(Arabella, Colleen and Bodie Bear first appeared in "...Amid the Noise and Haste")

The power of the world works in circles.
   -- Black Elk

The day had dawned November-grey and rainy. It was the sort of day Doyle dreamed of spending in front of a cozy fire, reading, sipping brandy laced with tea, his troubles soothed away by the crackling sound of the fire, the patter of raindrops and Bodie's rhythmic breathing as he dozed nearby. Now, when he could have at least half of this fantasy, he was too tense, too restless to sit still, let alone read or enjoy the fire, no matter how chilled he felt.

The last of his tepid tea slid down his throat. He flung the mug into the fireplace. The shattering sound satisfied him for only an instant. Immediately, he was on his feet. Grimacing as he hoped the noise had not awakened his sister, sleeping in the next room, he went to check on her. Colleen Doyle, a small woman, seemed lost in the king-sized bed he shared with Bodie. She was still asleep, thanks to the sedative Kate Ross had administered an hour ago.

Grateful, he returned to the sitting room and began to pace. He hated the waiting, the not knowing that came with it. Every time he passed the telephone, he willed it to ring. As he walked by it a fifth time, he began shivering, which made him realize that he was nearly out of control, frustration and worry driving him too near the edge for reasoning and deduction. To snap himself back from the precarious precipice, he slammed a fist into the wall, the pain helping him focus his thoughts. Sucking his stinging knuckles, he forced himself to sit in the chair by the phone.

"Ring, damn you, ring," he shouted, confident he'd not rouse Colleen from her drugged state.

Since the phone would not obey, Doyle jumped up. Shoving his hands into his hip pockets, he paced the room once more. The mindlessness of his action finally helped him calm down. Feeling cold inside despite the fact that he was wearing Bodie's wool, SAS-style sweater, he stopped in front of the fireplace to warm himself. Eventually, he spun around to face the mantle.

Arabella, holding her stuffed cat Jasmine, met his eye from a framed photo taken on her last birthday, nearly five months previous. Carefully, he picked up the picture and examined it. His niece was one of the most beautiful children he'd ever seen.

"I know I'm biased," he said to a black bear sitting nearby. "But I'm supposed to be." He had long ago abandoned the notion that it was silly to talk to the bear. In the years he had had Bodie Bear, the stuffed animal had become one of his closest confidants.

Smiling, Doyle put the picture frame down and lifted the bear, drawing him close. "Ross would have me committed in a flash if she knew I talked to you, hugged you when I feel lonely, and slept with you when Bodie isn't here."

The bear stared at Doyle with its guileless, glass eyes.

The thought of Bodie brought back an awareness of the nervous tension coiled in the pit of his stomach. Doyle glanced at the photo again. Retrieving the picture, clutching it and Bodie Bear, he turned his back on the fire; its warmth did nothing to counter the chill he felt.

"Why don't they call?" Doyle asked his bear.

When he realized he was waiting for an answer, Doyle shook his head. His fear grew with each passing -- silent -- moment. "Why don't they call back?" he queried again.

"I know, you don't know the facts, do you, so how can you answer?"

Going to the sofa, Doyle sat down, the bear resting on top of the photo, both nestled in his lap. "Comfy?" he inquired, glancing down. "Good," he added, interpreting the silence as agreement. "Detective rule Number One: Review the facts in the case. Rule two: Go over and over the facts till you can't wring any more out of it, and then go over it again." He sighed. "Two hours ago, Colleen called to tell me Arabella was missing, that she had been kidnapped. Five hours ago, Colleen and Arabella had a fight over the fact that Colleen was having gin and tonic with a fight over the fact that Colleen was having gin and tonic with her oatmeal. Arabella ostensibly went off to school but never showed up -- something Colleen learned from the head mistress.

Assuming that Arabella had run away again just as she had two months ago, Colleen drank herself ... no, that's not fair. I don't know that she spent the next four hours drinking, I'm just assuming it ...." Doyle's voice trailed off as he absentmindedly stroked the soft fur between the bear's ears. "Colleen ...."

His thoughts turned toward their childhood years, difficult ones as he and Colleen were the only Doyle offspring in a houseful of O'Malley's by their mother's first marriage. Older, the five O'Malley brothers had been the bane of Doyle's young life. His half brother, Nick, had caused the fight over Colleen which resulted in Doyle's broken cheekbone.

Beautiful, sweet-natured, a wisp of a girl, the ethereal Colleen had been the object of Nick's teenage lust. Protective of his young sister, Doyle had defended her against the larger, older boy. In retrospect, it had proved to be the easiest of the battles he'd fought for his sister. Never particularly close to reality, it was what made her, in adulthood, a respected painter and poet. She had followed Doyle to art school, staying only long enough to be swallowed up by the local drug scene.

Doyle could still remember the night he'd gone to take Colleen to dinner, only to find her dying from a heroin overdose in a corner of her tiny bedsitter. It was her second suicide attempt, the first having come years earlier when she'd slashed her wrists. Frightened, for she was the only real family he had left, their mother and father having died several years earlier, he'd forced her to accept the wisdom of a rehab program and therapy for what he recognized to be a manic-depressive cycle.

The doctor who'd treated Colleen helped her kick her habit by focussing her energies on her talent. Painting, at first a therapy, became a consuming vocation that now provided Colleen with a reasonable income which Doyle managed. The program had also given Colleen Arabella. Ever the free spirit, she had had a brief affair with her psychiatrist, one that ended when the man insisted on an abortion, which Colleen refused.

For the first four years of her life, Arabella had provided Colleen with a previously missing link to reality. Raising the child had brought out the best in Colleen, but the last three years had been somewhat more strained as Arabella became aware of her mother's pain. The drinking and abuse of prescription tranquilizers were not lost on Arabella.

He and Bodie had tried to help. They took Arabella with them on vacation, on free weekends, whenever their erratic work schedules permitted. For a year or so, it had seemed to help, but it was increasingly apparent that their involvement wasn't enough. Arabella, Doyle realized, was beginning to blame herself for her mother's problems. That was why, two months ago, the child had run away for the few hours it took Bodie to find her.

Bodie and Arabella. It was a combination that worked, though Doyle didn't know why. It wasn't that Bodie didn't like children. He clearly did, but he had never expressed any desire to have any of his own and he didn't seem to regret the choice. And yet, the man was smitten with Arabella. Never once had Bodie complained about spending their precious free time with the child. In fact, he was the one who most often suggested they include her in their plans.

"I'm not sure I understand," Doyle commented out loud, moving the bear to the back of the sofa so they could be eye to eye.

"He's changing, and I'm scared," he confided. "I can tell he's beginning to hate this job. Can't say as I blame him, but if he goes off CI5, will he go off me, too, even though three months ago we married ourselves out by the Peter Pan statue?"

The bear's patient silence prompted him to continue. "If he'd talk about it, maybe I wouldn't feel so nervous; but whatever it is, I'm not sure even he understands it yet, and he won't say anything till he does." Doyle sighed. "I don't need this." He glanced over at the phone, hoping Bodie would call.

Earlier this day, Colleen had received a strange phone call which made her decide that Arabella had not simply run away for a few hours. When she'd picked up the receiver, Arabella's voice had said, "Mama," and the line had gone dead. Frantic, Colleen had called for help.

He and Bodie had been at headquarters, finishing their lunch as they worked on a report. Afraid of what she might do when he heard the level of hysteria in her voice, Doyle had dropped his half-eaten sandwich, pulled Bodie out of his chair, and dragged him off to Colleen's Notting Hill flat. It had taken Bodie's special brand of calmness, his soothing voice and concerned blue eyes to elicit the details.

Cowley, when informed, had released them from other duties, sent several agents to help search and put the organization's internal resources at their disposal. He was proceeding from a worst case scenario which suggested Arabella had been kidnapped because of her relationship to Doyle, or even Bodie.

While Bodie and the others took to the streets, Doyle had brought the anxious Colleen to the flat he shared with his partner. Kate Ross had paid a visit, using a sedative when talk did not lessen Colleen's hysteria. Promising to check back, the psychiatrist had left an hour ago. With Colleen's phone line tapped and switched over so it would ring here, Doyle had remained by the phone waiting for the kidnapper to call back

Experience told him they still had a few hours before it was time to consider the alternative, namely that Arabella had not been snatched by someone bent on revenge, but rather for her own sake by someone who wanted a child for any number of purposes, ranging from the misguided to the perverted. Refusing to think that someone had taken the girl for what a beautiful child could bring on the black market or in the porn industry, Doyle looked at his patient companion. "'Would you like some tea?"

Without waiting for an answer, Doyle put the photo on the sofa and carried the bear into the kitchen where he began preparing another pot of tea. When the bear caught his eye, he said, "I know, I know. What you really want are some of those fancy German biscuits Bodie brought home yesterday." Walking over to the cabinet, he took out the half empty package. "Looks like you and your namesake had a late snack," he allowed, shaking his head. "How can either of you expect to stay trim if you're sneaking about eating biscuits in the middle of the night!" Despite his words, he set out some of the dipped-in-chocolate wafers. "No nibbling before tea," he told the hungry looking bear as he placed the treats well away from the clever paws.

As he stood staring at the kettle, waiting for it to whistle, memories of a tea party they'd given for Arabella, Jasmine and Bodie Bear as well as other "friends" nearly a month ago came back. Though Arabella was quite grown up for her age, she was still young enough to be whimsical. In this, she was the perfect match for Bodie.

Hoping the water wasn't quite at a boil, he dashed into the other room, retrieving a photo album from the bookcase. He put the album down on the table beside the plate of cookies. When the kettle did finally sound, he fixed himself a cup of black currant tea -- Bodie's favorite -- scooped up the bear from the counter and sat down.

He opened the book and began flipping through the photos, stopping frequently as he remembered various scenes captured by the camera. Finally, he came to the pictures he'd taken of that tea party. It had been a magical afternoon really. In addition to the others, Fred Flamingo had also attended. Fred was enormous nearly Arabella's size. He'd been discovered in a small card shop in Chicago when Cowley had sent them to check security for the Prince of Wales' visit. To this day, Doyle wasn't sure whether Fred was Bodie's or Arabella's. He laughed as he remembered how the blue eyes had lit up when they'd spied Fred.

Another attendee had been Raymond Rabbit. He was quite special, and Doyle wished he, instead of his niece, had been given Raymond. The floppy, limp creature was Bodie's childhood companion. Sighing wistfully as he wondered yet again how he could coerce Arabella into giving him Raymond, Doyle studied the rabbit proudly sitting on Bodie's lap as they watched Arabella pour tea.

Raymond wore a red and white checked shirt and blue baggy trousers held up by blue suspenders. He had no eyes, only pink-rouged cheeks and long, long ears that hung to his waist. Water-stained and worse for wear, the homemade rabbit bore the evidence of Bodie's love quite well.

Doyle fondly recalled the night before Bodie had given Raymond to Arabella. He'd come home from the market to find Bodie asleep on the sofa, the TV blaring, and Raymond Rabbit blithely sucking off Bodie Bear in the rocking chair.

"Was it good?" he asked the bear now, presuming him to understand.

The smug look on the bear's face suggested it had been.

Reaching for a cookie, Doyle was surprised to see that only three of them remained. He frowned, eyeing the bear suspiciously. "Little pig," he admonished as he bit into the chocolate treat. The taste made him think of Bodie, which drew him back to the photos. Bodie, dressed in tight, black jeans and a black turtleneck, had the countenance of a six year old. "A sexy six," Doyle commented as he studied his lover's face. The blue eyes sparkled with laughter. His obvious delight in the proceedings was almost tangible.

"This one is the best though," Doyle told his bear, holding the album so his companion could see the photo in question. It was a timed exposure that captured them all, teacups raised in toast. The animals looked content and well fed as did Bodie, who'd managed to consume the lion's share of the sweets. Colleen and Arabella glowed with happiness. The photographer wore the soppy smile that told of his love for all involved.

The momentary lapse into childhood had been good for both him and Bodie, Doyle knew. Whenever they questioned the why's of the job, Arabella reminded them that they toiled on behalf of the children of England, so that they, too, might have a few carefree moments in life, for such a magical tea party.

Wondering if they would ever again be able to recapture the innocence displayed at the party, if this frightening experience would leave Arabella too old for such whimsy, Doyle closed the photo album. He sat for some time, sipping his tea, trying to figure out who would kidnap his niece and why children had to be pawns of adult revenge.

In reaching for another biscuit, Doyle was surprised to find there were none left. "How could you eat so many so fast?" he queried, dismayed because the bear had eaten even the crumbs. Sighing, Doyle poured himself more tea and fetched the package of biscuits. "We must leave one or two for Bodie; he'll need them tonight, I'm afraid."

As he chewed, Doyle remembered the day he'd attended a party at Hereford with Bodie. There had been a change in command. Because he kept up with many of the men in the regiment, Bodie had been invited. Curious as to what SAS men did at a party, Doyle had agreed to accompany his lover, even though he was certain Bodie had expected him to decline. The smile that had claimed the man's lips when he heard the acceptance told Doyle how important it'd been to Bodie that they attend together.

He could still remember the silence that fell when he'd walked in with Bodie. Though wives were present, they were as much a part of the regiment as their men. Doyle was an outsider. To his credit, Bodie stayed with him, introducing him around. Doyle had decided to make a tactical retreat as soon as they'd eaten. He wouldn't have stayed that long, but they'd had nothing since breakfast and the variety of interesting dishes, supplied by the party goers, made him too hungry and curious to leave immediately. Besides, he was anxious to see how his contribution would be received. The dinner was potluck, and Bodie had coerced him into making, not only his renowned gingerbread, but a new dish, an American- style barbecued beef.

Conscious of the covert stares as the others tried to guess his relationship to Bodie, Doyle had eaten quickly, replying only occasionally to the conversation Bodie attempted to maintain. Just as he was ready to leave, the guest of honor, a tall man with fiery red hair and hazel-colored eyes approached him. Bodie introduced him to the regiment's new adjutant, Jim Sanders.

"You should have been there," Doyle told Bodie Bear. "My jaw must have been hanging about my knees when he was through talking." He shook his head, hearing again the first words out of the man's mouth. "So, this is the famous gingerbread maker. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Doyle. I must tell you that your gingerbread is the best I've ever eaten."

"Both he and Bodie claimed the Secrets Act when I tried to find out how he came to taste my gingerbread before that party. I never have found out," Doyle said to his companion as he fixed a third cup of tea.

Suddenly, the phone rang, startling him into spilling the water. "Fuck," he muttered as he scrambled for the phone, kettle still in hand. His heart beating fast, he grabbed the receiver.

"Ray, it's Murph."

"Is she okay?"

"Don't know. We found Jasmine about 20 minutes ago under the bushes a few houses from Colleen's. Hoping we wouldn't find Arabella there to Bodie decided we should wait to call till we were certain she wasn't here."

"So you have no idea where she is?"

"No. No one seems to have seen anything, which is unusual. They all generally keep up on the weird doings at Colleen Doyle's. She has a bit of a rep as the neighborhood oddball."

Irritated, relieved and worried all at once, Doyle said, "We have to keep the line open, Murph."

"Yeah. Just wanted to tell you about the cat."

"Is she safe and dry now?" Doyle blurted out, realizing how inane his question must sound. His anger with himself for asking grew as he heard his fellow agent try to hide the laughter in his voice as he replied.

"Yeah. Bodie has her tucked under a blanket in the back seat of the Capri."

"Doyle had to laugh as he pictured his tough partner acting so paternally toward the stuffed animal.

"It was quite a sight. Tim found her and came up, holding her upside down, by the tail. Mount Bodie somehow managed not to erupt, but Tim has certainly reached a new level on Bodie's shit list."

The two men shared a good laugh over the fact that Tim, who was perpetually on the top of that list, now seemed destined to remain there forever.

Just as he was about to hang up, Murphy said, "We'll find her, Ray. Whoever did this won't escape the wrath of William Bodie."

Nodding, Doyle put down the receiver. "I hope he's right." Deciding he needed to pee before he could drink more tea, Doyle carried the photo album and the bear into the living room. Indulging the whimsicality the bear both elicited and encouraged, Doyle sat him by the fire so he'd stay warm while Doyle peed and then checked on Colleen.

When he returned, he intended to look at more photos, but he was too nervous to sit still. Pacing again, he stopped in front of the stained- glass, decorated mirror Colleen had made for them. Scowling at his reflection, he decided music might help divert him from his frustrating vigil. Turning back toward the fireplace, he asked the bear, "Who do you fancy? And before you say it, no, we can't listen to Queen. I need something more soothing. How about a bit of Bach?"

"What did he say?" a quiet, sleepy voice asked as Doyle approached the stereo.

Blushing as he realized what Colleen had caught him at, Doyle spun to face his sister. "I thought you were asleep."

"Obviously," Colleen replied as she walked over and sat down beside the bear. "Do put on the Bach. We'd like to hear it," she added, picking up Bodie Bear. Hugging him to her, she began to cry.

Concern crowding out embarrassment, Doyle turned on a quiet fugue, hoping it would calm Colleen. He then knelt beside her and put his arms around her, trying to comfort her. Knowing it'd be best not to mention Murphy's phone call, he stroked her long hair and rocked back and forth, murmuring soothing platitudes he didn't believe.

When the woman stopped crying, he moved her and the bear she clutched to the sofa. For some time, he sat staring into the fire. Colleen, her head resting in his lap, fell asleep. When Doyle finally looked at his sister again, he wondered why they were so different, why Colleen was filled with such pain that she continually sought oblivion in a bottle of alcohol or pills. Carefully, he lifted her wrist to his lips, kissing the scar of one, botched suicide attempt. "How much longer will it be, Colly, before you succeed?" He was not surprised when tears slid down his cheeks. Already, he was mourning her passing.

The tension in his stomach tightened into a knot of pain. If and when Colleen died, Arabella would become his responsibility. He didn't want to consider the changes this would force into his life and his relationship with Bodie. Coming full circle, he wondered again what was going on inside Bodie's head, what having Arabella to care for would do to the dissatisfaction the man was beginning to express.

"Don't worry, Ray. Bodie will find her," Colleen said softly, reaching up to touch her brother's creased face.

"I know," Doyle replied, leaning down to kiss her. "Are you hungry? It's been ages since you've eaten ...."

Colleen shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"Colly, you have to eat."

"Not till Arabella's back."

"And then what good will you be, passed out from hunger?"

"All right." The woman conceded, more to appease Ray than because she had much of an appetite.

Pleased, Doyle helped his sister sit up. When they were in the kitchen, he was surprised to see that she had brought the bear.

"What does he eat?" Colleen asked matter-of-factly as she and Bodie Bear sat down at the table.

Looking at his sister, Doyle smiled. Colleen had never lost touch with the whimsical side of her nature, but it had taken Bodie to rekindle Doyle's more fanciful side. "Sweets and steak," he responded, "but I'm afraid we'll all have to settle for a large spinach salad."

"With that wonderful hot bacon dressing you make?" Colleen inquired, studying the kitchen decor.

Doyle nodded as he set about fixing the meal. Over the salad, Colleen chatted calmly about her latest book of poems that had just been accepted for publication and the gallery showing a friend was arranging. She also said she'd poured all of her liquor down the drain after the discussion with Arabella.

Though he knew it wouldn't be long till Colleen bought more, Doyle nonetheless leaned over to kiss his sister, a silent form of support.

"Oh, Ray, I wish I could stay with you all the time. You make me be so good."

"Colly, you have to be good for yourself first, not for me. I can't 'make' you do anything."

"You sound just like my therapist, Raymond Martin Doyle." Though he wrinkled his nose at the sound of his hated middle name, Colleen continued, her voice low, "Sometimes I just don't know if I can get out of bed, Ray. It's so very hard."

Taking her hand, Doyle decided to ask a question that he'd never had the courage to ask. "Why is it so hard, Colly? Where does the pain come from?"

"I wish I knew, Ray. It's always been there inside me, for as long as I can remember."

"And the fact that I love you, that Arabella loves you, doesn't help?"

"Some, yes," she answered, nodding. "It's just not enough any more. It was for a while, but now -- I'm so scared, Ray."

When his sister began to cry, Doyle took her into the living room. He sat down in Bodie's rocking chair and pulled her onto his lap. Long ago he'd accepted and learned to deal with the fact that Colleen was seriously manic-depressive, but that knowledge did not help him when he could do so little to ease her suffering. Still, just holding her was the one form of comfort that penetrated the aura of pain she lived within. Briefly, he wondered if perhaps he should move in with her, if it would really help. Deciding to ask Kate Ross, he focussed his attention on his sister.

Colleen cried herself to sleep, safe in her brother's arms.

Carrying her into the bedroom, Doyle tucked her in and went back to stoke the fire. He then cleaned up the kitchen. Returning to the living room with Bodie Bear, he resolved to keep himself occupied. The jigsaw puzzle Bodie had bought him last week caught his eye. Putting on another Bach tape, he sat down at the small table he kept set up for puzzles. After dumping the pieces out, he sorted them and began working. Slowly, the joy that came from successfully placing a piece filled him. For nearly an hour, he sat chatting to the bear, who was no help at all, adding a piece here and a piece there till suddenly he'd finished a corner of the Monet watercolor.

Stiff from the nervous tension lurking in his body, and from sitting, he stood to stretch, catching sight of the phone. "Call me, Bodie," he begged quietly, wanting to hear the reassuring voice even if there was nothing new to report. Deciding that he was getting too soft, he moved the bear to the mantle and rearranged the living room furniture.

"It's better than breaking dishes," he allowed when the bear cast a quizzical glance in his direction as he cleaned up the remnants of the mug he'd thrown into the fireplace.

Task completed, he paced the confines of the living room once more. On his fifth turn around, the bear, dizzy from watching, suggested he do one of the aerobics routines Macklin insisted they perform each day. Quietly, Doyle retrieved his track suit from the bedroom. Stripping quickly, he put on only the sweatpants as the room was warm from the fire. It took him several minutes to locate the portable cassette player, the head phones and a suitably energetic Queen tape. With Bodie Bear standing in for Towser, he went through the workout three times before he had dissipated enough nervous energy to satisfy both himself and the bear.

When he was in the kitchen washing up, the phone rang. Steeling himself to deal with a kidnapper, he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi, sunshine."

"Bodie...."

"What do you fancy for dinner, Chinese or pizza?"

"You found her."

"No. But almost. She wasn't kidnapped. Once she calmed down after the fight with Colleen, Arabella went to Lizabeth's -- before school. They decided to go shopping and to the museum. Evidently, they tried to call Colleen to tell her not to worry, but they didn't have enough change for the phone. When they were cut off by good old Brit Tel, they didn't think any more about it."

"The kidnapper's call cut off," Doyle interjected, relieved but aware of the new emotion filling him -- irritation.

"Yeah. I've just caught up with Lizabeth, who decided it was best to confess immediately."

Doyle laughed. He could easily picture the scene. Once Bodie found her, Arabella would have some fast talking to do if she were to escape the man's wrath. "Just remember, Arabella had good reason for what she did," Doyle said. The words echoed in his memory. Often as a child, he'd used the same explanation in defense of Colleen.

"Don't worry. After I beat the fuck out of her for causing this, I'll buy her an ice cream."

Chuckling, Doyle, who knew he'd be hungry by the time the pair cam home, returned to an earlier question, "Chinese."

"See ya soon."

"Eat my fortune cookie, and you're dead meat," Doyle replied, hanging up.

Tension dissipated, he ran into the bedroom to tell Colleen the news. Finding her still asleep, he didn't have the heart to wake her, so he quietly retired to the other room. Grabbing the bear, he told him, instead, that Arabella was okay.

As he put another on the fire, he caught sight of himself and the bear in the mirror. "Best wipe that soppy smile off your face, old son. We have to be avuncularly stern when they get here."

The bear ignored him just as the real Bodie often did. Suddenly quite tired, Doyle sat down on the sofa, unaware of when he fell asleep. Bodie Bear snuggled close as he, too, was exhausted.

---

The giggling woke him, but Doyle remained still, pretending to be asleep. "Shh!" he heard Bodie caution; the giggling increased. Though it was dark in the flat, he could see by the clock in the stereo unit that it was 10 p.m. Wondering what they were up to, where they'd been, Doyle was trying to decide what to do when Bodie rather dramatically discovered that the furniture had been rearranged.

"Ouch! How the fuck ...!"

"Shh! Uncle Bodie!" cautioned Arabella.

"Shh! Uncle Ray!" Bodie hissed, his hand closing quickly over Doyle's mouth. "We're takin' you hostage till our ransom is paid," he whispered into Doyle's ear.

Playing his role, Doyle mumbled into the hand holding his lips together.

"What did he say?" Arabella asked.

Doyle frowned, wondering where she was. Bodie was now on top of him, having come over the back of the sofa.

"What the fu...," Bodie murmured as he reached down to grope his captive. "What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling the bear out from between him and Doyle.

"Protecting me from terrorists obviously," Doyle replied, though not too clearly.

"What?" Bodie asked as he took his hand from Doyle's mouth.

"I said he was protecting me from terrorists like you two."

"Well, he's not doing a very good job," Bodie pointed out.

"Yes, he is," answered Doyle as he pushed against Bodie, rolling the man over and onto the floor.

