Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds
Or bends with the remover to remove
Oh, no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken
  --William Shakespeare

Without doubt he was in his own way - which was about the only way he would allow - quite extraordinary and quite unique. But as much as she loved him and the friendship which had grown between them, there were times when he had an odd ability to scare her. Like today.

Oh, he did it quite deliberately, she knew - even as she knew he wasn't trying to scare her exactly, but the others in the training room; the new recruits who had signed on to test themselves against the highest expectations of any unit of its kind in the country. He certainly scared them - and with cause. But her fear grew from other issues, things the men and women in this room would never see in those blue eyes, a history that was quite beyond them and of which they would remain ignorant until the day they died.

But Kate Ross was the holder of secrets, as his friend, his associate - and the only person alive who had ever got close enough to him to know. She was not unaware of the unique position she had in his life, nor insensitive to how easily she could loose it if she said the wrong thing, pushed him in the wrong direction - or found some other way to betray the fragile trust he'd placed in her. Bodie was not a man to forgive lightly - if at all.

As he stood before the recruits and gave his first introduction speech as the new Controller of CI5, Kate remained in the background, leaning against the wall beside Jack Dean, head of training. She held her slim briefcase against her stomach, both hands lightly gripping it, doing her best to ignore the faint warnings edging her awareness. Even though she knew the cause. Even though she knew there was no cure.

It was her job to know - to be on the watch for things like this. Especially in the eyes of a man who had so much power in his hands.

Bodie spoke well in front of his audience, his voice firm, laced with his often assumed cultured accent. His words were chosen without much deliberate attention - but that was largely because he knew his subject so well; preparation was not really an issue with a man of Bodie's experience. His tall frame and faintly arrogant bearing dominated a room already filled with self-made men who could handle themselves in any situation. But as tough as they were, she could see each subconsciously wondering if they could measure up against him.

Bodie, of course, was deliberately behaving in such a way as to make them ask themselves exactly that question.

Many years of practice kept the smile from her face as she watched him. He was so very good at this, a born natural. Back in the days when he'd been an operative agent in the squad under George Cowley, he had always had an essence of idle intimidation. It was a cloak he wore when those around him bored or threatened him. When he was relaxed, he gave the distinct impression of being little more than a cuddly bear, with a big soft heart.

Both images were false and perhaps the saddest thing of all was the simple fact that Kate was possibly the only person in the world who knew.

However, for all that, Bodie was unquestionably the second most dangerous man she had ever met. The most dangerous was long dead now.

Bodie turned and paced a small distance in front of the listening recruits. Each absorbed every word he spoke, hanging on his every gesture, his calm, deep-seated confidence, his careless ability to move with such grace, such assuredness. With every second he instilled in them a conviction of his position as master of all he surveyed, the one Voice of Importance, the man whose Word was Final. As with most natural leaders, Bodie inspired trust in those around him not by what he said, but how he said it.

They were generally a good twenty years his junior, but Kate knew which she would put money on in any kind of contest between Bodie and these green folk. They were already the best in their own fields - but Bodie was the best in all of them, a past master - and they knew it. Bodie's reputation always seemed to precede him, like a gentle bow wave. Not that his public profile gave rise to such fame - but he'd been in this business a long time and when his appointment to the squad was made official two weeks ago, after a month of working in the background, word had flown about the traps, allowing much of Bodie's hidden background to be whispered and exchanged - even if some of it was largely made up.

And Bodie had done nothing to clarify the questions. He preferred the mystery. Quite deliberately, too. He'd never been much of a one to talk about his past, as though he cared so little about it simply because it was past. He gave the impression of living only in the present with little thought to either what had been before or what would be to come.

But Kate knew otherwise - and that was why watching him today unsettled her so. It was the past she could hear echoing in Bodie's smooth delivery, see it framing his steady gaze. It was the past and his memories of it which scared her so much. Bodie's inability to deal with his ghosts had always bothered her. Largely because one day she knew, the whole terrible mess would catch up with him and whether he survived to tell the tale or not seemed to depend entirely on chance. He made no reference to it, refused to acknowledge he had a problem. He saw it as all one seamless thread running through his life; he would take whatever came his way - then move on.

And he was moving now, finishing his speech with an exhortation to the recruits to simply try their best and that failure didn't mean the end of the world. Then he dismissed them and for a while there was nothing more than the noise of voices rising, chairs moving and people leaving the room. Bodie came through the chaos and stood before Kate and Jack.

"Well? How did I do?"

"Scared the crap out of me," Jack replied with a laugh. "Think any of them will still be here tomorrow to start training?"

"If not," Bodie replied with a smug grin, "then you'll be out of a job. What time are you starting?"

Jack waited until the last recruit left then nodded, "Three am - but I've told them five. That way they'll all go to bed later than they need to and get up all fuzzy-eyed and bad- tempered."

"Oh, god," Kate breathed.

"Just the way he likes'em." Bodie laughed. "Just don't break too many bones on the first day, Jack. I want some of them to qualify."

"Whatever you say, Sir." Jack nodded and left them and Bodie turned to Kate.

"Are you staying on here or heading back to London?"

"I suppose you're rushing off again?" She led him into the corridor and he walked alongside.

"Well, I am supposed to be working. I have a briefing at Central," he glanced at his watch, "in half an hour. I'm going to be late as it is."

"And you're leaving tomorrow night?"

"As soon as I can get out of that damned budget meeting that's scheduled to go all day, yes. Why? Want to have dinner?"

Kate glanced aside at him, "I want to talk to you."

Bodie pushed the door open for her and they emerged into the early summer afternoon. Before them stretched the outdoor training field, ringed by woods on every side. The carpark was half-full and Bodie's car was waiting, his driver, Skinner, leaning up against his door, patiently waiting. Every man on the squad did a three month stint as driver for the Controller. It was a job some hated - others enjoyed. Few understood the importance; the Controller's driver was not only chauffeur - but bodyguard.

"This briefing could take a couple of hours - and then I have to pop in and see the minister. I'll be finished late." Bodie strode towards his car, long legs taking him ahead of Kate. She made it a point of never hurrying to catch up - rather, she made him wait. A small battle of wills, but one she never lost. His refusal to comment on it was an aspect of the cuddly bear she saw every now and then.

"What about after the meeting tomorrow?"

"Well," Bodie glanced at his watch again, nodded at Skinner then turned back to her, perfectly benign. "I do have to leave right after. Can't it wait until I get back?"

Oh, yes, he was so damned good at this. If she hadn't known him so well, she would never have guessed that he was doing his best to avoid the conversation he knew they had to have - before he left London. "You know damned well it can't, Bodie. You've been avoiding me for the last week. Ever since you planned your itinerary."

He let out a sigh, looking away, those deep blue eyes narrowing, his lips pursed, "What's wrong with now? Give me a quick precis."

She let out a short dry laugh, dropping her voice so Skinner wouldn't hear, "Bodie, my dear, do you really want to talk about it here, in the open?"

His gaze shot back at hers then, harder than before, reaffirming her quiet fear. No, he didn't want to discuss it with her - and therefore, with anybody. "How about we assume I already know what you're going to say?"

"No. I'll be at Central at seven tomorrow night. We can talk then. You can leave after that."

He raised an eyebrow - then his expression softened a little, an ironic smile gracing his handsome face. "I had a strange feeling, when I agreed to take this job, that somebody would stop me actually being boss. I should have known it would be you. See you at seven, then."

Kate smiled, satisfied at last, "Enjoy your budget meeting."

---

Alison only glimpsed the face once, through the crowd, but that was enough. With a smile and a few brief words, she left the men she'd been talking to and squeezed her way through the cocktail drinkers, past the buffet table overburdened with seafood and other delicacies, until she reached the windows.

Alan Cade was enmeshed in conversation so she held back, waiting for the right moment to approach him. He looked well; tanned, his hair a little longer than usual, but still short and a little too severe for his face. His green eyes were alight with laughter, his gestures all that she remembered. His suit was perfect, a crisp white shirt contrasting beautifully with his tan. Idly, a part of her whistfully watched him with the eyes of one who could appreciate genuine attractiveness in a man. Especially one who seemed to have no idea of the affect he had on women.

At the sound of laughter, she moved closer and put a hand on his arm. He turned in surprise - then grinned, "Alison!" Instantly, he gave her a chaste hug, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I didn't realise you were here. How are you?"

"I'm well thank you." She replied, with a smile matching his own. "It's been a while."

The others excused themselves and the two of them were as alone as they could be under the crowded circumstances.

"Indeed it has. What is it? More than two years, I should think."

He watched her with the same intensity she remembered, an unusal quality that gave the impression his entire concentration was on her alone - as well as on something else just slightly out of sight. Two years ago, when they had briefly been lovers, that look had had the power to turn her insides all soft - and she realised with faint surprise, that she was still not immune to it now.

"Yes, something like that." She gathered herself together. "I didn't know you would be here. I knew you were on the guest list, but I'd heard you were out of the country. Working?"

"No," he shook his head, gesturing with the glass of red wine he held. "For a change, I was actually on holiday."

"Oh? Anywhere interesting?"

"Africa. Kenya. Three weeks."

"Really? How wonderful. Did you enjoy it?"

His eyebrows rose, "It was... incredible. Nothing like I imagined it would be. I've always promised myself I would go one day. Elena was supposed to come with me but cancelled at the last minute."

"How is she?"

"Fine, fine. In Canada at the moment. She got into a summer course in Torronto and left early to see her mother. She'll be back at the end of August. I - " he paused, glancing around them. "It's awfully hot in here, don't you think? Let's get out into the garden."

He led her through the crowd until they reached the doors leading into the cool evening. Already a number of others had come to the same conclusion and were wandering in small groups, enjoying the fresher air and the first stars dotting the darkening sky.

"I've always loved this time of the year," Alan murmured, coming to a halt and looking up. "Spring is over, summer is here and months of it yet to come. Winter seems so far away when the nights are like this."

"I've heard the skies in Africa are like nowhere else."

"Incomparable," he replied, his smile drifting, his gaze - oddly - shifting, becoming more inward bound. As though he'd forgotten she was there, he said nothing for a few moments and she took the opportunity to study him. There had always been something of the philosopher about Alan Cade, something of buried pain she had never been able to reach. But never before had she seen it so quickly exposed, so fresh on the surface.

"Alan?"

He started abruptly and turned with an apologetic smile, "Sorry. I only got back last night and I'm still a little culture-shocked."

"Last night? What are you doing here, then?"

He grinned, boyish, his old self once more, "What do you think? The Lord Mayor's annual bash is not something I can afford to miss. Too much gossip is passed on at these affairs."

"I wouldn't have thought the Chief Constable would listen to gossip."

"Oh," he gestured expansively, "you'd be surprised the things I learn - even though, to a large extent, I generally find the company a little tedious. Glad to see you're here, though." Again he gave her that intense gaze and she shifted a little uncomfortably. She knew what that look meant - but the worse part about it was, she wasn't sure she wanted to refuse.

But would it do any harm if she didn't? When they'd parted, they'd done so as friends and she had seen him occasionally in the months afterwards and there'd been no animosity between them. Would it hurt if she took the opportunity for another night with him?

"Did you come... alone?" He said quietly, allowing her to read his intent.

"Yes," she replied simply, a warm smile crossing her face. Everything that had once attracted her to him, did so again. That incredible smile, those piercing green eyes, that sense of otherness about him, as though he always kept some part of his soul in some place she could never see. He had always been the most alone man she had ever met and two years ago, she had enjoyed being there to soften it for a while. For so private a man, he let others in only with great care and she liked being one of those. Even though she knew it was that same privateness that had kept them from ever forming any kind of permanent relationship.

But that was not what was on offer - nor was it what she was looking for.

Moving a little closer, his gaze held hers and she knew she was doing the right thing, that this would not wound their ready friendship. "Do you want to stay longer?"

"No. If you go now, I'll follow in my car."

A one-sided grin was his only reply.

---

The faint flutter of curtains at the window held her gaze as gentle dawn light filtered into the bedroom. Alan lay beside her, his stomach pressed against her back, one arm around her. Idly, her fingers caressed the fine hairs on his forearm as she dwelt in the last few moments before she had to leave.

