strident bleeping of an alarm. While Doyle tried to swallow his heart back down out of his throat, the doctor became a blur of urgent efficiency and the room began to fill up with white-garbed people.

"What's wrong?" The question came from two throats - one whimpered and one roared - but the doctor was now totally focussed on her patient. "I'm afraid that's it, Mrs Doyle. The baby's in distress."

In less than sixty seconds, Doyle found himself abandoned.

Half an hour later, Doyle stood alone in the waiting room, trying to absorb the fact that he was a father and that everything was all right. Efficient, if not entirely coherent, he dug in his pocket for change and moved towards the phone. He was supposed to spread the news. It was only as he picked up the phone that Doyle acknowledged that the one person he wanted to call the most was the only one he couldn't.

* * *
Bodie, wearing a warm velvet dressing gown and a smile, let his gaze run over the cottage and his preparations with satisfaction. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, a bottle of champagne sat cooling in an ice bucket close at hand to the sofa, and beneath the duvet on the big bed in the bedroom waited the creamy satin sheets he had brought and exchanged for the utilitarian cotton. Now all he needed was for Doyle to make his appearance.

As if he had been waiting for the preparations to be complete, there was a sharp rap on the door and Doyle's querulous voice demanded entrance. "For Christ's sake, Bodie, answer the door. It's chuckin' it down out here."

In two long strides, Bodie was at the door. It took only another moment to release the lock and swing the door wide, revealing a rather wet Doyle who wore an expression to rival the weather.

"Why does it always rain this fucking weekend?" Doyle groused as he stalked into the room. Late, wet and thoroughly at odds with the world, Doyle felt the bad humour suddenly desert him as he took in his surroundings.

"Ah, Bodie," he murmured, turning to face his waiting lover and held out his arms. "Com'ere and kiss me."

Grinning his relief, Bodie eagerly went into the offered embrace, claiming the willing mouth in a welcoming kiss. He felt himself being pushed up against the door and went with it as Doyle plundered his mouth. Allowing them only a few moments of the demanding kisses, Bodie pushed the lithe body away to arm's length.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Well what?" Doyle countered, recovering both breath and devilment, the beaming smile he was unable to control giving him away.

"Doyle," Bodie growled mock threateningly.

The idiotic grin not faltering for a moment, Doyle reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and, as fast as he'd ever drawn his gun, whipped forth his wallet and snapped it open. "May I introduce Andrew Michael Doyle."

Bodie took the wallet and sauntered past Doyle into the sitting room, knowing Doyle was trailing along behind him. Getting a bit of his own back, he studied the picture critically as he arranged himself on the sofa. Watching Doyle surreptitiously through his lashes as the new father sat beside him, he waited until just the slightest bit of doubt began to darken the sunny features. "Thank God the poor mite looks like his mother," he finally pronounced.

Doyle snatched back the wallet and aimed a punch at Bodie's shoulder. After a few moments of studying the picture himself, Doyle gave a philosophical shrug. "Doesn't really look like anybody yet," he acknowledged. "Though Kath thinks his hair is going to curl."

Bodie laughed, curving an arm around the broad shoulders and cupping the hand that still held the wallet, turning it to face him once again. "He looks a fine lad, Ray," he complimented, all teasing put aside for a moment. "But why'd you have to stick him with Andrew?"

Doyle raised large earnest eyes to his lover's face. He knew Bodie despised his given names, but from the first moment he had held his son, he had known he had to give him at least one of the names of the most important man to ever come into his life. "Who else would I name him after?" he asked softly.

"Ah, Ray." Unable to express his emotions verbally, Bodie gathered Doyle to him and let his loving arms speak for him.

Doyle snuggled into the passionless embrace, for the time being revelling in the friendship and affection that had bound them together for so many years. "We call him Drew," he informed sometime later.

"That's all right then," Bodie allowed graciously, leaning back into a corner of the sofa and drawing Doyle down with him to rest against his chest. He plucked the wallet from lax fingers and held it up where he could study the picture once more. "Got started on him right away, didn't you, you randy little bugger?"