They wrestled around, neither getting the upper hand until Bodie came into solid contact with the newly relocated coffee table.

"Ouch! Who rearranged -- oh." Bodie shut up, realizing just how impossible it must have been to sit around, waiting for a phone call.

Just then, the lights went on.

"I thought you were gonna take Uncle Ray prisoner," Arabella commented when she saw Doyle straddling Bodie's torso.

"I was, princess, but he had help." Bodie pointed to the bear who was sitting on the couch, disdainful of the ruckus being raised.

Giggling, Arabella came over to kiss her uncle. "We were going to take you hostage and make you bake us gingerbread to get free. But since you've got Uncle Bodie, what shall we make him do for us?"

When Bodie started to make an outraged comment, Doyle quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. "Well," Doyle began thoughtfully, looking down at his lover, "we could make him take us shopping at the book fair Saturday."

"He's already promised to do that," Arabella responded as she collected Bodie Bear from the sofa. She, the bear, Raymond Rabbit and Jasmine climbed into the rocking chair.

"We could make him give us a great big kiss," Doyle said wistfully, smiling at Bodie.

Grabbing hold of his purloined sweater, Bodie did as requested..

"Thanks," Doyle whispered into the second kiss, pulling away before he succumbed to the desire to stretch out on top of Bodie for the third.

"I think," Arabella announced, watching them closely, "that we should make him take us to McDonald's for hamburgers and French fries."

"You just had a whole plateful of wor sue gai and fried rice," Bodie sputtered, his eyes wide with wonder.

"She's seven, Bodie," Colleen said from the doorway of the bedroom.

"Mama," Arabella shouted, jumping out of the chair and running to hug her mother. "I'm sorry, Mama. I really am. I didn't -- "

"It's all right, sweetheart. It's all right," Colleen whispered as she knelt to kiss her daughter.

As the two spoke in quiet tones, Doyle leaned down and asked Bodie. "What happened?"

"Found her about an hour after I called you. She was home in bed -- napping -- waiting for Colleen to come home. Had no idea about the fuss she'd caused."

"Did you really buy that old line?"

"For a while," Bodie answered, admitting his gullibility where the child was concerned. "But I was so nice to her, she finally confessed over the won ton soup."

"Tricky bastard."

"Yeah," Bodie responded, grinning broadly. "We had a long talk, and I'm hoping she learned from her mistake. And if she didn't, if she ever does this again, I told her I would beat the shit out of her."

Doyle's eyes widened. "You didn't?"

Nodding, Bodie sighed, or rather, tried to sigh. "Will you move, please? You weigh a fuckin' ton." He hoped his sarcastic tone would divert his partner.

Unable to read the truth in Bodie's eyes, Doyle moved and asked again, "You didn't really tell her that?" He was still trying to decide if he'd been had or if Bodie had really made the threat when Arabella came over to him.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Ray. I didn't mean to upset you so. I just didn't know what else to do. So, I hid in the bushes for awhile and then went to Lizabeth's. She told me that shopping would cure my blues." Arabella concluded her explanation with a shrug.

"I'm just glad you're okay, sunshine," Doyle replied, choking back the laughter evoked by the Bodie-like solution. He hugged his niece, unable to muster any of the stern words he'd promised himself he'd invoke.

Whispering into his ear, Arabella said, "I promised Uncle Bodie and I promise you that I'll call you if I need to go away or need help. I won't do this again."

Doyle hugged the child even closer when he felt her tears on his neck. He glanced at Bodie. The focus of the blue eyes was on Arabella, the love Bodie felt for her obvious. Wishing he could touch the Bodie he saw, Doyle instead pulled back, brushing away his niece's tears. "It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay. I don't love you any less." The bright smile he received made him see Colleen again as a child when he used to dry her tears, too.

"Well, I don't know about anyone else, but, ah, I, ah, could do with a cup of cocoa and a few of those biscuits I bought yesterday."

"McDonald's is open till 11:00," Doyle offered hastily.

Still able to read her brother's body language, Colleen played along. "I fancy a hamburger myself; haven't eaten since breakfast." She winked at her sibling.

Her eyes lighting up, Arabella gathered up her stuffed animal friends and walked over to Bodie. "We're ready, too."

Recognizing a conspiracy when he saw one, Bodie graciously acquiesced. As they were going out the door, he held Doyle back a moment. "Am I to understand that someone has finished off the last of me German, expensive German, biscuits?"

"Don't ask me. That pig of a bear must have eaten 'em all," Doyle answered innocently.

"I suppose he also rearranged the furniture?"

"Busy little bear, he was."

"Come on, you two," Colleen called up the stairs. "If you don't hurry, we'll have to go to Wimpy's instead, and I hate their hamburgers."

"Coming," Doyle replied, taking the stairs two at a time.

---

It was 2 a.m. before Colleen and Arabella were tucked in and Bodie and Doyle had returned to their own flat. They quickly settled into an exhausted cozy tangle.

"I can't tell you how many times today I looked into a drain pipe, pulled aside a bush, peeked into a cellar, expecting to find her raped, beaten to a bloody mess and left half-dead. I kept trying to figure out how I would tell you she'd been killed or ...." His voice trailed off as he shrugged. "I never did find the right words."

His emotions very near the surface after the difficult day, Doyle felt tears building.

"Are you going to cry?" Bodie asked in an accusatory tone, expecting this response now that they were alone and the crisis had passed.

"What if I am?" Doyle demanded defensively, still embarrassed by the fact that he cried so easily. To him it was just another emotional release, akin to punching the wall.

"I want a towel, that's all," Bodie said, reaching over to the nightstand for a Kleenex. Just as tears were Doyle's release, Bodie took refuge behind sarcasm.

"Prick."

"I'm tired, Ray."

Shifting so he could see his partner, Doyle looked into the blue eyes. "You really did take this hard, didn't you?"

"I don't think I've ever been on a more difficult job, excepting those times I've had to find or save you."

Touched by how deeply Bodie cared for Arabella, Doyle found himself wishing he could ask the questions coming to mind. He sighed as he fought to restrain his curiosity.

"Uh oh," intoned Bodie.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You want to talk, don't you." It was a statement. In the years they'd been lovers, Bodie had quickly learned what situations would bring on a heart-to-heart chat.

"No," Doyle replied, anger in his voice as he settled himself against Bodie. His ire was irrational, but he always felt a need to protect himself from Bodie's cynicism.

"All right," Bodie stated as he switched off the light.

The tension between them was palpable. Even the moonlight streaming into the room now that the rain had disappeared didn't help. They had long ago decided never to sleep on an argument; it was an agreement they rarely ignored.

Finally, into the strained silence, Bodie asked, "What are we fighting about?"

"Nothing."

"Then that's why you're this hard knot of muscle and bone attached to my right side instead of the soft, warm body I'm used to cuddling."

"I'm not soft."

"Oh," Bodie said as he realized what this was about. "I never said you were soft."

"But you think it."

"No. What I thought was not that you're soft. You're not ... especially now. Bodie decided to risk saying, "I just said you were ready to talk. That has nothing to do with being soft."

"In your mind they're the same."

"Why do you think I think that?" Bodie felt himself growing angrier with each of Doyle's responses. The issue of Doyle being soft was a familiar, defensive circle designed to keep him from what was really troubling his lover. Because this last query was one which he always used to call Doyle's bluff, Bodie had a moment to think. He really was too tired for the careful, verbal circling needed to get to the heart of what bothered Doyle; but he'd refused to be drawn in often enough in the past to have experienced the disastrous consequences. He switched on the light and sat up.

"What are you doing?" Doyle asked, well aware of how inane the question was.

"Havin' tea with the Queen Mum. What does it look like I'm doing?" Wishing he could recall the words because he knew the harsh edge in his voice hurt Doyle the most, Bodie grabbed one of Doyle's arms as the man started to leave the bed. "I'm sorry, Ray I'm truly exhausted "

"If I wasn't so bloody soft inside, I wouldn't get so upset," Doyle interrupted.

"Why do you think you're soft?" Bodie asked, deciding he might as well have an answer to the question, once and for all. He pushed and pulled till Doyle was lying almost perpendicular to him, head pillowed on his lap. It was important that they touch, that they see one another when they spoke of such personal matters. Doyle had shown him this truth. "Because of this?" Bodie queried, reaching up to grab Bodie Bear, who frequently kept watch on the headboard . "Is it because you talk to this stuffed animal; is it because you sleep with it when I'm not here? Don't look so shocked; I've come in unexpectedly and found you doin' both. Is it because only a month ago you hosted a tea party for a gaggle of stuffed animals and two children, one seven and the other, well, just a bit older."

"You were six," Doyle pointed out.

"Okay. If I was six and having tea with a floppy rabbit, a blue-eyed bear, a pink flamingo and a worn, green-eyed cat, why the hell do you think you have the market cornered on soft?" He let the bear kiss Doyle's nose.

Not quite ready to discuss what really troubled him, Doyle took the bear from Bodie. Sitting him on his abdomen, Doyle looked at the bear and said, "He's my conscience."

Aware of most of his lover's stalling techniques, Bodie accepted the fact he received no answer to his question. He sat silently, playing with the curls near his fingers. The tension between them was gone, replaced by the more typical comforting, quiet companionship.

"I try to live up to his ideas of nonviolence. He's who I'd like to be when I grow up."

Smiling at the wistfulness in Doyle's voice, Bodie leaned over to kiss the man's forehead.

"I'm really worried about Colly. I don't think she has much longer."

Though Bodie knew the woman's history and saw her as somewhat unstable, he hadn't thought of her as soon to end her life. There were fibers of steel in the woman he knew and a strong will to survive. "Why do you say that?"

"She told me it's getting too hard for her."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe she just wants your attention?"

Upset by the coldness in his partner's voice, Doyle sat up to face Bodie. "The last time she told me this, I thought just that. Later that night, I found her ODed."

"Don't get pissed, okay? I have a hard time fathoming suicides."

"Ross says it's what we're doing, only the slow way."

Bodie groaned loudly. "Do you believe that?"

"No not for us, but for Colly...I don't have any choice but to take her seriously."

"You have a point, sunshine. It's just that the woman I see...well, she doesn't act very suicidal."

Curious, Doyle inquired, "What do you see when you look at her?"

For a moment, Bodie was silent as he considered. "Don't get upset...."

Doyle smiled. "I do want to know. There can't be anything you can say about her that I haven't thought before." He pulled the duvet up over his shoulders.

"And just how am I supposed to stay warm now?"

"Love, my son, will keep you warm," Doyle intoned.

"Yeah, that and your bony little freezer of a body."

"He may be sleepin' on the sofa tonight," Doyle told the wide-eyed bear solemnly.

"You're crazy , you know that." Bodie ruffled they dishevelled curls.

"So are you."

"Agreed," Bodie said, chuckling. "I know but I don't intend to tell anyone.''

"What if I tell?"

Bodie grabbed the bear and responded with, "You talk to this bear. You are not going to turn me in."

Laughing, Doyle soon found himself in hysterics as Bodie Bear, with a bit of help from his namesake, began tickling and kissing. This turned into lovemaking. Doyle fell asleep wondering if and hoping that the semen would wash out of the bear's black fur.

---

Over breakfast, Bodie casually brought up the subject of Doyle's sister. "So, you think Colleen might do herself in?"

Doyle, who'd been sipping his coffee, nearly choked. "Your timing is wonderful."

"You thought it was last night," Bodie replied, winking.

"Yeah, it was," Doyle agreed, smiling as he remembered the moment Bodie's lips closed around his throbbing cock. "How the fuck did the bear get so messy?"

"He's your conscience how should I know?" Bodie shrugged, well aware of just how the stuffed animal came to be covered with semen.

"His tag says he can go in the washer; I hope so."

His eyes enormous, full of indignation, Bodie said, "You're not going to put that little fellow in the washing machine."

Doyle frowned.

"Where is he now?"

"In with the dirty clothes."

"Doyle!" Bodie exclaimed, pushing away from the table. He'd just eaten Doyle's toast and bacon so he felt it wise to follow through with the diversionary tactic. "Poor little bugger." It wasn't till Bodie was safely in the bedroom, sorting through the laundry basket that Doyle finally noticed the lack of food on his plate.

"Bodie, you pig," Doyle shouted.

Deciding it'd be better for the bear to enter the kitchen ahead of him, Bodie had him peer around the door jamb first. When Doyle dissolved into laughter, Bodie stepped around the corner, only to have a cup of water hit him squarely in the face. "Doyle, you'll pay for this."

"You have to catch me first," Doyle challenged, wondering where the foolish words had come from since Bodie was blocking the only doorway. Doyle was giving serious thought to the kitchen window when the phone rang.

"Oh, shit, we're late," Bodie said, moving away from the phone.

Doyle grabbed a towel and tossed it to his partner as the pair headed for the front door.

When they paused to kiss, as they always did before facing the fates, Doyle asked, "What if it's Colleen or Arabella?"

Sighing deeply, Bodie replied, "Better answer it then." He put the smelly bear and the damp towel on the sofa while Doyle picked up the receiver.

"4. 5?"

"Vhat?" Doyle queried, his voice several octaves higher, thick with a mock German accent. "Who is dis?" He hoped the new dispatcher would buy the wrong-phone-number scam.

"I'm sorry, ma'am --"

"Vhat?"

"Is this --"

"Vhat? Oh, stop dat, you big lug!" Doyle shouted, his voice even higher since Bodie goosed him. He hung up the phone quickly.

"I gather that was not the relations."

"On your bike, laddie," Doyle replied, imitating Cowley.

Giving a Nazi salute, Bodie led the way out the door.

It wasn't till dinner that evening at their favorite Chinese restaurant that Doyle found the right moment to return to a discussion of his sister.

The last of the pot of tea had just been poured by a familiar waiter who made it known that he thought Bodie's "date" of the previous evening was prettier than Doyle.

"She is a beauty," Doyle agreed as Chen walked away.

"Takes after her uncle," Bodie said, smiling.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Bodie winked at his lover.

Returning the smile, Doyle began, "I really am worried about them."

"I know."

"You never did answer my question last night. Tell me how you see Colly."

"Well," Bodie replied, pausing to sip the ginseng tea, "I can't say that I like much of her painting -- a bit too abstract for my concrete little brain -- but I do admire her poetry. When I read it, I think of --" He paused again, wondering if he really should admit what he thought. The hopeful look in the green eyes reminded him of how much this would probably mean to Doyle, so he swallowed his trepidation along with a bit more tea and continued, "Whenever I read her poetry, I feel as if you were writing it to me." The soppy smile on Doyle's lips told him he'd said the right thing. "Her haiku are -- 'A bee finds a rose/There is that joy in this heart/Whenever you smile so."'

Chin on hand as he rested his elbow on the small table, Doyle stared at Bodie's face, awash in the light of a candle. The pale skin had a golden glow; the blue eyes were darker by contrast and full of love. "And I sometimes wonder why I fell in love with you," Doyle said softly.

Determined to face the loving gaze he usually turned from, Bodie's resolve was interrupted by Chen wanting to know if they were ready for more tea and their fortune cookies.

The moment now but a happy memory to be savored in a blue mood, Doyle looked over and nodded at the waiter. Bodie's eyes had an introspective gaze so Doyle said nothing to distract him.

His thoughts still lost in the beauty of the woman's poetry and how well it captured his relationship with her brother, Bodie was silent till the new pot of tea arrived with the cookies. The sound of Doyle cracking one open brought him back. Smiling sheepishly, he picked up the remaining cookie. "Sorry."

"For what, for letting me see that you are in love? I just hope it's with me." Doyle knew it was probably unwise to voice his concern and curiosity about whatever was troubling his lover, but he needed reassurance.

The comment startled Bodie. "Who the fuck else would I be in love with?"

"I don't know. You look that way when you see chocolates."

Leaning over the table, Bodie whispered, "I ought to slap that cruel little mouth of yours for that remark."

"Do it if it's the only way you can tell me you love me." Doyle shot back, wondering if they would ever outgrow these needlessly painful exchanges.

The two stared at one another for several long moments. Finally, Doyle sat up straight and sighed. "The tea's getting cold."

"I haven't been living up to my promise, have I?" Bodie asked, aware of his guilt.

"No." For a moment Doyle wasn't inclined to go on; but love overcame his pride. His partner's surprised reaction gave him additional courage. Voice full of concern, he inquired, "What's wrong, Bodie? Have you fallen out of love with me? Because if you have, I --"

Bodie put his finger against Doyle's lips, knowing it was the only way to stop the rush of words. He had been troubled of late. The job was beginning to wear on him. There was too much death in his life. He wanted to work with the living, to stop killing. Arabella, he knew, had forced him to consider just what it was he did for a living. Each day he was finding it harder and harder to go on. He had shied away from examining his unrest because he was afraid of the consequences. If he couldn't do CI5's bidding, he couldn't watch out for, protect the person he loved most, Raymond Doyle. And he had no idea of what he could do if he quit. Working for a private security firm held no appeal. Being a bounty hunter wasn't much different from what he was currently doing. And while a job at McDonald's would feed him, it wouldn't keep him satisfied for long. What he needed was a complete change. As he looked into the anxious green eyes, he also knew he wasn't ready to discuss this with himself, let alone with Doyle.

Seeking to divert his lover, yet reassure him at the same time, Bodie quoted another of Colleen's haiku. "'Nurtured by time/A sapling becomes an oak/So does my love grow."

"Oh, Bodie," Doyle whispered, wanting to kiss his lover's lips.

Bodie glanced around. The dark intimacy of the corner booth they favored afforded them considerable privacy. When he was certain no one could see them, he risked everything as he leaned over and kissed Doyle.

"The tea's getting cold," he added when he was again against the solid wood back of the booth. His heart was racing. Location, love and circumstance made it one of the most thrilling kisses of his life.

All Doyle could do was breathe deeply as he tried to calm down, to keep the building tears from sliding down his cheeks.

Feeling a need to defend Doyle from his own savage opinion of how soft he was, Bodie said lightly, "I admire you, you know. The ability to cry is one of our greatest gifts. It doesn't mean that you're soft, Ray. It just means that you feel, that you're human."

The tears did fall then in a silent., silvery cascade down Doyle's cheeks.

Bodie reached over, his fingers brushing away the moisture from the cheekbones, lingering then to caress. When Doyle kissed his palms, Bodie hastily retrieved his hands. He tossed some money on the table, grabbed his untouched fortune cookie and hauled his partner out of the booth.

They walked hurriedly and in silence to the car, Bodie's hand on Doyle's shoulder, keeping the mood alive. Since it was snowing, they both scuffed their way to the car, parked in a deserted, dark alley. Glancing around as he unlocked the door, Bodie climbed into the Capri's cramped back seat. Doyle followed quickly, pulling the door closed behind him.

Hidden from prying eyes by the snow and the steamy air which blanketed the inside of the windows, they were soon a tangle of hot bodies, opened shirts and desperate lips. Doyle was working on Bodie's zipper when the dashboard radio beeped. He ignored it till 30 seconds later when their pocket R/T's bleeped simultaneously.

"Shit," Doyle cursed, fumbling around for an R/T. He finally found Bodie's. "4.5."

"4.5 report to Alpha at headquarters immediately. Do you know where 3.7 is?"

"Yeah. I'll pick him up and bring him along."

"Base out."

Bodie moaned. Doyle put a finger on his lips and tossed the R/T into the front seat. His mouth closed over Bodie's pulsing cock. He sucked, teased and licked till the fat prick was limp and Bodie was breathing hard, drawing in ragged, deep breaths that spoke silently of his pleasure.

"Come on, sunshine, we'd better get a move on. I'll drive. You fix yourself up."

As Doyle moved away, Bodie held onto the man's shoulder. "What about you?"

"It's still in my jeans, it'll go away. But you were out. No way to stuff this big boy back in," Doyle replied, leaning over to kiss the cockhead. Wishing he could see the languor in Bodie's eyes, on his face, Doyle squirmed his way into the front seat. "Keys."

When Bodie handed them to his partner, he kept hold of the man's hand, signing "I love you" in the palm.

Doyle giggled at both the light touch and the wonderfully whimsical way Bodie had expressed himself. That did not, however, stop him from driving to headquarters at breakneck speed, tearing sharply around corners as Bodie was trying to dress himself.

They arrived at Cowley's office slightly out of breath and somewhat still unbuttoned. As Doyle fastened a missed button on Bodie's blue silk shirt, Bodie knocked at the door.

"Come," Cowley said.

Opening the door, they were quite surprised to see Arabella Doyle sitting on the desk showing the CI5 chief a drawing. Crayons rolled helter- skelter over the desk top, mingling with classified documents. In horrified silence, the two agents waited for their presence to be acknowledged. Finally, Arabella turned toward them.

"Hello," she said happily. "Mr. Cowley has, just asked if he might have this drawing for his wall. He thinks I'm going to be a famous painter one day, and he wants to be the first to have my work."

Doyle felt his eyes grow to the circumference of small peaches. He crossed the room to where his niece sat. "What ...."

"Mama's at the hospital, and I had nowhere else to go." She slid off the desk and hugged Doyle.

Stroking the head of silken hair dangerously near his still semi-erect cock, Doyle took a deep breath and stooped down to be on the child's level. "What happened?"

"Mama fell down and hit her head. I called an ambulance and then I called you, but Mr. Cowley answered."

Bodie looked at the CI5 boss.

"I was in the dispatch room when her call came in."

"He was so nice, Uncle Ray. He came and got Jasmine, Raymond and me, and we all went to the hospital to see that Mama was all right. Then, he took us to McDonald's and brought us here to wait for you. He's awfully nice. I don't believe any of those stories you and Uncle Bodie tell about him."

"When Cowley snorted, Doyle, to mask his laughter, buried his face in Arabella's hair. Bodie turned away to hide his own smile.

"Don't cry, Uncle Ray," the child said, trying to soothe what she thought were sobs. "Mama's okay."

"And you're okay, too?" Bodie asked when he noted the child's confusion and concern. "And Jasmine and Raymond, where are they? Are they okay?"

"Yes. They're sitting over in the chair, napping."

"Well, wake them gently, and we'll take you all home."

Doyle, finally in control again, kissed Arabella's cheek before he released her. As she put on her coat and retrieved the animal, he watched her for a moment before looking at his boss. He was relieved to find amusement in the usually hard eyes.

"Thank you, sir. I ... we ...."

Cowley held up his hand, gesturing away Doyle's explanation. "Colleen is in St. Luke's. She's being kept overnight for observation."

"Concussion?" queried Bodie.

"Yes. She should be able to go home tomorrow. You two will be busy so I've arranged for Betty to pick her up and stay till Arabella arrives home from school."

"Thank you, sir. We'll be off now," Bodie answered, taking Arabella's hand. Jasmine and Raymond peeked out from his jacket.

"Good-bye, Mr. Cowley," Arabella said, freeing herself from Bodie. She went over to the desk. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed the older man's cheek.

He smiled in response and reminded her of their Friday dinner date.

Doyle hastily shut his mouth when the discerning CI5 chief's eyes dared him to comment.

Before anyone could say anything further, Arabella came around the desk. She took Bodie's hand once more and reached out for Doyle's. He moved closer, taking her hand.

"'Night, sir," Bodie said for all of them as they left the office. When the door was closed, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"He really is a nice man, Uncle Ray."

"Why's he taking you to dinner on Friday?" Bodie asked suspiciously.

"He said he wanted to take the prettiest girl in London on her first date."

"Should we be worried?" Doyle inquired in all seriousness as they headed for the stairs.

"Nah. I forgot. Santa's supposed to be at the club Friday," Bodie replied.

The solemn tone of voice reminded Doyle that Bodie was supposed to be Father Christmas for the bash. He'd already helped Bodie "practice."

Bodie took a deep breath as he thought of the moment when Doyle had climbed onto his lap and wiggled suggestively as he asked for a ten inch vibrator for Christmas. He glanced over at his partner and winked.

By this time they had reached the front door. After checking to see that the child's coat was buttoned all the way up, Doyle pushed open the door and the three of them ran toward the car, slip-sliding on the icy base beneath the snow. A snowball fight ensued as Doyle and Arabella ganged up on the handicapped Bodie who had Jasmine and Raymond to protect from the elements while he also tried to defend himself. When Bodie managed to scramble into the safety of the car, Doyle lobbed his last snowball at Cowley who was watching from the window above.

Waving at the shadow of the man, Arabella climbed into the car.

A pot of cocoa and two hours later, the child was finally sound asleep on the sofa. Fetching the peppermint schnapps from the sideboard, Doyle carried the two remaining cups of cocoa, laced with the alcohol, into the bedroom. Bodie, naked, was standing by the bed drying his hair. "Any hot water left?" Doyle asked, all too aware of his partner's penchant for long, hot showers.

"A teaspoon or two," Bodie answered, pulling back the down-filled duvet. "Why don't you take a quick one, and I'll give you a rubdown."

"You'll be giving me a lot more than just a rubdown," Doyle said suggestively, draining the warm mixture from one of the cups.

"At the rate you're putting away the schnapps, you'll be out as soon as you hit the pillow, old son." Bodie frowned when he realized that his lover wasn't listening to him.

Lost in his own concerns despite his remark of a moment ago, Doyle sat on the edge of the bed. "Yesterday, Colly said she should live with me. After tonight, I think it might be a good idea. If she is increasingly unable to care for herself, then maybe I should move in with her. Someone has to be there to help her and to look after Arabella." He spoke mostly to hear his thoughts out loud.