It had been wonderful, as she'd known it would be - so why did she now feel so damned empty? He had made love to her with all the passion she could have asked for - but the truth was, the depth of his need had scared her a little. In the weeks they had been together, she'd not noticed that intense quality. Had it been there, then? Or was it something new?

And as though he'd known he was exposing too much of himself, he had abruptly hidden it, burying it beneath all the layers of walls he'd built up over the years. Walls he would never let down for her. Not two years ago - and not now.

But would he let them down ever? Or would he, like so many work-driven men, live out the rest of his life alone, filling his days with toil, his nights with loneliness?

"I'm awake if you want to talk about it."

His voice startled her but she kept her reaction in check. She shifted slightly, taking his hand in hers. She didn't turn. She wasn't sure she wanted to see his face at this moment. "Alan," she began carefully, threading together her genuine motivations until she was sure what she wanted to say - and why. "This was just a night, wasn't it?"

He took his time replying. "I think it should be. Don't you?"

"Yes." She bit in her lip and breathed deeply. "It was nice but..."

"I know." He pulled her a little closer, touching her shoulder with a brief kiss.

"Alan?"

"Still here."

"I'm worried about you."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

She struggled, but could find no way of saying it without getting entangled. "You work too hard."

A half-laugh, half-moan split the ensuing silence. "I've just had three weeks off - and I haven't been anywhere near the office since I got back. Today is Sunday and I'm not going in until tomorrow."

"And how many holidays have you had since you came to Eastland?"

"A couple."

"How many?"

"Two."

"For how long?"

"A week at a time. Really, Alison, you don't need to worry."

"Oh? Why? Because you can always find somebody like me to share your bed when you need to kill the lonliness for a few hours?"

His body went tense against hers and she held her breath. Then slowly he moved, letting her lie back. He raised his head and rested it on his hand so he could look at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

In the months she'd known him before, she hadn't often seen the look that now filled his gaze - and before, it had always been directed at others. It was a gaze Sean had described as quite capable of splitting oak at a hundred paces. Now she could see why.

She swallowed and framed her words carefully, "Alan, I wouldn't say this if I didn't care about you."

"But?"

"Are you going to live like this for the rest of your life?"

He frowned slightly, "Like what?"

"Alone."

"I don't live alone. Elena lives with me."

"And in a couple of years, when she's finished her degree, she'll move away and you'll be alone again. She's your daughter, Alan, not..."

"A wife?"

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"What do you mean?" his voice was low, a faint edge of warning about it. She was treading on an area she'd never been near before. Two years ago she'd been too afraid. Now, time had lent her courage.

"I mean, apart from Elena - you have nothing in your life but work. Everything you do - like tonight's cocktail party - revolves around it, around talking to people who can help you, about helping others, about achieving your ambitions. Worthy though they are, they alone do not make a life."

"I have everything I want."

"Do you?" She gazed at him searchingly, hoping to find some chink in that obsidian armour. "Two years ago, we talked about luggage and life. You said most of yours was still in storage, not yet unpacked. Has anything changed?"

"Alison," He rolled over and laid back. "You know how I feel about my work. Few men have the opportunity to do what they really want to do, to have the chance to make a difference. I'm not afraid of making whatever sacrifices are necessary. You'd be surprised how fulfilling it can be. I don't see my life as being wanting."

"But you do miss having somebody to share it with."

He turned his head and raised his eyebrows in that hopelessly vulnerable gesture that always melted her in the past. "We can't all have everything."

"So you make up for it by this kind of behaviour."

He hissed in a breath, "And it's so easy to find someone who would fill the space, isn't it?"

"God, you can be a bastard when you want to be!"

He closed his eyes a moment then turned back on his side, "Look, I'm sorry, but really, think about it. I'm forty six, sitting at the top of my profession, enjoying a degree of success. I've worked all my life to get here - and I have a wonderful daughter around reminding me of what really matters. I don't need to ask for more."

"But do you want more?"

His reply was so long in coming, she almost prodded him. "There is no more. Not for me. I lost that chance a long time ago. It won't happen again. I can live with that."

Could he? Before tonight, she might have believed it. But now? The way he worked the conversation on two different levels, keeping one forever hidden with years of practice? That he felt he needed to was not unique. That he didn't realise he shouldn't, was.

Awed by the things she suddenly saw in him, she whispered, "Alan, have you been in love? Ever?"

His gaze froze, hooking hers with a force she'd never seen before, dragging her down with every second. But it only lasted moments before he released her, losing the driven aspect but keeping her still. "Once."

"Elena's mother?"

"No." He frowned slightly, his gaze going inward. "Someone else. Before that. We were only together a few months."

"What happened?"

"We were separated by work."

"How?"

"Someone intervened. Then ... she ... died."

Alison stared at him though he seemed oblivious. Was that it? Had he, unwillingly, given her the key to his pain? A lost love? Long ago? Something he would never look for again? "Alan, I'm sorry."

He looked back at her again, the gaze shifting to the present, losing it's lost appearance. In that moment, the walls closed in around him again and the tenuous connection slipped from her grasp. He smiled gently, forgiving, wonderful and everything the man he showed to the rest of the world. "Alison, I know you care about what happens to me, but really, I'm content with what I have. Yes, I suppose it would be nice to have someone permanently in my life and if I found somebody who could put up with me and the work I do, then yes, I suppose I would consider myself the luckiest man alive. But it would be luck. At my age, the odds are against me. And with age comes the realisation that perhaps I don't need someone as much as I would have thought twenty years ago. Really, I wish you wouldn't worry. There's no need."

She gave him a smile, though inside, her heart was sinking. He would never find somebody because he didn't want to look. He was alone because, for all his fine words, that was the way he wanted it, as though in penance for what had happened the last time he fell in love. With a faint sigh, she moved closer, putting her arms around him. She kissed him softly then shifted back. "I have to go. I have a meeting to prepare for."

"On a Sunday?" His smile let her off the hook a little too quickly, a little to happily. "And you tell me I work too hard."

But he let her go and she got out of bed, dressing ready to leave. He got up and put a robe on, seeing her downstairs to the door. Outside, the air was fresh and cool, the new sun splitting the ground with sharp long shadows, warning of another warm day to come. She paused at the door and gave him another brief kiss.

"Keep in touch, Alan. And good luck with your confrence."

His eyebrows rose, "And how did you hear about that?"

"I'm working with Chief Constable Fleming, in Edinburgh. He wondered how the public would take it if word got out."

"What did you tell him?"

"I think they would be horrified - but that doesn't mean I don't want you to succeed. I hope you do. For what it's worth, I think you're right about the whole thing - but don't tell Fleming I said that."

Alan smiled, knowing he could trust to her discretion, as she could trust his. "I won't say a word. Goodbye."

And then she was in her car and driving off, knowing that in all liklihood, it would be another two years before she saw him again. But she would still worry about him, no matter what he said. He was the kind of man who needed somebody to worry about him. But either way, Alan Cade would survive, no matter what. That was what he was best at. Surviving.

Of course, really living was another matter entirely.

---

After five hours, the meeting room got so stuffy, Bodie ordered the windows opened - despite the abrupt roar of traffic noise. In a way, it pushed matters along a little, encouraging those with something to say, to make it more brief; nobody liked having to shout over the top of such a cacophony.

Not that it made much of a difference. In the six weeks he'd been back in the squad, the bulk of his time had been devoted to this bloody budget and despite the fact that CI5 now had its own accountant, the wrangling for money between the various departments was no less bitter than it had been fourteen years ago, when Cowley had ruled the roost.

Back then, the Old Man had fought tooth and nail for every penny of government money, using the worst cases CI5 managed as perfect evidence of the need for the squad's existence. Now days, Cabinet needed no such proof - but still they believed adequate cover against terrorism and organized crime could be purchased for less than the price of a few BMWs. But that was their job - as politicians. His job however, was to make sure they paid whatever price Bodie decided was necessary - and one way or the other, by the time he retired, he would make sure they did.

He sat back in his seat, turned away from the sun streaming through the windows, and surveyed the long table before him, at the faces, the papers and coffee cups scattered around. They were a good bunch, more or less; at least to the extent where he knew he could knock them into shape. That was, after all, why he had been approached for this job rather than anyone else. Over the last couple of years, Sir Lionel had lost a considerable amount of his grip and the powers that be had made the correct decision that the squad needed a man tough enough to pull it back into shape. They'd gone out on a limb with their choice - which only proved that they could make the hard decisions every now and then.

Of course, this squad was very different to the one he'd spent six years in. There was more sophistication in the operational planning, more subtlty in intel gathering - but ultimately, it all came down to finding and catching bad guys and that was what Bodie did best - despite his ensuing years in MI6. Even there, he had carved for himself a niche to fulfill the role he'd wanted to play; in the long run, making him the perfect, perhaps only candidate for taking over CI5.

And what would Cowley have said to find him, of all people, sitting here, doing this job? A few years ago, Cowley had admitted that he'd expected Bodie to replace him when he retired. But events had not run along that course and Bodie had not been around - nor in the squad - when Cowley had finally called it a day. All the same, Bodie felt a certain satisfaction knowing that the Old Man would have been content to know Bodie was finally here, unavoidably hearing echoes of the Scot in so many of the decisions he made. Cowley had formed the squad, it was only fitting that one of his choice should take it into the new century.

But what would Cowley say to the trip he had to make that evening? Now there was a question. Probably much the same as Kate planned to - should Bodie give her the opportunity. And despite her fine words, he did know what she was going to say and therefore, didn't really feel like listening. She was a treasure, that much was certain, and he wasn't entirely sure he could have made it through the last ten years if it hadn't been for her - but all the same, her warning was predictable and she knew it. She simply wanted the opportunity of watching him react.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back on the current subject and sat forward to say his piece. He had plenty of time to worry about Kate later, when this was all done with.

The same could be said for his impending trip.

---

Alan Cade leaned forward and shook the loose earth from the seedling before placing it carefully into the small hole he'd dug in his flower bed. The warm sun beat down on his back as fine rivulets of sweat ran down his face. Through the windows, he could hear the Mozart sonata he'd put on the CD softly melting in the background while the noises of the city seemed far away.

Sunday at home.

Quite deliberately, he'd turned down the couple of invitations he'd had for this day off - and again deliberately, he'd made no attempt to phone the office to see how things were. No matter what Alison said, he wasn't so obsessed with work that he couldn't take a day off now and then.

He filled the hole with fresh dry earth and patted it down, sitting back on his haunches to survey the effect. He didn't really need to garden himself - he paid somebody to come in and cut the grass, pull weeds etc - but today, he'd felt some subtle need to come out here, spend the day outdoors doing something indescribably normal.

Well, alright, perhaps not normal for him - but for anybody. He'd always liked the odd bit of gardening, even before this life had taken him over. He'd enjoyed getting his hands into the dirt, feeling the warmth of it, the things growing in it. He'd kept a few pots on the window ledges of whatever flat he was living in, usually only growing tomatoes and the like and there'd always been something satisfying in making something grow from nothing.

Finished, he stood and grabbed the hose. He turned it on and gently sprayed the entire bed, giving each of the seedlings he'd planted a good soak. He concentrated on each one, focussing his gaze, all his thoughts on what he was doing. But that couldn't stop Alison's comments from infringing on his mood once more.

Damn her! All day he'd been plagued by what she'd said. After she'd gone that morning, he'd tried to get some sleep but that had only been haunted by images he had hoped he'd forgotten. In the end, he'd risen, restless, to spend a few useless hours wandering about the house, tidying up, cleaning things that weren't dirty; trying to fend off the darkness. Gardening had been his salvation - though even that seemed to be failing.

What did she want him to do? Advertise for a companion?

As if that would make a difference. As if he could actually share his life with anybody. There were too many things he couldn't do - and what she expected of him was right at the top of the list.

He'd known all along it would be that way and in so many ways, his choices had led him to this point quite deliberately.

So why was he suddenly so unsettled? It wasn't as if nobody else had ever said similar things to him. Elena mentioned it from time to time, asking him if he was going to spend his entire life alone.

But then, he hadn't been to Africa before. He hadn't gone and seen the place with his own eyes, hadn't smelt the heady aroma of the African plain, heard the noises at night, been captured by the intruiging mystery of the place.

He hadn't ever made the attempt to confront the truth before.