Without comment, Doyle reclaimed the wallet, closed it and lay it on the nearby table. His son was nearly three months old. He, indeed, had not wasted much time and he felt guilty about that, just as these stolen weekends made him feel guilty, but not enough to make him give them up.

Sensing the slight darkening of his sensitive lover's mood, Bodie squeezed comfortingly, but kept his tone light. "Just like you, that is. Make up your mind, then get right on it."

"Think you know me that well, do you?" Doyle challenged, more than willing to leave behind the mantle of guilt.

"Oh yes, sunshine," Bodie murmured, turning the warm body in his arms and beginning the delightful task of revealing it for his own pleasure. "I know you very well."

"I reckon you do at that," Doyle agreed as Bodie's fingers slipped into his open shirt.



"It's stopped raining."

Doyle dragged himself back from the very edge of sated slumber, rolled over and eyed his lover where he stood, fully clothed except for his shoes, in front of the window. That Bodie was so far away, coupled with the fact that unless they were taking a turn running out to get food neither of them wore anything more substantial than a robe, made Doyle sit up and immediately take notice.

"What are you doing way over there? And why the clothes? You trying to tell me you've gone off me?"

Hearing the insecurity in the questions, Bodie left his post and sat on the bed, gathering the naked man into his arms. "Not a chance, sunshine."

Doyle allowed himself to be cuddled for a few minutes, then pushed away far enough to see Bodie's face. "But you do have something on your mind."

Without relinquishing the embrace, Bodie shifted around until he had his back propped against the headboard and Doyle lay against his side, the curly head resting on his shoulder. He let his fingers tangle in the soft hair. "Half expected you not to be here this year. Figured you'd have a baby by now, or at least one on the way. Thought maybe...."

"That I wouldn't need you any more?" Doyle completed the unfinished thought. "You know, Bodie, there isn't a day goes by that I don't think of you. See something on the news and wonder what you thought of it. When it's something really important, like Drew coming, I want to share it with you so badly...."

"I never thought you, of all people, would be able to live with this. Christ. You're being unfaithful to your wife."

"Sometimes, when I'm with Kath, it feels more like I'm being unfaithful to you. Sometimes I wonder if this had happened before, if it would have been you I'd be living with. If I'd never have left CI5, never married. If maybe that's the way it should have been."

Bodie groaned softly. "Don't say that, Ray. Don't say that now when it's too late to be any way but the way it is. You love Kath, you know you do. And now with Drew...." The words stumbled to a halt as the arms around his chest squeezed hard enough to stop his breath.

"Won't give you up, dammit!"

"Wasn't saying you had to, Ray," Bodie murmured reassuringly. "But I never thought with the way you've always been one to shoulder the guilts of the world that you'd be able to reconcile this."

"Can't sometimes. You're right. I do love Kath, and I love Drew. Each time I've left here, I've told myself that I won't do it again." Doyle pushed himself away to look into eyes as confused as his own. "But I need you so much. That's how I live with it, Bodie. I want you every single day of the year and I only let myself have you for three."

"Guess that will have to do us then, won't it?"

* * *
"You're dressed again," Doyle observed.

"Mmmm," Bodie agreed without turning away from the window.

"What's wrong?" Concerned at finding himself abandoned for a second time, Doyle struggled out of the tangled bedding and propped his back against the headboard.

"It's still not raining." Bodie finally turned away from the window, his expression introspective. "Come for a walk with me?"

"Bodie?"

"Don't fret, Ray. Nothing's wrong," Bodie reassured with a tolerant smile.

Curious and concerned, Doyle gave his love-ravished body a sketchy wash-up and hurried into his clothes. He had barely pulled on his boots, before Bodie had the door open. He snatched up his jacket and struggled into it while hurrying to catch up to his lover.

Emerging from the cottage, they saw Jack Cramer just coming out of the stable and waved. Wanting no one's company but each other's, by mutual, if silent, accord, they turned towards the path that would lead them into the woods and the plainly marked hiking trails. For the first half mile, Bodie set a pace that put Doyle in mind more of a forced march than a leisurely stroll. Recognising the signs of a Bodie with something on his mind, Doyle became more concerned by the minute until, mindful of how very little time they had together and unwilling to waste a moment of it in non-communication, he caught Bodie's arm and forcibly dragged him to a halt.

