AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Minister in the episode "Spy Probe" was not given a name. I have opted to use the actor's last name, hence he is Minister Crowden. This is also one of the few Pros stories I've written where I thought it worked better if Cowley were NOT Bodie's biological father.

---

The minute they walked into my office, I knew why they'd wanted to see me. And it was long past time, too. For that reason, I let them squirm, let them struggle for words while I gave them my best inscrutable stare.

They'd been working for me for going on eight years now, and from the beginning they've been the best team I've ever had. Aye, I do mean from the beginning. There was no awkward breaking in period for the two of them. No time where I felt I could not trust them with the most dire of operations. Oh, at first each had chaffed at the yoke of being saddled with a partner, but they had always worked well together. And I knew everything that had happened along the way.

It's in their eyes, you see. Both of them have very expressive eyes. They seem to know it on an op and use it to their advantage, but around headquarters they just don't realize how much they reveal. I knew when mutual dislike turned to respect, respect to friendship, and when friendship became love. Aye, I know it sounds daft. My best team, which I believe makes them the best team in the business, and the one-time terrors of the secretarial pool, fell in love about three years ago. Took them until less than a year ago to figure it out. The boys aren't usually that dim, but one only had to take a look at their dating records to know that they loved the company of women. I knew they'd both had same-sex flings in their youths (CI5 vetting is very thorough), but I don't think either of them had expected to discover that the great love of his life wasn't female. Daft, indeed.

I do not care about that, of course. As long as it does not interfere with the job my operatives can live their lives as they please, and only once did Bodie give me pause on that score.

I'd assigned them to look after President Ojuka, but none of us had considered the idea that his favorite wife was in league with those who meant to do him harm. Doyle was caught in the fallout of her treachery and for a time it looked liked the lad might pay the ultimate price. Despite that, I had ordered Bodie not to move in without backup, but he disobeyed me. At other times the two of them have done that, but always for the greater good. This time it seemed it was all for the sake of his partner. Though I could understand and sympathize with that, I could not allow it.

Once we'd all returned to headquarters, I gave him the worst dressing down of his life for that. He was all 'sorry, sir,' 'no excuses, sir,', while I was in a rage that was about to culminate in his two week suspension and a review of their partnership. But his eyes stopped me. I had seen less pain in them when he'd been stabbed years ago. So, I broke out the scotch instead of the forms for disciplinary procedures and told him to tell me what the hell had happened. When he did, I felt both relieved and embarrassed by my outburst. I should have known better. Aye, he HAD moved in against orders. But only into a better position. He'd acted only after he'd heard the shot.

"I knew he was dead then, sir," Bodie had told me, his voice so matter-of-fact one would have thought he hadn't cared, except for... aye, the eyes again. "Wasn't anything left for me to do but finish the job. They were about to get away, so I opened fire."

I've always known that one could not survive without the other. In that regard, I agree with Kate Ross that their relationship has some unhealthy aspects. They just need each other too much. But I'd long ago decided that separating them would do the greater harm, and that they could do the job no matter what happened, while I prayed I could save the survivor once the smoke cleared. Bodie had proven me right that day in all respects. He had finished the job with all the intelligence and skill I expected of my best man, despite the fact he thought his partner had been killed. But when I asked him what he would have done once Ojuka was safe, he would not look me in the eye. I counted myself fortunate that I was not laying two of my men to rest and said a prayer that night that I not live to see that day.

So, as I said, the fact that they had become lovers did not concern me, but it did bother me that they had failed to report their relationship to me. Whitehall's views on the subject tend to be less... flexible than mine, making such relationships security risks. If I'd thought for a moment that either of them would ever submit to blackmail, I'd have called them to task for their lapse, but I knew my boys would never do that.

Aye, my boys. Grown men, both in their thirties and as dangerous as they come, but still I think of them as my boys.

Doyle cleared his throat and said, "Sir, in light of recent events, we feel that there is something we should bring to your attention."

He started off strong, obviously reciting a prepared speech, then he faltered. But I could guess what events he was referring to. I never should have sent Doyle to tell young Cook's wife that he had been killed by terrorists. It was my job, but I thought she would take the news better from a friend than a man whom she had only met once. Take the news better. Sometimes I amaze myself. June Cook had one child, with a second well on its way, yet I had expected her to stay calm with a friend when told she was now a widow. I should have been the one she vented her grief on, not Doyle. And I'd noticed the change in the looks between Doyle and Bodie since he'd spoken to her. Something she had said had made at least Doyle impatient with the secrecy of their relationship.

Doyle tried again. "The thing is, sir, Bodie and I want to share a flat."

