The Professionals Circuit Archive - The American Affair	The
American Affair

 

by Ice Bear 

 
 He wasn't sure what the Prime Minister would think if he knew that the
men running the country's elite intelligence agency, CI5, were incapable
of keeping food in their flat, and he said as much to his co-controller as
he sank down into a chair at the kitchen table in defeat. "Bloody hell,
Bodie, I won't tell Tony if you don't," Doyle saucily replied heading for
the phone.

 William Bodie ran a hand tiredly through his still dark hair, eyes closed
as his mind insisted on reviewing the last four months. That's how long it
had been since he and Doyle had had more than the odd day off together.
Every time they had planned something--even something as simple as a
Saturday night at some small getaway--work intruded. It was enough to
depress even the strongest of men.

 "Come on now, Sunshine, brighten up," Ray said coming up behind him and
massaging his neck and shoulders. "I've just ordered you a gourmet meal to
be delivered to our door, and you won't even have to do the dishes. And if
you're very good, I might even remember where I put the Swiss roll I hid
last week."

 "Don't tease, Angelfish," he responded with a half smile as he leaned
back into the strong, warm hands.

 "Never about Swiss rolls, mate, you have me word."

 ******

Ray Doyle threw his pen across the room, feeling slightly victorious when
it marked the wall. Not only was he tired, overworked and underpaid, but
now Cowley--still the titular head of the mob--was feeling under the
weather so his co-controller, partner, and lover was headed for Brussels
for six days to attend some international gabfest. He had smiled brightly
and teased the younger man about alerting the Belgium police to the fact
they were about to have a chocolate madman let loose in their midst,
because he knew Bodie was already unhappy enough for both of them. It was
getting to the point of ridiculousness that they couldn't have more than 3
hours together without some interruption or other. Case in point, Bodie
had been called out three times over the course of the last five days.
Something had to give, and he was beginning to worry it might be their
relationship.

 He was lonely. He wouldn't admit it, at least not out loud, but things
had been so hectic that he missed his partner. He missed curling up on the
couch together to watch football or some old movie, and he missed hearing
the CD player kick in as his lover pulled him close and they swayed
together, lost in the world that was theirs and theirs alone. Well, when
Bodie got back they were going to the old man and telling him--not
asking--that they were off the grid for a fortnight. He smiled as he
imagined his partner's shock and Cowley's scathing rebuttal. That would
indeed be something to treasure.

 Doyle snorted when he was reminded two days later that the Deputy
Director for Terrorism from the US Department of Homeland Security was due
in town and wanted to spend some time discussing security issues. With
Alpha 2 in Brussels, that duty now fell to him. "Great, just what I need,
some snotty American cowboy telling me how to protect Queen and
Country--can't wait."

 Adam Roberts was in his early 60s, at 6'2" a handsome man clothed in a
designer suit. Ray Doyle reached to straighten his own tie without
realizing it. The man's black wavy hair, lean muscular build and deep
tenor voice hit a cord, as did the hazel eyes that searched his green ones
carefully. It had been a long time since he'd looked at anyone but Bodie,
and he wasn't looking now, he reminded himself.

 They spent the afternoon together, and when Roberts asked for suggestions
on where to eat, Doyle invited him to his club...okay technically it was
Cowley's club but rank had its privileges and the members had been more
than eager to welcome the new controllers. They discussed politics, movies
and art over dinner and the glass of scotch that followed. The hand on his
forearm and the one on the small of his back as they'd walked out felt
good. Ray hadn't been this relaxed in a long time--that is until he got
home and realized that he'd missed Bodie's call.

 Roberts showed up for lunch the next day and Ray spent the afternoon
showing him the training facility: including the shooting range. That
night they went to a small Indian restaurant near Piccadilly that Ray
enjoyed, but didn't visit often now that Bodie's stomach no longer
tolerated spicy foods. When Roberts asked if he was married, Doyle
startled himself with his reply. "If the Cow had wanted me to have a wife,
he would have issued me one." Well, that left a lot to the imagination, he
thought, even as he returned the sultry grin the answer earned him.

 He missed Bodie's call that night as well. In Brussels, the younger man
switched off the light and settled on his back, "Hope everything's okay,
love," he said to the answering machine. "Sorry I'm not there to share the
load, but will be home soon. This conference is a bloody bore. I think the
Cow faked the flu simply to avoid it. Sweet dreams, Ray." He hung up
feeling empty and punched one of the pillows as though it were solely
responsible for the lack of human contact at the other end of the line.