"Christ's sake, Bodie. You plannin' on marchin' us to Wales?"

Bodie grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "Got a bit of something on my mind."

"Is it Drew?" Doyle asked hesitantly. Bodie had certainly seemed happy enough for him, but, Cowley's opinion to the contrary, Doyle knew that when it came to hiding his emotions, Bodie could be a superb actor. Was Bodie feeling as insecure as he himself had earlier? Despite his stated pleasure, did Drew's existence make him feel threatened?

"Drew?" Bodie echoed in such open puzzlement it was obvious that Doyle's infant son had not been on his mind.

"Then what?"

The sheepish expression returning, Bodie reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his wallet. Flipping it open, he handed it to Doyle without explanation.

Doyle accepted the wallet and looked down into the face of... Snow White. Skin as white as snow, hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as a summer's sky. The words of the old fairy tale floated through Doyle's mind. A moment later, Doyle burned with shame as the realisation that this had to be Bodie's daughter wracked him with jealousy.

"You remember Jane Anderson?" Bodie asked. "Strawberries and cream?" he prompted when Doyle shook his head. "Seems she's the independent sort. Took her this long to decide I ought to be paying the piper. Emily is nearly four now."

Slowly, Doyle returned the wallet and resumed their walk at a much more leisurely pace. He took a few moments to get his emotions under control. "She's beautiful, Bodie," he murmured without looking up.

"Knows it, too. And not the least bit modest about it either," Bodie joked.

"So, you're back together again? You and Jane?" Doyle ventured, still not looking at his lover, chastising himself for his jealousy. How dare he begrudge Bodie when he himself had Kathy and Drew? A time apart, he reminded himself. That's all his and Bodie's relationship could be.

"No. Jane is no fonder of me now than she was when I ran out on our last date to go rescue the Israeli Ambassador. But when I didn't make a fuss about paying the support, she agreed to let me see Emily when I can," Bodie revealed in a tone that left no doubt that his new-found daughter had captivated him, however unexpected her appearance might have been.

Now Doyle looked at his former partner and the pride and pleasure he saw in the handsome face swept aside the last remnants of his negative feelings. As those emotions retreated, he began to chuckle and then laugh in fiendish delight. The look of uncomprehending consternation on Bodie's face at his reaction just made him laugh all the harder until he had to lean up against a convenient tree. Unable to control himself, he continued to laugh until Bodie's consternation slipped into annoyance and then into outright anger. Forcing himself under control, he pulled Bodie into his arms and offered a tender kiss in apology for his glee.

"So what's so bloody funny?" asked a somewhat mollified Bodie several minutes later.

Doyle chuckled as he pushed his lover away and poised for flight. "You, Bodie. The menace to virtuous womanhood everywhere is the father of a daughter. Now that's what I call poetic justice!" he crowed and took off at a flat-out run.

Even given his head start, it was only the moment or two of stunned comprehension Bodie suffered that allowed Doyle to make it back to the cottage a few steps ahead of Bodie's lascivious revenge. There was, after all, a limit to the things two men could do in public, even at a rain-washed summer resort in the off season.

---

1984

Bodie put down the phone and began tidying his notes together. He had accomplished all he could on his latest assignment here at HQ and it was now time for him to get on his bike. He had almost made it to the lift when he heard his name being called in unmistakable tones. He turned to watch Cowley limping towards him. At one time, Bodie would have been bracing for a reprimand of some sort, but no longer. Over the past two years, the relationship between him and Cowley had changed. Not that they were the greatest of friends, their positions of employee/employer precluded that. But there was an occasional hour at the pub, or a shared meal between them now. A break for both of them from the loneliness they both suffered.

"Have you plans for this evening, Bodie?" Cowley asked when he reached the waiting agent.

Bodie shrugged. "Depends on how the case is going."

"Yes, of course." Cowley appeared distracted, but then he often did. "If it appears you will be available at 8:00 p.m., please let Betty know. I've something important to discuss with you."

"Yes, sir," Bodie replied to Cowley's retreating back. Curious, he thought, and then turned his mind back to his current case.



