Autumn Time
by Anne Carr
"Two days off," Doyle said blissfully and relaxed, slouching easily in the car seat. Beside him Bodie started the motor, "On a weekend, too. How long's it been since we had a weekend off?"
"Since Devonshire."
Bodie took his eyes off the road just long enough to glance at his partner. Doyle didn't meet his look. Striving for a light tone Bodie pointed out, "Holidays don't count."
"That one did."
The simple sentence was so heavy with meaning Bodie didn't even try to answer. He'd already said it all anyway. Ray knew his partner loved him, wanted him--physically as well as emotionally. Emotionally Doyle thought he could handle, the physically bit was what still threw him. He couldn't--not yet.
If they'd only had more time, Bodie mused, and neatly avoided a near miss with a Mercedes. In Devonshire they were alone together, no pressures, no jobs, no Cowley breathing down their necks. If they'd had more time in Devonshire they'd have worked it out. Instead Cowley'd called them back the very night they'd rediscovered each other and they hadn't stopped working since. And here in London everything got a lot more complicated.
He glanced at his partner again and smiled. Ray was half-asleep, a legacy no doubt of their frantic pace the last six weeks. Never enough time--then or now. He had been very careful not to bring up that particular subject of conversation, knowing that Ray would make up his mind in his own time. Bodie could wait. His feelings for his partner weren't going to change. And he knew Doyle very well--Ray's meaningful little comment wasn't a come on, it was his way of telling Bodie that he cared.
He pulled up outside Doyle's block of flats and tapped the dozing man's arm, "Wake up Sleeping Beauty, here's your castle."
Ray stretched and blinked in the autumn sunlight. "You wanna come up?" He was tempted. They'd been alone so rarely since Devonshire. But maybe if Ray was on his own he could do some clear thinking. "No. Call you later though." His baser self was pleased to see Ray's look of disappointment, however quickly suppressed it was.
"Okay then. Later."
Bodie waved a brief farewell and headed the car back into traffic. For all his good intentions he hoped Ray would work it out soon. He'd really much rather have stayed.
The pub was noisy, smoke filled, and smelled of spilled beer, peanuts, and several odors it was probably best not to investigate. It was not in a salubrious area and made no pretense to be anything more than the dive it was. The dockside Boarshead was not a place to bring your wife and the language was as hard as the men who drank there. Bodie had no trouble fitting in.
He downed his third pint listening to a low toned disagreement between two men over the relative usefulness of an Ingram over an M16 in the jungle and silently agreed with one of them. These men knew what they were talking about--like Bodie and almost every other patron--they'd been there. Unlike Bodie they'd be going back.
He was just considering going for a fourth--after all it was Friday night, he was off for the next two days and there was nothing to be sober for--when one of the men looked past him, stopped in midsentence and stared.
Bodie felt a light tap on his shoulder.
"Mr. Bodie?"
Conversation in the pub stilled then began again, quieter and a trifle strained. Bodie turned. She was young, no more than twenty-five, tall and shapely, with shoulder length almost black hair and grey clear eyes. She looked vaguely familiar and he rose politely, "Yes."
"William Bodie?" Now that he had turned to face her she looked doubtful. Her fingers twisted at her purse strap, the only sign of nervousness.
"Yes," he said again, aware that the feeling of familiarity was getting stronger. "Who are you?"
"I'm sorry. You don't look like your picture." She smiled, showing a row of even white teeth. "I'm very sorry to disturb you, but could we talk for a minute? I'm Merrie. Merrie Grisham." The name meant nothing to him. He considered, taking in her expensive jacket, the sizeable diamond ring on her finger, the way she forced her hands to be still. "Sure. But not here. You don't belong here."
Slipping a hand under her elbow he guided her to the door and out, hearing the collective relieved sigh that went around the smoke filled room behind them.
This street was dark, splotched only occasionally with pale lamplight. Bodie paused and looked around. "How'd you get here?"
Merrie pointed, "My car's back there."
"You're either desperate or an idiot," Bodie began walking again, "to come down here alone at night."
"There wasn't anyone to bring me. Where are we going?"
"To your motor where you're going to tell me what this is about. Then you're getting out of here."
She mumbled something under her breath and pulled her arm free--a gentle gesture, not intended to do more than assert a little independence. Bodie grinned and let her go. The car was a mini, a couple of years old and appeared to still be in one piece. Bodie climbed in the passenger's side and locked his door. "All right Merrie Grisham, who are you?"