 Bodie snuck out of the last afternoon of the conference hoping to salvage
a late dinner. When he called the office to announce his plans, he was
informed that Doyle was in conference. He arrived to an empty flat at 7:30
pm and calls to the office and the R/T yielded nothing.

 Ray Doyle received a bit of a shock when he waltzed into his bedroom just
after midnight singing the 70's oldie he'd heard at the club that night
after dinner at an amazingly expensive restaurant. His mind had been
replaying their closeness--Roberts' hard muscular thigh pressed against
his; soft words whispered with warm breath into his ear so they could be
heard above the music, while a strong arm held him close in order to reach
said ear. His hand was pulling his gun out when the body on the bed spoke.
"Hey Sunshine, late night?"

 "Bodie! When did you get in? Why didn't you call? I wasn't expecting you
before tomorrow." His tone, he realized, was almost accusatory.

 "Did call, Ray, but you were in conference. Guess Caroline forgot to give
you the message--again. Do I get my welcome home kiss anyway?"

 "Oi, of course," Ray sat on the bed and sighed as strong arms enveloped
him. He did an abbreviated clean up and climbed eagerly into bed. Both men
were too tired, though, to do more than find comfort in the other's arms.

 Alpha 3 was a little uncomfortable as he ushered the American into
Bodie's office the next morning. He hadn't had time to mention the man and
wasn't sure why, but he really didn't want the two to meet. Bodie's
panther like grace, undiminished by age, startled him as his partner rose
from his chair and came out behind the desk to greet the visitor. Ray
watched Bodie carefully as he looked the stranger over. Some days Bodie's
feelings were as well hidden as the true origin of Stonehenge. The only
reaction he caught came when Roberts mentioned how much fun he was having
doing London with Doyle--that news earned a slightly raised eyebrow.

 "Something you need, Doyle?" Bodie asked as soon as the American
departed.

 "No." Ray was torn between following the American and telling his partner
about his time with the man.

 "I've got to finish the budget numbers for my meeting with the Home
Office. Still trying to find some money for those new weapons you want,"
Bodie filled in.

 "Okay, see you tonight?"

 "Queen, Country and the Cow willing, yes. I am looking forward to
catching up with you." The older man blushed at the suggestion and the
leer that accompanied it, making them both laugh.

 Roberts was waiting in Doyle's office at 4:30 pm waving two tickets. "The
Embassy managed to get tickets to the gallery opening I was telling you
about. You up for it?" He stood close to the smaller man, the smell of his
cologne heating Ray's insides. They left the building quickly, like two
school boys just let out on summer break.

 When Control told Bodie that Doyle was out with the American, the ex-merc
nodded his thanks and went back to his office. He hung up his leather
trench coat before returning to his desk. Once the computer was booted up,
he turned his attention to the budget charts. He could see no point in
going home alone.

 "Where the hell were you last night?" Doyle demanded as he entered the
office at 7:30 the next morning.

 "Here, working on the budget. Will 200,000 be enough to buy those new
guns you need?" His blood shot blue eyes remained focused on the paperwork
in front of him.

 "Two hundred thousand? What bank did you rob?" Doyle's delight was clear
in his tone. "We can outfit the entire mob and get a few special items for
that." Bodie smiled indulgently at his partner. "Sorry about last night,
Bodie. Roberts and I were working on the issues for the joint conference
and decided to get something to eat." Doyle's assistant arrived at the
door to remind her boss of his first meeting.

 At lunch, Bodie went over the budget for computer security with Betty.
They did this on a park bench with the files and takeaway seated between
them. "Everything alright, Bodie?" She asked as they finished.

 He smiled. "Just tired, love. Math and I just don't mix. Sometimes I
think the old man set up the joint control the way he did on purpose,
knowing how miserable it would make me."

 "What about Ray?"

 "Doyle? He's been having fun showing that American around."

 "He's spending an awful lot of time with him."

 "Why the inquisition, Betty?" Blue eyes bored into her brown ones.

 "Not an inquisition, boss, just a little concerned is all. I've never
known Ray to look at anyone else, whether you're in the room or not. And
the American is, well he's rather touchy feely if you know what I mean."
She blushed slightly, embarrassed to be talking about her friend and boss'
lover, but worried enough to bring it up.

 "Roberts is wealthy, powerful and not bad looking--if you go for that
sort. He's also well educated and use to the finer things in life. My
guess is Ray's enjoying talking to someone who's actually read a book in
the last month."

 "Sorry, Bodie. I just..."