With a sigh, he turned off the hose and sat down on the verandah step, spreading his hands before him to stare at his tan. It still felt odd being back, as though three weeks had left a mark on him so much deeper than this world would allow. But hell, that was why he'd gone, wasn't it? So that he could see for himself, try and understand the place where it had happened. Even so many years later, it couldn't have changed so much that he couldn't imagine what might have happened - even if he'd found no trace, no evidence that it had.

Not that he'd really expected to. Not after so long.

And would he be feeling any different if he had found something? A story? A grave? Would that make a difference to him now?

And really, he knew the question he should have been asking himself - why go now after so many years? Why stay away for so long and then suddenly decide he must go? The ghosts were all long gone, he'd made a success of this life, he'd put the past well and truly behind him.

A vague chuckle escaped him and he leaned back to put his face towards the sun. The eternal problem with hiding was always that you could never hide from yourself - the one person most necessary to hide from.

The reason had been as simple as the sunshine: it had been time to go. However, rather than help put it all away finally for the last time, instead, what he was left with were memories tainted with bitterness, words from a friend that cut right through him, a desire to tell the truth and be done with it.

Tell the truth - and have his world collapse around him for a second time?

No. Not now. Not even after going to Africa. He could never tell the truth. He could never let it go, never put down the burden. After fourteen years, it was too ingrained in him, too much a part of everything he was now. If he let it go now, he would lose the last threads of himself that still survived.

And if he couldn't tell the truth, then any relationship he had would always be founded on a lie and as much as he wanted someone to be with, he could never do that to somebody he cared that much about.

He'd known that, too, all those years ago when he'd made the decision. Pity he hadn't known what it would do to him.

With half a laugh at his own silliness, he got up and collected together the gardening things. If being constructive wasn't chasing the demons away, he would shut them off; sit out in the sun with a good book.

---

Bodie pulled his papers together as the others rose from the table. For the third time in an hour, he glanced at his watch. He was early finishing with the budget meeting. If he was quick, and Richmond didn't have too much for him to take care of, he might even be able to get out of the city before dark.

He left the meeting room and headed down the corridor towards his office, files tucked under his arm. He knew he was being a bit juevenile - but if he could just get out of the place before Kate turned up then he would feel a lot better about having to go in the first place.

Richmond was waiting for him and scrambled to his feet the moment Bodie appeared at the door. He dumped his files on his desk and glanced at the messages waiting for his attention. Nothing urgent. He glanced up at Richmond and nodded. "Well?"

"As far as I can tell, things are going as well as they could be. But really, we still need another couple of men up there to be on the safe side. Our intel is too vague. Sets my teeth on edge."

Bodie frowned, "Do you think something will happen in then next couple of days?"

"No - and if it does, I'll be very surprised."

"Surprise is not something I can afford. If you don't think you can handle things for the few days I'm going to be gone, I expect you to say so right now."

Richmond, a hard man at the best of times, shook his head, "No, Sir. I'm just not convinced we can handle this alone - not with the other operations we've got running. I'd just like to have another couple of men up there, as backup."

"We can't all have what we want. We'll just have to make do and hope it doesn't blow up in our faces. Nevertheless, I expect you to keep right on top of it. If we can nail Farakan and his mob, we'll be letting the big boys know we mean business. If we need to call in outside help, I want to know about it." The phone rang and he snatched it up. "Bodie." He listened for a moment, mentally filing the information for action later. "Right. Call Mason and Bruce off standby. They can take care of it."

Bodie put the phone down and turned back to Richmond. Absently, he began packing up his laptop, collecting together the files he would need; the most important he put on the top. The label said Eastland. "One way or the other, I'll be back on Friday. I can get back much quicker if I have to. I expect you to keep me informed if anything so much as sneezes in the wrong direction. As for Farakan, if anything blows up while I'm in the area, I'll commandeer some of the local lads to help."

Richmond snorted his opinion of that idea. Bodie continued regardless, "No, I wouldn't give a rats arse for the skills of the local constabulary in our game - but we don't have any choice and you know it. With the finance ministers' meeting on the weekend, we have no other men we can spare. If anything happens, you let me know immediately."

When Richmond rolled his eyes, Bodie paused, collecting up everything he needed. "Are you telling me this never happened when Sir Lionel was in charge?"

"Well, er..."

"Come on man," Bodie snapped, not in the mood for this. "I'm not interested in coy evasions. I doubt there's a man in this squad who owes any real loyalty to my predecessor."

"Then you can't be unaware of the limitations he imposed on the operations we got involved with. To be honest, he would never have sanctioned anything so far from London unless he was certain it would be the biggest arms haul in history."

Bodie straightened up and made for the door. "For all we know, it might be. Nevertheless, I expect you to make it clear to the entire squad that things have changed now I'm here. Bitch about me as much as you like - but make sure they understand - this is what CI5 is for and we're never going to have the money or the resources we need to do anything in a calm and relaxed manner. It just won't happen. Cowley knew that when he started the place and nothing's changed since. I'll call you first thing in the morning for a shipping update."

"Yes, sir."

He left Richmond and strode out into the corridor, briefcase in one hand, laptop and files in the other. His car was waiting by the front door and he climbed in without a word. His luggage was already in the boot and he settled in for the drive north. He pulled the window down to let a little cool night air inside; the summer had been too hot in London. It would be nice to get out of the city - if only on the pretext of work.

Work, work and more bloody work. It never seemed to end - and he'd never really bothered too much with making himself a life outside of work. Not for the last fourteen years, at least. Never seemed to be any point. But the work still remained demanding. Not that he'd had any illusions when he'd been offered this job - at least, not on that level. Strangely though, he'd never really considered turning it down - though he'd wondered if they were sure they knew what they were getting when they appointed him. Oh, he'd been open and candid about everything - but you can never tell just how closely people are listening. There was always the possibility afterwards for someone to cry 'but I didn't realize you meant that!'.

He settled back into his seat as his driver, Skinner, concentrated on negotiating the city streets. Three hours it would take - and then he could snatch a few hours sleep before his first meetings.

Idly and cautiously now, he turned to that top file, picked it up with a vague tremor of hesitation. Eastland.

Alan Cade.

The Chief Constable was already something of a legend though he'd only been in the job little more than three years. A man many in the government considered a dangerous radical, a liberal they could well do without because he'd too often exercised a rare ability to think for himself. There was no doubt he was one of the most important thinkers in the force and the only one who had had the courage to put his ideas into practice. It wasn't difficult to get opinions on the quality of Eastland's chief - at least, not on a professional level. His public profile was high - the exact opposite of Bodie's - and he'd gained both praise and critisism for his actions on a number of different levels.

It was all there, in the file Bodie held in his hand. Of course, sitting alongside all the black scrawled text was a newpaper cutting, a photo of the Chief, in uniform, at some event now forgotten - and it was the face that drew Bodie's gaze again. Just as it had the first time he'd seen this picture.

It was uncanny and even now, a year later, the resemblance was no less astonishing. And tomorrow Bodie would meet the man in person, face to face for the first time.

How would the man himself match up to the photo - and how would Bodie react? He had no photos of Ray to compare Cade with, no link to the past he could touch upon to remind him of what was real and what wasn't. There was just his memory. He knew it was no longer clear and untainted. He'd tried to place too many others over it, in a way, trying to dull the reality. He could no longer recall the smell, the taste, the touch of the only person who had ever meant anything to him. He'd done it deliberately, finding, in the long run, the only way to live with the pain of losing Ray forever. Smudge the memory, smudge the reality and perhaps one day, the feeling would die as Ray had.

He put the file down and rested his head back. The view outside the car now encompassed darkness as they travelled along the motorway. Little flecks of light from farmhouses dotted the landscape - but of everything else, he was blind.

His mobile phone bleeped and he hit the button.

"Bodie?"

"Kate," he said with a smug smile. "How nice of you to call."

"Where are you?"

"On the M4, I think."

"So you've left already?"

"Apparantly."

"Damn you, Bodie, I knew you'd do this."

"Do what? I'm working."

"You said you'd wait so we could talk."

He chuckled, resting his elbow on the door, "You worry too much. I told you I'd be a good boy. I won't do anything I'm not supposed to do."

"Why don't I believe you? Alan Cade is..."

"Kate, I'm not an idiot - nor am I so indiscreet. Please, stop worrying."

"I would worry less if I didn't know you so well." She paused then added, "Just make sure you're prepared to be shocked. I know I was when I met him. His resemblance to Doyle is remarkable."

"And I'm well aware of it. Please, Kate, go home, go to bed and stop worrying. Call me tomorrow night if you like."

"Alright. Goodnight, Bodie."

"Goodnight."

He tossed the phone onto the seat beside him and rested his head back again. Kate Ross had always been far too perceptive for his own good. But for some strange reason, he'd never minded the way she could look right through him. Not even that night ten years ago when she'd caught him in a bar in Soho.

Exactly what CI5's resident shrink had been doing in such a place had never really been examined. However, at the time, he'd been rather too preoccupied to ask.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing, Bodie?"

Her dark gaze had glinted in the subdued light of the members-only club. Bodie had been a little startled to find her there but he'd covered it quickly. "Having a quiet drink, what else?"

She gave him that almost-smile that usually made men quake in their boots. "You can't bring him back you know."

He'd been tempted for a second, to hit her. "I damned well know that!" he'd hissed. "I also know it's none of your business. I'm MI6 not CI5 now - so you can just get out of my private life, alright?"

She moved closer so only he could hear the whispered words, "You can't bring him back to life, Bodie, and doing this is only going to make you miserable. You know that as well as I do."

"Oh yeah, and what am I doing?"

"Looking for another Ray Doyle."

"Rubbish!"

"So why have you spent the last ten minutes chatting up that lovely fellow with the blistering green eyes?"

"Which fellow?"

"The one who's keeping his distance, wondering if I'm your wife or something."

At that, Bodie had frowned and almost walked out - except that she'd done something very strange. She'd gone up on her toes and kissed his cheek, whispering, "I understand, Bodie. It's okay."

And then he'd looked into her eyes again and realized that it was okay. She did understand. She understood what he'd been doing all these years and instead of calling him a fool, she was trying to prevent him from getting hurt again. She wasn't to know that the part of him that could be hurt by anything had died that day, four years before when he'd found out Ray had been murdered.

"Come on, I'll buy you a coffee," she'd said - and in those words, offered him friendship in a way he couldn't refuse.

They'd ended up back at her place where they'd sat for hours, simply talking. That's when she'd admitted she'd long believed that there'd been something between him and Doyle not strictly regulation. He'd laughed at the way she'd put it; allowing himself to laugh had been wonderful. And so he'd told her the truth; of how he and Ray had finally taken their relationship to its most wonderful conculsion, how it had only lasted a few months before he'd been seconded to MI6. He'd talked about how they had hidden it from Cowley, the games they'd played with trying to live together without it looking that way, how they'd worried somebody would find out, how precious it had been to keep it secret for the first few months.

How they had been happy.

That night he had won a friend - and some peace he'd not known for a long time. Somehow, admitting it all in the open had made it more bearable, stopped him from gnawing at it all, allowed him to grieve a little.

Of course, it didn't stop him searching - and she knew it. Oh, he still went out with women but every few months he would find himself in a similar place to that Soho club, seeking among the crowds, occasionally taking someone home with him, burying himself in the illusion of a face or a body that reminded him of Ray. He didn't do it often and never if he thought there was a danger of discovery - but he also knew he would never stop doing it. After fourteen years, he was too old to change. Kate had, despite her opinion, understood nonetheless. They'd stayed friends since, growing closer. Some days he wondered if she was in love with him - but he could never ask. That would be too much for both of them - especially since she knew he would never return the feelings.

So he had let her in - and kept everybody else out. There had never been anybody else apart from Ray who had won his trust like that. Now days, she was like a sister and looked after the part of him that still admitted to any kind of vulnerability. The dry and shrivelled part that remembered he'd once loved someone.

He closed his eyes against the dark night. He had time to get a little sleep - and he needed to. Tomorrow would be tough in any respect - but most of all because he would meet a man who could have been Ray's twin.

But only on the surface - as all the others had been. Even as he resisted the idea, deep down he knew, he would never find Ray - because he was dead and nothing would change that, no matter how hard he tried.

Ray was dead - and in his own way, so was Bodie.