"Curiouser and curiouser said Alice," Bodie muttered as he tucked away his r/t and made the necessary lane change to head him in the direction he wanted. He had just reported in to Betty that he was free and had been directed to meet the Controller at his home. What was the wily old bastard up to now? It was true that the Scot had seemed pleased enough with Bodie's efforts for months now, but Cowley could go from pleased to pissed off faster than anyone Bodie had ever known. There really was only one way to find out. Bodie put his foot down.



This was getting well beyond curious into the realm of the truly strange. Bodie had not only been welcomed on arrival and ushered into Cowley's home, but had been offered a lovely meal made and served by Cowley's housekeeper who had immediately departed thereafter. Now he sat in the well-heated study with a glass of fine malt in his hand and, wrack his brains though he would, he was unable to think of one single reason for such princely honours to be bestowed upon him. He nearly choked on a fiery sip when he noted the pale blue eyes resting on him speculatively and an absolutely ludicrous thought crossed his mind. Surely the old bugger wasn't trying to seduce him?! No. Never Cowley.

"I can see you're trying to decide if I'm employing triple think on you or only double," Cowley commented with mild amusement.

Bodie cleared his throat, decided he really could think of no comment and nodded his head instead.

"Actually, Bodie, I've a proposal to present to you."

Proposal or proposition? Bodie thought with black humour. "Proposal, sir?" he prompted to prevent himself from voicing some inappropriate joke.

"Yes, Bodie, what I am proposing is to take you off the streets..." Cowley raised a hand to halt the automatic protest springing to Bodie's lips, "...and begin your training to become Controller of CI5."

Bodie retained his impassive façade only because he was so thoroughly shocked that his face froze.

"You don't seem surprised, Bodie. Perhaps you've advanced to triple think yourself?"

Not about to reveal what he had been thinking, Bodie kept his mouth judiciously closed.

Cowley shook his head, but seemed pleased. "Ah, Bodie, you've grown so much these past eight years. I sometimes find it hard to believe you're the same man as the brash young soldier I recruited."

"You mean I've learned to keep my mouth shut," Bodie observed wryly.

"More than that, Bodie, you've learned to listen and consider." Cowley wore the expression of a teacher who knows without doubt from where his student's skills have come.

Warmed by the compliment more than he would ever admit aloud, Bodie settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "I'm listening now, sir, and ready to consider."

"I am not going to live forever," Cowley began in the tone he used for briefings. He picked up a file from the desk in front of him and handed it over. "These are the results of my latest physical."

Bodie made no move to open the file.

"Oh, there's nothing particularly alarming there, but I am 63 years old. It's time, Bodie, for someone to learn before I am not here to teach."

"You know I couldn't do it on my own," Bodie pointed out. His belief in his own skills had never been so monumental as to blind him to his shortcomings. Only once had his faults not mattered and that was when he was one-half of the 3.7/4.5 team, for Doyle had been strong where he was weak, just as his strengths had shorn up Doyle's shortcomings.

"Aye. 'Twas why I first teamed you and Doyle." Cowley took a moment to mourn a perfect plan that had been wiped out of existence by Doyle's resignation.

"You can't fault him for wanting a life that CI5 couldn't offer," Bodie was quick to come to his former partner's defence.

"Still loyal," Cowley observed. Still fiercely loyal to your partner, he thought, despite long-standing orders that Doyle never be allowed to contact you and despite other, more recent orders. Both of Bodie's strictures intrigued Cowley, but he was prepared to shelve his curiosity and bide his time until their reasons were revealed. He was nothing if not a patient man.

"My next choice," Cowley went on, ignoring his own previous comment, "was Murphy."

Two pairs of blue eyes met and held in a moment of silent memorial for a man dead six months past.

"Which leaves...." Bodie thought about it for a moment, considering the senior agents still active. "Jax," he finally decided. "You do like that copper/soldier combination, don't you?"

"He does seem the best suited to complement you. You've worked with him quite often with excellent results."

Bodie shrugged his agreement. He and Jax had worked well together. Not as well as he and Doyle, true, but if that special spark between them had failed to ignite, neither had there been friction. Jax, in fact, was probably the most adaptable agent on the squad.