 "I know Betts; you're just looking out for me. Must have done something
right to have you as a friend, heh?"

 Ray entered the flat just after 11 pm. His nose caught the lingering
scent of spaghetti. When he didn't find his partner in the kitchen, he
headed for the bedroom. The lights were out and only a few tuffs of dark
hair were sticking out from under the comforter. "Bodie?" He whispered,
and was relieved when he didn't receive a reply.

 The next morning Ray woke to find himself alone and a small, wrapped box
on his dresser. The card read 'Happy Anniversary 4-5; Love 3-7." Shit, how
could he have forgotten the anniversary of their initial pairing? Bodie
didn't believe in celebrating many things--but it was the day that started
it all, and he religiously celebrated it--had since their first
year...damn he was going to have to do some fast talking and some serious
wining and dining to make up for this. He unwrapped the gift to find a
heavy gold chain holding a burnished disk of the sun. 'My sun, my moon, my
everything--B' read the inscription. In the card envelop were tickets to
the same gallery exhibit he'd attended with Roberts. He buried his head in
his hands.

 Once at the office, he went looking for Alpha 2, only to be reminded he
was at Whitehall for budget meetings and would be gone for most of the
day. At least that gave him time to revamp his schedule so he could go
shopping for a present.

 Bodie made it back to the office at 3:30 pm in a less then sunny mood
given the verbal abuse he'd taken on his budget. When 6-2 entered his
office, he smiled and offered him a chair. The smile was gone moments
later when Murphy started expressing concern about Doyle's preoccupation
with the American. He was told in no uncertain terms that it was no one's
business but Ray's who he kept company with, and that if he didn't have
anything better to worry about he could drive up to Wales and oversee that
obbo personally.

 Bodie locked his office door after showing Murphy out and took a seat by
the window. It worried him, too--hell it terrified him if he was being
honest--but he couldn't tell Doyle who he could chat up or take out to
dinner. He'd been very possessive--based on his uncertainty about Doyle's
commitment--when their relationship first turned serious, and he had very
nearly blown it. He'd learned his lesson, and even though it hurt, he knew
he had to let this play out. Didn't mean he had to like it, he decided
heading for the scotch, but he had to trust the man to whom he'd handed
over his heart and soul; he had no other choice.

 At 5:45 pm, Doyle appeared at his door. "Come on, lad, we have a 6:15
reservation at The Square, and we might just make it if we leave now." He
held up the trench coat and felt his partner up once he'd gotten it on,
earning him a laugh.

 They lay in bed, sated from the wine, good food, and a healthy round of
lovemaking. Ray's head rested on Bodie's chest, right over his heart.
Doyle's sigh of contentment was echoed by his lover, and they drifted to
sleep, only to be rudely awakened by the phone at 5:00 a.m. "Bodie," was
growled into the offending instrument. "Yeah, 10 minutes--send 9.1 around
with the car and tell 3.2 to wait until I'm on scene." He hung up the
phone and stumbled from the bed. "Sorry pet, go back to sleep. The Ross
obbo--he just arrived with Wilson and Carney. If Reynolds shows up, we can
really clean up. Got to go."

 Ray and Roberts were in meetings with MI5, MI6, SAS and other assorted
agencies for most of the day. He did pop by the office at one point but
there was no sign of his partner. As the meetings wound down an envelope
was delivered to the American, who was sitting next to Ray. Feeling a hand
on his thigh, Doyle looked down and saw two tickets to the hottest show in
the West End; the one that had been sold out for months.

 Back at the flat he changed quickly. He was excited about the evening and
took pains in choosing his outfit. He opted for an open necked silk shirt
of chocolate brown and a cashmere blazer that had been a birthday present.
Checking his reflection in the mirror he eyed the chain sparkling in the
light and removed it.

 After the show, they went to the club for a late dinner and drinks.
Shortly after they were seated, George Cowley approached the table. After
introductions, Cowley focused on Doyle. "I need you to come with me, 4-5.
There's been a bit of a problem with the Ross obbo."

 "That's Bodie's," Doyle responded somewhat childishly, annoyed that his
evening was being interrupted.

 "3-7 is otherwise engaged. I don't wish to discuss this further in
public, 4-5."

 Doyle made his apologies to Roberts and followed the Controller out to
the car. "What the hell is so important that you had to bother me at
dinner?"

 "I was left with no choice when you did not answer your R/T; your pager
or your phone. 2.5 was dead at the scene, and you will accompany me to his
brother's."