Close, laddie, but not close enough. A good fourth of my operatives share flats with their partners -- a matter of convenience, not love. "You do not need my approval for that, man. Just submit the proper form to allocations."

He looked frustrated, then turned his gaze to Bodie, silently asking for help. He did that often when dealing with me, believing that Bodie got away with more. And perhaps he does. I've not done a grand job of hiding my affection for Bodie, but Doyle holds an equal spot in my heart. Bodie just needs the acknowledgment of that affection more

I can still remember when we finally tracked down the Russian mole in the Ministry. Manton. His name will always be a vile curse in my mind, but he was clever, eluding a dozen investigations without the hint of suspicion falling on him. It took an elaborate bit of triple think to finally bring about his fall. I canna find it in myself to regret his death at my hands, but I still feel pangs of guilt for the bad moments I gave Bodie.

Both had stood by me while my plan unfolded -- a plan that made me fall under suspicion of treason. Doyle with his suspicious nature considered the notion that I was guilty. But Bodie never doubted me for an instant. The reward for his trust was a lung full of stun gas for both of them. That I regret. Both had gone undercover numerous times with completely convincing performances, but I feared it might be different if they had known the cloud over my head was of my own manufacture. Ironically, it is harder to feign concern than to play the role of an entirely different person.

Anyway, I got to them quickly after the stun grenade went off. Bodie was closest, so he got the first bit of oxygen from the canister I'd brought along. Doyle got the second, and typical of him, he insisted he was all right from just that bit of help. I decided to humor him and returned to Bodie. I'll never forget his first words as his wits returned to him, "Sorry, sir. Failed you," he'd gasped. I'd used him and set him up for this bit of discomfort or worse. I'd planted the notion of using the stun gas in the Soviet's minds, but they could have just as easily used something more potent or explosive. Blowing up Bodie and Doyle's car would have made just as much tactical sense, but I'd sent them into it without a word of warning, and he had apologized for failing me. Even flushed with triumph at the apparent success of my plans, I'd felt a pang of guilt for that and had spent a bit of precious time soothing him.

Ah, Bodie. Once, in jest, Doyle called him a great, big softie, but all three of us know it's an apt description of the lad. Physically he's as tough as they come, but emotionally, he wounds easily. I've always thought that Doyle needed that softness, just as Bodie needs his partner's toughness to balance him. Two halves of a whole, those two.

Bodie shifted a bit, signaling that he was about to broach the subject, but was obviously still searching for the words.

"Well, spit it out, lad," I insisted, the sound of my voice making him jump. "I'm a busy man."

"Doyle and I, well, we want to share a flat because..." he struggled for a moment, then just blurted it out, "We're lovers, sir."

"And when did this happen?"

"Started three years ago," Bodie admitted, his face flushing. "But it only got serious about nine months ago."

Just as I had thought. No need to even change their files. "And you just now saw fit to tell me?"

His head dropped, but Doyle had been studying my reaction. "You knew," he accused.

"Aye, I had guessed," I answered, cutting off any outbursts of temper with a hard look of my own, "but that does not change the fact that you should have told me yourselves when this first started."

Doyle glowered -- he does not like being in the wrong -- but he conceded with a nod.

"H-how did you...?" Bodie shook his head, as if the action would make the conversation a bit less awkward. "We were so careful."

I gave my own nod. "I know you," I told him. Having made my point about how late in the day this 'relevation' was, I saw no further need to punish them, so I did not tell Bodie how he fairly glowed with happiness these days. "It is not something a stranger would notice, lad. But I imagine you will find that the news would not come as a shock to many of your friends." Or at least it had better not. I paid most of those friends for, among other things, their observation skills.

"Oh."

"So what happens now?" Doyle asked with more than a touch of belligerence in his voice.

They both knew governmental policy on the matter, that I had little choice but to ask for their resignations, yet I knew that they both would be shocked if I did. And rightfully so. 'Cows give milk; cows suckle their young.' It was an oft-repeated cliche of mine, and I believed in it.

Only the safety of this realm comes higher in my list of priorities than the welfare of my operatives. That duty to Britain often demanded I risk their lives, but I never do so without good reason. That was why they both still worked for me after the Diana Mulner operation.

I'd smelled the stench of government corruption clinging to that poor lass and, while I sorted it all out, I'd set Bodie and Doyle to the task of keeping her alive. To cover us all, I'd dubbed the affair an Operation Suzie -- no back up, no ties to CI5, even false resignations had been logged for both of them. They should have been safe enough, but for once the opposition out-maneuvered me and I was faced with a court order to reveal the location of all CI5 safehouses. I had no choice but to comply, but I thought to buy us all a bit of time. Bodie had told me once that he did not care for the safehouse CI5 had been established in an old train. He'd said it was fine for meets, but a bit too exposed for his tastes when things heated up. So I told the lackey sent for the safehouse list that they favored that location when I had no idea at all where they were. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten that Doyle tended to lead in the partnership, and he did not dislike the train.