In answer she handed him a picture and turned on the overhead light. "That's you and Alan McKenzie--Mac you call him. He's my brother--he was my brother. Do you remember him?"
Bodie ran a finger down the paper, "I remember. It's been a long time. You look a little like him." He raised his eyes. "Was?"
"He died three days ago. In hospital here in London. The funeral was today."
"I'm sorry." He said it automatically, his eyes already back on the picture. He and Mac together--the old days--a lifetime of memories ago. "What--how did he die?"
"Some weird fever. Something bit him."
The tone of her voice told him the death was a blessing. Down the street a door opened and several uniformed men staggered out, laughing and clutching at each other to stay upright. Bodie frowned. "Look, Miss Grisham. We can't talk here."
She nodded, turned out the light, and started the car. "My flat is swarming with roommates. Your place? Do you have a car?"
"I walked," he said quietly and gave her directions.
In the bright light of his apartment he could see the strain in her face. And the resemblance to Mac was clearer, too. He threw his jacket and hers over the chair arm. "Drink?"
"Whatever's easiest."
He poured two glasses and brought the bottle of scotch with him, sitting beside her on the settee. "How'd you find me? And why?"
She was ready for it and handed him an envelope. It was wrinkled, stained and well creased. "Perhaps it'd just be easier if you read this. It was in his things." Bodie took the paper silently, opened it and read:
3 SeptemberBodie folded the letter, replaced it carefully in the envelope and handed it back. He started to speak, then cleared his throat, "Excuse me. Wait here--please."
Dear Merrie,
If you're reading this Papa was right--I've snuffed it before I'm 30. Whatever happens, don't be sad, I'm very likely easier now and you look lousy with puffy eyes. You've already heard the will from the old dry bones solicitor, so you'll know how I left things. Half to you and half to a man named Bodie. I'm writing this to tell you why. You already know why I left the fold. You weren't very old then but my fights with our dear departed Papa were rotten for you. I think if Mum had lived it might have been better, but that's not (here something was crossed out and not replaced. Bodie skipped it and went on) I determined to run off and join the navy but I wasn't old enough and they didn't believe me when I lied--my lamentable face! So I ended up as a rather innocent sailor on a ship that ran guns to Africa. I won't--can't--tell you what it was like over there. We didn't go to the places you see in the travel ads. We went to unnamed ports, met men with masked faces who carried guns like third arms. In one of those ports my captain was killed, the crew panicked and took off and I was left behind. I learned something then, Merrie. I learned I'd do anything to stay alive. But I never wouldn't lasted a week without Bodie. He couldn't have been more than 22 or 23, he never said, but he'd already seen more than I probably ever will. Bodie found me with some men one night and took me away with him. He had to win a fight to do it--I still have nightmares about it, now knowing whether to want him to win or not. But he did and took me off with him to join the band of mercenaries he belonged to at the time. He taught me everything I know about. A lot of things, kept me alive until I could stand on my own, and most importantly, he gave me back my self respect. I owe him more than I can ever repay. I don't know where he is now--I last saw him in Angola. He may not even be alive, but you can have Dry Bones check at the Boarshead, dockside in London. Someone will know. When you find him tell him I'm asking one more favor. Tell him to remember and to take the money. Love, Alan
Merrie nodded and watched as he left the room. She wasn't sure until the water ran in the bathroom a minute later, then she swallowed and put the letter in her purse. "He remembers, Alan," she whispered. "He remembers."
Doyle stretched out on his bed and tried for the fourth time to read the book he'd bought that day. It was one he'd looked forward to, knew to be suspenseful and well written. But the words blurred in front of him until all he saw were blue eyes, dark hair, and the face of his partner. It was no use. He was going to have to face facts, and the sooner the better. He closed the novel and set it aside. What the hell was he afraid of? Not love. That he welcomed, longed for, had probably found with Bodie. When Bodie had held him that night in the hotel in Devonshire he'd felt something he'd never felt before. Something warm and good. Peaceful. A sense of coming home. If Cowley hadn't called he'd most likely have allowed nature to take its course.
But the Old Man had called and their time together was over before it had begun. So--honestly--was it the sex angle? It had certainly never occurred to him before Bodie's bird Claire had brought it up. He thought about that day on the beach when his partner kissed him, remembered the overwhelming fire that threatened to consume him as soon as Bodie touched him. No, not the sex--but he'd given himself the clue.