---

The timer lights were on when Cade pulled up into his driveway, giving the house that lived-in look. Except that it was empty. Elena wouldn't be home for another month and at this time of the night, the place felt like a hollow cave, gaping for some sign of laughter, noise, anything to do with people.

He shut the door behind him, automatically switching off the alarms and turning up the heating. Even in the middle of summer the nights grew cold this far north. Only in London did the heat gather at this time of the year.

He tossed his jacket onto the stair rail and wandered into the kitchen. He should have something to eat but he wasn't really hungry. Instead, he drifted into the lounge and poured himself a hearty whisky, sinking into the deep sofa to lean his head back.

His gazed drifted over the white walls of his elegant living room, touched on the artwork, the simple but stylish furniture he'd chosen when he'd bought the place. At the time, he'd believed Marie-Pierre would have shared it with him, but she'd left him too - just like all the others.

He took a deep mouthful of whisky, letting the liquid burn his mouth, sear his throat. He didn't drink scotch very often; it always brought about too many memories - but tonight, with Alison's words still in his ears, perhaps it was time to remember a little. Perhaps it would make it easier. Perhaps, once acknowledged, with the memory of Africa still fresh in his mind, he would be able to lift himself out of the mood that had haunted him all day.

Even if the memories were painful.

Then again, love and betrayal were always painful. No other way around it.

And in the process, he'd lost Bodie.

Was it really only fourteen years? It seemed like a lifetime - and yet, at moments like this, it seemed only months in the past, only the blink of an eye since he had gone by another name, lived another life - the life that had belonged to him, before Alan Cade had given him an escape from an unbearable existence.

His gaze fell on a photo on the mantle. Alan Cade's graduation. Young, fresh-faced, innocent. Already leaning towards law enforcement, one of the brightest students at his college, his tutors disappointed when he'd chosen to enter the police force. They'd had high hopes for him; a career at the bar, perhaps, going on to become a QC, or a judge. Anything would have been possible.

Except that reality had stepped in and severed that life before it had really begun - and the tradegdy of it was, nobody knew anything about it. Nobody knew that Alan Cade had died in Liverpool over thirteen years ago and that the man who walked in his shoes, did the job he'd been destined to do was in fact an imposter.

The ultimate lie in amongst all the others. To the world, Alan Cade had not died but had survived the savage beating he'd received that night, in the backstreets of a crowded city. He'd survived - and Ray Doyle had died in his place. An unhappy chance had given him an escape route, a means by which he could stop being himself and become someone else, someone who didn't have that pain inside him. So Ray Doyle had died and Alan Cade had lived.

But the pain had never really gone away. Instead, he'd lost the opportunity of ever talking about it, of ever really exorcising it. To this day, the loss of Bodie left an ache inside him he could only drown with a large scotch or two.

He drained his glass, kicked off his shoes and poured another measure. If he needed to wallow, he was damned well going to be comfortable.

So why did thinking about Bodie always make him want to wallow? Because he was alone? Or because the only time when he could wallow was when he was alone? Certainly the only time he could think about Bodie was when he was alone.

It was the emptiness of the house that echoed back to him; a dark spectre writhing in the background, taunting him and his attempts to live his life as though nothing hovered in his past. It was the emptiness that came back to him at times like this, breathing cold and blistering up the past like a ghost in the shadows. A ghost that never really left him. Unlike Bodie.

Willis, MI6 and some secret mission Cowley had been powerless to prevent. Cowley - powerless. Two words which, until that day, had never seemed to belong in the same sentence. Blackmail had been involved - as usual. Deals made behind closed doors - and Bodie had been taken from him, abruptly wrenched into another life, never to be seen again.

Doyle had hit the roof, threatening murder. Cowley had suspended him. In the last few snatched seconds he'd had with Bodie, they'd talked - briefly - of running away together, Bodie's heavy blue eyes dark and serious. Cowley had prevented it. In the end, Willis, smug and self-righteous, had won and they'd been torn apart that very day.

Without even a proper chance to say goodbye. Without even a moment to hold each other. Bodie had simply touched his face, uncaring of the eyes upon them both. And then he'd gone.

Six years together. Three months in love, astonishing and wonderful, still learning, still wanting, still afraid of what the future might hold for them, still wondering if they could make it work, still wanting to ensure it would.

All to nothing.

And the final day, a month later, when Cowley had come to him and told him what had happened. Willis's own words, bleating feigned sadness and contrite apologies. An accident. Bodie had disappeard in Africa. Body had been found days later, and buried in some dusty plain. No killer caught.

Just death on the job.

Alone.

He sucked in a breath and held it, forcing calm into his body. After all these years, it shouldn't still hurt so much.

But it did hurt, remembering that day, and the one after when he'd told Cowely he was quitting. The Old Man had fought him, arguing hard - but they'd both known it was the end. Saddened, Cowley had let him go and for the next few months, he'd drifted, doing nothing, drinking sometimes, letting himself wallow some days, get angry on others. But he never went near Willis - that had been the only promise he'd given Cowley - and that reluctantly.

And then, almost two months after that terrible day - two months since he'd last touched life, he'd met Cade in Liverpool.

He opened his eyes and gazed blearily at the clock on the mantel. The bottle was almost empty and he would have to get up for work in a few hours. With a sigh, he rolled off the sofa and stumbled upstairs to bed, without even turning the lights on. He just stripped off and climbed between the cool sheets. Even then, tired as he was, the memories kept drifting back to him, like old friends, both wanted and denied at the same time.

Bodie had gone with Willis, gone to do some damned job in Africa that MI6 simply couldn't handle on their own. They'd needed Bodie - and they'd taken him.

And Bodie hadn't fought it. Not really. Not the way Bodie should have fought it. Oh, Doyle had seen the anguish in his eyes as they'd parted - and he'd seen the love so clearly, anybody could have picked it up. But all the same, Bodie hadn't fought as he should have done. Instead, he'd gone, managed to get himself killed.

Even though he'd promised.

Doyle had never asked for such a thing; believing somehow that Bodie would never want such comittment expected of him. But Bodie had promised, the morning after their first night together.

They'd laid together in his bed, wrapped around each other, their bodies sated for the moment, deliberately dwelling on the warmth between them, the closeness, the surprising rightness of it. And Bodie had spoken words he would never forget as long as he lived.

"Never really thought much about it. Never had a reason I guess but now I think about it - and I can't seem to think about anything else - I have to tell you, in case you ever wonder, or in case I get shot tomorrow and die without it being said - I love you, Ray. I know guys like me aren't supposed to fall in love - and certainly not with their partners, but there it is and I'm damned if I can do anything about it. Now I know we had a good time here tonight - but if that's all it was to you, say so now. Give me some warning so I don't get me fragile little heart broken. I can cope if you tell me now - but don't change your mind next week, or next month or in a year. If you tell me now then I won't go planning the rest of my life around being with you and I won't be disappointed when it doesn't happen. But if it does mean something to you, if you think that you might be able to love me - then I have to say, I want this to be forever. For me, it will be."

He remembered his response with a smile. In the dark bedroom, fourteen years later, the smile was the only light he needed for the moment. He'd rolled Bodie over on the bed and pinned him down, arms and legs, kissed him for long wonderful moments and then spoken his own words of love. And then, as though it were their own version of wedding vows, they had made love again, only this time, their joint yearning and need had driven them to become one. Doyle, shocked and bewildered by the incredible depth of his own feelings, had opened up to Bodie, had taken the pain along with the pleasure, wanting it desperately with a force that had brought tears to his eyes at the moment of release. His tears, like his love, had not been alone that morning.

Months, days, hours. Too few of them and yet now, he remembered every one, allowing his body to respond to the ghost he carried with him, deliberately reliving that wonderful morning with an echo of the pleasure and the love. And his body did remember, fashioning desire from imagination alone, driving him forward with an urgency he could not control, bringing him to the edge of a precipice over which he tumbled, falling back into the grief that had never left him.

Empty both physically and emotionally, he closed his eyes again and allowed the pain to send him to sleep.

---

"Morning!" Cade called to Dianne as he breezed into his office.

"Good morning, Sir." Dianne smiled. "Did you have a nice holiday?"

"Facinating. Amazing place, Africa. I'll bring the photos in and show you."

Dianne's smile widened - it came so easily to her, "Coffee?"

"Yes please. And ask Sean to come in when he gets here."

"Yes, sir."

It was cool this morning but the sun streaming through his blinds bled a little warmth into the room. He dropped his briefcase beside the desk and pulled out the file he'd glanced at over breakfast. Oddly, despite the few hours sleep he'd had, he felt fine. Perhaps a little gentle wallowing was exactly what he'd needed.

Before he could even gain his chair however, his private line rang and he picked it up.

"Dad?"

"Elena? Where are you?"

"At mum's. How are you? How was Africa?"

"Amazing - and when you see the photos you'll kick yourself."

"Don't remind me. Did you have a good time?"

"Wonderful," he lied - but smiled with it. "Actually, I was miserable without you."

"Oh, Dad!" she laughed, choosing not to believe the truth. "Well, I just called to say hi. I'll be home in six weeks. Can you survive without me till then?"

"More to the point, will you be back in time to start your next semester?"

"Of course. I'm already doing my reading."

And he didn't believe that for one second. "Well, you relax while you're there. You've got a heavy workload on this coming year. I don't want you fazing out after the first six months."

"Yes Dad. I've gotta go; this is costing a fortune. Love you."

"I love you, too."

And then she was gone, a fresh breeze on a summer's day. Still, he felt even better now.

Dianne appeared with the promised coffee. "You certainly look well - though I'm afraid you don't get much time to catch up today."

"Why?" He glanced up.

"You have an appointment in an hour - but it's only a meet and greet."

"Oh? Who?"

Dianne glanced down at one of the piles of untouched paper on his desk, "The new head of CI5 is doing a quick tour to visit the regional chiefs. We're his first stop. He only wants a few minutes for a quick chat before next week's confrence."

Cade paused with a frown, "New head? What happened to Sir Lionel?

"Oh, there's a memo from division there, in yesterday's pile. I put it on top. Sir Lionel retired just after you left on holiday. Ill health, I'm afraid. He'd been deteriorating for some months. As it was such short notice, they had to bring somebody in from MI6."

His frown deepened. Not another bloody spook. Not Willis, thank god. He'd died twelve years ago, from a stroke, not suffering anywhere near as much as he should have. He reached for the pile Diane indicated, rifiling through the stack until he found something with Division letterhead - but he needn't have bothered. Diane supplied the remaining detail.

"His name is Andrew Bodie."

Something frail inside him snapped.

"Andrew Bodie?" A harsh whisper, from somebody else's strangled throat.

"Yes, sir. He'll be here in about an hour. Can I show him in?"

A nod.

She left, closing the door behind her.

An hour.

For the first five minutes, he couldn't muster anything to make himself actually move. Then his legs gave way, letting him sink to his chair, like an airless balloon drifting to the ground.

No. Fate couldn't be so cruel as to give somebody else the same name. A coincidence like that would have given Cowley a fit.

No. It couldn't be. Had to be somebody else.

Yes.

Had to be.

His breathing shortened as his eyes dragged themselves from the blank wall opposite to the sheet of paper in his hand. It took a moment for them to focus. W. Andrew Bodie.

Early member of CI5 under its creator, George Cowley. Top agent in the field. Moved on to MI6. Worked there for last fourteen years. Top operative, top controller. Second in command of ops at 6. Temporary assignment at CI5 pending ratification from Cabinet. All congratulations, best wishes on success in new position, give all assistance etc etc etc.

Bodie.

FuckinghellJesusfuckingChristnohe'sdeadfuckinghellhe 'sdeadnonono!

Bodie.

Alive?

Alive?

"No!" Thought came to an abrupt halt, his mind ceasing all operation as his entire world stopped dead.

But... it had to be a mistake.

It had to be.

Had to be

Bodie?

His tortured lungs screamed for mercy and he heaved in an almighty breath. For long seconds, his heartbeat raced dangerously as his eyes stared at nothing at all.

Willis had lied. Bodie hadn't died on assignment.

Jesus Christ!

And Bodie was coming here - in forty-five minutes!

He came raggedly to his feet, almost stumbling towards the small ensuite. There he splashed cold water on his face, desperate to get a grip on himself, to still the sudden nausea which threatened, the shaking which rattled through his whole body.

Willis had lied and they'd never known. But why? Why would he do something like that?