Because Doyle's attention was focussed elsewhere, Bodie was able to stare at his partner for several moments, his thoughts fixed more on how beautiful Doyle was than on what the man had said. When he felt his cock stir, he went over and began unbuttoning Doyle's shirt.

"What are you doing?" Doyle queried when his shirt was pulled free of his waistband.

"Takin' you to bed."

"No," Doyle replied, shaking his head. He brushed aside Bodie's warm hands and stood up. "I'm going to have a soak in the tub. Don't wait up."

The brusque dismissal irritated Bodie. "If that's what you want...." He walked over to his side of the bed.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can cope with my own guilt if she kills herself and I don't know -- there's so much I need to think about."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bodie asked, belatedly realizing that his partner had mentioned moving in with Colleen.

Nodding, Doyle finished stripping. "Let me shower first."

"Okay," Bodie said as he climbed into bed.

When Doyle returned to the bedroom, Bodie was lost under the covers, curled up against the chill of the night. Shivering himself, Doyle slid into a heavy terry cloth robe and walked over to his lover's side of the bed. Carefully, he peeked under the duvet to see if the man was asleep. When he saw that he was, Doyle smiled affectionately. It was just as well, he decided as he went to check on his niece. He really needed time alone to sort out his feelings and review his options. Seeing that Arabella was fine, he turned up the heat a bit before going into the kitchen to make tea.

Carrying it into the living room, he sat in the handmade, wooden rocker Bodie had bought in Scotland last year. His thoughts firmly fixed on the future, he wasn't sure when the scenes he saw became dreams.

The cold hand on his leg woke Doyle instantly. "What's wrong?" he asked of the sleepy child staring up at him.

"I'm cold," she whispered, climbing onto her uncle's lap.

After she, the cat, the rabbit and his bear were settled, Doyle pulled the blanket she'd dragged along over them all and began to rock. He sang her an old Irish lullaby that his mother used to sing to Colleen when she was a baby. The rhythms of the song and the chair combined as sleep overtook him again.

Bodie found them all still asleep in the rocker when he came to wake Arabella for school. Tipping the chair back slightly, he leaned over to kiss the top of his lover's head.

The motion roused Doyle and he arched his neck backward inviting a kiss on the lips.

Obliging, Bodie had just deepened the kiss when he realized Arabella was awake and watching them closely. Hoping to divert her from questions he didn't intend to answer, he kissed the girl's forehead. "Morning, princess."

"Do you and Uncle Ray do what Mama and Mr. Jenkins do in bed?"

"Who's Mr. Jenkins?" Doyle asked, ignoring the question.

"He's the man who's showing Mama's paintings at the gallery."

Deciding this was already a conversation fraught with too many subjects he'd rather avoid, Bodie tried to slip away unnoticed.

Doyle, ever alert to Bodie's evasive tactics, grabbed onto the man's robe and held him in place. "Sit down, Bodie."

"I need to start breakfast."

"Sit down."

Giving in because he knew his partner would simply follow him into the kitchen, Bodie sat on the sofa.

"How long has she been seeing Mr. Jenkins?" Doyle began.

Arabella shrugged. "A long time. Since...." She shrugged again, her sense of time as vague as her mother's. Shifting, she looked over at Bodie.

He blushed slightly when he realized that his loosely belted robe and spread legs gave her quite a view.

Climbing down, Arabella walked over to Bodie. Kissing his exposed knee, she said, "Yours is bigger than Mr. Jenkins'."

His blush deepening, Bodie swallowed hard. He looked at Doyle and frowned. Leaning over, he asked Arabella, "How do you know that?"

The question prompted Doyle to probe further. "Has he shown it to you?"

The girl nodded, looking from Bodie to Doyle and back again. "Last week at breakfast."

"Where was your mother?" Bodie asked gently, trying to control his growing anger.

"In the shower. We were going to the Tate and she went to get ready. He was finishing his coffee and toast."

"What, exactly, did he do?" The question was Doyle's.

"Well...," Arabella began, sensing something of the tension now present. She reached for Jasmine.

Understanding, Doyle knelt beside the girl. "We're not angry with you, sweetheart. Please tell us what happened."

For a moment, Arabella looked into Doyle's eyes, drawing courage from the love and concern she saw. "He told me to come over to him," she began finally, holding the cat close. "And...," she stopped, shrugging.

"Would it be easier to show me?" Doyle asked. When she nodded, he looked at his partner. The gathering storm in the blue eyes alarmed him.

Since she felt quite safe with the two men, Arabella approached Bodie. "He was sitting at the table and when I came over he told me he had a pressie for me." She took a deep breath and pulled Bodie's robe apart, exposing him. "He told me to touch him like this." Gingerly, she reached over, her finger hovering just above the head of Bodie's penis. "But it wiggled and I ran away." Imitating her own actions, she returned to Doyle's side. Suddenly seeing the fury in Bodie's eyes as he covered himself, she frowned and edged away, wondering what she'd done to evoke this reaction.

"Bodie...."

The softly spoken word from Doyle drew Bodie's attention. Realizing that he'd frightened Arabella, he said, "I'm not upset with you, princess."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Doyle told her, kissing her forehead. "Mr. Jenkins did."

The girl glanced over at Bodie.

Smiling at her, he added his assurance. "As your Uncle Ray said, princess, it was Mr. Jenkins who did something wrong when he asked you to touch him. You understand that, don't you?"

Arabella nodded.

"We'll have to have a chat with Mr. Jenkins." Bodie added.

" No," Arabella shouted. "He'll be mad. He told me if I told anyone, he'd make Mama take her paintings from his gallery."

Kneeling beside the child, Bodie looked her in the eye.

"Don't worry. Your mother won't want to show her paintings in his gallery when she hears what he's done."

"Well, I think we'd better get some breakfast," Doyle finally said, unsure of what else to say to his niece. "I'm glad you told us. It was the right thing to do."

Bodie smiled his agreement.

For a moment, the child stood looking at the two men.

"It's okay, princess. It's Mr. Jenkins we're upset with, not you." Bodie kissed her hand and Jasmine's head.

Accepting this, Arabella put the cat in the rocker and headed off toward the bathroom.

"Phew," Bodie exclaimed when she'd gone. "Now what?"

"Well, I suppose I should put on the kettle. You go help her take a bath," Doyle suggested, fully expecting Bodie, for once, to volunteer for kitchen detail. When the man nodded his acceptance of the assignment, Doyle looked more closely at his partner, surprised to say the least.

"I mean, what do we do about Jenkins?"

Doyle asked, "Do you know what the Cow's got on for us today?"

Bodie shook his head. "I doubt if it's much, though."

"Think he'll let us have a bit of personal time?"

"After last night, when we tell him why, yes."

"Sure of that, are you?" Doyle asked, smiling at his lover, before pursing his lips.

Bodie kissed the pouty lips. "What if she asks about us again?"

"We tell her what she wants to know."

Blue eyes rolled heavenward. "What do you think she knows about sex?"

"Maybe a little, not much...probably, but who knows these days?" Pausing, Doyle stood up. "You volunteering to tell her?"

"Moi?"

"Yes, toi." Doyle extended his hand toward his partner.

Levering himself up, Bodie put his arms around Doyle. "I'm not old enough to be a parent."

"If something happens to Colleen " A finger was placed against his lips. Doyle kissed it.

"I think you should talk to Ross about Colleen and what to do about Arabella."

"I thought you didn't buy all that psychological mumbo-jumbo."

"I don't," Bodie replied, "but she's also got a lot of common sense."

"It's a good idea," agreed Doyle. "It's also awfully quiet in the bathroom." Suddenly, Doyle caught sight of his niece peeking around the door jamb. Indicating his discovery with his eyes, he also decided they might as well be as open as possible with Arabella. He stepped closer to Bodie, putting his arms around the man's neck and kissing him lightly on the lips. "I love you, Bodie," he said.

Following his lover's lead, Bodie replied, "I love you too, sunshine."

A broad smile lit Doyle's lips. He took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen. "Make sure she brushes her teeth."

Bodie watched him go, pleased with the reaction to his words.

Wondering why he'd not turned down the task, he set off to see that Arabella had a proper bath.

---

Bodie reached the squad room only to find that his partner had not yet arrived. While Doyle had gone to check on Colleen and talk to Ross, Bodie had taken Arabella to school. Wondering how much longer Doyle would be, Bodie sat down to wait.

His thoughts turned to what his lover had been musing about last night. The idea of Colleen and Arabella living with them or Doyle moving into Colleen's sent a shiver through him. Seven months ago, after several years of living together, he and Doyle had had a major disagreement. After four months apart, they'd resolved their differences and affirmed their commitment to one another. It'd been only three months since then and Bodie didn't want anything to stress the arrangement. And yet, he knew his lover had a very strong sense of responsibility toward Colleen.

Colleen -- he liked her primarily because she was Doyle's sister, but Bodie felt she was out of touch with reality. This made him edgy because he couldn't predict what she'd do next, which meant he couldn't control her or the effects she had on his life. He didn't like that.

Arabella was a different matter. He loved her a great deal already. She was a bright, perceptive child who somehow managed to bridge the gap between her mother's world and the everyday one. There was an ethereal side to the child; she could be as vague as Colleen, but more frequently, Arabella was as practical as her uncle.

There was no doubt in Bodie's mind that the girl was the embodiment of the young Ray Doyle. She was also, with her black, but curly hair and green eyes, the perfect image of what his and Ray's child would look like. The thought of her being his responsibility -- he ignored how much responsibility he already took for her -- made him cringe. As he'd told Ray, he wasn't old enough to be a parent. Nor did he feel he had the patience or the temperament it took to see a child through to adulthood. His concern in this regard was compounded by his own unrest and growing dissatisfaction with his job.

Suddenly, he realized he was being watched. Turning, he saw Doyle standing in the doorway.

It wasn't often Bodie could be caught in a clearly reflective mood which made Doyle wonder again what the man was mulling over. Wanting to be supportive, he said, "Whenever you're ready to tell me what the problem is, Bodie, I'll be here to listen."

Damning Doyle's perceptiveness, Bodie stood and walked out of the room. He stopped outside Cowley's office. When his partner reached him, Bodie quickly knocked to forestall further comment.

"Come."

Reluctantly, Doyle followed his lover inside. Bodie's unwillingness to talk hurt, but the pain was overshadowed by concern. Now, however, was not the time to pursue the matter. He swallowed noisily and focussed on his boss.

"What is it?" the CI5 chief finally asked, his attention on the papers before him.

Doyle looked over at Bodie. "My family, sir, I --"

"We," Bodie interjected. Even though he wanted to stay away from the problems Doyle's family represented, he also felt honor bound to be there to assist in solving these difficulties. Sending his partner to Ross had been more of an attempt at a solution rather than avoiding the subjects Doyle needed advice on.

Again, Doyle glanced at his partner, pleased and somewhat amazed at Bodie's willingness to deal with his family. "We would like the day to settle a few things, sir. Colleen will be very upset when she gets home. It'd be best if I see to her. Also, we learned this morning that the man she's dating has been making advances toward Arabella."

The mention of possible child molestation made Cowley lift his head. "Who is the man?"

"A Mr. Boyd Jenkins, manages a respectable art gallery. He's showing Colleen's work."

"Is he coercing your sister?"

"I believe so. Colly...Colleen has never had much awareness of how the world works, sir. Unfortunately, that lack of awareness is too obvious. People take advantage."

"Has he hurt Arabella?"

"No, sir. He just exposed himself to her, wanting her to touch him. She was frightened and had the sense to run away from him. I'd rather he didn't try again." Doyle paused, noticing the drawing his niece had done hanging on the wall behind his boss. Restraining a smile, he continued, "It's complicated by the fact that this showing means a great deal to Colleen. She sells her paintings by word of mouth. This is her first showing of a body of work...." He ended with a shrug.

"I understand, Doyle. Will the day be sufficient to settle everything? Your family is beginning to interfere with your work. I want them taken care of so you can focus on your job without distraction. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry about last night."

"Don't apologize. Your niece is a very charming young lady. A lapse here and there reminds us of who it is we sacrifice for. But when personal concerns intrude too often, they make us careless." The blue-grey eyes locked with Doyle's.

Doyle nodded, having heard the lecture about how much it cost to train and maintain an agent, about how it was better to head off problems rather than let them interfere to the point where an operative was killed on the job.

"Have you considered moving in with your family?"

"Yes, sir. But Colly's always been very independent."

"A family trait, I gather."

"Perhaps," Doyle admitted, smiling slightly. "So I've not suggested we live together. But she's getting worse. I thought Arabella had brought stability to her life but as she gets older, Colly seems less and less able to cope. Two days ago she said she thought she should move in with me, that I made her be good."

Bodie frowned, understanding now what Doyle had been trying to talk about. He felt a twinge of guilt for the times he'd distracted the man from that discussion.

"At Bodie's suggestion, a few minutes ago I spoke with Dr. Ross about it. She met Colleen when Arabella ran away and apparently, Ross went to visit Colly last night, so she has some sense of what my sister is like."

"And....." Cowley prompted when Doyle stopped.

"I really haven't had time to think about what she said...."

"What did she say?"

"Well, she said she'd like to see Colly on a regular basis because she thinks she's being overly medicated for her manic depression." Doyle hesitated, wondering if Cowley would agree to this, although Ross had explained that treating the entire family was all part of her job.

"Go on."

After a glance at Bodie whose eyebrows shrugged, Doyle obeyed. "And she thought it was, for the moment, better for Colleen to have responsibility for her own flat and for Arabella. She thought they helped and even if it's more difficult, that may come from the poor quality of her medical care. Until Ross can make a better assessment and begin a new treatment program, she thinks it best to leave Colly on her own. 'Compromising her independence could create additional trauma,' or so she said."

"Did you tell her about Jenkins?"

"Yeah. She thought Arabella was probably okay, but that we need to discuss it with her, tell her how to handle it if it ever happens again. We also need to find out what she knows...," his voice trailed off. He really didn't want to tell Cowley this much about his family, but the man did have a right to information that might affect his agents. He also knew that if he didn't explain, Cowley would question Ross.

"And you, Bodie, what's your part in all this?"

"Doyle's my partner, sir. What affects him, affects me," Bodie replied smoothly. He looked his boss in the eye, daring him to probe further. The man had never directly commented on the love relationship that had developed between his two agents.

Frowning somewhat in response to the challenging blue eyes, Cowley issued orders. "Take whatever time you need, but settle this. And Doyle, after you check on the gallery owner and Jenkins, bring the reports to me. I'll see that your speaking to Jenkins does not adversely affect your sister's showing."

There was unmistakable dismissal in the man's tone of voice. Scurrying out of the office, the pair retreated to the empty squad room, pleased but not really surprised by Cowley's reactions. While they waited for the check on the gallery owner and on Jenkins, Bodie asked a few questions of his own.

"Do you think Ross' suggestions are okay?"

Hand on head, elbow on desk, Doyle sat and stared out a window for a moment before answering. "I don't know."

"I think she has a point though about the drugs," Bodie began. "That witch doctor she's been going to gives her entirely too many pills."

"Is that a compliment, Bodie?" Kate Ross asked, having come into the squad room in search of Doyle.

"From these lips?" quipped Bodie.

"Good. If it had been, I'd have you in for an examination."

"She just wants me to lie on her couch with me clothes off. It's my body she's after," Bodie told his partner in a loud, conspiratorial tone of voice.

"Must be, sunshine. It certainly couldn't be your mind she wants."

Ross laughed. "One of these days, Bodie, I'm going to catch you displaying that IQ of yours."

"He hasn't got any," Doyle pointed out.

"He's right. I work for CI5." While he laughed at the comment, it brought Bodie back to his own problems. Though he dismissed them quickly, he realized that both Ross and Doyle had caught that flicker of self-doubt. Wondering when he'd become such an open book, he left to get coffee.

"What's his problem?" Ross inquired of Doyle.

"Just his time of month," Doyle replied evenly, protecting Bodie.

Accepting this, Ross turned to her reason for seeking Doyle out. "Will you have Colleen in and settled by, say, eight this evening?"

"Yeah."

"I'd like to come by and talk to her. Until she feels comfortable with me, I think it best to see her at home where she feels safe. I might not press as hard, but the possibility of her over-medication concerns me a great deal. In order to change her medicines, I must get to know her better, and she me."

"You seem very interested in this."

The coldness in Doyle's voice did not escape Ross. "Manic--

depressives and suicides are my specialty." The strange expression on Doyle's face made her put a hand on his shoulder. "Ray, your sister is very troubled. Surely, you must be prepared for her death."

"Can anyone 'prepare' for that?" Bodie queried, his voice filled with cynicism. Cat-quiet, he had returned in time to hear the doctor's last comment.

"Contrary to what either of you may think, I am very concerned about Colleen and about you both."

The defensiveness in the Psychiatrist's tone of voice made both men realize they'd drawn blood. It surprised them.

To Doyle's further amazement, Bodie apologized.

Emphasizing the sincerity of his words, Bodie offered the woman one of the two cups of coffee that he held. He then moved to his partner's side. Wise enough to understand the seriousness of the situation, he was determined to accept whatever might help Doyle. He knew that even he might not be able to cope with Doyle's emotions if and when Colleen killed herself.

Pleased with the evidence of Bodie's mature attitude, Ross addressed Doyle once more. "I am convinced that Colleen will experience a suicidal bout of depression in the near future. That's why it's so important I begin to treat her immediately. But I feel obligated to tell you that no medicine, no therapy, can stop her if she reaches bottom. I don't know whether that will happen now or in the future."

"Why? I don't understand why," Doyle shouted, pounding his fist on the arm of the chair. "What have I done; how did I fail?"

The anguish in the green eyes made Bodie wince. Without thinking about the psychiatrist's discerning gaze, he put a hand on Doyle's shoulder.

"I believe that a manic-depressive begins life on the edge of a pit. As they live, they plumb its depths. Each attempt at suicide, no matter how half-hearted, is a response to the pain they experience at each new, lower level. One day, they touch bottom. A few are able to survive the suicide attempt and can return to a higher level, where the pain is great, but not overwhelming. Most are unable to cope with it and succeed in finally ending their own suffering."

"But why?" Doyle asked again.

"I have spent my entire professional career trying to learn the answer to that question. I have yet to find even a satisfactory combination of reasons. It could be chemical, a brain enzyme deficiency. It could be upbringing. It could be a holdover from a past life. I have no answers."

The reference to a past life made Doyle focus on the doctor. "That's reaching, isn't it?"

"Perhaps. But I would like to know why myself. My mother was a manic-depressive. She killed herself when I was 13."

Doyle turned away from the grief he saw in her eyes. Her pain would be his to know.

The doctor, knowing she'd revealed too much, but willing to do so because she had to establish her credibility if she was to help Colleen as well as Doyle, turned away, needing to hide the tears which threatened. As she tried to leave, Bodie blocked her way. He caught her and pulled her close, offering a comfort no one else had, even when she was 13. Grateful, she held on, crying into the crease where his neck and shoulder met. When she felt more composed, he drew her aside to a desk. Sitting her down, he carefully wiped off her runny mascara. "You may be a pig, Bodie, but you do have good instincts." He wrinkled his nose and made oinking sounds at which she laughed. "He'll need more than a hug to get him through," she said sadly, looking at Doyle, already wallowing in guilt.

"I know," Bodie replied with a deep sigh.

"You're the only person who can convince him that he's not responsible."

"You don't know Ray very well if you think I can do that."

"On the contrary, Bodie, when he accidentally killed Paul Coogan, you were the one he listened to. You convinced him he wasn't guilty."

"No. I tried, but --"

"You underestimate yourself. I'm sure he didn't pop out with 'Oh, yes, you're right, of course, let's go have an ice cream'; but he did eventually come to see your point. You gave him the perspective he needed to understand why he wasn't guilty. You'll have to do the same here, Bodie. It will require enormous resources to see him through this."

"He's not some unstable, shallow, emotional wimp, you know," Bodie stated defensively.

"I know that. There are only two events which would rock him sufficiently for me to be professionally concerned. One is your death, particularly if he's involved in causing it or can't save you. The other is the loss of Colleen. Given his guilt complex, either of those events could rip apart an otherwise very resilient, strong, emotional fabric."

The psychiatrist's words hit home, summoning the uneasiness Bodie felt whenever he allowed himself to think of why he wanted out of this job.

"Whatever is troubling you, Bodie, you'd better solve it before Ray needs your help; or Colleen could tear you both apart." She looked Bodie in the eye to emphasize her point. "I'll stop by Colleen's about eight, as I said." With that, she turned and left. At the doorway, she paused, however, feeling she owed Bodie something for being brave enough to reveal to her, the enemy, his more nurturant side. "Bodie."

Shaking off the sense of doom which the doctor's words brought, Bodie spun around to face her, steeling himself for an attack now that he'd exposed a vulnerability.

"Thank you for what you did. It may not have seemed like much to you, but it meant a great deal to me." She wanted to add that she would be there to help him with whatever he was wrestling with as well as with Doyle; but the narrowing of the blue eyes told her she'd said enough so she walked out into the corridor, closing the door behind her.

Surprised, Bodie turned to see how Doyle was. Ever alert, the sharp green eyes had missed none of the exchange with Ross.

"She's right, you know. There are only two, well, maybe four, things that would make me go off me nut," Doyle said speculatively.

Frowning, Bodie asked, "And what are the other two?"

"Arabella, for one," Doyle answered.

"And the other?" Bodie inquired.

"My stuffed bear," Doyle replied seriously, his facial expression as earnest as possible.

Bodie's laughter dispelled the feeling that fate was closing in.

Doyle smiled, pleased to have lightened his partner's somber mood. The ability they each had to make the other laugh was one of the strongest arguments for why they had to stay together. "Shall we see how the report on Jenkins is coming?"

Nodding, Bodie turned to leave. Before he opened the door, however, he asked, "Do you think leaving Colleen on her own is the best decision?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. What I do know is that it's the only decision I can make. My sister is very important to me, Bodie, but she is not more important than you. What would happen to us with her living with us? I'm not willing to risk us. If we're destroyed because of her, I won't have anything left."

This declaration of Doyle's love touched Bodie deeply, reaffirming for him that staying involved with Doyle was one of the wisest choices he'd ever made. Since the room was empty and the door closed, he leaned against it, pulling Doyle to him.

Without further encouragement, Doyle took the kiss he needed from Bodie. Pressed close, feeling safe within the circle of his lover's arms, he added, "Bodie, if they were living with us, what we thought had happened two days ago could really happen. That kind of guilt, knowing that being with us had caused harm to them, I wouldn't get over it."

"Wise beyond your years, my son," Bodie commented, ruffling the curls. "On your bike, laddie," he said, taking his turn imitating Cowley.

Delivering the Nazi salute, the customary response among the agents, Doyle stepped back.

Bodie opened the door, bowing Doyle out.

Together they went to face the consequences of the decisions that had just been made.

---

The ringing phone dragged Bodie out of the pleasant dream, the aftermath of his lewd phone conversation with his lover.

"'Lo," he mumbled into the receiver, sure it was Cowley, trouble or both.

"Hello," replied a faint voice.

Feminine and young, Bodie decided, frowning. Fully alert now, he wondered if it was his next door neighbor's little girl, who had taken a fancy to him. "Hello," he said loudly, prepared to be properly angry with the child if she was playing on the phone.

"Bodie?"

"Princess, is that you?" inquired Bodie, realizing it was Arabella.

"Yes." He was just about to question her when an older, female voice interrupted.

"Ray?"

"No, Colleen, it's Bodie. Ray isn't here. Is something wrong?" Turning his head slightly, he peered through the dark at the luminous dial on the clock. It was 2:30 a.m.

"No ... Bodie," Colleen answered after a few silent seconds.

The way she spoke worried Bodie. Trying to draw the woman out, he began a conversation. "How are you and my princess?" A queasy feeling knotted his stomach when Colleen did not answer. Every instinct told him something was very wrong.

"We're ... both ... fine .... I'm... sorry...."

Alarmed now, Bodie replied, "It's okay, Colleen. You're not disturbing me. Is there something you need or want, something I can do?"

"No...I ... well ... Ray ...."

"Ray is out of town, Colleen. I'll be glad to help you if there is a problem." Talking to Colleen often required that he use every interrogation skill he possessed.

When the silence stretched into a full minute, Bodie inquired, "Colleen, are you still there?"

"Yes ... please ... Ray ...."

Scared by the desperation he heard, Bodie switched on the light and began to put on his clothes, talking all the time to reassure the woman. "Colleen, please talk to me. Are you still there? I'll be over as soon as I dress. Can I get you anything on the way? Colleen, don't hang up. Please talk to me. I'm lonely here without Ray. Are you feeling lonely, too?" That seemed to strike a nerve.

"Yes."

There was an abstract wistfulness to that reply which sent chills through Bodie. "Colleen, did you take anything to make you feel less lonely? Colleen, please talk to me. I'm so scared without Ray. I miss him, Colleen. Do you?" Dressed in black cords and a white silk shirt, he fumbled in the sock drawer, dumping it finally. Doyle believed socks should have the freedom to commingle; he never sorted them into pairs. "Fuck," Bodie swore softly, finally finding two black socks. They didn't belong together, but he didn't have time to waste. "Colleen, are you there? If you are, please talk to me."