'Overwhelming fire that threatened to consume' ...Probably been reading too many novels--but the phrase described the feeling quite adequately. And that was what he feared. When Bodie just held him, asking nothing, he'd felt peaceful, but when his partner kissed him, demanded a response, he only too easily felt his control slipping. Ray frowned, his round face set into his most pugnacious as he forced himself to face the truth. He was afraid of giving Bodie a hold on him, afraid of giving him the upper hand; damn it! He was afraid of commitment.
He glanced at his watch then the phone. After eleven. Bodie should have called by now. Acting on impulse, only knowing he wanted to hear his partner's voice, he picked up the receiver and dialed.
It was answered on the fourth ring. Prepared for Bodie's voice, Doyle got a shock. "Mr. Bodie's residence."
It was a girl! Doyle stared at the phone as if it were a hooded cobra. "Hello?"
The girl's voice, a little impatient at his silence.
"Is...ah...Bodie there?" Stupid question.
"Can I tell him who's calling?"
"Ray."
There was a short silence, then Bodie, sounding slightly breathless and odd, came on the line. "Hello, sunshine."
"Didn't mean to interrupt anything," Doyle began. "Didn't know you had a date."
"You aren't and this wasn't exactly a planned thing. Hang about, mate." Doyle heard a muffled conversation then Bodie came back.
"Merrie's the sister of a friend."
Doyle thought he knew most, if not all of Bodie's friends--an odd word that--and none of them had a sister named Merrie. "Nice, eh?"
"Not bad," Bodie was noncommittal.
Doyle recognized the tone. It meant 'don't ask questions'. "Thought we might go out tomorrow."
Bodie hesitated then said slowly, "I think you'd better count me out this weekend. It looks like I'll be tied up."
"Gettin' kinky?"
"No." Bodie didn't respond to the pun.
Doyle frowned. This sounded serious. "You okay?"
"Sure. Fine. See you Monday."
The line clicked and Ray replaced his receiver slowly. There was no reason his partner shouldn't spend the weekend with some bird. None whatsoever. Bodie was human, after all, and it'd been a good six weeks since they'd been free to indulge in a little healthy sex. Doyle felt the unspent tension in himself. If Bodie'd gone out and found an easy lay he wished him well. But.... He'd been partners with Bodie for a long time. Little things, nuances of speech, a certain tightness in the voice, things no one else would notice practically shouted to Ray. There was something different about this girl.
He wandered into the kitchen and put on the kettle automatically, then switched off the fire and reached for a bottle instead. It promised to be a long, soul searching night.
Merrie ended up spending the night at Bodie's, safely tucked in his bed while he insisted on taking the sofa.
"I'm used to sleeping rough," he told her and went for extra bedding. In the morning she woke him with coffee and a request to use the phone. "I'd better call my fiance, let him know I'm okay."
"Is he bigger than me?" Bodie mumbled, trying to wake up.
"Tall blond, and gorgeous," she smiled.
"Sounds like my last girlfriend." He yawned and struggled to sit up amidst the tangled covers. "Whas the time?"
"Gone nine. I've been up since seven."
"I can tell." He eyed her neat, alert appearance balefully. "Don't judge by looks. I've been up since seven, I didn't open my eyes til eight." She watched his heavy lidded, unshaven face. "If you'll give me run of the kitchen I'll make breakfast."
"My dear Merrie--it's all yours."
By the time he showered, shaved and dressed, the meal was ready. Merrie pulled his plate from the warmer and refilled his coffee cup with the phone tucked under her chin, talking, presumably, with the tall blond fiance.
Bodie took one bit of omelet and interrupted, "Ask him if he knows what a treasure he's getting. This is good."
She raised an eyebrow, said an affectionate goodbye and joined him at his small table. "Everything all right?"
"He's not entirely thrilled I stayed over."
"So where was he when you went blithely into the docks last night?" Bodie asked, unimpressed. "He should at least have been there."
"Might have been a little difficult seeing as Ted's in Australia at the moment," Merrie said coolly. Bodie choked and hastily swallowed a mouthful of coffee.
"Don't worry, I charged the call to my phone."
"Hope you didn't say anything too bad about me," Bodie recovered. "The line is tapped." She smiled and didn't reply.
He finished his breakfast and leaned back. "I'd like to see where Mac is buried."
"Okay. There's papers for you to sign. One of my roommates is Dry Bones' secretary and she knows what it all entails."