And they'd never known. How could they? Bodie had been on top secret assignment in Africa - and those were the only details Cowley had ever been able to glean. At least...

At least for the time Doyle had remained in contact - until he himself had 'died' and taken Cade's place.

Oh, Christ - and Bodie thought he was dead!

Shock made his hands shake and he left them under the cold tap. Half an hour and Bodie would be here. Half an hour and he would see Bodie again, see the man he'd thought was dead all these years.

Fucking hell!

His stomach staggered with horror and the most absurd joy. Blinking, tumbling in unreality, he looked up in the mirror at the face he wore.

But this was Alan Cade's face.

Not Ray Doyle's.

Would Bodie recognize him? Know he'd been living a lie all these years?

Would he remember?

Would he care?

No! This was Alan Cade's face! The broken cheekbone and chipped tooth were the results of the beating he'd received while on that undercover mission in Liverpool. Medical records proved it. Scars on his back from a knife attack three months later. After a year undercover, he'd pulled apart the drug ring and was largely responsible for the arrest and conviction of twenty-three pushers and dealers. Then he'd had three months off to recouperate. Three months to put together a life that had never been his. Using the subtle trauma of long-term undercover work to ease himself into relationships and work he was unfamiliar with. He done it and nobody had ever questioned. Never. He'd done a perfect job. He'd even managed to avoid Cowley until the Old Man had died eight years ago. Even that chance meeting with Kate Ross had passed untroubled.

Until now, there'd been nobody to question, nobody left alive who knew him well enough to tell the difference.

And now he would have to make Bodie believe. He would have to be every part of Alan Cade, every ounce of the man he'd created over fourteen years. Bodie would be shocked by the resemblance - but nothing else.

Of course, if he already suspected, there was nothing to be done about it.

But he would worry about that if it ever happened.

Straightening up, he dried his face, pushed his tie back into place and deliberately fashioned his expression to suit Alan Cade, Chief Constable of Eastland. As he had done from the first moment, he forced down all the open reactions he would normally have shown, allowing himself to quake only deeply on the inside. Bodie wouldn't have a clue. He wouldn't guess because he would be given nothing to go on. Nothing but a vaguely familiar face.

Gathering himself moment by moment, he left the bathroom and downed his coffee in one go. He could have done with something stronger - but it wouldn't do for Bodie to smell alcohol on his breath this early in the morning.

Damn but he would have to concentrate hard, do all he could to forget who this man really was, pull out the best acting performance he'd ever managed.

But even as he turned to glance out of the window, he couldn't stop the smile creeping across his face.

Bodie hadn't died in some African jungle. Bodie was alive and that was more than he'd ever hoped for.

It was enough.

---

Bodie hadn't slept well once he'd arrived at his hotel. Skinner had done all the necessary room-checking and security stuff as he'd been trained, then taken the room next door. The CI5 Controller was a perpetual target these days and Bodie wasn't immune to the danger. But when he'd been left alone, anticipation had kept his mind working, filling his doze with flights of memory, of stolen moments with Ray, of days long before they'd got together, snatches of jobs they'd done. It had been a long time since his memory had played such evil tricks on him so he didn't get up in a particularly good mood.

And then he'd remembered who he was to see first off - and his mood abruptly improved. He'd had to do all he could to contain his urgency over breakfast and even now, sitting in his car, he had to school his features carefully, keep his hands laced together to keep them still.

Eastland's constabulary dwelt in a classic Victorian building which sat opposite a rather nice park. As his car pulled into the courtyard, Bodie looked up, wondering if Cade's office overlooked this direction.

Only then did he remember Kate's warning. This was not Ray - - and he needed to remember that or he was likely to get himself into trouble.

He was checked into the building and ushered upstairs by a uniformed officer. There he was faced with a pleasant woman by the name of Dianne. She asked him to wait a moment then disappeared behind a white door. Moments later she reappeared and asked him if he would like coffee or tea. Then she showed him in to the office and he strode ahead, his hand already outstretched, a smile on his face before he really took a good look at the man who stood to meet him.

"Alan Cade? I'm Bodie." The words were prepared and out before he had a chance to react. Cade nodded, forming a smile, his eyes glinting with something only snatched, then waved him to a seat.

Only then did Bodie notice his heart was racing...

Incredible.

Unbelievable.

Incredible.

Thank god he'd been prepared. If not, he'd be sitting here with his mouth agape.

"Welcome to Eastland. Did you drive up last night?"

Bodie nodded, again forming words already prepared and memorized in case he might react this way. "Long way from nowhere. Never noticed how flat the land is around here. How do you put up with it?"

Cade smiled slightly, tight and uncomfortable. At first glance, he appeared a little cold, a little impersonal. "To be honest, I don't really notice now. It did bother me when I first came here. Since then, I've been a little distracted."

Then Dianne interrupted them to bring in a tray of tea and Bodie had his opportunity to study the man before him.

He could have been Doyle's twin. If Ray had lived these last fourteen years, this was most likely what he would have looked like. The hair was short of course, cropped and kept away from his face, grey here and there. Lines on the brow were visible along with a few around the eyes. But those eyes - as green as a forest, silvery in shadow, beligerent and evasive, wearing an old inner disquiet there had never been in Ray's eyes. So different and yet so much alike it was uncanny. The nose was the same, as was the mouth beneath, though the smile was uneasy. Even the broken cheekbone was in the same place.

How could two men look so much alike and even manage to get the same wound?

Of course, he'd researched; Cade had done a long stint undercover and six months into it had received a bad beating. The broken cheekbone had been one casualty.

Christ, Cowley would have rolled over in his gave! Cade was speaking, "Mr Bodie? Are you alright?"

"I..." Bodie cracked out of his amazement slowly, in bits and pieces, not bothering to hide some of it. "Sorry." He said, offering his most disarming smile. "I didn't mean to stare. It's just that you... look like somebody I used to know."

"Oh?" Cade murmured, as though it were a pleasant opener to their discussion. "What's his name? Perhaps we're related."

"Doyle. Raymond Doyle."

Cade shook his head slowly, "I don't recall any Doyles in the family tree. Though I have to say, if he looks so much like me to get a reaction like that from you, I feel it my duty to meet him."

"He died," Bodie murmured, easily, eyes taking in the rest of the room. "Fourteen years ago."

"I'm sorry. Then you must feel like you've seen a ghost."

Bodie shook his head, unable to staunch his good mood now that he'd actually met the man. Memories of Ray kept him boyant, "You could say that. Are you sure there are no Doyles in your family?"

"Positive. Maybe there were some Cades in his?"

Shaking his head, Bodie sat back a little, folding his hands together. Working with this man was going to be interesting to say the least. Especially considering there was some obvious reluctance there - something for him to work on. Well, he'd always claimed he could charm the pope into bed. Surely Alan Cade wouldn't be entirely immune?

The echo of Kate's warning was harshly silenced. No, he wouldn't be that stupid - but he needed Cade to gain some trust of him or their working relationship would be a pain to say the least. Anything else - for the moment - had to be put aside.

At least Cade appeared ready to make some sort of effort. "Congratulations on your appointment. I'm afraid I was expecting Sir Lionel. I was on leave when he retired. I hadn't realized they'd even replaced him yet. I understand you were with CI5 in its early days, with George Cowley?"

"That's right. Did you know him?"

"I met him once or twice. He was not a man to be underestimated." Bodie shook his head, half-laughing, "Certainly not. To be honest, I don't think the place has been the same since he died."

Cade smiled, the first genuine one Bodie had seen. The expression lit Cade's face in the most extraordinary manner. "Does that mean you intend to return it to its former glory?"

Taking it all in his stead, Bodie grinned slyly, "Something of a loaded question, Mr Cade."

"Alan."

With a nod, Bodie took a mouthful of tea, almost burning his mouth. Then he glanced up, "Andrew - but my friends just call me Bodie."

"I wouldn't have thought they'd be too easy to come by in your line of work," Cade countered, reserved and yet his gaze still level. "You were with MI6 a long time. Do you feel it a bit odd, returning to criminal work after so long?"

Bodie shrugged, "Actually, I always preferred it. So much easier to see the effects of what you're doing."

"Really?" Cade was silent for a moment, his gaze suddenly turning piercing in a way that didn't resemble Ray at all. "And what would you say those effects are?"

A part of Bodie trembled a little under that scrutiny - the part that had garnered the same response when Cowley had studied him the same way, years ago. In a way, he was a little pleased he hadn't grown so arrogant he was immune entirely to the force of another strong personality.

With ease, he shrugged again, deliberately shying his response away from anything too serious - despite what Cade might want. This was a brief meet and greet only; in depth arguments could wait until the confrence next week. "I didn't say there were any effects - merely that they're easier to see."

To his surprise, Cade grinned, "I see you have been with MI6 a long time. Most of the bods I encounter in Whitehall can't evade a question so skillfully. So where do you go from here?"

"Yorkshire," Bodie replied, his mood abruptly dampened a little. What was it about this man? There was something there, hidden carefully behind that level gaze, something intruiging. Worse still, Bodie wanted to know what it was and for a moment, idled with the idea of trying to find out.

Then Kate's words came back to him and he left it alone. The conversation flitted around a dozen different work-related subjects before Bodie finally glanced at his watch. He didn't really want to leave but he had to. Still, he would have another chance to talk to this unusual man next week.

He stood and shook Cade's hand again, feeling the strong grip. "I look forward to hearing more of what you have to say on the role of CI5 next week."

Another reserved smile, "And I look forward to hearing how you'll respond. Till then."

And Bodie was walking out, feeling like he'd left something of himself behind in that comfortable, elegant office.

---

Long after the day was over, Cade returned to his empty house and threw together a pot of noodles and vegetables. He sat in the peace of the kitchen, eating at the table, a glass of red wine for company. For once, he was glad Elena wasn't home; he didn't want to have to pretend for anybody tonight. Right now, being alone was all he wanted.

Alone and yet not alone at all.

How could he be unhappy to find Bodie was alive after all - unbelievable though it might be? Unhappy that Willis's lie had kept them apart all these years, yes - but not that Bodie was alive.

And he looked just the same. Sure, a little older - but those eyes had gazed back at him with the same deep azure he remembered, with the same light that had plagued his dreams only last night. And the charm was there as well; as he'd tried to make an ally of Eastland's Chief Constable. The smile was Bodie's, all boyish camaraderie. The rest of him showed little of the years, perhaps a little around the waist - but hardly noticeable. He'd looked after himself, that much was certain.

But delight in seeing him again after so much pain had been tempered with his need to keep himself hidden and under such tight control. Even though a long-dead part of him had been yelling in the darkness, demanding attention, wanting so desperately to throw his arms around the man and simply feel the reality of his existence.

The shock was going to take some time to wear off. Thank God Bodie was gone now and wouldn't be back till next week. He needed that time to put himself together properly - rather than the rushed job he'd managed this morning. Christ, Bodie must have thought he was a cold bastard - he'd not been able to smile properly for the first ten minutes; for some reason, parts of his face had stopped working.

With a sigh, he pushed his plate aside and lifted his glass high - and for the first time that day, he let it go, unravelled the tangle of conflicting emotions he'd kept such reign on for so many hours. He took a big mouthful of wine and began to laugh, stupidly, erratically and a little hysterically - but he didn't try and stop. Just as he'd needed to wallow in grief last night, today he needed to drown in delight.

Bodie was alive and that's all he'd ever wanted.

---

"Hello, Kate."

"So, how did it go?"

"How did what go?"

"Bloody hell, Bodie you can be obtuse when you want to."

"Darlin' you've always known that. Why complain now?"

"Don't change the subject."

"You were the one who mentioned my obtuseness - a failing I might add, which makes me invaluable in my job."

"Stop avoiding the issue. How did your meeting with Cade go?"

"Very well, thank you."

"Are you alone?"

"Of course! My, you must have an awfully high opinion of my seductive abilities. I'm sitting here on my bed in this sumptuous hotel room, with a wee dram and a few sandwiches. Skinner is fast asleep in his room next door and I intend to finish up a little paperwork and catch some shuteye myself."

"Sometimes I really hate you."

"No, you don't."

"He's amazing isn't he?"

"Words cannot describe him."

"I knew it!"

"Don't you dare go putting thoughts into my head, my sweet. You know how easily led I am."