I almost lost them then. Twice. First to an MI 11 hit squad, then to Doyle's anger at what he thought was my betrayal of them. Bodie calmed him down, and they both believed my explanation. But Doyle had remained a bit wary of me, and now he looked at me as if he expected me to turn on them. Not a chance, laddie.

"Now I go have a talk with Crowden," I answered him.

"Crowden?"

"Aye, I think he owes CI5 one after what happened with Dawson, don't you?"

---

Two hours later I walked into Whitehall ready to do battle with the enemy. Governments are necessary and ours is a good one -- I truly believe that -- but the short-sightedness of many of those who served Her Majesty's Government often amazed me. Minister Crowden was a case in point.

MI6 had had a bad time of it recently. In the past three years, two successive controllers had rather abruptly left their posts. The first had been forced to resign for abuses of power, and the second, Dawson, had been killed by Bodie and Doyle when he had tried to escape capture. It seemed the man had been a Soviet agent. Just like Manton. Intent on serving his own agenda, Crowden had backed Dawson against me in a jurisdictional dispute over what turned out to be the case that exposed Dawson's mole status.

It was sheer nonsense from the first. MI6's brief does not allow it to operate within the borders of the United Kingdom. Such matters of internal security are for CI5 and MI5 to deal with. Yet Crowden had insisted I work with Dawson on the case. Once Dawson had met his fate, I'd had Crowden throughly vetted by own people, satisfying myself that he had no ties with Mother Russia himself. Knowing that it never hurt to have someone in Whitehall who owed me a favor, I had not reported his misjudgment of Dawson to the Prime Minister. If I had, he would have lost his posting. We both knew that, and, as I entered his office, we also both knew I had come to collect.

Once seated in one of his plush leather chairs, I wasted little time in getting to the point. "It has come to my attention that two of my operatives have become lovers," I informed him. "Both are male."

He studied me for a moment, then responded as I knew he would, "Then you'll have to ask for their resignations."

"No, sir, I will not," I answered in a matter-of-fact tone that displayed no belligerence. "I'll not lose two good men to the prejudices of this government. Other service branches may resort to that sort of foolishness, but as long as I am head of it, CI5 will not."

He heard the implied threat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "The security risk--"

"Does not exist as long as the relationship is not a secret," I insisted. "It is our own policies that create the problem, not the relationships." It was true. Only a fool would deny it, but few in these halls would ever acknowledge it. "I'll have no part of it."

Crowden cleared his throat. "And if I support you on this to the PM, all favors are paid?"

"No, sir," I corrected, then spelled out the nature of my threat. "If you do not support me on this, you may tell the PM to expect three resignations."

His face actually paled at the notion of my resignation. Just a few weeks ago, I have few doubts that he would have accepted it with great glee. But now, he could ill afford to have both CI5 and MI6 with only acting heads. "All right, I'll support you on this," he said. "But I am hardly the only one the PM takes advice from."

"Nor are you the only Minister who backed the wrong horse." I was owed quite a few favors. More than enough to carry the day for both reasons for my visit to Whitehall.

"All right, George. You win. And just for the record, who are the men in question?"

"Bodie and Doyle."

He practically gaped at me. While he was still reeling between reality and his mental image of what two men who loved each other should be like, I launched into the rest of it. "Which brings me to the other matter dealing with those two, and the favor you owe me."

"Good God. What could be worse than this?"

"In time, Minister, in time," I told him, partly to be aggravating, partly because there were a few things I needed him to think about before I hit him with my proposition. "Do you know why CI5 was formed?"

On the face of it, my organization was redundant, my brief covering situations that were also the responsibility of MI5 or Special Branch. In fact, CI5 had jurisdiction over everything that happened on British soil, but had no jurisdiction that was solely its own.

"I believe it had something to do with the former Prime Minister wanting his own personal storm troopers."

I ignored the insult. I'd heard it often enough and always dismissed it for the nonsense it was. Sad though it may be, CI5's rather sweeping powers were needed then and still are. And I see no sign that they'll not be needed forty years from now. "It was after the Philby scandals," I told him. "MI6 was a laughing stock and a Russian mole was quite probably the head of MI5. The PM decided there was a need for a small, elite organization with members who could be more thoroughly vetted." Even then there had been mistakes -- Barry Martin and Wakeman. But Martin had been turned, not bent from the beginning, and he'd been well paid to make certain Wakeman had no problem with the vetting process. No organization was proof against that sort of treachery. I even have hope that some day, if I tell myself that often enough, I might even believe it.