Bodie took his plate to the sink and began to wash up. "Speaking of entails, exactly how much money are we talking about?"
"After all the taxes?" She told him.
He carefully set the plate aside. "No more dishes. Let the maid do it."
"Papa," Merrie said, "was stinking. There's a house in Buckinghamshire and some old cottage in Scotland with a couple of acres. I've never seen it but Alan used to go there when he came home. He said it was peaceful."
Bodie imagined he and Doyle alone up north in their own retreat. "I'd like to see it."
"You will. He left it to you. Sounds dreadful to me, but I suppose you'd like it. Bodie, are you still a mercenary?"
"No."
"Why'd you leave Alan behind?" she asked in a low voice. "If you had so much influence why couldn't you have...."
"He wasn't ready to leave it. Not for good."
She nodded, not looking at him. "So what do you do now? For a living, I mean."
"A job. Nothing special."
"Your line is tapped," she reminded pointedly.
"Only because I like it that way." He shrugged. "I'm a civil servant."
"Pull the other one," Merrie snorted. "Never mind. I doubt if I want to know. You get phone calls at odd hours."
"Ray's my partner."
Something in his voice made her look up but she merely said, "Let's get going. If, that is, I can find my shoes."
Graveyards depressed him. He stood looking down at the freshly turned earth and made a mental note. He was going to be cremated and spread over the ocean. Slowly congealing in the ground was not for him.
He didn't think about Mac. Mac belonged to the past and he'd settled it last night, lying awake on the sofa for a long time. Mac and his 'lamentable face'--far too handsome for his own good, with pure features that stayed beautiful long after innocence was gone. Well, he'd done what the boy had asked. He'd remembered and he was going to take the money. Beside him Merrie sniffed. She was quietly crying--her grey eyes red and no longer beautiful. Bodie hated it when women cried. It made him feel inadequate. He put an awkward arm about her shoulders and when she turned and buried her face in his leather jacket he held her loosely, wondering if tears left stains and if so could the cleaners get them out? Eventually she gathered herself together and blew her nose indelicately on a lace trimmed handkerchief. He liked her better for it. "Come on. We'll get something to eat and you'll feel better."
"Those papers...."
"After we eat," he said firmly and Merrie grimaced.
"Are you always so damned bossy?"
He led the way to the car. "Yes."
"Your girlfriends must love it," she was not being kind.
"They don't mind." Not that he'd noticed anyway.
"Oh god--beautiful and dumb, right?"
Bodie grinned cheekily. "All of em. Every one."
Merrie's laugh was watery, but he could tell she was recovering. "What do you do? Other than spend Papa's lolly?"
"I design video games."
"Beautiful and smart," Bodie sighed. "And rich. And she can cook. What more could a feller want?"
"My first husband, chosen by Papa, wanted some sort of slave."
"What sort?"
Merrie watched as they turned towards London. "The sort that obeys commands and brings slippers."
"That's not a slave, that's a dog."
"That's what I told him. So now he has a deep meaningful relationship with an Alsatian named Muffy." Without pausing she went on, "Tell me about your partner."
Bodie said the first thing that came into his mind. "Why?"
"Because you don't seem like the type who needs a partner. So he must be special."
"Ray's all right."
"Have you been together long?"
"A little over five years."
"How long were you with Alan...Mac?"
"Two years, three months, six days."
Merrie looked at him. "You do remember."
"Everything. Yeh, sure. And with the single exception of Mac, I wish I could forget."
"Bodie...did you...love him?"
"No." He was brutally honest.
"I think he loved you. Like a brother," she added hastily. "He always wanted an older brother."
No, Bodie thought, not like that. Not at all. But all he said was, "Maybe. I don't know--he never said."
Sleeping was not a luxury to which Doyle was accustomed. He awoke as the first ray of sunlight straggled through his curtains to slam him squarely in the face. Trying to bury himself in the pillows, he rolled over. But it was no use, his bladder was insistent. Groaning just a little he untangled himself from the covers and stumbled, bleary-eyed, into the loo. When he emerged twenty minutes later he was clean, freshly shaved and still blear-eyes. It had been a long night.
But not useless.
Sometime during the lonely hours he had faced a few facts. One. He definitely loved Bodie. Trying to imagine a life without him was impossible. Trying to imagine a life with him wasn't all that easy--Bodie could be a distinct pain, but then Doyle knew he himself would be no picnic either. Wrong choice of words that. Picnics were always disasters when he was around. Ants, bees, bank robbers.... He made coffee and told himself to keep to the subject.