"I know nothing of the sort. However, I do know how predatory you are with anybody who bears the slightest resemblance to Doyle. It's called a psychosis."

"Oh, rubbish! You know as well as I do that there's nothing wrong with me short of a little wishful thinking. Can I help it if the man is unbearably attractive?"

"In the same way Doyle was?"

"Yeah."

"So."

"So."

Silence.

"Bodie, are you okay?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"No."

"Then I won't waste the lie."

"It must have been difficult meeting Cade."

"Actually, at the time, it wasn't difficult at all."

"And after?"

"It all set in. Sorry. I know I should talk about it but..."

"Don't worry about it, Bodie. I just wanted to make sure you were alright - even though I know you're not."

"I'll survive. I'm off again tomorrow. Won't have to see him again for a week. By then, it won't be a problem."

"Just be careful will you?"

"Of course, I've got Skinner here, looking in every nook and cranny."

"That's not what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. Listen, you really don't need to worry."

"Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, love."

---

At first, the week passed with aching slowness as Cade dived back into his work. Between everything else were the checked and re- checked arrangements for the conference - but fortunately, Sean was handling most of it. But as the day grew closer, time began to fly when he'd feared it would drag. His anticipation to be once more in the same room with Bodie acting like a lure towards a target. The more he wanted it, the faster it approached.

And then he was in his car, driving across the flat lands towards the coast and the Victorian estate now converted to a plush golf retreat. He'd chosen this place deliberately, wanting as few distractions for the delegates as possible. He had hopes of achieving some consensus over this coming week and with the greens and the view of the sea in the distance, the delegates would have to concentrate or lose out.

Of course, plenty would play the odd game - but that was also part of his plan - so they wouldn't feel trapped, wouldn't feel like he had them in prison until he could convince them to try out his drug scheme on a larger scale.

The security was impressive - but not overdone. Sean had kept an eye on making it appear relaxed while keeping the villans at bay. And the hotel was quite lovely without being ostentatious the way American places were.

A few delegates had already arrived and Cade met them briefly before doing a quick tour with Sean as guide. He voiced his approval before retiring to his room to glance once more over his speech for tomorrow. Tonight was a relaxed affair, casual with a few drinks. Enough to get everyone in a frame of mind where he could convince them of the impossible.

At around six, he showered and dressed and wandered downstairs, unable to help glancing around to see if Bodie had arrived. He knew it was silly and he knew he was perfectly under control now - but there was something important about making sure that day a week ago hadn't simply been a figment of his imagination. He would never really settle until he was certain it was real.

But it was impossible to see anyone in the press of men and women. Already the drinks were flowing and he had to play the dutiful host, welcoming those he'd not seen for a while, introducing himself to those he'd not met before. It was a good turnout. Every invitation he's sent had received a positive response - giving him a sliver of hope that he might actually be able to achieve something good and lasting.

It was an hour before he'd worked his way across the room and heard the first shiver of laughter he'd been waiting for. He looked around until he caught sight of the tall figure in the crowd, raven hair untouched by age in this light. In profile, deep in conversation, Bodie seemed unaware of the grace he exuded; the years had taken none of that away. In fact, it seemed more settled within him, as though his confidence had grown as his arrogance had receeded. Now he knew he was good at what he did because he had many years behind him to prove it - and now that he could prove it, he no longer needed to.

A sudden pang of loss assailed him and he turned away, taking his drink to the French windows where he could get a few moments alone. Yes, it was real - and now he was going to have to face that reality. Learn to live with it. He could never tell Bodie the truth, never reveal how a web of lies had parted them and kept them away from each other for fourteen years.

And perhaps that had been for the best. Looking at him now, it was difficult to imagine they'd ever had anything else between them, that their fledgling love could possibly have survived all this time if they had been allowed to try. It was certain neither of them would be in the positions they were in today if they had been able to stay together - look at how much they each would have lost. How the country would have lost their contributions. No, for the first time in his life, he allowed the idea that their split had been for the better. At least now he understood it.

Though it was a damned good thing Willis wasn't still alive - - or he wouldn't be today!

"I've heard," a familiar voice murmured at his side, "that more deals are done on the golf-course than in any board room. I can't help wondering if you're subtly trying to achieve the same percentages."

"Well, if you guessed so easily, I can't have been too subtle." His insides clenched together with the shock and unconscious delight that the man himself was standing so close. Without turning, he sipped his wine, keeping his gaze on the long shadows across the carefully manicured greens. Tall oaks swept the course on the left, while on the right, a water trap and a bunker dipped into the undulating ground. "And if you guessed, I can't think everyone else will be too far behind."

"This lot? I should think they're all far more interested in five days of first class accommodation and meals, a few relaxing rounds and then home to the wife and kiddies."

"So you don't think they'll do much work while they're here?"

"I didn't say that. From what I've heard about you, I should think tomorrow they'll be in for a sharp surprise."

He couldn't help it. He turned with half a smile on his face to find Bodie grinning at him. The expression was so familiar it sent a pang of regret straight through him, laced with the now-customary delight that he should have the chance to see it again. "And what have you heard about me that leads you to such a conclusion?"

"You'd be surprised," Bodie replied conspiratorily. "The things I hear in my position don't often bear repeating."

"I can imagine."

"Yes, I bet you can."

For some inexplicable reason, his heart did a quick backflip - then continued beating normally as though nothing had happened, offering up no explanation. To cover the momentary discomfort, he lifted his eyebrows, and spoke, "So, are you settling into your new job?"

Bodie gave him a pained expression and drained his glass, immediately catching the eye of a waiter for another, "Do we have to talk about work? I thought the point of tonight was to give us all a chance to get chummy and friendly - you know, before we start ripping each other's throats out tomorrow."

Cade laughed. Nothing could have stopped him. When Bodie handed him a fresh glass he took it, shaking his head. "Very well, what should we talk about?"

"Well, the statistics say that the average man talks about only two subjects. Football and women."

"Oh? I'm afraid it's been years since I followed football."

"Never had too much interest in it myself. And women?"

Cade raised an eyebrow, deliberately schooling his expression. "I'm afraid I have no words of wisdom to impart on that subject either."

"Why," Bodie replied without hesitation. "No success or no interest?"

Cade nearly dropped his glass. He swallowed heavily and did his best to present the appearance of a man slightly shocked at being so interrogated by the head of CI5 - which indeed he was.

Bodie read it as it was written, "Now don't get all riled, Alan - " and the sound of his name from Bodie's lips made it all the more awful, "- it was just a question. Don't worry, I'm not taking notes. Trust me, if there were any dark skeletons in your closet, I would have found them out long before I came here. It's just that I did notice in your files that you never married. You know how minds work in the dusty halls of government. Questions do get asked."

Cade knew that if he didn't answer, the subject would be left uncomfortably open for the rest of his life. "I'm afraid I cannot add to the rumour factory on that score. My problem lies with too much work and too little time to polish my success rate. As I said, I have no wisdom to offer on the subject of women. The fact that I have never married should prove it beyond doubt."

"Or it could prove that they have no success with you." Bodie offered a brief smile before turning his gaze out the window, his demeanour all affability.

Damn it, if Cade hadn't known any better, he'd suspect Bodie was trying to flirt with him!

And wouldn't it just be the most tragic piece of irony if he was!

But -

Was it possible?

Once, fourteen years ago, Bodie had been attracted to him - would anything have changed in that time? Did Bodie still remember their brief time together?

He had to know. "What about you?"

"Eh?" Bodie glanced back, cobalt blue pinning him in a second.

"Married? You?"

"Yes. Once, briefly."

"How briefly?"

For the first time the gaze flickered - then steadied, "Three months. It was a long time ago now."

Cade could say nothing. Stunned to his core, he could only meet that gaze as steadily as his tumbling emotions would allow - not to mention a room full of noisy people behind him.

Bodie shrugged, his aspect changing again, now lighter, as though to brush it all off, "I hardly remember what it was like any more. Never found a woman since who could come close."

He knew it was a big mistake to ask - but he was in control of his expression and so used to playing Alan Cade he was in no risk of giving anything away - but he couldn't stop himself making that one final enquiry, phrasing it as nominally as he could, allowing Bodie a way out. "What happened to her?"

Bodie's eyebrows rose fractionally. "She died. While I was overseas on assignment."

"I'm sorry," he breathed, meaning more than Bodie would ever know.

Another shrug followed, "Didn't find out until the job ended three months later. By then it was too late."

Cade was stunned again; Bodie had never in his life been so open about his past. In the six years they'd worked together at CI5, Doyle had had to put Bodie's history together from a mess of tangled hints pointing in a dozen different directions. That he was prepared to open up so easily now said an awful lot.

About what, however, was another matter.

"I'm sorry, really. I shouldn't have asked."

"That's okay," Bodie smiled slightly, his gaze briefly gathering in the room full of people before returning. "Probably about the closest thing to truth anybody is likely to speak in this place tonight. You know what rubbish coppers can talk when they've got a few under the belt."

"Yeah," Cade nodded, doing his best to bring his tone back to normal. "That's why I thought we should start of with something like this. Let them get it off their chests before starting in on the hard stuff." He glanced away for a moment, watching the shadows lengthen across the golf course. In another hour it would be dark.

"So," Bodie murmured, his voice dropping low, "how do you handle the lonliness?"

The question darted right under his guard and straight into his soul. For a second, he couldn't form any kind of response. Then he hastily collected one and turned ready to give it out - but his gaze was snagged by Bodie's and this time, his imagination was set alight with what he saw there. Open and warm, Bodie offered him an invitation; without question; displayed a carefully framed suggestion of desire nobody else in the room would read.

Cade opened his mouth to respond but for a moment, he was dumbfounded - that Bodie might still want him - or at least, a man who looked like him - and that the head of CI5 should be prepared to make such an unveiled proposition to a man he hardly knew. A man in a similar position to his own.

He quickly looked away, afraid a peak of his own desire might leak though his gaze. Harshly he forced his heartbeat to return to normal from the ragged beating it was pealing in his chest. Bodie couldn't be serious. It had to be a setup. There was no way a man in his position would risk being so indiscreet without hoping to trap him.

And as though Bodie had read his thoughts, he moved a fraction closer until Cade could feel his breath upon his neck. "A brief respite is sometimes all a man needs to keep the lonliness at bay. I know - and I'm not out to trap you. You have but to voice a simple refusal to be sure no mention is made of it again."

He stuggled but his good sense won out in the end. His voice was harsh as he turned, "Bodie, I..."

But he never got to say it - for at that minute, Sean came pushing through the crowd to his side, "Sorry, Sir but there's been a breach on the south side. I thought you should know."

Like a machine, Cade snapped into character. "What happened?"

But even as Sean detailed the events, he felt Bodie leave him and melt back into the crowd. With an internal sigh, Cade followed Sean to look into the matter. By the time he was finished - having discovered that it was nothing more than a pair of poachers (and boy, did they make a mistake) it was too late to go back and give Bodie his simple words of refusal.

Assuming he'd actually been able to say them.

---

"Bodie?"

"I'm sorry, Kate, I've had a long day and I'm tired. I don't want to talk right now, okay?"

"You bastard. You did it, didn't you? You made a move on him?"

How had he ever allowed somebody to know him so damned well? "Of course I didn't."

"Liar."

"Well if you're going to be like that you can go to hell."

"Bodie!"

He pulled in a breath and sank onto the side of his bed, reaching over to switch the lamp on. "Look, I'm sorry, love. You just don't..."

"Know how hard it is? Christ, Bodie, we've been friends for ten years - you think I don't know how much you still miss him? I doubt we would ever have become friends had Doyle lived."

He had to smile, "If Doyle had lived I wouldn't have gone cruising for lookalikes in that bar so no, I think you're probably right there."

"That's not what I mean and you know it." Her voice softened then before she continued, "Bodie, I'm just scared for you."

"Look, even if I get lucky and tumble the man, do you honestly think he'd ever say anything about it?"

A thick sigh came clearly over the phone. "If I was only worried about a one-night stand, my dear, I wouldn't be ringing you at this time of night."

"What do you mean?" He stretched out on the bedspread, kicking his shoes off.

"You know already."

"I do?"

"Bodie, Alan Cade is not some man you met in a bar, someone looking for a few hours of distraction before returning to his normal life. You can't treat him like that. He's a real person who looks, walks and almost sounds like Doyle. If you're not careful..."