 "That's Bodie's job!"

 "3-7 was taken into the operating theatre 30 minutes ago."

 "Bodie! What happened? Is he going to be alright?" Ray had to grab hold
of the arm rest to steady himself.

 "Stevens moved in too early and was hit. Bodie went in to get him out of
the line of fire. They were pinned down for almost two hours."

 "The others?"

 "4-1 dislocated his shoulder and 3-6 has a broken ankle."

 After completing the somber task of notifying the next of kin, Cowley
dropped Doyle at the hospital. He visited the two operatives who were
sharing a room. He looked confused when Wilson apologized. "What for?"

 "Alpha...Bodie. One of us should have stopped him. Stevens was wrong to
move when he did...nothing any of us could do for him."

 "Trust me, 3-6, trying to stop Bodie once he's made up his mind is a
little like trying to stop a lorry on a dime. He's a tad headstrong, that
lad." The three men shared a smile, and Ray left to find the operating
theatre waiting room.

 "Murph? I thought Bodie sent you to Wales?"

 "He did, but he ah called me back before I got out of London." The deputy
controller looked away from Doyle, hoping his boss hadn't told him why
he'd been banished.

 "How is he?"

 "Still in there."

 Ray took a seat in the corner of the small room away from his colleagues.
Oh God, he kept thinking, I'm out chatting up some bloke while Bodie's
bleeding all over north London. What the hell was I thinking? His hand
went to his throat, looking to finger the chain that wasn't there.

 A cup of coffee was thrust into his hands several hours later, causing
him to look up into Roberts hazel eyes. "Ray, you doing alright?" He asked
as he settled beside him.

 "No. Bodie took a bullet in the chest. He's been in there for close to
three hours now."

 "It's always tough when one of your own gets hit," Roberts offered in
sympathy, a hand on Doyle's shoulder. At the touch, Doyle bolted out of
the chair.

 "He's not one of your own, he's mine!" He hissed, green eyes flashing.
"You don't belong here. Please go." He turned and walked to the window,
arms folded tightly across his chest. When Roberts made a move to join
him, he was stopped by Cowley, who had just entered the room.

 "Ray's just upset. Why don't I take him back to my hotel, and you can
call us when the surgery's done?"

 "You don't seem to understand, Mr. Roberts. That man in there is Doyle's
partner. They've been together for almost 20 years. 9-1 will take you back
to your hotel," he finished nodding at one of the agents to come collect
the American.

 Cowley and Doyle were alone in the room sometime later, having sent the
others home. "George, what am I gonna do?" He asked softly, green eyes
round with grief. "I...I didn't even say goodbye this morning when he got
called out; never kissed him. I always kiss him goodbye..."

 "He's going to be fine, Doyle. He's a fighter. And we both know that
he'll fight to come back to you."

 "Yeah, and me with a wandering eye," he huffed with a shake of his head.

 "There was never anything wrong with looking, 4-5. Bodie understood that.
Why do you think he kept quiet? Half of Alpha Squad expressed their
concerns that you were roaming. He just smiled at them; told them you were
a grown lad and allowed to have friends of your own and to go about their
business. He trusts you, Doyle--a gift he has granted to very few."

 "How do you know all this?"

 "Because I raised the issue with him, too, laddie. I hated to see him
looking so unhappy. He read me the riot act, same as the others." There
was a hint of a smile in Cowley's voice as he recalled the blunt way the
younger man told him to buggar off.

 "I was flirting. Never any time together and then Bodie went to
Brussels...Roberts was interested. I wasn't sure Bodie was anymore...NO!
No, that's not fair. Bodie's been working hard, too. I just feel like we
never have any time together anymore. No breathing room to just be us. I
hate that...I guess I latched onto Roberts because he was there and
willing to go out; listen to music; go to the theatre; talk about art--all
the things Bodie will do and does do with me, just not lately." He wasn't
sure if he was trying to reassure Cowley or himself.

 "Bodie doesn't see this as a problem, Doyle, so you shouldn't either."

 "But what if he doesn't wake up! What if..."

 "Don't play that game, son, you know you can't win."

 Cowley shook his head as he watched the American enter the Intensive Care
waiting room the next day. Those Americans always were persistent, he
thought to himself as he headed for the coffee machine.

 "Ray, how you doing?" Roberts asked as he took the chair beside him. He
looked confused as his arm was stopped midway to landing on the other
man's shoulders.

 "Adam, please, you shouldn't be here."

 "Why the hell not? Don't tell me you couldn't use the company?"