Two. He was not gay. He enjoyed the soft warmth of the feminine anatomy. But loving Bodie brought desire for the man with it. The more he thought about it the more he wanted him. And his imagination already supplied him with ideas....
He drank coffee, ate a light breakfast and let his fertile mind play with the idea of Bodie, naked and breathless beneath him, on top of him, beside and behind.... Three. Commitment. He wanted--needed--permanence in a relationship and he suspected Bodie did, too. No more one night stands. It scared the hell out of him, set him up to get hurt again--like hearing that certain tone in Bodie's voice last night. Had he left it too late? Give him a chance, Doyle God knows he's given you enough. Always there to back you up, support you, understand you.
If Bodie, the lone wolf, the determined out-for-himself-only man could face commitment, then couldn't he?
At three am it had looked very easy. Just go find his partner and tell him. Hell, he wouldn't even have to tell him. One look should be enough. Bodie would know. At three am he had pictured Bodie dumping his new bird and coming home with him for a weekend of...well everything. It was after ten. Ray stared at his bare feet. They were definitely cold. He had been a lot of things, but somehow 'coward' had never cropped up before. He was damned if he'd let fear hold him back any more.
Determinedly he reached for his clothes.
Start by finding Bodie.
By noon he had checked Bodie's flat (no answer), two local pubs (no sign of him), and CI5 (he's on RT standby). Ray sat in his car, staring unseeingly at his hands and tried to think where Bodie could be.
Lunchtime. Bodie let very little interfere with eating. The girl had sounded, if not exactly too posh, then definitely classy. So where would his partner take a new classy bird to lunch? Of course. Gino's.
He was too late. Mario, the head waiter, smiled sadly with liquid dark eyes and told him 'Si, senore, Bodie had been there--very early with his bellisema signorina but they had gone and he did not know where.'
Couldn't he remember anything?
Oiled by a quid and remembrance of good tipping in the past, Mario remembered. They were heading to the lady's flat to continue their liaison.
Mario was inclined to rhapsodize over the girl's apparently boundless assets (Signore Bodie was a lucky man, no?). Doyle cut him short.
"Did she sign your book?"
"Si--of course." Didn't everyone want to sign the book at Gino's? Merrie Grisham. Address--Islington. Not much, but better than nothing. He could always run it through HQ. They'd had an address in no time. And he'd have Cowley on his back for a week for using Control for personal business.
He took a chance and asked Mario for phone books. And there it was: M. Grisham--the address and number. He memorized the digits in one glance and departed, munching on the sandwich Mario gave him under the table.
The best thing about Gino's restaurant was that they knew when and how to please their customers.
Bodie signed his full name on the bottom of page six, then handed the papers to the soliciter. Odd how his life had been changed so many times with a signature. Into the merchant navy, into contracts with mercs, into the paras--the SAS, and most importantly, into CI5. And now this. Suddenly he was rich. Well, rich as he conceived it to be anyway. He certainly never had to work again. As far as Bodie was concerned, until he could talk it out with Ray all that meant was that he wouldn't have Cowley on his back for an excessively high expense chit. Being idle wouldn't suit. But being dead didn't suit either and working for the Cow...well, the odds against living got higher every year. No, he'd try and convince Doyle to leave with him, maybe start by taking his partner off on a long vacation, talk him into planning some kind of future. Future...now that was a new concept.
Merrie watched as his bland expression softened, and shivered just a little. Bodie was nice, polite, and cold. Oh, he could turn on the charm as he'd done when he met her roommates (they'd talk about him for weeks) while they waited for Dry Bones to show up, but it was a calculated charm. He knew how to please when the occasion called for it. She watched, and remembered Alan. Was it from Bodie that Alan had picked up that skill? Something else learned from this hard man? Had anyone ever gotten past his stony exterior? Besides Alan. For though Bodie had claimed no love for her brother, in his own way she knew he had grieved for Alan's death. Perhaps this Ray person, the disembodied voice on the phone, really meant something to Bodie. He had stayed with Alan for two years, but Ray'd had him for almost six. Ray, she thought, must be a very special sort of man.
"Bodie?" She started it impulsively, but when he turned a politely pleasant expression her way she merely asked, "A drink?"
"Thanks."