"If I'm not careful?"

Another sigh, resigned this time, "If you're not careful, you'll fall for him."

His answer came out without thinking, "Never."

"Oh yes? And I suppose you never thought you'd fall for Doyle - until it happened."

"But I did fall for Doyle."

"Bodie, only a fool thinks lightening can't strike the same place twice. You'll fall for him and you'll get hurt. I don't want to see that happen."

"Alright," Bodie stuck a pillow under his head and got comfortable, "let's assume you have a valid argument and I did make a move on him and he didn't knock me down flat, and assuming something does happen - and I'm not saying for one second that's even remotely likely - what makes you think I'll only get hurt? For all you know, Cade could be my soulmate and we could live happily ever after. You don't know that it will all end in misery."

"No," her voice was patient, "but I can read your guilt a hundred miles off. You've always blamed yourself for Doyle getting killed in the first place. If you find you actually start feeling again - for somebody else - guilt will kill it all off for you. You won't allow yourself the reward for being so obliquely faithful all these years. I'm sorry, Bodie but you know I'm speaking the truth here. You've said as much to my face many times."

"Yeah," he breathed, admitting it to himself at the same time. "But it's just that..."

"What?"

"He's amazing, you know? I spent an hour in the same room with him tonight, nowhere near him and yet, I felt so close to him I could almost hear his heart beat. I had to deliberately wait until I'd calmed down before I dared speak to him. I really never thought I'd..."

Again she prompted him, "What?"

And the words came out of him, rushed and reluctant, "He's like me, Kate. Alone and needs someone. I can see it in his eyes, whenever he looks at anybody. It's like he's looking for somebody he's given up hope of finding. I know I sound like a sap but there's something there that makes me want to be that thing he's looking for. Christ, I sound pathetic!"

A gentle murmur was her first response. "Then I guess I'm already too late."

He blinked at that, "God, it doesn't mean anything."

"No? Then I suggest you try doing something you do your best to avoid. Try remembering what it felt like those first few days when you and Doyle got together. Remember how you felt when you first realized you were in love with him. You do that and then you tell me again not to worry."

"I'm sorry, Kate but you've got it all wrong. Sure, I want to be with Cade, give just about anything to get him into bed - but I don't feel anything like I felt with Ray - and don't make the mistake of assuming I do." There was a sharpness in his voice he hadn't intended. "I'm sorry. I really am tired. I'd better go."

"Bodie?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Be careful."

"No." A pause, "Be sure."

---

He was up early the next morning, finished breakfast before the rest came down - and then went out for a run around the course. He waved and smiled at every uniformed security he could see - and then for good measure, checked up on his own men he had stationed in between. Cade hadn't liked the idea of extra external security, but Bodie had made sure Richmond negotiated without compromise. There was a whole world of difference between the training police received - and that of CI5 agents - and Bodie knew which he trusted the most.

It was a lovely day, even so early in the morning and the golf course the perfect place to be taking a run. But in the end, he had to get back inside, shower and dress ready for the first session - at ten am, so as not to frighten the drinkers from the night before.

Already anticipating the most interesting day, Bodie took a seat near the back of the small confrence room. There were almost seventy delegates at this confrence; the best turnout he'd ever seen to a gathering of this kind - that is, something not demanded by the Home Office. Cade's reputation for making things happen had run the length of the country and many of those here were present purely because they wanted to see the man in action - - as did Bodie.

Like a consumate professional, Cade himself appeared on cue, dressed quite deliberately in his uniform, as though he wanted to remind everybody what he was. Silently, Bodie admired the quiet beauty of the man. Then Cade took the podium and began to speak. His rich voice, lightly amplified, carried the length of the room and after a moment, Bodie relaxed back into his seat, for once, making the most of the fact that he didn't need to find an excuse to watch that wonderful face. What was it about Cade that had caught him so quickly? How much time had they spent together so far? Perhaps an hour; certainly little more than that. So what was it that drew him in so completely that he'd made that foolish offer last night? Even at his most desperate, looking for Doyles in hazy nightclubs, he'd spent more time than that to make his decision. That Cade was different to all those others was obvious - but how was he different? What had he given out of himself in so short a time that engendered such a reaction in Bodie? It was certainly more than just the look of Doyle. No, it was something in those eyes, in the way Cade looked at him. Something that tugged at Bodie, made him want to see it again.

But even so, he was intruiged by what Cade had to say - and so, by the look of them, were the rest of the delegates. A program of gradual de-criminilization of own-use drugs, a program of support and rehabilitation for users, public access to information on drug programs and youth initiatives in the worst areas. More interesting however, were the figures he presented, the results of his trialling this program in Eastland for the last six months.

They were incredible to say the least and brought sighs of amazement from more than one delegate. A drop in drug-related crime of fifty percent. Burgluary, breaking and entering and muggings had all shown an appreciable drop. Late night chemists had started opening again because the drop there had been eighty percent. Bodie sat up at this, almost aching to get his hands on some figures. He'd come here expecting to hear some politically incorrect ideas and a little vague blustering. He should have paid more attention.

Cade - wisely - didn't go on for more than half an hour. He merely dropped his bombshell, thanked everyone for listening then detailed the morning's workshops. The artful bastard even included a shy apology for keeping everyone off the golf course on such a lovely morning - then perfected it by promising a free afternoon after lunch. For open discussion, he said. Yeah, right.

Canny bugger.

Without hesitation, Bodie chose the workshop Cade himself was chairing and again took a seat in the back. Despite the presence of the man who intruiged him so, he became wholly engrossed in the discussion, noting those who were obviously predisposed in favour of a broadening of the program country-wide - - and those who were not. The number as yet undecided were far in the majority. Not a bad result for the first morning.

And then lunch. Bodie deliberately kept his distance from Cade - quite meanly, at that. He was well aware that last night, before his man had interrupted them, Cade had been on the point of turning Bodie down. He wasn't about to give him the opportunity to voice that refusal. At least, not yet. Not until Bodie had had a chance to convince him otherwise.

And yes, he knew he was behaving like an idiot - but he was also completely aware that he would get no sleep for a month if he simply walked away from Alan Cade. Not much of an excuse - but it was the only one he could manage under the circumstances.

The afternoon session was a little different - but Bodie managed to remain on the fringes once more. This examined in depth, the effects ecconomically, of the drug trade on a community, the money spent not only on pursuing offenders, but on cleaning up afterwards, insurance claims, the drain on the Health Service, on broken marriages, on securing schools, on education and unemployment benefits. Although he almost knew these statistics off by heart, it was obvious not too many people in the room shared his familiarity with them. Again Cade allowed others to do the talking, keeping himself aside, ready to steer the topic on its course. At no point did he ask anybody exactly what they thought of his proposals.

But it was awesome to watch him. It was doubtful there was a delegate in the room who was not affected by the quiet essence of power about Cade, an atmosphere generated by his low firm voice, his considered words, the clarity of his thinking, the strength of his convictions and the passion with which he pursued them. This man was indeed a legend in the making. Nobody would leave here completely untouched by what they had heard.

The evening was filled with more workshops but Bodie spent the time in his room on the phone and working. His notepad however, was filled with thoughts from the day's sessions, small scribbled words with questionmarks, numbers circled a dozen times. There was indeed a lot to think about in Alan Cade's proposals.

Fortunately, there was no knock on his door as the night drew in, no apearance of the man to tell him the refusal he knew he would get. But he was patient; he knew Cade would find a way to say no - even though it seemed there was in his eyes, a desire to say yes.

Of course, he'd been an idiot to make the offer in the first place. It was not only stupid but dangerous. Cade could, if he wanted, make some sort of fuss about it - though it wouldn't get far; the Cabinet was already well aware of Bodie's sexual preferences - he'd made sure of it during his first interview. They'd been a little shocked at his openness but after warning him of the need for discretion - as if he'd never thought about it - they'd somehow decided they needed him more than they needed a perfect reputation. Besides, as Controller of CI5, his public profile was very low - deliberately so - and the powers that be wanted to keep it that way. So did he.

But nevertheless, for all that Cade could shout about what he'd said, Bodie didn't think the man would do such a thing. For a start, it would raise questions about his own involvement which a man in his position couldn't afford. Secondly, and much more importantly, Cade was a liberal. Even if he was as straight as they came, he didn't appear the kind of man who would condemn Bodie for making a pass at him - in all sincerity.

Satisfied with his first day, Bodie relaxed and climbed into bed and did his best not to think of either Alan Cade - or Ray Doyle. It didn't work entirely.

The next day was more of the same, though the subjects of the workshops changed direction, becoming more focussed on the implementation of programs and the more political side of changing the laws. In the afternoon was an hilarious session about how to sell the idea to the public - at least, Bodie thought it was funny, and he wasn't the only one laughing. After all, it was one thing to use discretion on the beat, another thing entirely to stop the country thinking the police had gone soft on drugs.

In the evening, Bodie sat at dinner with Cade and a dozen others, engaging in as much non-work related talk as he could manage. It had come about accidentially - but he'd ended up sitting next to Cade. Not that he minded, but he would have rather been a place or two away, to avoid the exact conversation that rose between them immediately after coffee - while the others were listening in to a story from the other end of the table.

Fortunately, the rest of the dining room was full with the same kind of raucous noise, sheltering Cade's quiet observation from too much scrutiny.

"You've been avoiding me."

Bodie poured a little more milk into his coffee and replied without looking up, "Have I?"

"You know you have."

"I've been busy, attending workshops - just like I'm supposed to."

"Oh," Cade murmured, his voice low so only Bodie could hear him. "So you're going to make it hard for me, are you?"

Bodie's gaze shot up and met Cade's before he could stop it - nor could he stop the instant flash of a grin at the unintended pun. Cade's eyes widened as he realized what he'd just said - and then suddenly they were both chuckling softly.

After a moment, Cade sucked in his bottom lip - and it was all Bodie could do not to lean over and kiss it for him - and shook his head, coming up with a rueful smile, "Perhaps I should rephrase that."

"No, that's okay," Bodie replied easily, still grinning. "That works for me. I'd love to."

Cade, master of every situation and absolute ruler over this entire gathering of the powerful and mighty, actually blushed. "Bodie, please!"

"Then let's go." Bodie said this without hardly moving his lips, enjoying Cade's discomfort. That he could make the man blush gave him his first shred of real hope.

Cade shook his head again, deliberately not looking at Bodie. "You are unbelievable."

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

"I know."

"And incorrigible."

"Another of my talents. I have others I'd be happy to... discuss."

Cade's glance eased back to him - for just a second - and the depth of it wiped the smile from Bodie's face. But then it was gone and Cade's attention was torn away by the other men around the table. Bodie sat back, feigning interest in the general conversation, reliving that brief moment.

Yes, there was desire there in those incredible green eyes - - but there was also something else. A shadow of the lonliness Bodie had so blithly referred to in his clumsy attempt at a proposition.

Cade wouldn't give in - but he wanted to. More than that, he knew he'd let Bodie see that.

Christ!

A little shocked at his own reaction, Bodie didn't stay much longer at the table. As a few others started to drift off to bed, he rose also, said his innocent goodnights and got back to his room and made the usual round of phone calls to make sure the squad was still functioning despite his absence.

His dreams that night were filled with faces.

Cade watched Bodie leave the dining room with a strange mixture of relief and sorrow. It was so weird having him at this thing, seeing him day after day; the same smile on his face, the same frown of concentration, the same boyish charm he used on everybody.

And on him in particular.

He'd forgotten. So very much. What it was like to be attracted to Bodie - how it actually felt, inside. What that steady, revealing gaze did to his body. How the slightest suggestion at something so forbidden sent a swirling wave of desire through him so strong he could hardly form proper thought.

Bodie was seducing him with every look, every word - both consciously and unconsciously and Cade would have been solid rock not to respond.

But memories of the past worked against him. What they'd had together - both the three months and the six years before that, what they'd shared; what would become of that if he gave in, found some way to keep his secret from Bodie while sharing his bed for a night?

Fourteen years before, their relationship had begun with friendship and then love - and developed into sex. Could he now in all conscience, contemplate the opposite - knowing that love would never happen? That Bodie would now never go so far as to offer friendship? Back in CI5, they'd been thrown together by Cowley, forced to be partners - though Bodie had been against the idea at first. Friendship - real friendship had developed later - and slowly. And there had been bad moments, too. Bodie had always been a loner, only allowing Doyle in with the greatest of effort.