"Ray ...."

"Yes, Colleen, what is it?"

"Ray ... please ...."

"I'll be over in a moment, Colly," Bodie replied, lacing his trainers. The lethargy in her voice, her inability to distinguish him from her brother all suggested she'd swallowed too much of something. "Colly, are you there?" Bodie asked once more, using Doyle's pet name for his sister.

"Ray ...."

The hopelessness in her voice made him wince. Ross had warned that the woman was approaching a crisis point. But no one thought it would come this quickly. "Colly, I love you very much. Please don't leave me."

"I love you, Ray. I ... just ... Ray ...."

"Shit," Bodie muttered to himself. "Colly, may I speak to Arabella. I want to tell her that I love her."

"Okay ... Ray ...."

Nearly a minute passed before Arabella spoke into the phone. "Uncle Bodie?"

"Princess, I need your help. Your mum's not well. I'm coming over. What I want you to do, princess, is talk to her. Keep talking to her until I get there. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Afraid?"

"Yes."

"It'll be okay, I promise. Smile for me." Bodie swallowed hard, just as frightened as Doyle's niece.

"Okay."

"Are you smiling?"

"Yes.

"Good. Talk to your mum and keep smiling. Okay?"

"Okay."

"See you shortly, princess. It'll be okay. And remember, I expect to see your gorgeous smile when I get there."

The whispered "Hurry" evoked a shiver. Bodie put the phone down and ran into the living room, grabbing his black leather jacket from the closet near the door. He fumbled for his keys in all five jacket pockets as he took the stairs two at a time. A cold blast of December air hit him as he pushed open the building door. As he reached the sleek, silver Mercedes he'd used to chauffeur Cowley and an Arabian guest to a high level Christmas party, he glanced up into the clear night sky. Spotting the constellation of Gemini, his own, he wished upon Castor and Pollux as he had so often as a boy. "Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might, get the wish I wish tonight." Silently, he added his request, that Colleen come through this and that if she didn't, someone else would tell Ray. He knew it was two wishes but two were allowed, even expected, when you wished upon twin stars.

Use of the siren brought him to Colleen's flat within ten minutes. It was, however, enough time for him to consider the likely possibility that the woman had ODed. He rang the bell impatiently. Waiting, he remembered the dead bolt and safety chain they'd installed a few months ago; he hoped Arabella could cope with it. The sound of metal sliding told him the child could manipulate the lock. Pleased when a small, concerned face peered through the crack permitted by the chain, that she had been careful to see who was at the door, he smiled broadly. "Hello, princess. Can you do the chain?"

"Yes," came the firm reply as the door was closed. There were sounds of a chair being moved and a sliding noise. A moment later, the door swung open.

Entering, Bodie scooped up the young girl and kicked the door shut. He kissed her. "That's for not opening the door till you knew it was me. Where's your mum?" He tried to keep his tone light. The child he held, a small girl, almost delicate, was tense and frightened. When a graceful hand pointed up the stairs, he began talking. "You're getting to be quite a looker, princess. Won't be long till the boys come callin' on you."

Arabella hugged him hard. He returned the pressure, well aware of the fact that his physical presence was more reassuring than anything he could say. "Don't be scared. It'll be all right. I promised, remember?" By now he'd reached the top of the stairs. Stopping, he drew back to look into the girl's face. "Where's my smile?" he chided gently, his eyes coaxing it out of her. "That's better, princess." He kissed her again.

Absently noting how much her lips were like his lover's, he entered Colleen's bedroom. The woman was sprawled on the bed and appeared to be unconscious. That she'd slipped so far in so few minutes worried Bodie greatly. He put Arabella down near her mother and bent over the prone, inert figure.

"Colly, Colleen, can you hear me? It's Ray, Colly. Wake up, please," he called repeatedly, gently shaking her shoulders. When she didn't respond, he ran down the short hall to the bathroom. Instantly, he spotted the open, empty bottle of Valium. Racing back to the bedroom, he grabbed the phone, dialing first the emergency number to summon an ambulance and then Kate Ross. He left a message for her, as she wasn't in.

Once more, he attempted to rouse Colleen, a task he knew was futile as soon as he smelled the Scotch on her breath. "When did she stop talking to you, princess?"

"Just after you hung up."

Aware of her concerned scrutiny, he persisted in his effort. "Princess, get me a wet towel for your mum's forehead." An encouraging smile sent her on her way.

"Shit," he muttered, looking down at Colleen. She was delicate, small in size and her features -- green eyes, lipsticked lips and a shock of fiery red hair, every bit as curly as Ray's -- made her look very similar to her brother. There was no doubt that Colleen Doyle was a beautiful woman.

Bodie took a deep breath. "Why did you do this now?" He leaned over again to shake her. "Pricks," he mumbled, cursing the psychiatrists who simply prescribed Valium for a woman's depression without taking her troubles seriously. "Colleen ...."

"She won't answer, Uncle Bodie," Arabella said from the doorway. "She's going to die, isn't she?"

Alarmed by the words, the despair in the child's voice, Bodie spun around. Arabella, framed in the door, backlit by the hall light, stood clutching the empty Valium vial. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Bodie shook his head as he asked himself how he could cope not only with Ray's guilt but also with the fact that Arabella was obviously going to blame herself for her mother's death. Wondering why love made people feel responsible for loved ones' misdeeds, he knelt in front of Doyle's niece. "We don't know that she's going to die."

"That's what she wants."

The bleakness in her eyes made Bodie wince. He wanted to lie to her, but he couldn't. He felt it important to tell her the truth.

"I'm afraid it is." He put his arms around the shivering girl and drew her close. "But it's not your fault, princess. Your mother was born wanting to die. She first tried to kill herself when she was eight."

Sniffing, Arabella leaned back to look at Bodie. "She did?"

The incredulity gave Bodie hope that he might convince her she wasn't to blame. "Yes. You know the scars on her wrists?"

"Yes."

"They're there because when she was eight, your mother went into the bathroom, ran hot water in the tub and sat in it. She then took a piece of window glass and cut her wrists. The hot water made her bleed harder, faster. But before she could die, Ray found her. He saved her life." Bodie stopped speaking, aware of how graphic his description was. But the girl's wide-eyed stare urged him to go on. "When she was 18, she took too much heroin. Again, your Uncle Ray found her and saved her."

"Why?"

"I don't know why someone wants to die so badly."

"No," Arabella said, "why didn't he let her die?"

Understanding that the unrelenting honesty children demanded was one of the reasons he avoided them, Bodie swallowed hard. He resisted the urge to deflect the question by suggesting she ask Doyle himself. "Because he loves her."

The sound of sirens rang through the quiet neighborhood. Bodie, glad of an excuse to escape the questioning, dashed down the stairs to unlock the door. He led the paramedics to Colleen. As he told them what had caused her condition, he caught sight of Arabella standing near the window, out of the way but positioned to see everything that went on. Since he had little hope for Colleen, he shifted his attention to the person who needed him more. He went to Arabella's room, collecting shoes and socks as well as Jasmine and returned just as they put Colleen on the stretcher. As they went back downstairs, he grabbed the girl's coat off a nearby hook and slammed the door shut.

"We'll ride with you," Bodie told the ambulance driver. When the man tried to suggest he take his own car, Bodie pulled out his CI5 badge. "We'll ride with you," he stated, bundling Arabella into the back so she could sit alongside her mother. When the big, green eyes were focussed on him, he smiled and took Colleen's cool hand. "It's to let her know she's not alone," he said softly, nodding encouragement as Arabella reached for her mother's other hand. Memories of that time he'd ridden with Doyle haunted him. He put his other hand over Arabella's.

When the stretcher was wheeled into a cubicle in the emergency room, he took Arabella to the desk, knowing there'd be papers to sign.

"I want to stay with Mama."

"I know, but we need to give them every chance to save her. We'd only be in the way, he added, remembering when he was in the way as Doyle lay dying from Mai Li's bullets. It'd taken Cowley and a very determined doctor to get him out of the emergency room. "Sit down for a minute and I'll see about getting us back to where she is. Okay?"

Despite her outward stoicism, Arabella remained standing beside Bodie.

Reaching down, he took her hand, holding it till the clerk was ready to discuss admitting Colleen Doyle. Admiring the child's tenacity, he hoisted her and Jasmine up to the counter where they sat, silently watching everything.

"Now, Mr. Doyle, we need you to sign this form. It's a permission form...."

"I know," Bodie replied, signing Raymond Doyle's name with experienced ease.

"If you'll have a seat in the waiting room...."

Bodie picked up the child sitting close to him and carried her to the chairs. He was about to put her on one when she grabbed his jacket. Understanding, he sat down, settling her and the cat on his lap.

"Why can't we see Mama?"

"In a few minutes. We have to give them a few minutes." Though he knew his badge could have them by Colleen's side immediately, he decided it would be best to spare Arabella as much of the ordeal as possible. And, he had to admit to himself, he needed a few minutes to think. It was grossly unfair of Colleen Doyle to do this to him. He was not her brother and, for a moment, he resented her thrusting this sort of familial responsibility upon him. For his entire adult life, he'd carefully avoided such entrapment. Silently cursing the fates and Colleen, he glanced at the child sitting on his lap. The green eyes were watching him intently. The scrutiny made him nervous and he shifted, idly wondering if the child could feel his cock. The thought irritated him.

"You're scared," Arabella said quietly.

Alarmed by her perceptiveness, he realized he was projecting his emotions too freely. The face might be composed, the body language under control, but he could rarely contain his strongest emotions. Again feeling that he owed the girl an honest reply, he licked his lips, which were suddenly dry. "Yes, I'm scared."

"Do you think Mama will die?"

The desolation in the small voice cut through Bodie, echoing a question he'd voiced years ago when the Cuban soldiers had raided the hospital/mission where his family lived. He had asked the question of the missionary who hid him and his sister as their parents were being led away. Picturing that scene, his parents in handcuffs, bleeding from cuts inflicted when hand grenades blew up their regional clinic, he felt tears building. Back then, a boy of nine, he'd refused to shed them; now was not the time either. Instead, he did what he had so many years before, he embraced a young child depending upon him for direction.

His sister had been Arabella's age when he took responsibility for her, though they had remained at the Catholic mission for several years before relatives returned them to England. They had been split up, Tess going to live with a cousin's family in Brighton while he stayed in Liverpool with their uncle. The distance had not kept him from his sister while he lived in England; but when he ran away, he shed the bond that tied him to her. When he had re-established contact, years later, she had entered a convent. He rarely saw her now. Her condemnation of his mercenary- military life style and the killing, rang in his ears every time he thought of their last meeting.

"Uncle Bodie, Uncle Bodie...."

"What is it, princess?"

Arabella moved so she could see the man's face. "Should we let her die?"

The query drew Bodie away from his reverie. He took a deep breath, wondering where he was going to find the wisdom and strength to deal with this child and her difficult questions. "I don't think we have much to say about it right now. Do you want to let her go?"

"No."

The reply was barely above a whisper. Bodie smiled, trying to will away the dark shadows in the green eyes. "That's okay. You have a right not to let her go. She's your mum. That's different from Colleen and Ray. Kids and their parents have a different sort of responsibility to each other than brothers and sisters." Bodie spoke from painful experience. His sister's rejection still hurt him deeply.

"Do you have parents?"

He resisted the urge to tell her that he had sprung full grown from the bowels of the earth. She was too young, too intent for his dark humor.

"They died when I was a little older than you." He was not surprised when the girl's eyes opened even wider.

"How?"

Bodie frowned, not really wanting to discuss the subject.

"Please?"

The parallels were too great for him. As they huddled together on a makeshift pallet in the missionary's bedroom, his sister had asked the same difficult questions. "We lived in Africa in Angola. My parents were doctors at a hospital. One day, soldiers came and blew up the hospital. They took all the people who could walk to a prison camp. My parents were among them. After that day, I never saw them again." Despite his best efforts, a few tears slid down his cheeks.

"Were they killed?" Arabella asked, reaching up to touch the moisture on Bodie's face.

"Yes." He could not bring himself to tell her that they had been tortured and finally murdered.

"Were you sad?"

Nodding, he licked his lips and added, "I had my sister to take care of, so I didn't have much time to be sad."

"What's her name?" Arabella kissed the traces of tears on Bodie's cheek. "Do you see her often?"

The curiosity, so like her uncle's, made Bodie chuckle. "Her name is Tess and no, I don't see her."

"Why not?"

"She doesn't like what I do for a living."

"But CI5 helps people."

"I know. But she still thinks it's wrong."

"You should let me talk to her. I would tell her how good CI5 is. I would tell her to love you again."

Tears from a different corner of his heart threatened Bodie's composure. As he smiled his thank you, he acknowledged how very much this child meant to him. She was a second chance, Tess all over again. The possibility of succeeding with her where he'd failed with his own sister made him ignore the rejection he might face.

Coming back to what concerned her most, Arabella asked, "Did you cry when your parents died?"

"No."

"Then I won't either." Turning to her stuffed cat, she said sternly, "Now remember, Jasmine, we can't cry. We have to be brave."

Puzzled that a seven year old could ask such questions, even though he'd been nine once and asked them too, he stared at Arabella. The green eyes that met his were full of so many conflicting emotions that he did the only thing he could think of to ease the pain she projected. He hugged her very close.

"What'll happen to us?" Arabella inquired after a few moments of silence.

Petting the top of Jasmine's head, Bodie said evenly, "We'll take care of you. Don't worry, you won't be sent away." The words echoing in his ears, he mulled over the implications of what he'd just said. The thought of the changes that would occur made him shiver. At nine he hadn't been old enough to be a parent. At thirty, he still wasn't. Deliberately, he steered his mind away from consideration of the consequences of Colleen's death. "She's not going to die," he stated, startled to hear the words come out of his mouth.

"She wants to die."

"Why?" Bodie asked, wondering what had triggered the suicide attempt.

"Because she finished her painting. She's always sad then."

Stroking the child's hair as he held onto her, Bodie probed further, deciding this might help him determine how much guilt Arabella would attempt to assume. "But she's finished pictures before. Why was this different?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't know."

Not one to be deterred by a seeming dead-end, Bodie pursued another line of questioning. "What else happened today? What did you do at school?"

"Nothing."

Bodie smiled. "You just went to school and sat staring out the window all day?"

"No. I didn't go to school."

Warning bells went off in Bodie's mind. "Why not?"

"Because Mama was drinking again."

Before Bodie could question her further, the doctor came out.

"Mr. Doyle."

Nodding, Bodie tightened his hold on Arabella. When the doctor hesitated, eyeing the child, Bodie inquired, "How is she?"

"Well," the man took a deep breath, "she's suffered an overdose of Valium. The problem was compounded by the rather large quantity of alcohol."

"Will she live?"

"I can't say yet. We've pumped her stomach, but her vitals are ... well, weak."

"Then it's up to her," Bodie interjected, bending slightly to kiss the crown of Arabella's head. He felt an eerie wave of deja vu; another doctor once told him the same thing about Ray.

"Precisely."

"We'd like to stay with her."

"It's not customary... but I've spoken with your Dr. Ross, and she, aahh ... suggested... you be allowed to sit with Mrs. Doyle. Once she's situated, I'll have a sister fetch you."

"Thank you," Bodie replied, warmed by the fact that Ross had responded so completely and quickly.

When the doctor was gone, Bodie tipped the child's face so he could see her expression. He wanted to get more details about what had triggered Colleen's depression; but he could see the fear in Arabella's eyes, so he focussed instead on what they had to face. "In a few minutes, we're going to see your mum. We'll be able to stay with her till ... she's out of danger. It's very important that we tell her we love her and how much we want her to come back to us. She'll be unconscious, and we won't know for sure that she can hear us, but it's important we try." He paused, his thoughts shifting naturally to the time he'd spent with Ray in a similar situation. Doyle had maintained that the encouragement helped.

"Will it really help?"

Bodie nodded. "We all have to be very strong, not only for your mum, but for Ray. And speaking of Ray, I need to call him princess. Can you and Jasmine sit here while I do that?"

Slowly, chewing on her lip as she considered, the girl nodded.

Kissing her forehead, he went across the room to the bank of telephones. He'd just been connected with Cowley when Arabella came and sat by his feet, her back against his legs. After explaining and being granted whatever time it took, he hung up. A moment of silent gathering was needed before he could face Doyle. Cowley had offered to call, but Bodie knew with sickening certainty that he had to perform the unpleasant task. Wondering if it was too late to back out of the relationship with Doyle, he picked up the receiver once more.

"Doyle," answered a sleepy voice.

"Ray --"

"What's wrong?" Doyle interrupted, knowing something was, as everything had been fine several hours ago.

"Calm down. It's Colleen. We're at the hospital. She ODed on Valium and booze."

"Fuck."

"My sentiments exactly."

"Sometimes I wish she'd just do it and get it over with," Doyle said, anger and pain in his voice. "I'm sorry ...."

"Doyle ... Ray...you have a right to feel that way." Mindful of Arabella listening to every word, he added, "Talk to me, Ray. I'm all ears."

"Arabella?" Doyle queried, deciding she would be the only reason Bodie couldn't speak freely.

"Yes."

"How's she doing?"

"She's a Doyle. All broody quilt and big green eyes."

Doyle chuckled. "She's lucky you're there. I have to face this alone."

The line was quiet for several moments. Over the years, when separated by their job, they'd often called one another only to say nothing, the silent companionship being what they needed most. Finally, Doyle asked, "Is she bad?"

"Yeah, very weak vitals. We'll be with her though. If anything can bring her back, that's about all that will."

"You sound so certain."

"I am. Been through it with you, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Doyle's voice softened as he recalled that eerie moment when Bodie's touch had warmed him enough to let him live again.

"Doyle," Bodie stated sternly, suspecting what his partner was recalling. "Doyle ...."

"Yeah, I'm here. Just thinkin'."

"That's what scares me."

"Very funny. Will Cowley --"

"Already arranged, lover." The word slipped out as he tried to offer some comfort.

"I love you, Bodie."

"Same here."

"What about Cowley?"

"I don't love him," Bodie quipped. There was no response. Noting that his attempt at humor had apparently fallen on deaf ears, Bodie provided a serious answer. "He's already arranging a replacement. He'll call you shortly."

"It'll be hours before I can get there."

"Yeah, and we're short-handed too."

"Why the fuck do I have to be in Aberdeen?"

"I think I'm glad you are."

The comment drew Doyle out of his self-pity. This was hard on Bodie, too, he realized, fear crawling up his spine with tingling swiftness. Whatever had been troubling Bodie, there was a good possibility this could require too much of him. Without meaning to, he blurted out the question that had suddenly come to mind. "You won't leave us, will you?"

Bodie sighed deeply. The query, voiced at last, made him aware of how remarkably patient his lover had been. The famed curiosity had been admirably restrained. Looking down at Arabella who was quietly, desperately clutching Jasmine, he replied, "No. No matter what happens...."

"Do you promise?"

Chuckling, Bodie promised. "Why does that give you confidence?" His partner's inane assumption that he didn't break promises had always puzzled him. There were many who could tell of the vows he'd broken, Tess being among the first of them.

"Because you've never broken a promise you made to me."

"Yeah, well, you have a short memory, sunshine. I seem to recall a carrot cake meant for Murphy's birthday that I promised not to eat but did--"

"Sins of gluttony don't count."

Pleased by the amusement he heard in the man's voice, Bodie was just about to retort when a woman in a nurse's uniform came around the corner. "Ray, we're going to see Colleen now. I'll take care of what I can."

I don't know which would be better, to let her die or to keep her."

"Ray, this was her choice. To force her to live, when it's so obviously against her will, is selfish. She does have a voice in this." Though Bodie addressed his lover, he spoke to Arabella as well. She stood up and he took the hand she offered him. "Is she Catholic?"

"Yes," Arabella answered.

"Want to talk to Ray?"

Nodding, the girl took the phone. While she spoke, Bodie went to see the woman waiting patiently a few feet away.

"How is she?"

The sister shrugged. "No change. Should I call for a priest?"

"Yeah, you'd better. We'll be a few more minutes --"

Smiling, the woman reached out to touch Bodie's forearm. "I'll arrange it and come back for you."

Bodie smiled as he watched her go off down the corridor. Though she wore a nurse's uniform, she reminded him of his sister, a nun who still wore a traditional habit. A soft voice brought him back to the present.

"Uncle Ray wants to say good-bye."

Taking the phone, Bodie said, "We have to go."

"No heroic measures, Bodie," Doyle stated, his decision made. Bodie was right. This time he would respect Colleen's right to die; this time, he would not stand in her way.

"You've made the right decision, Ray."

"Is staying with us the right decision for you, Bodie?"

Without hesitation, Bodie responded, "Yes." He glanced around. No one except Arabella was in earshot. "I love you."

"That'll get me there, sunshine."

"Okay. Be careful on the drive home." Bodie hung up.

Stooping down, he asked Arabella, "Ready, princess?"

Shaking her head, the child put her arms around Bodie's neck. "What if I can't be brave?"

"I won't tell anyone." He picked her up, grateful for her small size, as she needed the comfort that could only come from being held close to a protective adult. Her breath on his neck tickled, and he'd just leaned back to look at her when the sister returned.

"If you'll come with me, Mr. Doyle, I'll take you to Mrs. Doyle. I've arranged for ... everything," the woman said, mindful of Arabella's presence.

Bodie nodded. Lagging a few paces behind, he followed her.

"Why does everyone think you're my father? Arabella whispered.

"Because a princess as beautiful as you are would have to have a father as handsome as I am." He didn't add that with her black, curly hair and green eyes she was just the daughter he and Colleen might have produced. "Besides, I signed Doyle on the forms so they would do what they had to do to treat your mum."

"Oh," the girl replied.

That his first remark had failed to elicit even a smile told Bodie how difficult Arabella was finding this. He did not, however, ask if she would rather not be here. Like her uncle, she had a grim determination to meet even the worst, head-on. Wondering how she'd acquired this trait in Colleen's household, he crossed the threshold into the woman's room.

Arabella turned her head. From the safety of Bodie's arms, she looked at her mother. Biting her lip, she refused to cry.

"If you need anything ... ," the sister said to Bodie.

Squinting at her, he tried to read her name tag.

"Mary Bowen," the woman stated, realizing what he was looking at.

"Thank you, Mary. If we need anything, we'll ask."

"Thank you," Arabella offered, glancing over at the woman.

Leaving, Mary said, "I'll check back."

When they were alone, Bodie asked Arabella where she wanted to sit, in a chair or on the bed.

"On the bed," the child answered softly, the fact that she wished to be elsewhere but felt it her duty was obvious in her voice.

After putting the girl on the side of Colleen opposite her connections to the various machines, he pulled a chair close on the same side and sat down. Knowing he had to provide an example for the girl, he took Colleen's hand. "It's Bodie, Colleen. I'm here with Arabella. Ray is on his way. He said to tell you how very much he loves you and will miss you if you die."

"I love you, Mama. Please don't die. I need you. I'm not old enough to have no mother. Jasmine misses you, too. She loves you almost as much as I do."

They continued talking to the unconscious woman till the arrival of the priest interrupted them.

"Father Donovan, Mr. Doyle," the man said by way of introduction as he reached out to shake Bodie's hand.

Smiling at Bodie, Arabella extended her hand toward the priest. "I'm Arabella and this is Jasmine."

"Hello, Arabella," Donovan replied, petting the cat between the ears. "Do you know what I am here for?"

"Yes. Does it hurt?"

The man chuckled. "No, but you do have to help me."

"How?"

"I want you to stay there holding your mother's hand while I give your mother the sacrament. Then I'll want you to say a prayer for her with me. Then, I'll say a prayer for you and your father. Okay?"

Nodding, the girl glanced at Bodie. When he winked, she looked back at the priest.

"Now, Mr. Doyle, if you'll just join your daughter ...."

Bodie did as he was instructed, standing behind Arabella. He put a hand on her shoulder. Together, they watched silently as the man set about his job. When he began saying an "Our Father" for Colleen, Bodie found the old prayers coming back.

Seeing the priest also evoked memories of the hospital where he'd spent the first years of his life. He had often helped the missionary perform this sacrament. Though a devout believer in those early years, he'd lost faith when his prayers for his parents went unanswered. Nothing he'd seen since, not even Doyle's recovery which he arrogantly attributed to his own love for the man had brought Bodie back to his old faith. As he watched, he wished there was a God, but he didn't know whether Arabella's prayers or Colleen's desperate act of a prayer should be the one answered.

"And I ask Thy help for Your children gathered here in prayer. Let their love be a measure of their prayers for Colleen. Hear their prayers in her behalf. This we ask in the name of Jesus, Thy son. Bless them all, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

The words evoked an automatic reaction from Bodie, who frowned as he realized he was performing the expected sign of the cross.

"I'll look in on you later," the priest said as he put his oil and cross away.

"Thank you," Bodie answered, looking at Arabella. The softly chanted prayers of Extreme Unction had made her sleepy. "Why don't you lie down, princess. I'll wake you if anything happens." Without waiting for an answer, he tucked her beside her mother. After settling Jasmine beneath the cover as well, he leaned over, kissing Arabella's cheek. Impulse made him kiss the cat, too.