By the time she returned the papers had been set aside, her witnessing roommates vanished into another part of the apartment and Dry Bones gone to whatever dusty hole he had sprung from. Bodie stood by the window, staring out with unseeing eyes. He took the drink with a faint smile. "It has just occurred to me--you must have expected to get it all."
Merrie joined him and watched as two little boys practised soccer in the park across the street. "Yes. But actually it worked out for the best. Ted wasn't keen about me having so much."
"When's the wedding?"
"Two months. When he gets back. I miss him." She was wistful. "Coping with all this, alone, hasn't been...easy."
Unable to think of a suitable reply Bodie bent his dark head and kissed her. She smiled at him, "What was that for?"
"Good drink?" he suggested and she laughed.
Coming across the park on foot, Doyle looked up to the window and paused. Well, if he wanted proof, he'd got it. And he had only himself to blame. From his vantage point behind a convenient tree he eyed the girl. Not Bodie's usual type at all--which only made things worse. They looked comfortable together. Feeling like he could use a little comforting himself, Doyle turned away.
When it came right down to it he'd rather talk to Bodie alone.
Saturday passed very slowly for Doyle. Saturday night was even slower. He awakened Sunday morning to bright skies, a thumping headache, and an empty cupboard. He was contemplating the relative merits of shopping versus eating out when the intercom buzzed. "Yeh?"
"Let me in, mate."
Bodie.
Wordlessly Doyle pushed the release button and went to open his front door. Sounding like a herd of elephants, Bodie pounded up the stairs and paused on the half landing below, grinning rather idiotically up at his partner. "Hi."
"Hello yerself. What's that?"
Bodie glanced at the box he held. "Breakfast."
"Good. I'm out of everything." Doyle led the way into his flat and closed the door, leaning against it. He hadn't expected Bodie, hadn't prepared himself, didn't know all his bones could turn to water with one look from blue eyes.
"You always are on Sundays. Come on, make yourself useful." Ray unpeeled himself from the door and watched as Bodie spread out the feast. "Who exactly are we expecting? The SAS? The entire population of China perhaps?"
"Don't be grumpy. I'm in a good mood and I won't allow you to spoil it. Eat something, you'll feel better." Bodie proceeded to follow his own advice and with a shrug, Doyle joined him. Normally--or rather, before their vacation in Devonshire--he'd have made a joke about the latest in Bodie's string of birds overworking him. Before. But not now. He ate the still hot food without comment and felt his headache ease away as he finished his third cup of coffee. He also felt his partner's gaze on him and looked up, "Well?"
Bodie grinned. "You're welcome."
"Steak for breakfast," Doyle seized on the first thing that came to mind. "Turn over a bank last night, did you?"
Bodie ignored that one. "You look terrible," he said bluntly. "What's wrong?" Defensively Doyle pulled his bathrobe tighter around himself and huddled into the protective warmth. "Still waking up."
Bodie leaned back in his chair looking slender and deadly, dressed entirely in black. "Go take a shower or something then, and wake up."
"You're full of orders this morning."
The blue eyes fixed on him over the rim of the coffee cup, but Bodie didn't answer. "Oh all right." Doyle stood up, stretched, and felt himself steadily watched every step of the way to the bathroom. It gave him an odd and very pleasant tingle. Bodie winced as the door shut behind his partner with unnecessary force. He should have known better than to burst in on Ray like this. Doyle was not known for being bright-eyed and cheerful first thing in the morning. Oh, he could function. But the major portions of his conversation were growls, and Bodie had once heard a London hard boy say with complete sincerity, "I'd sooner go up against Jaws than Ray Doyle in the morning."
Yeh, well Bodie knew all about that, better than most, and it didn't bother him in the least. He'd lain awake most of the night, making plans, indulging himself in dreams and very aware that without his grumpy, hot tempered, infuriatingly independent partner, not one of them would mean a thing. He awakened at dawn and couldn't stand another minute away from Ray. So here he was. And now what? How do you actually say, "Look I've just been given a fortune so how about running away together?" He remembered the poetry that had crossed his mind during the safe night darkness--Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove....
In the bathroom the toilet flushed and Bodie was still laughing when Doyle emerged--wet, but completely awake.
He stood, clad only in a bedraggled, half sodden towel, and stared at the unbelievable picture of Bodie clutching his stomach, helplessly rocking and, god help him, laughing. "Whas so funny?"