But he had got in and they'd grown closer over the years until that day when Doyle had realized - with very little surprise - that he'd actually fallen in love with the great lout. His reaction upon discovering the same in Bodie had been more of delight than shock. Why shouldn't they fall in love? Hadn't they been life and death to each other already?

Was this the same man who had held him that night, kissed him so gently, putting so much of his soul into each touch? Was this Bodie, fourteen years later, the same who had vowed love until the day he died? The same who had coolly offered Cade a quick roll in the sack in exchange for a few hours without lonliness?

Yes, Cade was glad Bodie had retired for the night. Yes, he was delighted to have him around and yes, he wished everything could be different so he could leave the table and go straight to Bodie's room without a single question disturbing his thoughts.

But even as he knew he could never do that - he was also afraid that if the moment ever came, he would find it very difficult to turn down the opportunity to feel once again, for a brief moment, everything he'd lost so long ago.

---

The next day was yet another development on the previous two and this time Bodie made a point of not attending every workshop Cade was running personally; he didn't want to make it obvious to everybody what he was doing. He exchanged greetings with Cade over lunch, but only within hearing of other delegates, not allowing Cade his opportunity for refusal.

His afternoon was filled with a chat around the bar with a few of his contemporaries. He said little but listened intently to the opinions voiced, interested to discover that after three days, many of these people were beginning to see that Cade had many things to offer the whole drugs question. Whether they would go so far as to support him outright was another matter - but they were no longer completely against it.

It was one of the most surprising afternoons he'd ever had.

Bodie made himself scarce during the free hours afterward. Besides, he needed to clear his head - not to mention check up on what was happening at Central. Richmond gave him a concise round up and he countered with a few new orders but basically, things were running about as smoothly as they ever did, which wasn't saying much. Then he caught up on a bit of paperwork, had a shower and a short nap - and then it was time to go down for dinner.

This was a formal affair and everybody had dressed accordingly. The dining room looked a picture and as one of the highest ranking delegates attending, Bodie got to sit beside Cade at the high table. However, the pressures of the night prevented him from having to say more than a few words to the man - and yet he noticed that Cade was having difficulty meeting his gaze.

And what that meant was anybody's guess.

There were of course, speaches between courses - though thankfully, Bodie had not been approached to make one. He would have said no in any case. The topics were fairly low key and innocuous enough, barely touching on the harsh subjects they'd dealt with that day.

The night drew long and Bodie, in between chatting with his nearest neighbours, managed to find more than a few moments to observe Cade in a different light again. Now he got to see the smile more, open and giving, heard the laugh that was so like Ray's. Watched that so-familiar and yet so different face in all it's moods. Kate was right; he was already in trouble. By the end of the night, he was sure.

He no longer wanted a few hours in the sack with the man; he wanted more. A chance to get to know him properly, perhaps even to love him.

He got up from the table with an abruptness which startled Cade. Those incredible green eyes gazed up at him in surprise and concern.

"Sorry," Bodie grunted, "but I've got headache. If I don't leave now, I'll embarrass myself. Goodnight."

"Bodie?" The small voice, genuine worry. That more than anything hastened his feet.

"I'll see you in the morning." With that, he gave a firm smile and left them to it.

It wasn't until he reached his room that he realized he was as close to tears as he'd been since he'd heard Doyle had been murdered. He dived into the sanctuary of his room and locked the door behind him, leaning back on it, gasping in breaths.

Too late.

That's what she'd said.

Too late.

And in his arrogance, he'd paid no attention to the genuine reasons behind her thinking.

Too late.

Yeah, it was. Way too late. Like a star dropping from the sky, he'd fallen for Cade. So bloody quickly, too. Like he'd been waiting for it. Wanting it.

He stumbled to the bed and collapsed upon it, wrestling with demons he thought he'd never quite been able to leave behind. As his eyes shut tight, the face came to him. Not Cade's - - but that other face, the one he missed so damned much. Flashing emerald eyes, long unruly hair, lips as soft as dew, a body to melt against his, a heart to hold and cherish. Fourteen bloody years trying to erradicate the damned memory and still he could counjre it up when he had to.

"Christ, Ray, I'm sorry," he breathed into the silence. "I should have stayed. And now... now..."

He couldn't finish. Couldn't let himself even think that he might come to feel for Cade what he had always felt only for Ray. It just wasn't possible. Not in the same life.

And yet, even as his mind drifted into slumber, he knew Kate had been right: it was too late.

---

Cade left the last of the dinner guests aruging over the port. Most had turned in, ready for the next day's offerings. Though he was exhausted himself, his feet didn't take him to his own door - but to Bodie's. He needed to know if the man was alright. But he wouldn't intrude. No.

The corridor was empty as he stood before the door. His hand completely steady, he knocked softly. At first there was no response - then abruptly a voice called to him. "Who is it?"

"Me."

Suddenly the door was open and Bodie stood before him, the room softly lit behind. Stunning blue eyes watched him warily, perceiving and judging - and none too happy about what he saw.

Cade shifted under that scrutiny, suddenly feeling like he really should be anywhere but standing before Bodie's door. "Er, I just wanted to see how you were."

"Come in."

"No, I..."

"Come in." Bodie's order was not to be disobeyed but it wasn't until Cade was inside the room and the door closed behind him that Bodie offered any further explanation. "I've a feeling you've got something to say to me that really shouldn't be said out there."

Without looking at Cade, Bodie went to the minibar and poured them both a scotch. Cade took his and immediately swallowed, suddenly unsure of why he'd really come. Bodie, far from pressing the issue, turned for the window and pushed it open until he could stand on the small balcony. After a moment, Cade followed, coming to stand beside him, gaze going up to the clear sky and the stars above.

"Quite a spot you have here." Bodie murmured after a minute.

"Yeah."

"Good day?"

"Productive I think."

"More tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

Silence then - but strangely, it was comfortable - just as the silences had been years ago, long before they'd fallen in love. Back when they'd been friends, the best of friends. In so many ways, it was the friendship he missed more these days than anything else.

"How's your headache?"

"Fine."

Silence again. Bodie sipped his drink, breathing in the cool night air and Cade watched him in profile, stunned again by how Bodie's beauty had not faded over the years.

But it was more than that - and he had the sense to know it. It wasn't as though Bodie was just some man he'd found attractive. There'd certainly been a couple of those over the years - but never once had he done anything about it. The price had always seemed too high to pay, the liklihood of any real joy coming from it, too slim.

No, it was simply because it was Bodie, and in the guise of Alan Cade, he was presented with an opportunity to see the man as a stranger would - and what he saw only drew him further in, caught him with a breathtaking desire to get closer, to scratch beneath the surface of the warm charm and easy smile.

On the other hand, that had been exactly what had drawn him to Bodie in the first place, back in the days when they'd first met. Sure, they'd had their arguments and fights, but always, without exception, even before their relationship had developed further, there had been an invisible connection between them which now seemed unbroken despite so many years and so much pain.

And in reality, that's why it had hurt so much and for so long.

Now, coming full circle, they were once again at a crossroads; that link just as strong as it had ever been, that attraction just as powerful. Bodie had offered - and the need was almost overwhelming.

Christ, he wanted to say yes! He wanted to feel those arms around him just one more time, allow himself to say the goodbye he'd been denied fourteen years before. Would it matter so much if he did?

Well, Bodie might discover the truth if he tried. There might be a few years since the last time they'd slept together but it was damned sure Bodie would remember a few tell-tale marks on his body, those that hadn't faded with age. Was it really worth risking the truth for a few hours of comfort - especially the comfort they both needed so much?

"It wasn't a woman," Bodie's voice came out of the darkness. "When I told you I'd been married? It wasn't a woman."

"Oh."

"Just thought you should know. He was... that friend I told you died. The one who looked just like you." The admission knocked Cade flat. He swallowed heavily and looked up to find Bodie's eyes on him, boring into his soul. "I loved him."

Trembling, Cade forced himself to respond in character; it was all he had left now, teetering as close to the edge as he was. "That's why you... I mean... me... and..."

Bodie nodded slowly, "I guess so. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." The words were out before he could stop them and Bodie's eyes widened. His reaction was simple. He reached up and brushed his fingers over Cade's cheek, forcing a tremor to rumble through his whole body. He stepped back quickly, "Don't touch me."

Instantly, Bodie frowned. "I'm sorry. I just thought you... well, you look at me like you want..."

"Not out here." He was mad. Insane. Certifiable. He shouldn't be doing this no he shouldn't he had to be mad and damn it he could lose everything he shouldn't be doing this he had to be absolutely insane!

But he was also in thrall of a memory of love and had been for a long long time.

Bodie stared at him, his breathing coming shallow and intimate. His gaze was searching and tempting. His expression changed slowly then without a word, he took Cade's hand and dragged him back inside, pulled the curtains closed and turned to face him. Only one frail light by the bed gave any illumination. Then, his eyes locked onto Cade's, he moved closer, reaching out again to touch his face. Again Cade shivered, this time with the memory of the last time Bodie had touched him that way. Long ago. So long ago.

Bodie's voice was soft, alluring, "Have you ever been with a man before?"

Cade couldn't answer. Words had left him. Instead, his body spoke for him, drawing him closer to the warmth before him, feeling Bodie's face come close, buried in against his throat.

He moaned and bit his lip. He was mad. He wanted this too much. He would give himself away and then he would lose everything he'd fought for all these years.

Bodie's face moved again, his lips coming closer. At the last second, Cade turned away, forcing himself to deny the kiss. Anything but that. If he was going to give in, he would make himself miss that. That was the price he would pay. He had to - to remind himself of the pain. He had to remember the pain or the morning would bring too much of it's own.

For they both knew this was a momentary thing. Bodie had said as much - and Cade could offer no more.

And in not kissing him, Cade took away the one thing that would give him away more quickly than anything else. If bewitched enough by the image to believe the lie, Bodie would remember Doyle's kiss.

Bodie said nothing however, simply brought his arms up and around, drawing Cade closer, bringing their bodies against each other. The sheer longing he felt within that safe haven made his knees tremble, his heart race. Cade could hardly breathe with it, his arousal was already sharp and clear - and he could feel Bodie's match it.

Christ, what was he doing?

But logic and reason had no place here. Instead, death and longing and so many years without this governed his actions, his movements and suddenly he was holding Bodie to him, closing his eyes and drowning in the illicit relief of a grief he'd kept hidden for a third of his life. If only he could have shared it, allowed Bodie to share his own, both of them, openly. If only...

Bodie was drawing him to the bed and half stumbling, they fell upon it. Before he could lose himself, Cade rose for air. "Please. Turn out the light."

Bodie's voice was a little hurt, "That won't make me a woman."

"I bloody know that! Do you think I'd be here if I was that stupid?"

Meeting his gaze, his breathing coming hard and fast, Bodie murmured, "Say you want me."

"Christ, Bodie," his voice came strained now and suddenly he couldn't remember why he was here or why he shouldn't be here and why he wanted to be here and why he never wanted to be anywhere else. "Of course I want you. Now shut up and turn the light off before I change my mind. Please, I'd love to look at you but I just don't feel comfortable. Can you try and understand that?" Only with the light out did he dare be himself - and he needed to be himself to make love to Bodie.

"Then this is your first time with a man?"

With the light on, Cade replied, "Yes." Then the light went off and Doyle added in the silence of his own mind, No, it's not. God, I love you so much, Bodie. I've missed you so much.

And thinking him a virgin, Bodie took it slowly and gently, undressing Doyle with so much care it was all he could do to hold back tears. His body was lavished with kisses but every time that mouth approached his, he turned away. He knew he hurt Bodie by the denial - but he simply couldn't risk it. He was going way too far as it was but with any luck, the years and his body subltly altered by age and the darkness would blind Bodie to any further clues.

Hope was all he had and he clung to it like a lifeboat.

Bodie's hands were like torches, lighting fires all along his flanks, burning into his gut, twisting his heart and shredding it into tiny pieces. Only when Bodie brought him to the brink of insanity did he force himself to move - before it was too late. He pushed Bodie back and began to work his mouth on that smooth chest, the muscles still hard and unyielding beneath, the nipples so ready to rise as his tongue rak