A slight swishing sound told him he wasn't alone. Looking up, he blushed when he saw the tender smile on Mary Bowen's lips.

"Would you like some coffee?"

The kindness in her voice eased Bodie's embarrassment. "Yeah, that would be wonderful." He accepted the cup she handed him. "Thanks," he said, smiling.

When she left, his gaze turned back toward the Doyles in the bed. No matter how much he wished it could be different, they were his responsibility now. Somewhere in the last hour he had accepted, shouldered the fact that change was sweeping into his life much as water stole across dry sands, changing the tide. Hoping he wasn't in over his head, he sat down to wait.

Bodie was startled awake a few hours later when George Cowley's hand shook him gently. Surprised, but not unduly so, Bodie noticed Kate Ross hovering in the doorway. He looked from her to Cowley to Colleen, whose hand he still held. "How is she?"

"The same," Ross said softly, stepping into the room. "Her vital signs are still weak. She truly meant to kill herself this time."

"Do you know why?" Cowley asked.

Bodie shook his head. "Arabella said she was going through a customary bout of depression because she'd finished a painting, that she'd been drinking this morning; but it's not as if she's never finished a picture before or had a drink." He shrugged. "Do you have any idea?" he asked of Ross.

"No. Colleen, like her brother, is not quick to give her trust. We were still establishing a comfortable patient/doctor relationship. The run- away incident seems to have taken ...." Ross stopped, Bodie's sudden glare making her wonder what she had said to make him react so hostilely.

"Outside," he commanded, gently releasing Colleen's hand and going around the bed. He had just thought to check on Arabella. She was awake and listening intently.

Obeying, both the doctor and Cowley preceded the agent into the hall.

Carefully closing the door, Bodie stood near the pair. "The last thing I need is you letting that kid hear that she may be in any way responsible for her mother's suicide."

The tightly leashed anger made Ross scrutinize Bodie. Before she could say anything, Bodie spun around and returned to Colleen's room.

"Well...," Cowley prompted.

"You're right. He's taking all of this quite well. His responses are most mature. You do realize that by giving him the chance at rehabilitating himself, you'll probably lose him as an agent."

Cowley nodded. When he'd taken Bodie into CI5, he knew the man was a time bomb, though quite different from the usual sort. Instead of hardening further, Bodie had begun, while still with the SAS, to counter the damage inflicted by his harsh childhood. The killing and the undercover work had taken a further toll. When his tour was up, the man had willingly left the regiment for CI5.

Bodie reminded Cowley of himself at a crossroad in his life. When given the choice, he had taken a difficult path, the one that precluded much companionship. In retrospect, it was a road he would take again, but it was not one he would recommend for anyone else, especially someone with as much to give as he suspected there was in Bodie.

Now that Doyle and his family had forced the emergence of the man now standing watch over Colleen, Cowley's emotions were mixed. On the one hand, he was witnessing the beginning of the end; Bodie would leave the job in under six months, sooner if Colleen Doyle died tonight. He was disturbed by the course of events because the loss of Bodie could mean the loss of Doyle as well. That would weaken CI5 greatly. But on the other hand, the side of himself he all too often ignored, the paternalistic side Bodie had awakened with his attentiveness, genuine concern and bad jokes, was pleased.

"What are you thinking, George?" Ross asked.

Cowley stepped over to the door shutting them out of Colleen's room, out of Bodie's world. He left it open just enough to enable them to see in. Bodie, his back toward them, once more sat holding the hand of the unconscious woman. He was speaking softly to her. "Tonight we've seen a man who is tired of death, tired of being its agent. He'll be out of CI5 in under six months."

"That's optimistic. I give him no more than one month."

About to question this observation, Cowley found himself shoved aside as Bodie came tearing out into the corridor.

"Her heart's stopped. Help."

Pushing past both men, Ross went into the room and began administering CPR. Cowley located the call button and pressed it, summoning assistance.

Bodie, realizing that Arabella would be in the way, began to disentangle the girl and her stuffed animal from the dying woman.

Within minutes, the crash cart and emergency team were at work.

From across the room, both psychiatrist and CI5 controller stood watching, not the frantic efforts to resuscitate Colleen, but the way Bodie held onto and spoke quietly to the frightened child clinging to him.

Bodie had taken Arabella to a corner of the small room. Her eyes rooted to the drama being played out, her left ear was pressed against Bodie's chest. His strong, regular heartbeat kept her calm as she tried to accept the meaning of death. When tears began to slide down her cheeks, she looked up at Bodie.

Lost in his own thoughts, he wasn't aware of his own tears till small, cold fingers tried to wipe them away. Looking down, he saw not Arabella Doyle but Tess Bodie, crying for him, their parents, for herself that night when they'd been orphaned.

"She's not going to wake up, is she?" Arabella asked, putting death in the only terms she understood.

"No," Bodie answered softly, shaking his head. "She's not, princess."

"Did she know we loved her."

Cursing Colleen for the selfishness of her act, he replied, "Yes."

"I don't feel very brave."

"Neither do I, princess; neither do I." Bodie offered her a wan smile before kissing her cheek. When he saw the girl trying to stop crying, he chided her gently, wondering if his life would have been different if he had cried all those years ago. "It's best to cry, princess. Crying doesn't mean you aren't brave. It just means you feel, that you're human." His own words rang in his ears as he thought of the many times he'd said them to his lover.

Bodie resolutely refused to look at Cowley and Ross. He could feel them watching him with curiosity. Though embarrassed by their scrutiny and his own very open display of emotions, he refused to be intimidated.

When the medical team withdrew, admitting defeat, he put Arabella and Jasmine on the bed beside Colleen. Whispering into her ear, he said, "I've been told that a person's soul stays around for a few minutes after we think a person is dead. Tell her goodbye and that you'll miss her and that you'll always love her. She'll hear you. I know it."

Wide-eyed and a bit incredulous, Arabella nonetheless did as Bodie instructed. After he leaned over to kiss Colleen and say his own farewell, she and Jasmine both kissed the cooling lips. "Can we stay with her for a while?" Arabella asked.

"We have to go call your Uncle Ray, princess. He'll need to talk to both of us."

"I could call," Cowley offered quietly. "His replacement won't have arrived; Doyle won't have left Aberdeen yet."

Bodie shook his head. Colleen had, in a fit of reality, donated her organs and eyes. The medical team would need her body in surgery almost immediately. He couldn't cope with explaining that to the girl whose hand kept hold of him. Feeling very much alone, he said, "No. I have to be the one to tell him."

"They're coming," Ross stated quietly, understanding Bodie's need to get the child away quickly. "There's a visiting doctor's office just down the corridor that we can use." Turning, she led the way out.

Pausing at the threshold, Bodie glanced down at Arabella, who had no intention of letting go of him. He then looked back at Colleen. Shivering, he knew that from this moment on his life would never be the same. Silently praying to a God he didn't believe in but hoped existed, he squared his shoulders and stepped into the hallway to face his future.

---

Already emotionally exhausted, afraid he'd have nothing left to give when his lover arrived, Bodie put Arabella and Jasmine to bed. He then retreated to his rocking chair. Despite the silliness of the notion, he sat clutching Bodie Bear and Raymond Rabbit -- who'd been visiting. Holding Raymond brought him comfort, and the bear made him feel closer to Doyle.

Calmed somewhat by the presence of the stuffed animals and the gentle rocking motion, Bodie conjured up the sounds of bush music, letting it fill him with rhythms that kept time to his heartbeat and his breathing, soothing him as no other music could. It was the music he'd lived with in Angola and fallen to sleep by, for the drums were never still. They whispered at night and through the dawn but they were never still.

"Unwilling for the first time in his adult life to stop the flow of childhood memories that the music brought, he went back to the simple joys of his young life, drawing strength from those recollections to face the agonies of those years as well. He made peace with the small boy of nine who could not save his parents just as he absolved his older self of the guilt that had come from straying so far from the path his parents had set out for him. Given who he was and what he'd experienced, there was no way he could become a priest after he saw John and Elizabeth Bodie being force- marched off to certain death.

His parents would have to be content with the sacrifices and the effort he'd made to preserve Tess from some of those trials. Though he and his sister had stayed with the missionaries, there was never enough. He'd sold more than his honor to keep Tess clothed, fed, sheltered and in school. His parents would have to be satisfied with her becoming a nun, with the good person she was.

Bodie was just beginning to consider an uncertain future when he heard footsteps. Looking over, he smiled when a sleepy Arabella, her arms full of blankets and Jasmine, came to stand beside the rocking chair. "Thought you were asleep, princess."

The child stared vacantly at him, more than half-asleep.

Reaching for her, he settled her in his lap, tucking the blanket around the slight body and all three stuffed animals. The words of an ancient Bushman lullaby emerged from his past. He sang to her till deeper sleep claimed her.

As he held the child, he couldn't help but think of the times he'd sung the same song or similar ones to Tess. He was proud of his sister, pleased with the caring teacher she'd become. And even though she had distanced herself from her mercenary brother, he loved her and could not blame her.

In thinking of his sister, he realized that if he'd found a way to nurture and shelter her from the harsher realities till she was strong enough to face them on her own, then perhaps it was in him to care for the child sleeping so securely in his arms.

A circle had been completed this night. He'd travelled a long, hard way, only to find himself -- older and wiser -- back at the point where a nine year old boy had once stood. A favorite T.S. Eliot quote came back to him. "You shall not cease from exploration/And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time."

The lines gave him comfort and courage. His trepidation about the future eased somewhat. He had travelled the path of parenthood before and this time he had Ray Doyle to walk it with him, to hold him when it was difficult, to share the small joys, the minor disasters and the major calamities. This time, it would be less lonely.

Feeling marginally better than when he'd sat down, he wished he could have held Ray as he was now holding Arabella, told him the sad news that way rather than over the phone. The restraint in the man's voice had spoken of his depression.

Arabella stirred somewhat. Bodie shifted slightly to make them both more comfortable. When the child showed signs of a troubling dream, he sang to her again, this time till they were both asleep.

A hand on his shoulder roused Bodie. With the drapes drawn, he couldn't automatically gauge the time or the place. The rhythms of the Angolan bush held him captive, confusing him.

"I'll put her to bed," Ray Doyle said softly, taking the child and her companions from Bodie.

Standing, Bodie stretched stiff, cramped muscles. After turning on a lamp, he went for a drink of water and a pee, before checking on his lover. He found Doyle sitting on the edge of their bed, staring at his niece. Walking over to him, he bent down. Lifting the curls from the nape of Doyle's neck, he kissed the exposed flesh. When Doyle didn't move or respond, Bodie went back to the other room, wondering what he should do. With Arabella and friends settled in the middle of their bed, they couldn't crawl in and hold one another.

Bodie had just decided to go sit with his lover when Doyle returned. He stopped a few feet from the rocker where Bodie sat. Studying him, Bodie noted the bloodshot eyes, the swollen lips bitten bloody on the drive to London. There was an atypical calmness in the way he held himself. Recognizing the signs of emotional exhaustion, Bodie held out a hand, silently inviting his lover to sit with him.

Irritated with himself for feeling like a child in desperate need of adult comforting, Doyle nonetheless settled on Bodie's lap. Locked inside the embrace of Bodie's arms, warm, safe and loved, he cried what tears he had left. So emotionally wrung out was he that he didn't think it odd when Bodie began to sing him a song in a language he didn't understand. As the unmistakable rhythm of the lullaby seeped through him, filling some of the void, Doyle let himself drift with the music's current.

The deep, even breathing told Bodie that his lover had slipped into a needed sleep. stroking the soft curls, Bodie willed himself to sleep as well. The next few days would be difficult ones as they dealt not only with the immediacy of the funeral but decided how best to care for Arabella. They would also have to discuss his changing needs and the long range consequences. The greatest challenge facing him, Bodie realized, was convincing Doyle that he had no desire to leave, that the decision they'd made three months ago to commit themselves to one another would stand no matter what changes were ultimately made in the other spheres of their lives.

As Bodie felt himself grow drowsier, one of Colleen's haiku came to mind. "Round love they revolve/ A circle never-ending/Seasons of the heart."

Somehow he had come through the autumn and darkest winter of love to the spring where he'd found Raymond Doyle. Now, summer, the season of fruition, was drawing near. He refused to consider that fall and a cold winter loomed ahead in the circle of love's seasons. Amused by the philosophical bent of a heart in pain, he fell asleep.

---

"'Lo, Tess," Ray Doyle said as he entered the cramped office. "He here?"

"No," replied the harried woman, looking up from the computer screen. The rose Doyle held out to her elicited a broad grin. Doyle smiled and came around to the side of the desk. He leaned over and kissed Sister Teresa. "How've you been?" he queried, handing her the flower.

"Overworked, as usual," she answered, stretching her back as she sniffed appreciatively at the velvety, pink blossom.

Moving behind her, Doyle began massaging her stiff neck and shoulders. As he did so, he caught sight of a small child sitting at the nun's feet, hiding under the desk. "Who's this?" he asked, stooping down to investigate.

"Her name is Christina, and I hope Arabella's old room is in good shape. He's going to 'surprise' you tonight."

Doyle chuckled ruefully as he gently pulled the little girl out into the light. She shivered as he took her in his arms. "Oh, you are a beauty," he whispered gently, smiling at her. Large green eyes stared back at him.

"Turner from the Yard brought her by this morning. They found her in a crack house after a raid."

"Addicted?"

"Oddly, no. But sexually abused ...." The nun's voice became a deep sigh.

"Three, four?"

"Half-way." The phone rang and Tess answered it. "Bears, Inc., please hold." Looking at Doyle, she said, "He should be back any moment. They went to see why Gemma's ex isn't coming through with child support."

Doyle laughed again, picturing his lover and whichever SAS men he'd recruited for the mission. "That's Bodie, champion of the downtrodden."

Smiling, she dealt with her phone call. When she was finished, she turned toward Doyle. "What brings you by?"

"This," Doyle answered, fishing a letter out of his jacket pocket. He handed it to Tess and perched on the corner of the desk. While she read the letter from Arabella, he set about coaxing a smile from the child he knew Bodie intended to bring home.

"How marvellous, commented Tess, sincerely pleased.

"She called me an hour ago -- from the plane, I guess. Her flight gets in at 5:30 and she wants us to join her for a late dinner at the Connaught."

"Neutral territory. She's learned a CI5 tactic or two."

Nodding, Doyle responded, "Yeah. She still remembers the day Bodie threatened to lock her in her room till she got married." This time as he smiled, recalling the moment, Christina smiled back shyly. "That's it, sunshine." Though he was tempted to kiss her, he knew from bitter experience it wasn't the best thing to do, so he continued to smile.

Watching, Tess handed him a small, stuffed lion. "She seems to like Lewis."

Doyle took the animal and handed it to the little girl. "How much do they really distrust at this age?" he asked, wondering as he always did how anyone could find sex with such a young child stimulating.

"Let's just say trust is easier to re-establish if it happens this young." She let them play a moment before she added, "You are going to tell me what provoked Bodie's threat toward Arabella."

"Oh, yeah, forgot you were away getting your social work degree then." He noted the child's drooping eyelids.

"She's due for a nap."

Hugging the girl close, Doyle began to rock her. "We came home early from a weekend in Brighton, found Arabella and, ah ... let's see, what was his name, oh yeah ... Russ, in our bed."

Tess shook her head, imagining what that confrontation must have been like.

"Actually, it was Bodie who found them. I'd headed straight for the kitchen to put on water for tea. He went to the bedroom to dump the gear. I heard her scream and went dashing in, arriving just in time to hear Bodie say, 'Change the sheets when you're finished, please. The spare set is in the linen cupboard.' His voice was calm, that quiet way it is when he's pissed as hell. He closed the door on them and left the flat."

"Is she asleep?" Tess asked, pointing to Christina. "You can put her in the playpen."

"Nah. We might as well get used to each other. How long will we have her?"

"Depends. Could be as long as you want to keep her. Her mother was arrested and as far as anyone's been able to learn, she has no other family."

"And she won't ID the father?"

"Says she doesn't remember."

"Shit," Doyle said softly as he looked at Christina. "Why do people like that have babies? Why can't they ... ?"

"Ray...."

"Yeah, I know. Why ask."

Drawing him back to more pleasant subjects, Tess inquired, "So what happened with Bodie and Arabella?"

"Oh, well ... Bodie barely spoke to her for several days."

"It's an effective technique."

"Yeah," Doyle remarked, having been on the receiving end of Bodie's withdrawal. "When they did finally talk about it, she declared that she wasn't apologizing. He raved and ranted like a concerned father. Gave her a 30 minute lecture on the sins of sex."

"Bodie?"

"Yeah," Doyle responded with a smile. "A lot of men conveniently forget they've ever had a fuck when they're dealing with sex and their daughter. He was a classic case. I was about to step in when he told her he loved her very much and handed her a box of rubbers. While we were both picking our lower jaws up off the floor, he walked out. Never once did he bring up the subject again, nor did he ever pry into her sex life."

Tess smiled. "He is amazing."

"Once in a while," Doyle agreed with a broad smile. "Like last night...."

The lusty glint in the green eyes told Tess she didn't want to ask, so she quizzed him about the letter. "Did you only just get this? It was posted three weeks ago."

"The Royal Mail," Doyle replied, rolling his eyes skyward.

"Do you suppose she's broken it to boyfriend that the 'mum and dad' he's to meet aren't...exactly...regulation issue?"

"Well, after years of living with her, I'd say no." He looked over at his lover's sister. "Come to dinner. She'll be glad to see you. That way you'll be able to see the fireworks first hand." Sensing that she was about to decline, Doyle added, "Come on. You're part of the family. You should come with us; and if you say no, I'll have your brother and some of his lads 'talk' to you about it."

Tess laughed and conceded defeat. "Okay."

"Good."

"He has absolutely no idea she's engaged?"

"No. But then I didn't either till I read her letter. You know, Bodie took Colleen's place in most ways; but Arabella always came to me with her boyfriend problems, except the time that lad nearly raped her, and then she spent several months hovering around Bodie. And after the rubbers incident, she talked to me less and less about her boyfriends. We knew she was dating this Yank bloke -- had him checked out, of course -- but that was months ago."

The phone rang again before Tess could respond. Gesturing toward his lover's office, Doyle took the now sleeping Christina into the other room with him. Leaving the door slightly ajar so he could hear when Bodie returned, Doyle walked around the cramped office, staring at various awards and pictures -- the odds and ends with which Bodie cluttered his office. When the child stirred slightly, he sat down behind the desk and looked at the room from Bodie's perspective.

In the corner nearest, for the desk cut across it, was a large box full of small, large and medium sized stuffed animals. A short distance away, higher up on the wall, was a print of an A.B. Doyle original; the real painting hung safely in the Islington home Doyle shared with Bodie. The Tea Party, as it was called, was the painting that gave Arabella her first big break. Its charm was still obvious even after all the years he'd looked at it. That the idea for it had come from a photo he'd taken was a family secret.

As he looked at the party goers, Doyle smiled. Bodie Bear now sat on the headboard of their bed. He was quite worn, but Doyle still found himself chatting to the little fellow, especially if Bodie was in the mood to ignore them all. Fred Flamingo was living in Greenwich Village with Arabella, as was Jasmine. A writer and illustrator of children's books, and a painter of whimsy, she'd long ago acknowledged Fred and Jasmine as her muses. That they were a curious couple had never occurred to her. But this, Doyle knew, was because she'd grown up in a household of curious couples. Raymond Rabbit whom Doyle had won from his niece in a poker game now lived in his office at CI5 headquarters.

Chuckling softly, he thought back to that wonderful night. Murphy had taught Arabella to play poker when she was six. Taking lessons from Bodie -- who still played regularly with Murphy, and whomever else they could cajole into taking a hand the girl had become an accomplished bluffer. One night after she'd begun living with them, when Bodie had gone out, Doyle deliberately started a game. Each of his other schemes to get Raymond had failed; this was his newest hope. They opened with matchsticks but escalated into real prizes as soon as Arabella admitted that she really wanted to play for a new dress. He'd lost the dress round on purpose and very deliberately lost Bodie's New York Giants football jersey to her, but he beat her soundly when Raymond Rabbit came up. Deciding to ask her tonight if she had purposely lost that hand to him, he continued his scrutiny of the room.

Under TEA PARTY stood a Parsons table that stretched along most of the wall. The table was covered with mementos, gifts, awards and whatever else Bodie couldn't put in a drawer somewhere. When he'd begun Bears, Inc., Bodie had quickly learned the secrets of organized chaos. In surveying the myriad objects, Doyle noted that many of the items had been given to his lover by the children his organization had helped. Most of the gifts held only sentimental value, but a few were works of art proudly presented by grateful adults who'd learned from Bodie. There were pictures there too, hundreds of them, all signed, some by children who were now famous.

Sighing wistfully, Doyle looked down at the child in his arms. "You're lucky, sunshine. You've found your way to the one person in London who truly cares that you have a good life and who also has the power to see that you get the chance to make the most out of it. He glanced at the desk calendar. In a month and a half, Bears, Inc. would celebrate the twentieth anniversary of its founding. Though he realized Arabella was coming home from New York, where she lived, to introduce her actor boyfriend, he also suspected she wanted to be there to celebrate with them.

"Twenty years, who would have thought it?" Doyle murmured. The year of uncertainty, doubt and guilt that they went through after Colleen died was still vivid in his mind. By the end of that year, he and his niece had accepted the fact that they were not to blame for Colleen's death; and Bodie had finally figured out what to do with his life, thanks to a helping hand from George Cowley and Kate Ross.

Ross had become interested in an American organization called "Children of the Night" which helped runaways escape the world of street pornography and prostitution. Capitalizing on her observation of Bodie's emerging sense of nurturance, she'd steered him toward creating a similar sort of group in London. There were others, she'd explained, designed to achieve the same end, but they were not doing a particularly effective job of curbing the problem. When Bodie had hesitated, Cowley stepped in, supplying both necessary introductions and a swift kick. Before Bodie could really say no, Ross had made a major donation to the organization; Cowley had pledged his agents' volunteer time; and Arabella had named the fledgling organization, Bears, Inc.

In the years since, Bodie had built Bears, Inc. into a small, but respected charity specializing in children's problems. Recently, they had branched out to deal with the needs of battered women as well. Although Bears, Inc. was perpetually short of funds, it was, however, blessed with many helping hands. Shamelessly trading on his contacts, Bodie's labor of love was the charity of choice for Special Branch, MI6, MI5, the Yard, the London Met, the SAS and, of course, CI5. Though these people had little spare cash to give, they were always ready to assist in any other way.

Whenever a pimp needed to understand the risk he ran if he preyed on children, there was always a lad or two to do the convincing. The Met consistently brought in desperate children and teenagers who eventually found safe harbor and a way to work out their troubles in the homes of any number of SAS, CI5 or Met friends. Child porn dealers in London had found themselves on the receiving end of CI5 raids so often that now very few tried to sell their wares actively in London.

Once the Met realized that Bodie intended to singlehandedly solve the plight of the London street child, waifs of all types were directed to the now well-known office of Bears, Inc. Often in the past 20 years, troubled teens had stayed with them till Bodie could find them jobs, drug treatment or a foster home that really cared. Doyle couldn't count the times young runaways had come to their home in the middle of the night, terrified of a pimp, strung out, in need of a warm smile and love as well as concrete help. Young children abandoned, addicted, or abused had also found refuge in their home.

A slight sound roused Doyle from his reverie. Bodie's warm but weary smile met his eyes.

"What are you doing here? What do you think of Christina and what are you thinking about?"

"Can't answer anything till I'm properly interrogated," Doyle replied.

Closing the door, Bodie stepped around the desk. Leaning down, he kissed his lover's lips, his tongue easily sliding into the man's mouth as the caress was deepened.

"Another couple of those and I'll tell you anything, including my jock strap size."

Licking his lips as if he'd just had a tasty meal, Bodie smiled. As he sank into the chair across from the desk, his smile became a frown.

"What's wrong?" Doyle asked, concerned by the obvious shift of expression and mood.

"I'm getting too old for this," Bodie mumbled, tipping his head back.

"What happened?" The man's weariness made Doyle wary. He knew something terrible had occurred.

"We got a call from The Women's Room about a new arrival. Seems she'd been at the shelter for several days but went out to work and never came back. That was yesterday. I went to investigate after we convinced Gemma's ex that child support payments were a better buy for his money than prostitutes and the ponies."

Doyle smiled. He'd gone along on that sort of job. Somehow, the presence of the SAS or CI5 glowering in the background made the recalcitrant want to obey Bodie. Since his lover had paused, Doyle observed, "I suppose the bastard agreed."

"Yeah. Decided, just like that," Bodie answered, snapping his fingers, "that he'd been a negligent father."

"How long will he pay up?"

"A long time. I told him what the going rate for cocaine dealers is in London."

"He's dealing?"

Small time, a bit here, a bit there, to support his own habit. He'll probably OD soon or powder out to another city; but as long as he's in London, he'll pay."

"One of these days, peaches, they aren't going to roll over like that. The man is a lawyer, he could...."

"Nah, too risky. He'll pay...and quietly."

Shaking his head at the strong arm tactics he approved of only because he knew Bodie did not abuse the power, Doyle asked, "So where did you go after you threatened Mr. Lawrence, Esquire?" He glanced down at the still sleeping child.