Bodie sobered up abruptly then had a sudden picture of Doyle gambling about with the renowned shepard's sheep. His face crinkled and again he burst out laughing. Thoroughly alarmed, Doyle strode forward and shook his arm. "Bodie! You dumb crud! Are you crazy?"
Bodie shook his head and took a deep breath, "No. Sorry."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"What was all that about? And don't start cackling again. It's weird."
Bodie turned away. "I doubt if you'd see the humor. Look...get dressed, will you? I want to talk. Unless you've got plans?"
"No." Doyle hesitated a moment longer then went in search of a clean pair of jeans. He hesitated over choosing, finding that with Bodie so close all his vaguely noble ideas were slipping away. Fuck it anyway. He didn't want Bodie to go off with some bird. He liked having his partner to himself, and if that meant commitment--then it was too late, he was already hooked.
He reached for his pants and pulled them on, thinking furiously all the while. When was the last time he'd seen Bodie laugh like that? Never. Not once. He smiled, he occasionally chuckled, once or twice he'd even made a funny sort of low giggle--but really laugh? Never. It was a little scary seeing Bodie that relaxed--happy. Scary and nice and.... He grunted and found a shirt--a green one. Bodie liked him in green. Not that he'd ever said anything but Ray knew anyway. He knew more about Bodie than anyone on earth. Except he didn't know what made him laugh.
Bodie was relaxing on the sofa, his feet up, when Doyle finally emerged from his bedroom. He said nothing but Ray could see his eyes--that hazy look of...whatever it was that expressed enjoyment in Doyle's company. He let the silence grow for a moment and when they spoke it was simultaneous.
"I want to talk to you."
"You first."
Bodie grinned. "No you go. Mine'll keep."
'Not if I can help it,' Doyle thought. He moved a little closer, found his knees to be just a trifle wobbly, and leaned against his desk. "I've been thinking." Bodie raised an eyebrow.
"A lot. About you and me...and us."
Bodie looked at him silently.
"When you...when you kissed me that time, on the beach, it scared the bloody hell out of me. No--don't say anything, let me finish now I've started. It scared me because I like it. Better--more--than anybody else. Ever. You could, you can make me lose control and that's what really scared me. Then. Not now. Not once I realized I was afraid of, I don't know...shadows, I guess."
He took a step closer and suddenly Bodie was standing in front of him, meeting him halfway. Smiling. Accepting.
Doyle pulled him into his arms, forgetting everything as Bodie's mouth touched his, lingered, then opened with hungry demand. The fire was there as before, unbanked now, as they strained together. Doyle heard himself groan, felt fingers against his back, up under his shirt. Stroking fingers that trembled slightly. It made him aware for the first time that Bodie too could lose control--all it would take was a soft push in the right direction. The thought of Bodie lying helpless and trusting beside him was unbelievably exciting. He pulled away just a little, gasping for air, his eyes half closed. "Christ!"
"Bedroom?" Bodie suggested and followed when his partner led the way. Standing next to the bed, Ray paused, a little unsure of how to proceed. With a girl he'd know, but this was a man, the situation was new, and his mind was spinning. He bit his lip and glanced at Bodie.
As if he knew, understood, Doyle's hesitation, Bodie touched his cheek then slid his fingers into Ray's unruly curls. "This is what you want?"
Doyle nodded.
Bodie smiled. "Me, too," he said quietly and moved his hands to his partner's waist. "For a long time."
"I thought," Doyle began, and hissed as exploring fingers stripped him. "I thought maybe I was too late."
Bodie paused. "I said I'd wait."
"Yes, but that bird...I wanted to tell you, but she was different...you acted...." Ray found it hard to concentrate as Bodie's nude body pressed close against him.
"She was--but not in the way you mean," Bodie whispered along his cheek. "I'll tell you--later." He led Doyle to the bed and watched as Ray finished undressing, drinking in the sight of his eager body--eager for him. Though Ray was lighter, he was just as strong and his engorged sex thrust forward between slim hips. Bodie sat on the bed beside his partner and touched the soft hardness as Doyle lay back against the pillows. He half wanted to claim his gift quickly, before Ray changed his mind, but the trust he saw in the half-closed green eyes slowed him into a gentle working rhythm. They had time--a lifetime--to explore, to learn each other. He stretched out beside his lover and kissed him.