"The PM decided?" Crowden mocked me.

"Aye, it was my idea," I acknowledged. I'd risen far enough in MI5 to gain the PM's ear from time to time, but he had proven an easy audience, the idea all but having occurred to him independently. "But I did not expect to be appointed head of CI5."

No, not for an instant had I expected that. "I'd gone as far up the ladder as my background and education usually allowed," I told him. "But the PM wanted someone who was incorruptible in the post. Someone who did it because it was his duty, not as a stepping stone to greater power." I couldn't quite resist the pointed look I turned in his direction. "He decided I was that man and made my accepting the post a condition of forming CI5."

"And the reason for this little history lesson?"

"To ask you two questions. Is there still a need for CI5? And, if so, do you want to see a Whitehall mandarin as Controller or someone who can do the job?"

---

Bodie answered the security buzzer within seconds after I pushed it. "Yes?"

"Open the door, lad. It's cold out here, and I need a drink." I told him, only getting halfway through the sentence before he pressed the door release.

My leg was bothering me a bit -- it often did at the end of the day despite the physical therapy regime my physician had set me on -- so I took the lift to his third floor flat.

Bodie was standing in his doorway, an anxious look on his face. I was pleased to see that. I didn't like to think that the lads were not very concerned about their futures in CI5. Quite a joke on me that would have been.

He followed me into the front room, and Doyle handed us both a glass of pure malt scotch. I swallowed a bit, enjoyed the smooth taste of it, then put them out of their misery. "Your resignations will not be required."

Bodie sighed, his muscular body fairly sagging with the sound, but Doyle gave me a suspicious look. He seemed to know I had more to say, but he hadn't guessed the substance as his next remark proved. "We won't live apart anymore. Won't flaunt ourselves, but we're going to share a flat."

"About time you stopped straining the budget with a flat you never occupied," I told him, well aware that he'd spent less than a day in the flat currently assigned to him. Damned waste of funds.

That took the wind out of his sails for a bit and let me get back to my little bit of news. "As I was saying, your resignations will not be required, but there will be some changes."

Doyle shot me an 'I knew it' look, but Bodie looked at me, his eyes as large and trusting as a wee pup. "What sort of changes, sir?" my pup asked.

"You're still my best team, so I canna in all justification remove you from the streets totally at this time, but you'll not pull that duty quite so often," I said in between sips of scotch. "Also, you'll be issued new code numbers."

I enjoyed the look of confusion on Doyle's face -- a suspicious nature can be quite useful in this job, but he was well aware of the affection I held for him, so enough was quite enough.

"New code numbers? What for?" he asked. Not demanded, asked. Progress at last.

"Aye. You'll use them when you are not on A Squad duties," I said, then decided that I'd toyed with them enough. "As of now, you two are officially deputy controllers of CI5. You can flip a coin to decide who will be Alpha Two and who will be Alpha Three."

While they were busy trying to pick their jaws up off the carpet, I poured myself another scotch -- it had been a thirsty day's work.

"Just a minute," Doyle sputtered trying to come to terms with it all. "You're telling us that we're not only not going to be given the sack but that we're in line for your job?"

"Aye."

"Just how the hell did you pull that off?"

"I've been collecting favors for a long time, laddie."

"How long?"

"Since the day I formed CI5." I had always known that it would take a certain type of man to replace me -- one that would be unlikely to meet with Whitehall approval. I'd been right on both counts. I'd just not expected that man to be two men who were two halves of a whole.

Which reminded me. I raised my glass to them. "Congratulations and may you have a long, happy life together," I gave them the same toast I gave at the wedding of any of my operatives, then added a bit more, "And if one of you hurts the other, I'll have the offender's head on a plate."

They smiled, the future before them full of possibilities and a love stronger than I'd ever seen. Oh, they'd need a lot of training to take over CI5 one day -- but so had I. Diplomacy; how to guard against or manipulate those who used power according to their whims; how to plan operations down to the last detail, yet leave them to others to carry out -- I'd had to learn all those things and more. I knew they were up to the task. I could see it in their eyes.

In fact, when it was all said and done, I suspected that the joint Controllership of William Andrew Philip Bodie and Raymond Doyle will come to be thought of as the glory days of CI5. The prospect pleased me a great deal. For though not flesh of my flesh, they are still my boys, and what father doesn't want even greater things for his sons?

-- THE END --