 "Bodie isn't just my work partner--he's my life. So you don't belong
here."

 "Couldn't have meant that much, considering all the time we've spent
together. Come on, Ray, I know you feel the connection."

 "Look, I was tired and lonely. Works been unbearable and with Bodie being
sent to Brussels, you're timing was just good. Gave me a chance to have
some fun. I didn't mean any of it, Roberts. It didn't mean anything to me.
I'm sorry if I led you on. All I'll ever need is on the other side of that
glass."

 "I don't believe you! You're just feeling guilty." Roberts argued.

 "Guilty that I wasn't there when he needed me...that he went into a life
threatening situation without me there to watch his back, yes. And guilty
that I ignored him to play with you. But I love him, Roberts, have for
years, and I plan to keep on loving him as long as he'll let me. Funny
thing is he knew I was flittering with you. In fact half the Alpha Squad
knew it," a sad laugh accompanied that statement. "He told them all to
leave me alone; that I was a grown man and could play with anyone I
wanted. You know why he said that? Why he didn't cause a scene or kick you
out of the country? Because he trusts me. Imagine that? He trusts me to
come home to him. And that is exactly what I plan to do. So you really
need to leave."

 "I don't believe this. You're going to stay here because you're afraid
what the men who work for you think? That just because they ratted you
out, you can't pursue things with me? I wouldn't have taken you for a
coward, Doyle."

 "I don't expect or need you to understand, Roberts. I already found the
love of my life. I'm sorry." Ray moved into the small room where his
partner lay covered in wires and tubes. "Hey Sunshine, thought I'd check
and see how you're feeling this afternoon. I must admit you've had better
days...ah, Bodie I'm such an idiot. I have no idea why you continue to put
up with me."

 "No one else would have you," came a hoarse whisper from the bed.

 "Bodie?"

 "S'okay, Sunshine." A shaking hand lightly petted the curly hair,
offering comfort to the man as he tried to compose himself.

 "Sorry, mate," Ray said softly a few minutes later. "Just so worried.
Thought I could give up the bedside routine once we left the
field...should have known better, heh? How do you feel?"

 "Be alright...just glad I don't have to visit the training facility
anymore after one of these stays. Stevens?"

 "I'm sorry, Bodie, he didn't make it." Blue eyes closed tightly. "Not
your fault, you know that."

 "So damn young..."

 "Wilson said he went in too soon, and that you went in after him." A nod.
"Not your fault, Sunshine," he repeated. They both startled as a deep
voice was raised just outside the door. "Be right back, love. Don't go
anywhere." Doyle moved quickly out of the room and grabbed the American by
the arm, pulling him brutally down the hallway.

 "Look, Roberts, I'm only going to say this once. There is nothing between
us, and there never will be. So please, do us both a favor and get the
hell out of here."

 "Come to the states with me, Ray. I made a few calls--as a security
consultant you could rake in $600-$700,000 a year easy. We could stay in
Washington for a year or so and then anywhere you wanted. We could be very
good together."

 "Told you already that all I need is down the hallway there. Nothing and
nobody else. Now go, please."

 "Thought before I did I might tell him about us...about you." Roberts
waited hoping to gain the advantage.

 "I told you, he knows. Hell, he even told Father to fuck off when he
raised it. He doesn't care because he knows it was nothing; knows I want
and need only him. Works both ways, that."

 He returned to the room and took the cold left hand in both of his.
"Bodie, about Roberts."

 "Nothing to know, Ray," blue eyes looked straight into green ones.

 "I'm sorry, love. It was stupid and there was nothing--only that he was
here and you were halfway across the continent and there's been so little
time lately--guess I was missing us and in doing so, almost lost all that
really matters. I'm sorry, Bodie."

 "Nothing to be sorry for, Sunshine. We're both here and we're going on
vacation--already told the Cow. Missed you too, kept feeling like I did
before...before you loved me. Don't ever want to feel that empty again,
Ray."

 "You won't, love. I promise. Now why don't you close those beautiful blue
eyes and get some rest. The sooner you get better the sooner I can take
you home, and I have plans for you and that body."

 "Plans?"

 "Wicked, wicked plans, Bodie love, so catch up on your beauty sleep while
you can. That's right; close your eyes and rest. I got your back pet, it's
okay. Everything's okay." He settled into the predictably uncomfortable
bedside chair, never relinquishing his grip on his partner, and smiled.
Yes, everything was going to be just fine.

 -- THE END --

 *June 2007*

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