"We're neither one of us old enough. I'm only 36 and Jax is, what, a year more," Bodie pointed out.

"Ach, man, I plan on giving you a few years at least to overcome the affliction."

Bodie smiled at the choice of words and Cowley acknowledged it with one of his own.

"You've listened, Bodie, and now you need to consider. I don't expect an answer now, next week, or even next month. But I do have to ask you not to take too long."

With that, the conversation turned to other more immediate matters, and an hour later, Bodie was on his way home with a head full of indecision. What he needed more than anything was to talk it all out, but there was only one man he could do that with. He wondered if Cowley would be willing to wait three months for his decision.

* * *
Doyle jumped up at the knock on the door, crossed the room and flung the door open, fully expecting to find his tardy lover standing in the rain. Instead, he found Jack Cramer, who noticed how the expectant face lost its animation when he was recognised.

"You needn't look so happy to see me," Cramer said, brushing past Doyle and limping into the sitting room. He glanced around, taking in the cosy fire, conveniently placed blankets and cooling wine, but made no comment. He dropped onto the sofa.

"Your clerk said he wasn't sure when you'd get back," Doyle explained as he settled himself in the cabin. Although he was disappointed by his visitor's identity, he was more than happy for the company. Bodie was, even giving a generous allowance for traffic, at least four hours overdue. Over the past two hours, Doyle had become more and more worried.

"Yeah, made better time than I expected." Cramer looked around the room expectantly. "So where's Bodie then?"

Doyle shrugged, maintaining as casual an air as he could. "Never knows when or if he'll be able to get away."

"Oh, he'll get away," Cramer said with a straight-forward look that spoke of knowledge it had no right to have. "I think only a bullet in the brain would be enough to keep him away."

Doyle froze, unable to think of anything beyond the two frightening words 'he knows'.

"Come on, Ray. You never thought I was that stupid. You two don't exactly come here for the fishing, do you?"

Hearing no censure in his friend's tone, Doyle relaxed slightly. "No," he agreed hesitantly. He raised his chin defiantly.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Ray," the ex-agent said. "I know how it is with some partners. Seen it before, haven't I? More than once. And I haven't got a big mouth on me either. First thing you learn in this trade is that what your guests get up to behind closed doors is none of your business."

Doyle slumped in his chair muttering "Shit" under his breath.

"How late do you figure he is?"

"About four hours," Doyle admitted morosely.

"Did you call HQ to see if he's on an op?"

"I... can't." The first word was a bark, the second barely more than a whisper. Doyle sprang to his feet. He paced restlessly. "We don't have any contact except here."

Cramer whistled. "No wonder we never see hide nor hair of you when you're here." He held up a hand to forestall the temper he could see building in Doyle's face. "None of my business either. You want me to call?"

Doyle ran a hand through his hair, stalked around a bit longer, then slumped back into his chair. "No."

"No?" the older man echoed, surprised.

"No," Doyle repeated. He fell silent for another long stretch of minutes, listening to the fire crackle. "No, I don't want you to call. If he doesn't come, then he doesn't come. I mean, I'll wait a bit, but...." Silence again as Doyle considered the unimaginable. "He may have just decided not to come. You know?"

Cramer snorted inelegantly in disbelief.

"It's a daft set up, I know," Doyle admitted. "But no dafter than us being together like this at all."

Cramer leaned forward in his chair. "Ray, if you believe that, why do you keep coming?"

"Because I can't... I have to...." Doyle ground out between clenched teeth.

"And so does Bodie," Cramer said with quiet conviction. "He'll get here if he can. If he can't, well...."

"Yeah, well."

Hearing the sound of a car entering the car park, Doyle jumped up and hurried over to the window. His shoulders slumped when he saw the outline of two people in the car.

Cramer followed and placed a hand on the tense shoulder. "Would you like me to stay?"

Doyle shook his head. "Thanks, Jack, but I think I'm better on me own."