"We went to see about this woman, Millie Thorn. We arrived just when the Met did. The husband had killed her -- stabbed her cut her breasts off. He was working on mutilating her stomach when we got there ...." He pictured the scene. "There was blood everywhere."

Carefully, Doyle put Christina in the chair he'd been sitting in. He went around the corner and pulled Bodie up into his arms. What Bodie was describing wasn't something new; it wasn't something they couldn't cope with; it was just that they'd long ago learned that the vagaries of life were less difficult to deal with when faced by the two of them together.

"It never gets easier, Ray. If anything, I find it harder to stomach now than I did when I was with CI5."

"Do you want to stop? You can, you know. I'll keep you can afford your sexual favors."

Bodie chuckled. "Don't bring in much by way of salary, do I? Twenty years and I haven't anything to speak of in the bank."

"There always seems to be enough for some urchin you've brought home and want to feed and clothe."

"Yeah," Bodie answered, sighing. "Seemed to have been enough last week when an 'urchin' I know wanted that special camera lens ...."

Smiling because he had desperately wanted the macro lens Bodie bought him, Doyle kissed his lover. The years had not lessened his passion for Bodie, nor Bodie's for him, he realized as he felt a response in the body pressed against him. "I could have afforded it."

"Doyle, if government agencies budgeted their money the way you do, the entire multi-trillion national debt of the US would be retired in three years."

"That's why I can afford to keep you," Doyle stated, reaching around to caress a still firm ass. He then leaned back to kiss his lover's forehead. As he did so, he noted how debonair Bodie looked with the silver running through the once all black hair. "So what happened to Mr. Millie Thorn?" His arms tightened when the tension returned to Bodie's body.

"He walked out onto the front step, stuffed a sawed-off shotgun into his mouth and blew his fuckin' head off." Bodie was silent for a moment as he relived the grisly moment.

"Do you want to quit?" The question was a serious one.

"Yes." Bodie pulled back to look into the green eyes. Doyle was up to something.

"Then follow me." Taking the man's hand, Doyle pulled him around to the other side of the desk. "Hold out your hands."

When Bodie obeyed, Christina was placed in his arms. "You're right. I can't, can I?"

Shaking his head, Doyle sat on the edge of the desk and pointed to the seat where the child had been.

Once more, Bodie did as instructed. When he was comfortable, he looked up at Doyle. Though the man was over 50, his copper curls shot through with grey, the green eyes were as lively as ever. Love welled within him. They had been through a great deal together and nothing, not even their rockiest moments, had diminished their affection or passion for one another. Drawing strength from this constant bright spot in his often dark world, Bodie frowned, suddenly wondering what Doyle was doing here. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Doyle replied, eyeing his lover and the young child nestled in his arms. It was a picture he'd often seen, and it still amazed him that the one-time mercenary had had this man inside him. Not that Bodie was a saint. He was as impatient, as intimidating and as cold with people who didn't do what he wanted or who did wrong as he always had been. His methods were too direct for bureaucrats and civil libertarians; but as always, results counted most for Bodie and he had those. There was even a rumor afoot in Whitehall that someone was going to nominate the man for knighthood. The thought of calling him "Sir Bodie," a title Doyle was certain would be carried over to their bed for a while, made him laugh.

"What's so funny and why are you here?"

"You're funny, and I want to invite you to dinner."

"I'm not funny and are you here in person because you had the phone lines at CI5 cut to save money?"

"Smart ass."

"Seems to me you rather fancied it last night ...." The voice was suggestive, full of innuendo.

"Still do, peaches, still do," Doyle replied lewdly, leaning over to kiss his lover lightly on the lips.

"Well, I'm not a pushover, you know. It'll take more than a fancy dinner to buy me."

The falsetto voice and batted eyelashes elicited a deep chuckle from Doyle, who still thought Bodie's long dark lashes were the most sinfully gorgeous ones in London.

"Besides," Bodie continued in a more normal tone, "I already have a date for dinner."

"Yeah? Who with?"

"Jealous?" The eyelashes were batted once more.

"You prick, stop that. Who are you on with?"

"My psychiatrist."

"When are you going to accept the fact that Kate Ross is not interested in your body? You've been trying to bed her for over 20 years."

"Ever optimistic, that's me." Bodie flashed Doyle a knowing smile.

Sighing deeply, Doyle responded with, "Well, she can come with us."

"Getting kinky in your old age, my son?"

"Got kinky the day I took up with you," said Doyle as he handed Bodie the letter from Arabella.

"This is a joke, right?" Bodie asked when he'd finished.

"Nope. She's coming in this afternoon. Wants us to meet her and the boyfriend at Connaught's. She's paying," he added when Bodie's eyes grew rounder. "And I'm inviting everyone I can think of."

"Tess?"

"Browbeat her into it. Bring Kate." Edging close to Bodie, he inquired, "Why are you going to dinner with her in the first place?"

Bodie nodded toward Christina. "Kate read a few new studies on child abuse among the very young and she wants to discuss them. What about George?"

"I've already asked him to join us," Doyle replied. "By the way, he's due for a check-up tomorrow. Can you spare the time?"

"Yeah. He's on my calendar," Bodie answered. "She can't be serious."

"She's 28, Bodie."

"That's too young to get married."

The weariness Doyle had seen in his lover's face a few moments ago returned.

"I am getting too old," Bodie moaned.

"Quit complaining. You're younger than I am."

"Yeah, but all you do is count the pencils being used at CI5," Bodie challenged teasing. Though George Cowley was still the nominal head of the organization, Doyle had been the boss for nearly twelve years. Heart attack and stroke had reduced Cowley, nearly 80 now, to a consulting capacity.

"Keep it up and you'll be sleepin' on the sofa tonight."

"May be doing just that," Bodie answered, glancing down at the child who was beginning to wake up.

"We're not equipped for a three year old."

"We won't need much. I think I've already found her a home -- starting next week."

Doyle tilted his head, waiting.

"Last week when I had lunch with Reynolds, SAS, he was telling me that he and his wife can't have kids ...."

"Sounds like a set-up to me," Doyle interrupted suspiciously.

"It was. He wanted to know if we knew of any kids. I called him this morning; he said he'd get back to me. His wife's in Cornwall, visiting relatives."

"You've been a busy bear this morning," Doyle pointed out. "Must be hard on an old bag of bones like you."

"Buy me lunch and I'll show you what else is hard," Bodie replied suggestively. Whimpering caught his attention and he looked down at the child he was holding. When she smiled shyly at him, he smiled broadly.

"It isn't fair," Doyle told Lewis Lion who'd been sitting on the desk near him. "Doesn't matter how young they are, they all fall for him."

"They recognize perfection when they see it."

"You're talking yourself into buying your own lunch, peaches."

Use of the term, one of Doyle's favorites ever since Arabella had given him the nickname, made Bodie smile. He eyed his lover and said, "I love you."

Doyle was about to retort when he saw fear in the child's green eyes. The sarcastic tones and too harsh voices had apparently alarmed her. His voice carefully schooled, he replied sweetly, "You have no shame, do you, using a line like that to stop me in my tracks. You'll do anything, won't you?"

"Anything to make you buy me lunch," Bodie replied, rnodulating his voice. "I'm starving."

Licking his lips lustily, Doyle suggested that he just might spring for lunch at Bodie's favorite London eatery.

"We're in luck, sweetheart. Mr. Big Spender is going to take us to McDonald's for lunch." Bodie pushed the intercom button. "Tess, Ray's taking us to McDonald's."

"Bodie, I brought you a lovely spinach salad...."

"Give it to Ray," Bodie responded, quickly letting go of the button.

Doyle bit back a smile. For 15 years, ever since Tess had come to work at Bears, Inc., Bodie had been avoiding the lunch salad his sister threatened him with every day. What he had never discovered was that she had yet to actually bring one for him. It was the longest running practical joke Doyle knew of. Playing along, he said, "We'd better go -- wouldn't want to break your record."

Bodie smiled. "Is she really going to get married?"

"Who knows? Must be fairly serious if she's finally bringing him home to meet 'mum and dad.'"

"You don't suppose that by some miracle she's told him just who 'mum and dad' are, do you?"

"Not a chance. She acquired her perverse sense of humor from you and now you're gonna pay for it."

"I'd better call Katie, tell her about the change in plans."

"That'd be nice. She might appreciate more than the five minutes notice you usually give her." Over the years, Kate Ross had become a close friend, particularly of Bodie's. She still worked for Doyle.

"Here," Bodie said, handing the silent Christina to his lover. "Talk to her while I make a few quick calls."

Doyle took the stoic child and went to the office's other chair. There he and Lewis Lion tried to coax a small smile from the girl. He became so engrossed in playing with her that he didn't realize Bodie was standing beside him till the top of his head was kissed.

"I really do love you, Ray," Bodie said softly, looking down into two sets of green eyes. "And you, too, sunshine," he added, touching the tip of the child's nose with his finger.

"You're bloody marvellous yourself." Doyle used a free hand to pull Bodie down for a kiss.

"Well, I see that time doesn't change everything," a feminine voice announced from the doorway.

Both men looked over to see Arabella standing there.

"What happened to you?" Bodie blurted out, ogling the very pregnant woman.

"I ate too many watermelon seeds," Arabella replied evenly, moving into the arms Bodie held out to her. "It's so good to be home," she murmured when she was pressed close to him.

Bodie held her a moment then kissed her. "Hello."

Returning the kiss, she answered, "Hello," and went to kiss her uncle.

Suspicious, Doyle asked, "Did you call me from London?"

"Yes I arrived on a morning flight. And before you both get all pissy about it -- I just wanted some time by myself to wander around, see London, soak up its ambience." She smiled at the little girl watching her intently. "And who do we have here?"

"Her name is Christina," Lewis Lion told everyone. Even the child smiled as the lion went on went on to do a dance.

"Never had the heart to tell you this, but your Uncle Ray... he's daft, mad as a hatter," Bodie whispered loudly.

Smiling at him, Arabella retorted, "I've always known; he married you, didn't he?"

"Well, I can see that years in New York haven't dulled that tongue," Doyle commented, savoring the friendly banter that characterized Bodie's working relationship with Arabella.

"No, it hasn't, but she's taken up watermelon eating," Bodie moaned as he sat on the edge of his desk. When Tess appeared behind Arabella, he said to her, "I thought you told her what could happen...."

Doyle turned his attention to Tess; he loved to see her interact with her sibling. The two fought constantly in a friendly way that spoke silently of how close they were. Bodie thought Tess was a saint, while she thought of him as an older brother, someone to be ignored when he ranted, someone to hold when he felt blue. She was the organizational brain of Bears, Inc. Because of her, paperwork was completed and records were kept. And yet she still found time to help out on the street. She was as adept at dealing with troubled children as her brother, which explained, to Doyle at least, why she was able to handle Bodie so well.

"Like the man who helped raise her, she obviously didn't listen," Tess countered.

Before Bodie could whip out the comeback on his lips, he stomach rumbled.

"Is that thunder?" Arabella asked, straining to hear.

"Either that or an earthquake," Doyle contributed.

Bodie stuck out his tongue at one and all. "Smart asses, I'm surrounded by them." Noting the frowning face of Christina, he took her from his lover. "I think you and I should have some lunch. Are you hungry?" The gathering grimace became a sweet smile in response to the one on Bodie's lips.

"What's the secret?" Doyle asked earnestly. Bodie could quiet a screaming baby in seconds. Wary street children who didn't know him were telling him their secrets only moments after meeting him.

"My aftershave. It gets 'em every time."

Laughing, Arabella said, "It's so good to be home."

"You're just in time, princess. Ray's going to do the unheard of he's going to pop for lunch at McDonald's."

"What's the big occasion?" Arabella asked seriously, playing along.

"I'm hungry," Bodie answered solemnly, as if it were out of the ordinary.

"Nothing new about that, you were born that way," Tess pointed out.

"Smart asses...I'm surrounded by them." Bodie repeated, addressing the child in his arms.

"She's beautiful," Arabella commented. "Are you taking her in?"

"For a while, till we get her a decent home with a proper mother and father," Doyle replied.

"Does the boyfriend know we're not quite your regulation mum and dad?" Bodie queried.

"Of course not."

Doyle glanced at Bodie, silently reaffirming his prediction.

"Speaking of the boyfriend, where is he?" Bodie eyed Arabella. "Or have you had the good sense to dump him already?"

"Bodie," Arabella began. "G. Robert is --"

"G. Robert?" Bodie and Doyle echoed in unison. They had always thought his name pretentious.

Arabella smiled when Bodie sighed and Doyle began to chuckle. "I feel like I've never left home."

Noting the wistfulness in his niece's voice, Doyle explained that the man in question was due in on a later flight.

"Good. Then we can have lunch without him," Bodie announced, grinning at Doyle.

"I always thought you were born at the end of the yellow brick road. Now I know the truth -- you were born under the golden arches," Doyle muttered.

When Bodie beamed, Christina smiled broadly. "That's it, petal. Are you hungry?"

Timidly, the little girl nodded.

"Then we'd best be off to see the wizard," Doyle stated, glancing at his watch. "I have a two o'clock with the Minister."

Never one to hesitate where food was involved, Bodie led the way next door to McDonald's. He was still accused of letting his stomach dictate the location of the Bears, Inc. office. What few knew was that McDonald's had been one of the fledgling organization's first major supporters. Early forms of aid had included office space in a suite McDonald's had leased. When that company had moved elsewhere, Bears, Inc. had been given the option to remain, rent free, for as long as they wanted to. That was why, years later, Bears, Inc. was still crammed into the too small space.

---

It wasn't till dinner at the Connaught was nearly finished that Bodie and Doyle began to suspect that Arabella's reasons for visiting were not as announced. It was dessert time and everyone had carefully avoided mentioning the fact that G. Robert O'Dell had yet to arrive.

"Excuse me," Arabella said, pushing back from the table. She checked to see if Christina was still asleep before walking away.

"That's the fifth time she's gone off to the loo," Bodie commented as Doyle's niece disappeared around a corner. "Is that normal?" He glanced in Kate Ross' direction.

"Why are you asking me? Am I pregnant?"

"You're a woman," Bodie answered.

"And because of my gender I automatically know everything about pregnancy?"

"Well, don't you?"

Only the obvious concern in the blue eyes kept the psychiatrist from telling Bodie what a sexist pig he was. It wasn't till a small smile grew on his lips that she realized she was being teased. "It's been a tough day, Bodie."

"Should I take it up with your boss?" asked Bodie as he winked at Cowley.

The older man snorted in response.

The waiter arrived with coffee and the conversation turned to Bodie's hopes regarding the rapid placement of Christina with the Reynoldses. As Arabella wasn't back by the time the waiter returned to take the dessert order, Bodie expressed concern. "Something's wrong. I can feel it."

"Yeah," Doyle agreed thoughtfully.

"Pregnant women have very small bladders," Tess contributed.

"No," Doyle shook his head, "it's something else."

"G. Robert O'Dell," Cowley said from the head of the table.

Bodie smiled at his former boss. "Still the best nose for trouble this side of the Channel, sir."

Cowley's expression, regained a bit of its former hardness. "Have you checked him out?"

Doyle nodded. "Had him checked when she first took up with him." He paused for a sip of coffee. "The FBI is running him through again now."

"Perhaps I, should see if there's any, more immediate problem," Ross suggested.

"I'll go with you," Tess volunteered, rising from the table.

"Go easy on her," Bodie called after the two women. When his own sister silently responded with a very rude American gesture, Bodie sighed.

"You taught her everything she knows," Doyle pointed out, grinning at his lover.

"Fuck off, Doyle."

It was Cowley's turn to sigh.

Just then the waiter reappeared and Bodie ordered chocolate truffle torte for himself and Arabella. No one else was indulging.

"What if she doesn't want chocolate truffle torte?" Doyle asked.

"It won't go to waste, and she can always order something else."

"One of these days, you might turn into a truffle torte, you know," commented Doyle, eyeing Bodie's midriff. "What do you think happened to the boyfriend?"

"Maybe he doesn't care for the Connaught," joked Bodie. He looked Doyle in the eye and shrugged. Both men glanced in Cowley's direction.

"Is there still a boyfriend?" the older man tossed out.

"Must have been one about eight months ago," Bodie pointed out needlessly.

"Why was she afraid to tell us?" Doyle asked, leaning aside so the waiter could deliver Bodie's dessert. "I always thought she could talk to us, did talk to us."

"Yeah," Bodie commented with a sigh. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

Doyle smiled at his companion of years and, under cover of the long tablecloth, put a hand on Bodie's thigh.

"Here, a bit of chocolate will help," Bodie said, gathering a healthy bite of torte onto a fork. He fed it to Doyle.

"Almost as sweet as you are," Doyle mumbled, nearly choking on the dense cake when Bodie blushed. He slid his hand up the thigh he still clutched.

"Maybe we should go have a pee," Bodie murmured as the warm hand thoroughly groped him.

"Arabella will not be intimidated into talking if you use your CI5 badge to burst into the Ladies' room and interrogate her," Cowley commented dryly.

The quiet rebuke evoked a moment of deja vu for both former agents. Glancing at one another, they smiled slightly, neither certain if the older man was as oblivious as he seemed to the innuendo in Bodie's words. Accepting that he could still read their minds, Doyle, after a final squeeze, removed his hand from Bodie's crotch while Bodie attacked his torte.

"You need to tell them, Arabella," Ross said emphatically.

"How? How do I tell my parents that I'm eight months pregnant and the father has abandoned not only me but the child? How do I tell them that I've made a mess of my life? How do I tell them that I need them to help me when I couldn't tell even them seven months ago that I was pregnant? How?" Arabella took a deep breath. She put her hands on her swollen abdomen.

"You just tell them, Arabella," Tess recommended, watching the younger woman pace the length of the women's lounge. "You sit down and tell them exactly what happened and how much you need them now."

"They're your parents, child. They may be momentarily hurt by your demonstration of independence, but that will be lost when you tell them you need their help, love and understanding in this moment of crisis," Ross explained, picking up on what Tess was trying to say. "They will understand --"

"-- eventually," Tess finished. Both women smiled at their troubled companion.

"Actually, I'm surprised at their restraint. Day was when they both would have burst in here and demanded to know what's going on," added Ross.

"They think something is wrong?" Arabella asked.

Tess answered. "Dear child, they knew something was wrong the moment you walked in the door alone this evening. You've always insisted they respect you, treat you as an adult, which they really try to do.

"But they are parents, Arabella. Sensing when something is wrong with a child is a talent bequeathed when they hand out parent certificates. It's a skill honed to perfection in Bodie."

"I'm most afraid of him, of what he'll say," Arabella said in a voice.

"If it's any consolation, my dear, his sharp tongue still cuts Ray to the quick," Tess commented.

"You're not immune yourself, Tess, nor am I," Ross pointed out.

Sighing wistfully, Tess smiled at the psychiatrist. "I'm afraid Bodie has earned the right to his cynicism."

"You do know how much he loves you, don't you?" queried Ross.

Arabella walked a bit before replying. "I suppose so, but we've never really talked about my boyfriends, especially after he caught me in bed with Russ. I've always known that no one could meet Bodie's standards."

"Is it that, or have you always been searching for someone like Bodie?"

The question, from the psychiatrist, made Arabella stop. Looking at the doctor, she drew in a deep breath. "Both." She rubbed a certain part of her abdomen. "She's as upset as I am."

"She?" the nun and doctor chorused.

"She. I fell a few weeks ago and my doctor insisted on an ultrasound test." Arabella paused a few seconds before adding, "We're fine."

"Have you picked out a name?" Tess asked, smiling at the younger woman.

Shaking her head, Arabella, who was pacing once more, elaborated, "No, but Jasmine calls her Kathleen."

The three women were silent a moment as each thought about what Kathleen Doyle would be like.

Finally, Kate Ross said, "You do have to tell them, Arabella. And as soon as possible."

"Of course, Bodie will hunt the bastard down and hang him by his balls," Tess commented thoughtfully, "but only if Ray doesn't get him first."

Both Arabella and Ross burst out laughing at the image and at the usually more reserved nun's language.

"Seriously, Arabella, you said you fell a few weeks ago .... Did .... ?" Ross led.

"No. I'm just clumsy. He left me nearly six months ago, when I finally found the courage to tell him I was pregnant."

"Beyond taking an emotional toll, he didn't hurt you?"

"No," Arabella replied. "But all of this doesn't help me now. I don't know how to tell them we've been abandoned and that I've really fucked up my life."

"When you get home dear," Tess began, "you make them coffee, sit them down on the sofa, and simply pour out your heart."

"They may ask why you didn't tell them this a long time ago. They may even be angry with you, but give them the opportunity to express that anger. They will also wonder if they've done something wrong or hurt you, making you think you couldn't come to them in the first place," Ross added.

"Tell them why you didn't tell them," Tess carried on. "Do you know why?" she asked suddenly, wondering. In her work with children, she'd learned that they often didn't understand their own reasoning.

Nodding, Arabella responded, "Because I didn't want them to know that I'd been such a fool, that I'd been such a poor judge of character."

"They will understand that, trust me," Ross replied. "Despite their experience and wisdom, they, too, still misjudge character."

"They've made mistakes?" Arabella queried, laughing.

"Well, let's see, Bodie's made two in his life -- that I've forced him to admit to. Ray, by Bodie's count, is up to four," Tess contributed, hoping to keep the moment light.

"When you go on to explain that you are at a difficult point in your life -- that you have writer's block -- that the father of your child has abandoned you that you are afraid of having and caring for this baby alone and as a result, you really need them -- they'll rally round so fast your head will spin," Ross pointed out, returning to Arabella's problem.

"Do they know how fortunate they are?" Arabella asked, appreciating the wisdom in the doctor's advice but wondering where she would acquire the courage to begin such a conversation.

"Yes, my dear, they do. It's one of the strengths of their relationship," observed Tess.

"Well," Ross said, hugging Arabella, "if we don't go back soon, they will burst in here."

"Thank you, Kate, Tess. But please, let me tell them in my own time ... don't .... "

Respecting the woman's wishes, Tess said, "We only came in to see if the baby has stopped kicking."

Appreciating the support, Arabella hugged Tess.

"I'm sure the airplane flight and crossing all those time zones has affected her," Ross observed, playing along.

"Thanks," Arabella murmured, squaring her shoulders. "Thanks for letting me come home again." With that, she walked out of her temporary haven.

"It's about time," Doyle commented as the three women approached the table. "Bodie's eaten his dessert, Arabella's dessert, and he's about to order another round."

Arabella smiled at her uncle and leaned over to kiss him before sitting down.

"Where's my kiss?" Bodie asked, his tone one of injured innocence.

"You ate my dessert."

"So? You weren't here, were you? The Connaught likes to make sure their pastries are completely fresh...."

"And he was just savin' your taste buds their first night back," Doyle explained, grinning broadly.

"Sins of gluttony, Bodie...," Cowley warned in a stern voice.

The ensuing laughter woke Christina.

"You'd better get her home to bed," Tess suggested, eyeing first the child and then Arabella.

Realizing that they'd let their own enjoyment of having Arabella back cause them to neglect her welfare, Doyle signalled the waiter. He had just, taken out a credit card when Arabella kicked him in the shin. Glowering, he looked at her.

"I said dinner was on me."

"You've forgotten how much Bodie eats," he replied, handing the waiter his Barclay's card.

"Uncle Ray...."

"Don't argue with him, princess," Bodie warned. "He's got a gun."

When the waiter turned white, everyone began to laugh.

Arabella, conceding defeat, helped Bodie prepare Christina for the trip home while Doyle paid the bill. After exchanging good-byes, the group piled into cars -- Arabella and Christina with Doyle, Tess with Ross and Cowley with Bodie.

"Be home soon," Bodie called out the window as he drove off.

"I wish you had let me pay," Arabella began as Doyle started the car. "That was an awful lot, unless, of course, they're paying civil servants here a great deal more these days."

"Expense account. One of the few perks of this job, a trade off for all the 3 a.m. calls," Doyle explained, reaching over to pat his niece's thigh. They rode in silence for a few moments before Doyle inquired, "So what happened to the boyfriend?"

"London at night. I'd forgotten how beautiful it is."

"You know, if you don't willingly confess, Bodie will worm it out of you."

Arabella laughed, recalling the occasions when she'd sworn silence only to find herself telling Bodie everything. "Do you remember the time I wouldn't tell you what was happening at school when the boys were bullying Lizabeth and me, trying to extort money from us?"

"Yeah," Doyle answered, chuckling. "What'd he use that time? Some tale of woe from an imaginary childhood?"

"No, that time I succumbed to a strawberry tart from Harrod's."

"You inherited that weakness from him, you know," Doyle pointed out as they stopped for a red light.

"What does one bribe him with these days?" asked Arabella, glancing over at her uncle. When he returned her scrutiny, she smiled. "I'm glad to be home."

"There's a story here, isn't there?"

"Yes, but I'd rather tell you both at the same time."

"I might be of more help with Bodie if I know what you have to say," suggested Doyle.

"A well known variation on the divide and conquer technique," Arabella intoned.

"No. It's just that Bodie tends to get more intimidating when you've been away from him. You forget how much he loves you, how he'd do absolutely anything for you, except share a sweet .... "

"Spoken from experience?"