Ray opened his mouth, returning the kiss, encouraging Bodie, wanting more of this new-found incredible feeling. His hips lifted to the working fingers and he groaned. How was it Bodie knew exactly how to touch him? He tentatively reached out and stroked one hand across his partner's chest, over ribs, down the flat belly to the hardened cock. Bodie's response was immediate and, less shy, Ray found that he too somehow knew just what to do. It was natural, right, and he let go the last shade of fear, losing himself eagerly in his lover.
It was late Sunday afternoon. Doyle opened his eyes reluctantly and edged away from his partner's encircling arm. He hated to leave the warm bed but his bladder demanded a trip to the loo. Bodie was awakening as he returned and Ray watched as he reached out, found emptiness and rolled over, his blue eyes wide open.
They looked at each other for a long moment, neither knowing exactly what to say. Then Bodie moved over and held out a hand. "It's warmer here."
Snuggled back amidst covers and entangled limbs Ray sighed contentedly. "It feels...good."
"Yeh."
More awake now Ray began to remember. "Bodie...who was that bird?"
Bodie kissed him and tightened his arms. "Sister of an old mate from my African days."
"And?"
"She found me to tell me Mac was dead."
Doyle didn't have to look up to know what his partner was feeling, he could hear it in the blandness of his voice. "I'm sorry, mate. Special was he then?"
"Then, yes."
Something egged Ray on. "Were you...."
"Lovers? Yes."
He'd asked. He hadn't expected the searing jealousy--more and different than any he'd ever felt for a women. Perhaps, he thought with sudden insight, because no women had ever meant as much to him as Bodie did. "Okay."
Bodie nuzzled him lightly. "That was a long time ago, mate. In a different place, under different circumstances. I hadn't thought of him in years."
Some of the ache eased. Ray shifted until he was comfortable with Bodie's chest for a pillow, the steady thump of his heart matching his own beat for beat.
Bodie seemed to read his mind for he went on, "He was a kid and I liked him. Don't compare, Raymate, because I won't."
The pain went entirely away.
Bodie's arms tightened almost too hard then relaxed again. "Ray, there's more."
"The sister? I saw you, you know. Kissing her. At her apartment."
Bodie had to think to remember it. "Oh that. That was nothing. She missed Mac."
"What then?"
"Mac's father was very very wealthy. And he left it all to Mac. And Mac left it to Merrie and me. Split right down the middle."
Ray leaned up on his elbows, astonished. "How much?"
Bodie told him. "That's what the solicitor thinks it'll come to after everything's taken out."
"Christ."
"Yeh."
"What're you going to do?"
"What're we going to do?"
"It's your lolly, mate." Doyle grinned. "You could always donate the lot to CI5."
"I'd thought of that." Bodie smiled back. "Briefly. Before you...."
"Tripped you?"
"So delicate," Bodie murmured and slid his hands to Doyle's waist, enjoying the slender strength of him.
"What difference did that make?"
There was so long a pause Ray glanced back up. "Bodie?"
"Don't you understand?" Bodie asked softly. "Without you it wouldn't have mattered."
Aware that, without meaning to, he'd just asked for and been given Bodie's innermost emotions, Doyle swallowed, "So what now?"
"I don't know." Bodie managed a credible shrug in spite of his partner's weight sprawled across him.
"You'll have to tell Cowley."
"Yes."
"You plannin' to quit?"
"Not if you don't."
"What would you do?"
"Us, Ray." Bodie paused. "Or not, if you don't...."
"I do," Doyle interrupted immediately, fiercely.
"I want," Bodie made a face. "It sounds stupid--but I want us to have a chance to...live. But I can't just leave Cowley."
"No, me neither."
"Course, once he finds out about us...."
"He probably already knows, sunshine."
"Yeh, well, we'll get thrown out on our ears most likely. You know the rules."
Ray shifted again, stretching catlike against his partner, feeling the feather touch as Bodie kissed him. "Whatever happens, whatever you decide--I'll be there. I don't think we'd be very good at doing nothin' though."
"You could paint."
"Only," Doyle said in an evil tone, "if you're the model."
"Okay, so you don't paint. What've you got for food?"
"Eh?"
"I'm hungry. What's for dinner? You and your empty cupboards...."
"We're talking about our lives here, and you're hungry?"
"First things first."
"Oh, in that case...." Doyle effectively pinned him and began a leisurely assault on his body. "Still hungry?"
Bodie grunted and pulled him back down. "We've got time Ray, for the first time in our lives we've got time."
"Shut up," Ray told him. "I'm busy."
-- THE END --
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