* * *
Bodie gratefully put the car into first and leaned back in the seat, fighting the urge to close his eyes and go to sleep right here. Moving his head as little as possible, he scanned the lot for some sign of Doyle's car. He gave it up after a moment. There were too many cars in the car park belonging to customers in the restaurant, and he really had no idea what car Doyle was driving now. But for the rain that was pelting down as usual this weekend, Doyle might have brought his bike.... Bodie realised his mind was wandering and shook himself back to the present. He needed a bed desperately, but first he had to go to the registry desk and find out which cottage Doyle had been given. All supposing Doyle was already here. A fairly safe assumption since Bodie was a good five hours late.

Now that he thought about it, they had cottage three last year. Wouldn't it be worth it to simply try cottage three or the one next door? If Doyle wasn't there, then he could check at the lodge. It would only save him a few yards walking, but right at the moment, he would take it.

Forcing himself to act on his decision, Bodie pulled the keys from the ignition and labouriously climbed from the car. After locking it up, he turned carefully and began moving slowly towards cottage No. 3. To his relief, he saw that the lights were glowing behind the drawn curtains, beckoning him out of the cold rain. At this time of year, surely it could only be one person waiting behind the closed door. There was only one way to find out. Bodie rapped on the door.

Having been anticipating his lover's arrival, and imagining the worst, for several hours, it took Doyle only a moment to release the lock and fling the door open, fully intending to drag the sexy body in and plaster himself all over it. Fortunately, his reflexes were still finely honed enough to stop him in his tracks at the first sight of Bodie. It was almost all his worst imaginings brought to reality - a bruised, battered and exhausted Bodie stood swaying in the rain.

"For Chrissake, Bodie, get in," Doyle exclaimed, grasping Bodie's arm to pull him inside but releasing it just as quickly when Bodie yelped a hoarse protest.

Bodie shuffled into the entry hall and leaned a shoulder tiredly against the wall despite the pain it caused him. He moaned another protest of pain when Doyle's hand settled on the small of his back to guide him. Once again the hand was withdrawn as if burned. Determinedly, he shuffled his way to the sofa and subsided ever so carefully onto its welcoming surface. If Bodie had been a man prone to tears, he would have broken down and wept right then and there. He longed for Doyle's touch with every bit of his love-starved soul, but could honestly think of no place on his aching body where he would welcome it.

Hovering uselessly, it was all Doyle could do not to hit something in sheer frustration. "What the hell happened to you?"

The blue eyes, which had closed upon gaining the haven of the sofa, opened to regard his anxious friend. "Mate, I've had a helluva day," Bodie pronounced.

Gingerly, Doyle settled on the edge of the cushion beside Bodie. "You ought to be in hospital.

"Was. 's why I'm late. Nothing worth keeping me in for," Bodie explained. At least that was what the doctor had said after Bodie had made it perfectly clear that he was leaving with or without permission.

"Nothing worth... concussion," Doyle protested, indicating the abraded goose egg on Bodie's forehead.

"Slight."

"And from the way you're moving, broken ribs."

"Just bruised."

"What about your back?"

"Pulled muscles and bruising." Bodie made an effort to purse his lips which was spoiled completely by the swollen upper lip and split bottom one. "Come on, Ray, aren't you even gonna offer me a drink?"

"Yeah, right. Scotch do you?" Doyle babbled, jumping to his feet. He turned to pour a generous splash without waiting for Bodie's reply.

"Damn!"

Doyle swung around, nearly spilling the liquor, to find Bodie trying to struggle to his feet. "Here, where are you going?"

"Forgot my case. 's still in the car. Doc gave me some tablets," Bodie explained, subsiding back onto the couch with a groan and accepting the glass Doyle handed him.

"I'll get it," Doyle said. Carefully he fished in the pocket Bodie indicated for the keys and hurried outside.

Bodie braced himself and brought the glass to his lips. The deep swallow he poured into his mouth stung every cut and scrape inside, but was worth it for the warm glow it began to instill as soon as it hit his stomach. If only he could sleep for a week and wake up to find himself miraculously healed.

Coming back in out of the rain with Bodie's carry-all in hand, Doyle was treated to the sight of his former partner teetering on the very edge of sleep while the half-full glass of scotch teetered on the edge of disaster. Pouncing across the room, he caught the glass just before it tipped and brought it to his own lips. From the looks of Bodie, drinking out of the same glass was going to be as close as he would get to the man's mouth all weekend.