Doyle sighed, remembering the incident. "Yeah. We'd had a major fight, decided to give us up. We spent three months, two weeks, five days apart."

"When?" Arabella demanded to know.

"The year before Colleen died. In fact, we'd only been together again for three months when she died."

"Why did you fight?"

Checking to see if Christina was still asleep in the back seat, Doyle pulled over to a curb, parking the car. He shifted so he could see his niece, her face pale in the harsh light of a street lamp. "When we first took up housekeeping, we never really discussed women."

"Bodie was unfaithful?"

Aware of the horror in the woman's voice, Doyle snorted. "No." He paused, looking into her Doyle-green eyes. "I was."

"You? I don't believe it."

"It's true. I was quite infatuated with this woman. It was sexual, really. We spent every moment in bed." When he saw the disbelieving expression on Arabella's face, he continued, "It began as an assignment. I was babysittin' her for the Cow."

"I can't believe this."

"Happened because Bodie and I weren't talking. I was feeling neglected, trapped, uncertain. We'd been partners and lovers for quite awhile and we thought the silent type of empathy that worked for us on the job would work at home, too. We'd never established any rules or really defined our commitment. Bodie was on the verge of beginning to question why he was in CI5. I didn't know what his problem was and, being me, I read it as restlessness, dissatisfaction with me. So, when Fiona Graves came along, I ...." He ended with a shrug.

"What happened?"

Smiling at the incredulity registering in Arabella's voice, Doyle answered, "When the lust and the job ended, I couldn't face Bodie. Worked for two months on my own. When he nearly bought it on an op where I should have been guarding his back, I came to me senses. Bodie Bear invited Bodie to dinner. Shy fellow that he is, Bodie was busy. Took nearly two pounds of strawberry truffles to get him to accept. And even then, it took the offer of Simpson's before he agreed. Two bottles of expensive champagne finally wiped that intimidating scowl off his face. The bastard was so drunk he fell asleep in the car on the way back to my flat." Doyle laughed as he pictured the scene. "Had a hell of a time gettin' him into bed. Of course, the nap revitalized him ...." His voice trailed off and he took a deep breath. Memories of that night in Bodie's arms still made him tingle. "The point is, he intimidates only if you let him, only if you forget how much he loves you. And he does love you ... very much."

Arabella nodded, understanding what he was trying to tell her. "You really used Bodie Bear?"

"Yeah," Doyle replied, grinning.

"That's a marvellous idea." Arabella stopped herself. Since one of the current crises in her life was a pervasive case of writer's block, the image of the stuffed animal breaking the ice for the two estranged men triggered a flood of possibilities. She felt better, more certain that coming home had been the right decision.

Interrogation skills honed to a fine edge, Doyle pounced in what he sensed was a moment of vulnerability. "Why couldn't you tell us you were pregnant?"

"I was afraid," Arabella blurted out, immediately annoyed with herself. "I've been away too long."

Ignoring the aside, Doyle pressed on. He took her hand and asked, "Why? What did we do to make you afraid of telling us something so important, so wonderful?"

In the way of all children being gently chided by a beloved parent, Arabella shrugged. "I don't know why." Aware of the pain she'd brought Doyle, she looked at him and added, "For a while, I thought I'd have an abortion. But by the time I'd made up my mind to do it, I was past the first trimester. At that point, I decided to keep it." Absorbed in her memories, she absently placed a hand on her abdomen.

"When's the baby due?" Doyle asked, accepting, temporarily, her explanation.

"I'm eight months along. The doctor told me that Fred, Jasmine and I had to fly over now; or I would have to have the baby in New York." Arabella took several deep breaths to calm herself. "I'm sorry, Uncle Ray. I ...."

"It's okay, princess," Doyle said as he leaned over to kiss his niece. "Are you okay?" he asked, noting the drawn expression on the woman's face.

"I'm really tired. This last year has been one of the worst of my life. I've missed you both and London, so much, but I wanted to make it on my own ... I ...." Despite the presence of the gear shift, she put her head on Doyle's shoulder.

Doyle wanted to say something but too many different thoughts and emotions filled his mind, rendering him silent. He was disappointed that she'd not come to them sooner, disappointed that he and Bodie had obviously failed to make her understand that she could come to them for help.

When she began crying, he scolded himself for being so wrapped up in his own feelings. Soothing her took some time. It made him realize how much emotional trouble the woman must be in. Wishing he had Bodie Bear to help calm her, he glanced into the back seat. Lewis Lion had slipped from Christina's clutch. He reached around and gently picked up the worn creature. When the animal kissed Arabella's neck, she lifted her head, a weak smile on her lips, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

"Grrr," Lewis said, kissing a red, runny nose.

"You're crazy," Arabella sniffed, taking the handkerchief Doyle had handed her.

"Forgotten that, hadn't you?" Doyle inquired as Lewis leaped into what little lap Arabella had.

"Yes."

"Well, it's been a long time since you were home," Doyle stated, smiling at his niece.

"Too long, I think," Arabella replied, squeezing Doyle's hand. "Shall we go?"

"Only if you're ready to face Bodie. He is rather upset."

"Oh," Arabella commented. "Will he be angry, really angry?"

Doyle shrugged. "More likely hurt that you had so little trust in us. Angry with the boyfriend. Pleased about the baby, but most of all, happy to see you."

Aware that Doyle spoke not only of Bodie's reactions but his own, Arabella continued, "Will he listen? And forgive?"

"Always," Doyle declared emphatically, kissing the woman's hand.

Pleased with his response, Arabella queried, "Was it hard to reconcile that time you were apart?"

"Yes and no. It was clear from the moment we made love again that neither of us was happy being away from the other, but it wasn't till after Colleen died and you came to stay that Bodie was able to put his misgivings about CI5 into words."

"And you've both been faithful ever since?"

"Well, barring the odd assignment now and then, yes."

Arabella shook her head. "I don't know how you could do that."

"We both know it goes with the job. In that context, it's nothing to worry about." Doyle decided that while he owed his niece as much honesty as possible, she did not need to know about the occasion three years ago when Bodie had very nearly strayed with Sammantha Weddington. In the end, he hadn't; and since then, Doyle had been careful to see that he had time for Bodie, that they kept romance and passion in their relationship. It'd been the most satisfying period of his life, and Bodie's, too, if he was any judge of his lover's emotional state.

"Ray? Ray?"

"Oh ... what?" Doyle replied, realizing he'd been lost in his own memories.

"We'd better get home or Bodie will send out the SAS to look for us."

Nodding, Doyle started the engine. As he did so, he picked up the car phone and punched a button. Edging back into the traffic lane, he spoke softly into the receiver. "Alpha here. Status report on request 602." He listened as the agent on duty told him what little the FBI had collected on G. Robert O'Dell. There wasn't much, but he did learn that the man had been living in California for the last six months.

"Trouble?" Arabella asked when he hung up.

"No. Just needed to check up on a case; keep people on their toes. Oh, by the way, I've always wanted to know -- do you remember the night you lost Raymond Rabbit to me in that poker game?"

"Yes," Arabella replied, bemused.

"Did you lose him on purpose?"

Arabella smiled as she recalled the determined expression that had been in her uncle's eyes. Even if she hadn't known, she would have divined his intent that night. "Do you know why they never let you play poker with them?" Arabella inquired.

"No," Doyle answered, shrugging. "Bodie always says it's because I'm only meant for playing strip poker."

Giggling, Arabella put a hand on her abdomen.

"You okay?"

"Yes," the woman replied. "He told me it's because you have no poker face."

"You knew, then," Doyle stated with a sigh. "Bested by a child. It's a wonder I've made it through, all these years."

"Well," Arabella began, patting her uncle's arm, "I might not have known if it hadn't been so obviously the latest in a string of attempts to get Raymond. And besides, Bodie paid me to lose."

Doyle stopped the car in the middle of the street. "What?"

Arabella smiled. "He handed me a 20 pound note and told me to lose. He explained that he hadn't realized how much you would want Raymond when he gave the rabbit to me. He said it would make you very happy to have Raymond. And, he also made it clear that playing poker would be a very good way to con you out of the dress I wanted which you'd said we couldn't afford that month."

"Shit!"

Glad it was dark and that she didn't have to hide her smile, Arabella asked, "Does he still scam you like that?" The part of her that envied them their relationship hoped the answer would be yes.

Accelerating once more, Doyle sighed wearily. "Yeah. Only last week, I was conned into buying that silk shirt he had on tonight."

"That's wonderful -- really," Arabella said. Content, she put her hand on Doyle's thigh and leaned back in her seat.

Warmed by this new knowledge, this example of his lover's love, Doyle's sigh echoed his niece's contentment. He concentrated on the drive home.

As the car pulled up, the front door opened. Bodie came out and helped extract Christina from the back seat.

"Worried, peaches?" Doyle inquired lightly as he followed his lover into the two storied townhouse.

Bodie shook his head, but Doyle knew from the set of the broad shoulders that the man was troubled. Once inside, Arabella volunteered to put Christina into the small trundle bed kept in what had been Arabella's old room.

"Well?" Bodie demanded as soon as he was alone with Doyle.

"Well what?" Doyle replied, taking off his jacket and hanging it in the nearby closet. When he turned around, Bodie was directly behind him. Noticing the moonlight streaming in the large bay window, Doyle moved away, turning off the lights. He placed a finger against his lover's lips and drew him into the path of the platinum beams.

Despite the questions he had, Bodie responded eagerly to Doyle's kiss. His hands had just slid under Doyle's shirt, up the warm, well-muscled back when Bodie realized they were being watched. Both he and Doyle turned as one to see Arabella staring at them. Her tears glistened in the moonlight.

"What's wrong?" Bodie asked, voice full of paternal concern.

"Nothing," Arabella whispered. "It's so beautiful, what you two have, still have." She sniffed. "It's just that I'm finally mature enough to appreciate your love." Without waiting for them to say anything, she stepped toward them. "We're completely exhausted," Arabella began, hand on her abdomen, "and I'm going to bed. Christina is asleep again, by the way." Standing beside Bodie now, she kissed his lips lightly and faced her uncle. "Thank you," she murmured, kissing him as well.

When the quiet click of the door told them Arabella was in her room to stay, Bodlie looked at Doyle and repeated an earlier query, "Well?"

"Can't it wait?" Doyle asked, tightening his hold on his lover.

Looking into the man's expressive eyes, Bodie smiled. "Yeah," he said, taking Doyle's hand and leading him to their bedroom.

---

"What the fuck is this?" Bodie shouted out to his sister as he eyed the 50 pages of grant application guidelines that had come from McDonald's.

With a sigh of resignation, Tess yelled back, "You have eyes to read with and I believed you had a brain that was given to an occasional thought, but I see that I'm wrong."

"You're in a shitty mood," Bodie said as he reached his sister's desk.

"Just because I didn't bring you breakfast and I resent being yelled at is no reason to say I'm in a bad mood."

Pulling the woman into his arms, Bodie looked into her eyes, as blue as his own. "What's wrong?"

"CI5 tactics won't work on me, Bodie."

He kissed her forehead and tightened his hold till she rested her head on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"You obviously haven't seen the paper ...."

"You mean about the accident at Hereford?"

Tess looked at her brother. "You do know."

"Yeah," he admitted softly. "Anne Reynolds phoned last night."

"What will happen to her, to Christina? They've only had her two weeks ...."

"Well," Bodie began, pausing to take a deep breath. "I'll use every bit of influence we have to see that Anne keeps Christina. In fact, I'm going out to visit this afternoon. Wanna come?"

"No, someone has to answer the phones. It's just that ...."

"It's not fair, I know. That's what Ray said. But as I told him, look at the positive side. Anne does have Christina. Two people with no one else now have each other."

"You're confident about her keeping the child?"

"Lots of people owe me favors. The entire SAS regiment will lobby for her. Doyle can always count on a few 'friends' and if we have to roll out the big guns, we'll get George involved too. I don't think you need to worry." Finger under her chin, Bodie tipped Tess' face upward. "What else is wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying, Sister Teresa."

"I don't know how you've done this for so long, Wills," Tess replied, using her brother's childhood name.

"It's this or work at McDonald's," Bodie replied matter-of-factly. When his sister smiled, he added, "Did try it for a while, but the manager kept pinchin' me arse, tryin' to get me into bed with him; so when Doyle threatened to have a chat with him, I quit."

"And you've been stuck here ever since," Tess finished for him.

Bodie nodded. "What's really bothering you, beside the world's injustice and man's inhumanity to man?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"For some people, maybe. But there's something else. Don't forget who you're trying to hide from. Now, sigh deeply in amused exasperation and confess."

Shaking her head, Tess again put her head on her brother's shoulder. She remained silent for a moment, drawing strength from the contact. "Has Arabella spoken to you?"

"No, but fortunately, we have a spy network at our disposal. Ray found out the boyfriend took a powder six months ago. Ray also thought she was having some sort of artistic crisis, but she's been scribbling away and painting like a woman possessed for the last three weeks, ever since that night at the Connaught."

When he paused to catch his breath, Tess asked, "Doesn't it bother you that she hasn't spoken of her problems?"

"It might if she weren't Ray's niece. She's just like him. They both wear a problem out." Bodie sighed. "As an expert-on-Doyles, my opinion is that the boyfriend hasn't been a problem for a long time. She's not really upset by it. And she knows we've probably found out what there is to find out about him. As for not telling us about the baby ... well, kids are like that. They forget that their parents might scream and yell but that they really only want to help. In the end, she did ask. And in the silent, time-honored tradition of Doyles everywhere, she showed up and assumed we could read her mind and would be there to help. She knew where to come when it came down too heavy for her. To me, that's what matters."

Tess pulled back so she could see her brother's face. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yeah. That's how I've stayed in this business so long, Tessie. I only care that finally the kids let me help. I've learned that they have their own convoluted, complex reasons for what they do. Most of those reasons don't seem like much to an adult; but to a kid, those reasons are all important and weigh just as heavily on them as adult problems do on adults. I can't understand their perspective. I just listen when they talk and treat their problems seriously. Once they understand that I don't criticize, they tell me what their troubles are and we solve them.

"Arabella's no different. She's a little older than most, but she's her mother's daughter. She writes children's stories for a living. They're so successful because she's still a child. She learned to cope with the world better than her mother did, but she's still a little girl at heart. A little girl who, by the way, has invited us all to a tea party tomorrow afternoon."

"Really?" Tess asked.

"Really," Arabella said from the doorway. "I'd like to update the original photo for a new drawing and that means incorporating changes, new people, grey hair," she added, grinning at Bodie who had turned to face her.

In his most dignified tone of voice, Bodie announced, "You Doyles are responsible for every grey hair you see on my head."

"You mean I don't get credit for any?" Tess queried, outrage in her voice.

"Well, maybe a few," Bodie admitted, winking at his sister. "Maybe a few."

Touched by the love she saw in his twinkling eyes, Tess smiled and patted Bodie's chest. "So what brings you here, Arabella, dear?"

"Shopping. I was tired and in the area. I thought someone might buy me lunch."

"Lunch, did someone mention lunch?" Bodie inquired, releasing his sister. He took a few steps toward Arabella. A shadowy movement caught his eye. Automatically, he reached inside his jacket, his hand resting on the gun he still carried. A finger pressed to his lips, he signalled for quiet. He then pointed at Arabella and motioned for her to step aside, out of the doorway, out of the line of fire.

"It's only me," Doyle called loudly from the safety of the door jamb before poking his head around the wood frame. He smiled at his lover.

Bodie sighed and re-seated his weapon. For a moment, he stared at Doyle, eyes silently asking questions.

Doyle, in reply, shook his head once and walked into the room.

This time, Bodie took a deep breath as he visibly relaxed.

Wise to their ways, sounding like a chorus, Arabella and Tess both asked, "What's wrong?"

Eyebrows raised, Bodie looked at his lover.

Doyle shrugged.

"Stop it," Arabella shouted at the pair as she dropped her shopping bags. Pain contorted her features into a frown. Her hands rubbed urgently over her distended abdomen.

"Sit down," Tess ordered, her voice soft yet full of steel. When Arabella was comfortable and in less obvious distress, Tess glared at her brother, who had continued to stare at Doyle.

"Don't look at me," Bodie replied. "It's Ray's fault." He tipped his head toward the CI5 chief.

"My fault? You're the one who was ready to blow someone away...," countered Doyle defensively.

"Stop this right now. I won't have the two of you upsetting Arabella. Now tell us what's going on."

Shrugging, Bodie turned away and walked into his office, leaving Doyle alone to face Sister Teresa's wrath.

A stern rebuke died on Tess' lips when she saw the undisguised pain in Doyle's eyes. Angry now with her brother, she was about to rise to Doyle's defense when she heard Bodie return to the outer office.

"I'm sorry, Ray," Bodie said softly, embracing his lover.

Though the two men did not hide their affection for one another from family members, neither were they often physically demonstrative. Both Tess and Arabella stared in embarrassed awe as Doyle allowed himself to be surrounded by Bodie's somewhat larger body. Keenly aware of the fact that they shouldn't be witnessing this moment, Tess and Arabella looked at each other attempting to afford the two men privacy in this very public place.

A sharp intake of breath as Arabella involuntarily responded to another sharp kick destroyed the silence that held them frozen.

Doyle moved first, backing out of Bodie's arms. He took a deep, steadying breath and focussed on the two women. "The Colombian drug cartel has decided that I'm too much of a nuisance."

"There's a contract out on him," Bodie explained when Arabella and Tess remained silent. "We're all in danger until the hit man, er, hit person, is caught and those responsible made to see the folly of their actions." Bodie's small joke, embedded in the way he said "hit person" brought a smile to everyone's lips.

Sobering immediately however, Doyle elaborated upon what his lover had explained. "Tess, Arabella, I don't want you out of Bodie's sight until this is over."

"Kate and George?" Bodie interjected before either woman could voice the comments he knew they'd make.

"Under protective surveillance," Doyle said, "as are you three. But it'll be easier on CI5 if you're all together."

Instead of claiming that he didn't need CI5's help, as he once would have, Bodie responded with, "Put our guard on detective duty, Ray. I'll get a few of the boys to keep an eye on us. In fact, I'll call Jack now, get him to send a team to the house to check it out."

Relieved, Doyle drew in a deep breath. "That'd be a big help. You don't think the SAS would mind a little interdepartmental -- off the record -- favor?"

"Not if I ask. You know that they protect their own, always."

"On your bike then, laddie," Doyle replied in deft imitation of George Cowley. Ignoring his lover's sister and his niece, he quickly kissed Bodie on the lips.

Unwilling to let that be their last, Bodie held onto his lover and deepened the kiss. When Doyle pushed away, Bodie looked into the expressive green eyes that were staring at him as if this might be the last time they had such an opportunity. Doyle was about to speak, but Bodie placed a finger against the man's lips. He smiled and nodded.

In response, Doyle kissed the finger resting against his mouth. Sucking in a ragged, deep breath, he pivoted and left quickly.

For a moment, as they all stared after the departed man, no one spoke. Arabella broke the silence. "Bodie...," she called softly, afraid, annoyed, confused and worried all at once.

Drawn from the anxiety he felt, Bodie ordered, "Tess, get Jack McGuire on the line. He should be at HQ-Hereford." Needing to do something, he walked to the office's front door and closed it. When he locked it, Tess, who had yet to obey, looked at him. Mildly irritated that Doyle had left him the touchy job of explaining, Bodie faced his sister.

"Tess, please do as I asked. Once we've set up the protection, I'll answer your questions." Bodie took a deep breath. He had known this was a serious situation, but it had rapidly become more so in the hours since dawn.

A loud knock on the door startled everyone. Bodie, gun drawn, spun around, keeping his body solidly in front of the door so that any bullets fired would hit him first.

"Open the fuckin' door, Bodie," Doyle yelled, rattling the knob.

Tess and Arabella watched the broad shoulders slump in obvious relief.

When Bodie had opened the door slightly, Raymond Rabbit peeked around the edge.

"Doyle...," Bodie exploded, amused yet anxious.

"Wouldn't want him taken hostage, now, would I?" Doyle called out from the safety of the other side of the door.

Bodie took the rabbit and went outside, closing the door behind him.

"Not fair," Arabella commented loudly, finally able to shake off the cold fear which had rendered her silent and motionless. She recalled several other occasions in which their lives had been seriously endangered. The first time had occurred shortly after she'd moved into the flat Bodie and Doyle shared. The target of a vindictive arms dealer, Bodie owed his life to Martell, who reported the man's whereabouts just as he was closing in on his prey. What she remembered most, aside from the pervasive fear that she'd never see Bodie again, was staying with Kate Ross.

Childless by choice, Ross had become somewhat of a surrogate mother. Arabella still confided in the psychiatrist.

"Who said life was fair?" Bodie asked ruefully as he came back inside clutching the stuffed rabbit. Though he knew he looked nonchalant, his stomach was churning. He desperately wanted to be on the streets, doing something to protect Doyle. And yet, as his lover had just pointed out when Bodie'd begged to go along, he had a responsibility towards the waiting women and Arabella's unborn child, not to mention Bodie Bear and Raymond Rabbit. Arguing this fact, yet knowing how important it was for Doyle to have no qualms about the safety those he loved, Bodie gamely smiled at the women.

The fear that had gripped her only moments ago returned to Arabella. She had been away long enough to forget the very real danger which permeated her uncle's life. Nauseated by the sudden image of Doyle, lying dead on the street, his blood seeping out to form a pool around him, Arabella again rubbed her swollen belly. "Sshh, sshh," she cooed, trying to calm both herself and her daughter.

Bodie, knowing he should offer her comfort, stood still, unable to resolve the conflict between his need to protect Doyle and his clear responsibility, especially to Arabella.

Sensing her brother's conflict, Tess picked up the phone. "Jack's at Hereford, you think?"

Grateful for the gently delivered shove in the proper direction, Bodie nodded at Tess. As she dialed, he silently expressed his appreciation by letting Raymond Rabbit kiss her on the nose. When she shook her head in amusement, he walked over to where Arabella sat, her face pale and drawn. Kneeling in front of her, he kissed the hands she'd clasped protectively across her stomach. "It'll be okay, princess."

"Do you promise?" Arabella asked, aware of the childlike nature of her question.

Before Bodie could answer, Tess interrupted. "Jack McGuire ...." She extended the receiver toward her brother.

Standing, Bodie said, nodding toward his office, "I'll take it in there."

"No, you won't," Tess replied quietly. "We are all involved in this, Wills. And whether you like it or not, we have a right to know every detail of what happens and what you're planning."

The forbidding expression in the clear blue eyes told Bodie he'd be wise not to cross his sister. He glanced at Arabella. When she pointed at the telephone Tess held, Bodie sighed as dramatically as possible. "I suppose you're in league with them, too," he asked Raymond Rabbit. Interpreting the silence as a yes, Bodie accepted the will of those he'd sworn to protect.

"Jack, Bodie. I need a personal favor ... immediately."

Tess flipped a switch, putting the call on the intercom so she, Arabella and Raymond could hear.

"Details, old son," Jack replied without hesitation.

"There's a serious hit out on Doyle. CI5 can cover Cowley and Ross, two of the potential five targets. But they need people on the streets, which leaves the others unprotected."

"What do you want and how many men?"

"I'd like a team to check out our home in Islington and then keep an eye on it. I need a few others at Bears, Inc. to make sure no one tries anything here. My sister, Tess, and Ray's niece, Arabella, are at Bears with me, so a few boys watching here and a few to make sure we get home."

"Six men. No problem, Bodie. I'll assign Bulsara, Ford, Shaw, Collins, Stillar and McCallum. Is it a professional hit?"

"Yes. Colombians. I'll phone when we know more."

"Okay. Cancel your visit to Anne Reynolds. Stay there till the men are deployed. Should take 45 minutes to an hour to be operational."

"I appreciate it, Jack."

"Remember this when we play poker next Friday," the SAS regimental adjutant commented before hanging up.

"Just like that? The SAS to the rescue?" Arabella asked, incredulity in her voice.

"Well, not exactly, but close," Bodie replied cryptically. The ties that bound him to the SAS were too complex to explain, even if he'd wanted to elaborate, which he didn't. "Are you all right?" he asked Arabella as he looked down at her. "Is she okay?" he continued, nodding at the unborn baby.

"How did you know it was a she?" Arabella inquired, scrutinizing Tess.

"I have my ways," Bodie commented, "and Tess didn't tell." He met the green eyes which stared at him. "You've forgotten, haven't you?"

"You are not omniscient."

"Damn near princess, damn near," Bodie retorted, smiling at the woman he regarded as his daughter. "Comes with the papers when they give you a kid," he pointed out lightly. "You'll find out about it soon enough."

Arabella smiled. As a child, she'd thought Bodie and Doyle knew her every action. It'd been a number of years before she learned that keeping track of her was a training exercise that first, Cowley and then, Doyle assigned to all new CI5 recruits. "Yes, we're fine now," Arabella began in response to Bodie's query. "The nausea is passing, but I'm hungry ... and tired," she admitted, rubbing her back.

"Well, McDonald's is out, so I guess, Tessie, my love, for the first time ever, someone will eat that salad you so optimistically bring in every day."

"Someone meaning Arabella, and not you, eh, Wills?" Tess asked as she said a silent prayer of thanks. Today, she had decided to bring a salad for herself.

Bodie grinned broadly at his sister. "I have emergency rations in my office," he confided, his tone conspiratorial. He was determined to hide his anxiety in light banter.

Playing along, for both women felt the tension Bodie radiated, Tess shook her head. "Some things never change," she told Arabella.

His eyes alive with delight, Bodie disappeared into his office. He returned with a huge tin of Marks and Spencer's biscuits. Quickly, he cleared a space on his sister's desk.

Taking the hint, Tess very deliberately divided the large, well-vegetabled, spinach salad into three portions. When Raymond dove into the greens, Arabella rescued him.

You can eat later, dear," she told the rabbit before kissing his nose. "Bodie needs his salad for strength in these trying times." Though she had not intended to remind him of what they were all attempting to ignore, Arabella caught the flicker of fear that flashed through Bodie's eyes. "This really is serious, isn't it?"

Bodie, chewing on a favorite type of cookie, nodded.

"Are we in real danger?" Tess asked, deciding to seize the moment.

"Yes. We could be used as hostages to lure Ray in."

"Why now?" queried Arabella as she began nibbling on her salad.

"CI5 has been pushing hard against the South Americans selling dope here. These bastards are different from the old Mafia types who used to control the drug trade. Though they were dangerous, there was a weird code of ethics about them. They accepted losses as part of the game. But these Colombians don't. They just kill whoever gets in their way, whether it's a local beat cop with the Met or a judge --"

"Judge Franklin?" Tess interjected.

"Yeah," Bodie replied, nodding. "Last month they decided to send a warning to the people higher up. They killed Paul Franklin on his way to court. It didn't matter that their hit men died in the high speed chase two hours later."

"It's that way in New York," Arabella added, sighing deeply.

"We've been lucky here, really," Bodie continued. "When the cartel first tried to invade London, George was able to rally the troops and keep them out. Now, after they've had such success on the Continent, they've decided to try London again. Ray and the other agencies have countered them effectively so far. Two weeks ago, Ray had a chat with Salvatore Scilio. They decided to join forces to keep the Colombians out. As a result, the Colombians have targeted Ray."

"I see," Tess murmured.

Bodie absently picked up a floret of broccoli.

As he popped it into his mouth, Arabella gasped. "A vegetable crossed his lips," she pointed out when Tess, Bodie and Raymond Rabbit looked at her.

"Do you feel faint, Wills?" Tess queried, her tone serious.

"Fuck off ," Bodie spat out, deliberately picking up a carrot. Holding it up for all to see, he bit off a chunk.

"History in the making," Tess commented dryly.

"Better mark this day on the calendar," Arabella added, smiling at Bodie.

Though he was still worried about his lover, Bodie felt the tension abate slightly. Following their determined lead, he maintained a lighthearted mood till Collins called to say that the house had been entered and searched by someone, but nothing seemed to be missing. He and Shaw had swept the place clean of planted bugs and secured it.

It wasn't till he performed his own inspection that Bodie realized one very precious object was missing. That Bodie Bear had been taken told him just how much this enemy knew.

When Tess and Arabella had gone to bed, Bodie went into his bedroom to phone CI5 headquarters. It was time to set in motion the plan he and Doyle had devised earlier in the day.

"We haven't heard from him since he left Bears, Inc.," Sammantha Weddington told Bodie. "Davis lost him a short time later."

"Did Davis lose him or did Ray want to be lost?" Bodie asked, hoping he sounded tense enough to fool the very perceptive agent he was dealing with. It was essential she not realize that he knew exactly where Doyle was.

"I suspect the latter but, unfortunately, I'm not certain."

"Were you ordered in house today?" Bodie queried.

"Yes. And he, himself, assigned Davis."

"Fuck him."

"I'd like to," Sammantha replied, adding a lusty chuckle. "I'd really like to, Bodie."

The woman's comments brought a smile to Bodie's lips. Sammantha Weddington had been a new agent when Doyle took over the day-to-day operation of CI5. A gifted detective, she'd soon become Doyle's second in command. Bodie had come to appreciate the woman's strengths and wisdom the night she invited him and Doyle to her apartment. After a short speech suggesting they get the "sexual bullshit" out of their professional relationship, she stripped and led them both to her bedroom. There, her lover of a year, Diana Foster, a marketing director at Saachiti and Saachiti, waited. They'd had a wonderful, lusty romp.

As they shared a secret from that point on, he'd also learned to trust her with Doyle's life. "Why did you let him do it, Sammy? You know --"

"I know it was inevitable that he'd choose to deal with this by himself. What I need from you is to know what type of transmitter you bugged him with."

"Didn't. He'd ditch the car, change clothes."

"Well, then you know why I did what I did. All personnel are working on this, Bodie. We've already fed anyone who wants it, including the SAS, the information we've uncovered. If it's any consolation, I've never seen all these agencies cooperating so completely."

"Yeah, that's a big help," Bodie replied, hoping his tone was cynical enough. "Maybe we should have tied Ray up in the basement and taken ads in the papers advertising his whereabouts. Flush the pricks out that way."

"That may still work, Bodie. Thanks." Sammantha hung up.

Pleased that she'd caught on to the plan with a minimum of suggestion, Bodie felt a small shift in the imaginary weight on his shoulders. Pretending that Doyle was in protective custody at CI5 might take the heat off Doyle, give him the break he needed to trap all of the hit men. Still, Bodie wanted to be with his lover.

Sighing as he resigned himself to the wait, he went out into the living room and moved his rocker from the bay window to a less obvious position. Sitting down, he could still see the stars. Lost in his thoughts, he did not hear Arabella enter the room. It wasn't till she groaned slightly, her customary response to kicks from Kathleen, that he became aware of her presence. "Thought you and Tess had gone to bed, princess."

"I can't sleep, Bodie. I'm uncomfortable, I'm bloated and I'm scared to death. I want my daughter to know Ray."

"So do I, princess, so do I," Bodie responded. He held out his arms to the pregnant woman.

"Are you sure?" Arabella asked when she realized he meant for her to sit on his lap.

"You can't be any heavier than the burden I already carry," replied Bodie softly.

Accepting the truth in his statement, wanting the comfort and security of his embrace, Arabella settled herself against him. "I've never forgotten how safe I feel here," she said as he began to rock.

"Well, London is a lot safer than New York --"

"No, I mean here, in your arms. Whenever I'm frightened, Bodie, I always picture myself here. I'll never forget that night when Mama died. My world had just been shattered but as you rocked me to sleep, I knew in my heart that everything would be okay. I knew you would take care of me. I knew I was safe with you. I knew I'd always have you to come to when I needed help."

"Then why didn't you tell us about the boyfriend, about the baby?"

"Because I was embarrassed by my own foolishness."

As he so often did with wayward, runaway, frightened children, Bodie refrained from chastisement; he sat listening instead.

"I knew, I really knew, that it wouldn't matter to you if I had a baby, if I'd been deserted. What I couldn't cope with was your thinking that I was too flighty ...."

"Too much like your mother?"

Arabella nodded.

"That was never a worry of mine, princess. You have too much of your uncle in you to ever be your mother."

"I'm sorry I misjudged."

"It's all right. That's the prerogative of youth, to misjudge."

Neither spoke for some time. Just as Bodie thought Arabella had fallen asleep, she spoke again.

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

Bodie chuckled ruefully. "If there was, I'd be out there doing it."

"You never did promise that everything would be all right," Arabella pointed out.

"The last time I promised you that, Colleen died."

"You didn't break that promise, Bodie," Arabella stated, shifting so she could look into the blue eyes. "Everything was all right. Mama got her wish; she died. It depends on your point of view."

Again, Bodie chuckled. "Yeah. Well, it's still a promise I can't make. But don't worry. Everything that can be done is being done. Every agency is working on this and Doyle is a tough son of a bitch." He was silent for a few moments as his thoughts focussed on the man he loved. Much as he wanted to be with Doyle now, at this stage in the strategy, Bodie knew he would be a liability to his lover.

Forcing himself to consider the woman who was snuggled close, Bodie tightened his embrace and once more began to rock. "Go to sleep, princess. Go to sleep," he whispered, stroking her hair. When her breathing slowed to an even pace, he sat holding her for some time. When she stirred, obviously uncomfortable, he helped her into the bedroom she and Tess were sharing. After tucking her in, he went over to where his sister slept. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek.

Too tired to sleep and too wound up, he went into the kitchen. "I wondered where you were," he commented to Raymond Rabbit who, holding an apple, was sitting beside a bowl of fruit. "Taught you nasty eating habits, Doyle has," he added, taking the apple from his erstwhile, childhood companion. When the rabbit with no eyes nonetheless stared balefully at him, Bodie picked up the stuffed creature. "I know how you feel, but we'll get Bodie Bear back for you ... I hope," he added in a whisper.

Carrying the fruit and the rabbit, who refused to remain, alone in the kitchen, into the living room, Bodie sat down on the sofa, Raymond nestled in his lap. Absently, Bodie consumed the apple. It was a closely guarded state secret that he liked most kinds of fruit and even enjoyed a vegetable or two. "I trust you won't tell on me," he admonished his friend as he put the stripped-to-the-core apple on top of a magazine on the coffee table.

"Tired?" he queried. It did not strike him as odd that he waited for a reply. He had never pinpointed the moment when he, like Doyle, began to openly address any stuffed animal loitering about the premises. "You should get some rest, sunshine, in case anything comes down ...." With that he settled the two of them on the couch.

Asleep as soon as he was stretched out, Bodie was startled awake by the ringing telephone.

Still half-lost in a dream where George Cowley was castigating him for excessive gun play, Bodie mumbled, "3.7."

"Bodie?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. What's up, Sammy?" Bodie replied, alert now. Tess came into the room just as he sat up. He listened quietly for several minutes, eyes fixed blankly on the apple core. "Okay, thanks," he said, replacing the receiver.

"So?" Tess asked immediately, the expression on her brother's face suggesting it was not good news.

Bodie took a deep breath. He hated to deceive his sister, but it was imperative that she, too, believe his ruse. Looking Tess in the eye, he replied, "They found his car and his clothes." When the woman frowned, he continued, "That means he's completely under now -- he's all alone out there." He did not have to feign concern.

"Perhaps he should have kept Raymond," Tess commented, eyeing the stuffed animal Bodie still clutched. When he blushed, she sat down on the coffee table facing her brother. "I won't tell and neither will he," she added, patting the rabbit on the head.

His thoughts on Doyle, Bodie looked up at his sister. Though he was playing a part, his fear for Doyle's life was genuine and intense. He made no attempt to disguise or hide the anxiety which permeated him suddenly, making him shiver. Everyone he loved was at risk. And he could do no more than remain house-bound and wait. "Aren't you going to tell me it'll be all right, that God will take care of it all?" he questioned when Tess hugged him.

"Perhaps if you prayed ...."

"Bullshit. Prayer never solved anything," Bodie exclaimed, standing up. He, not God, had worked very hard to create this life; and it angered him for it to be so easily threatened by such ruthless people. Still holding the rabbit, he began to pace. A vision of his parents, bleeding and hurt as they were led away, came suddenly and vividly to mind.

"It's amazing to me that after your upbringing, you are still so ...."

"So what...anti-God? Where the fuck was God, Tessie, when those bastards led our parents away? Where the fuck was He when they tortured them? Where the fuck is He now, with all these kids on the streets falling prey to porn peddlers and pushers? Where the fuck is God that I should believe He can help me?"

"Well," Tess began as she stood up. "I thought," she continued, "He's been here for the last 20 years." She was standing in front of her brother, her finger pointing to his heart. "But obviously I'm mistaken." When Bodie grimaced, she added, "Don't give me that sour look, William Andrew Philip Bodie."

"I'm entitled to my cynicism."

"Perhaps, but maybe if you could see around it, you would see that God has been here all along. You, my brother, have been His agent since the day Mother and Father were taken from us." She held up her hand. "This is an old argument, Wills. We never change sides, never approach an understanding. Yet in your darkest moments, you always confront me with your lack of faith. Why?" Sighing deeply, she remained in front of her brother.

"Maybe I'm hoping you'll have a miracle for me," Bodie said, his anger of a moment ago dissipating as anxiety crept through him. When Tess drew him into her arms, Bodie put his head on her shoulder. "I'm so fuckin' scared, Tessie. I could lose Ray; I could lose everyone I love if these bastards aren't stopped." Bodie felt a coldness grow inside him. It was, he knew from experience, the birth of resolve -- the resolve to do whatever was called for to protect those he loved.

"I know you're scared. We all are," Tess answered softly, glad that for once Bodie would allow himself to be comforted.

"Do you really know?" Bodie asked, looking into his sister's blue eyes. Nearly as tall as he was, but slighter in build, Teresa Bodie had the family blue eyes and dark hair.

"Yes, I know how much we all mean to you. I know how hard you've worked to rebuild your world. And, I also know how very much you love Ray." When he looked puzzled, she elaborated. "I've known that since my first visit to your shared flat. I saw the two of you exchanging lovers' kisses under the mistletoe. As neither of you thought anyone was watching, it was obvious how much you loved one another. Since then, that love has only grown."

"Is that why you've never made any comment about the fact that we nonetheless are sinners?"

"Only God can judge sin, Wills. What I see is two people who are committed to one another, who love deeply. If that does not outweigh the matter of your genders, then I still have a great deal to learn about God's love."

"You should have been a priest."

"I would have been one if certain men weren't so chauvinistic," Tess responded, smiling at her brother.

Drawing strength from Tess' presence and her affection, Bodie pressed the woman even closer. "I do love you, Tessie." They held each other for a few moments longer, till Raymond became annoyed with being squashed.

"You should try to sleep," Tess said when they broke the embrace. "If something were to happen, or if Ray needed ...." Holding up a hand to silence her, Bodie nodded. "I know, Mother Teresa." When his sister made a face at the pun, he grinned at her.

"Come on, Wills. I'll tuck you in."

"You?" Bodie began, "tuck me in?"

"I've done it once or twice before. I think I know how," Tess retorted, taking hold of Bodie's arm. She led him into the bedroom and, stopping at the bathroom door, she pushed him in. "Don't forget to brush your teeth," she admonished, removing Raymond from Bodie's hand.

When he returned to the bedroom, Tess had turned the duvet back. The nightlight was on, the room dim. Shaking his head, for he couldn't crawl into the bed he shared with Doyle while the man was alone, fighting for his life, Bodie stood lost in thought. Finally, roused by the sound of approaching footsteps, he turned to see his sister.

"I'll fixed up the sofa."

Smiling, he moved to her side. "Thanks," he whispered, kissing her cheek.

It took a cup of cocoa and cookies, more conversation and the threat of a bedtime spanking before Bodie slipped into slumber. Recognizing the signs of a light sleep, Tess retrieved Raymond Rabbit from the lonely bed where he'd been abandoned. Tucking him under Bodie's crossed arms, she sat on the coffee table and watched her brother for several moments. Then, just as he had often sung her into a deeper sleep, she began to sing the African lullabies which had given her such comfort in her childhood.

Dimly aware of the music, Bodie's subconscious conjured up the rhythm of the never silent drums. The weight in his arms told him Raymond was there; he hugged his friend closer still. Drifting with the sound he felt to be his mother's voice, he flowed along with currents of the melody, finally falling into a deep sleep.

"What are you working on?" Bodie asked, standing beside Arabella as she continued to sketch at the kitchen table.

Taking a deep, audible breath, Arabella looked up. This was the tenth time in less than two hours that Bodie had interrupted her.

"Whatever it is, she'll never finish it if you keep making a nuisance of yourself, Wills," Tess announced from the doorway.

Bodie, restless and nervous on this, the second night of their vigil, stuck out his tongue at his sister. Arabella snickered and he pivoted, making a grotesque face at her.

"Don't make me laugh," Arabella pleaded, giggling as Bodie continued.

Tess, who as a small child had often been entertained by her brother's mobile face, couldn't help but laugh as well. "You never grow up, do you?" she commented, turning away to avoid seeing more.

"Oh...." Arabella winced as a sharp kick sent a jolt of pain through her.

"What is it?" Bodie asked, sobering quickly.

Shaking her head, Arabella rubbed the spot still smarting from the baby's response. "She can't laugh yet, so she kicks. I'm okay, really," she tried to explain, noting the concern in Bodie's expression. "We're not ready for the hospital yet, if that's what you're afraid of."

Bodie sighed dramatically.

"Why don't you help me bake a cake?" Tess asked her brother. His endless movement as he "patiently" waited for some word about or from Doyle was driving them crazy.

"That's a good idea," Arabella chimed in. "Don't you think so, Raymond?" she inquired of the rabbit perched on the top of the lamp Bodie had brought in so that she could work in the more protected confines of the kitchen.

"He thinks it's a rotten idea," Bodie replied. "Doyle's corrupted him, made him eat fruits and veggies." He made a face again.

"Don't start," Arabella warned, crossing her eyes.

"Bodie, either get me the flour or get out of here," Tess demanded.

"Yes, Mother Teresa," he intoned.

"Wills," Tess began quietly, facing her sibling. "You've just met your monthly quota for that pun. Once more and ...." She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"And what?" taunted Bodie. "You'll pray for me?"

"No. After I tape your fucking mouth shut, I shall stop praying for you." She smiled sweetly.

"If the Pope heard your language, he'd have you excommunicated."

"If the Pope had you for a brother, he'd swear, too. Now help me bake this cake or get out of here."

"Call me when you need the bowl licked," Bodie suggested, retreating hastily.

"That man is impossible when he has to wait for something. I don't know why Ray didn't kill him when they were on stakeouts together," Tess said as she heard her brother turn on the television.

"If memory serves," Arabella began, "it was a problem. I could always tell, that year when Bodie was still in CI5. They would come home; all the barriers would be up; they wouldn't be speaking to one another. Uncle Ray would go into the bedroom and rearrange the furniture. Bodie would prowl around the living room. Finally, I would get so upset with them that I would start to cry. They quickly set aside their differences and focussed on me instead. In no time, they were back chattering to each other as if nothing had happened." Arabella smiled, fondly remembering moments of her childhood.

"Was it hard growing up with them as parents?" Tess asked. She and Bodie had not reconciled their differences until Arabella was nearly a teenager.

"Yes and no. They were such great fun, especially Bodie. And even when they were being typical parents, I always felt that they genuinely loved me, but there were also times when I was scared. I never knew who would be coming to pick me up from school or from Kate's if I went there, or even from CI5 headquarters if I ended up there. Frankly, neither is an easy man to get along with. Uncle Ray is stubborn, independent, moody and always right. Bodie is just the same, only usually on the opposite side of whatever issue we were haggling over."

"How did you cope?" Tess led as she began searching for the ingredients for cake batter.

"Well, despite their opinionated positions, they were always ready to talk something to death. Eventually, a compromise presented itself that we could all live with. I remember the time I wanted a real, live cat instead of just Jasmine. Bodie thought it was a great idea -- a friend for me. Ray knew who would end up tending to it and who would have to take it to the vet. I was rather hysterical about it all, as I recall. They compromised and bought Kate a cat which I could play with whenever I was there, which was often in those days as she kept more regular hours than they did.

"I'm surprised Kate let herself be talked into it."

"Well," Arabella replied, "Ray cooked her favorite dinner and Bodie steered the conversation toward how lonely it was for me and how I really needed a pet and...." She ended with a shrug.

Tess had been on the receiving end of their con games enough to understand perfectly. "Do you know where they keep the baking powder, dear?"

"In the pantry, second shelf from the top," Arabella replied, picking up Raymond Rabbit.

"How do you remember?" Tess queried as she located the tin she needed.

"Ray may be the cook in the family, but Bodie runs a very regulation field-kitchen. All the cans are in alphabetical order."

"Oh my, so they are," muttered Tess as she examined the neatly lined up, organized food stuffs.

"Tess, may I ask you a question?" Nervous, Arabella began playing with a ring she wore on her left, little finger.

"One minute, dear," Tess responded, locating the cocoa. Once she'd retrieved it, she faced Arabella. "What is it?"

"I ... I ...." Arabella drew in a deep breath. Her heart was beating faster and it was upsetting the baby.

"Go ahead, dear," Tess encouraged, sitting down.

"Well, this is rather new for me," Arabella began, glancing into the discerning blue eyes watching her. When Tess smiled, Arabella continued. "I've always felt like a child here. No matter how old I am, I step into this house and I feel as if I'm eight or nine again -- all flustered, inarticulate, indecisive, rather like Alice in Wonderland." Arabella stared at the stuffed creature she held.

"But ...."

"But this time, it's different. For the first time in my life, I think they really see me as an adult."

"This helps," Tess replied, gently touching Arabella's distended abdomen.

"I guess so."

"What's troubling you, dear?"

Arabella shook her head. "Oh, it's not trouble, really, just curiosity. This is the first time I've felt I could ask."

Tess waited patiently. She was accustomed to dealing with suddenly shy children.

"How did you and Bodie make peace and why did you go to work with him?"

Silent fox a moment as she thought about her response, Tess took Raymond from Arabella. "He helped."

"What?" Arabella asked, face lighting up as she pictured the small rabbit visiting the nun at the convent where she used to live.

"I suppose I should start at the beginning, shouldn't I? Would you like some tea?"

Nodding, Arabella watched as the woman put the kettle on. Raymond took up residence on the counter.

When the tea was finally ready and Tess had found the tin of cookies from Marks, she began her story. "Bodie and I disagreed strongly about his line of work."

"I remember that. I remember telling him that I would talk to you, tell you how good CI5 was."

Chuckling softly, Tess nodded. "I still have that letter you wrote."

"Really?" Arabella returned the smile. "Did it make any difference?"

"Yes and no," Tess replied, sipping her tea. "When I heard that you were living with them, it upset me considerably. Bodie actually came up to Liverpool to see me when I wrote and told him how strongly I disapproved. Ray accompanied him. It was the first time I met your uncle."

"Did they do the 'bad cop, good cop' routine?"

"Yes, they did," Tess answered, nodding and smiling. "When Ray pointed out that I'd already pre-judged, I knew I had to keep an open mind. That's when they said they wanted me to come for Christmas that year. Drink your tea, dear, before it gets cold." Tess fell silent for a moment as she reflected on the encounter. "What finally convinced me that I had to give Bodie a chance was Ray. Bodie was annoyed by the way our conversation was going. He wanted and probably expected instant reconciliation."

"That's Bodie," Arabella murmured, smiling fondly. "Mr. Patience."

"Indeed. When it comes to waiting or getting his way, the man doesn't have an ounce of patience." Tess sighed and took a favorite biscuit. "Upset because he'd counted on Ray to convince me to give him a chance to prove that he'd changed, he left the Greeting Room. It was sleeting outside. I remember because he went outdoors and wandered around the small, frosted- over garden. When he stopped in front of the shrine to the Madonna and picked a sprig of dried heather to put beside her, my heart melted." Noting the other woman's open curiosity, Tess chuckled. "You're just like Ray."

Interpreting the words as a mild rebuke, Arabella lowered her gaze again began playing with the ring she wore.

"I didn't mean it that way, dear. I was just making an observation." Tess patted Arabella's hand. "Back to the story. As a boy, when he intended to be a priest, I remember that Wills was especially devoted to the Virgin Mary. To see him make that silent, elegant prayer even though I knew he'd fallen far from the faith ...." Tess shrugged.

"I looked at Ray, who was watching the same scene. He was smiling, his love for Bodie plain to see. I'll never forget what he said. 'You know, Sister, you're a bright, friendly, loving woman, maybe even the saint he thinks you are ....'" Arabella's opened-wide eyes made Tess stop.

"I was teaching in the most rundown, desperate school in Liverpool. Bodie always thought it required sainthood to do it. What he'll never understand is that it only took patience."

Both women laughed.

"Go on," Arabella urged. "What else did he say?"

Smiling, Tess continued. "Ray also said, 'I think Bodie did a fine job raising you. I have complete faith in him to help me raise my niece.' That comment, so earnestly spoken, was what tipped the scale. I had to reconsider then. The week before Christmas, Raymond here and Bodie Bear, dressed in the little Father Christmas suits you'd made them, arrived by post." Tess laughed as she recalled receiving the parcel. "Inside the box, the two were a tangle of ears and limbs; they'd obviously enjoyed the trip. Pinned to Bodie's red and green sweater was an envelope. It included a train ticket and a request to escort both Raymond and Bodie to a Christmas celebration. At that point, I had to see if the whimsy behind this idea was Bodie's. If it was, and it was in part, then I would know I hadn't lost the brother I knew as a child."

"I remember that Christmas so well," Arabella said wistfully. "It was the first without Mama. Since it followed her death so closely, they made it a special holiday for me. Before Christmas, there was the party Uncle George took me to. Bodie played Father Christmas. I wasn't supposed to know but I had seen him 'practicing' with Uncle Ray in his lap." Arabella felt tears sting her eyelids. "Then everyone came to Bodie and Ray's for a big party on Christmas Eve. All the CI5 people I knew came, and everyone gave me presents. Kate gave me this shawl," she continued, glancing at the handwoven fabric draped over her shoulders. "Uncle George gave me a huge sketch pad and my own colored pencils. You gave me this," Arabella said, unbuttoning her collar to show Tess the small silver cross she wore.

"You still wear it?"

"Always. Sometimes when I'm being bold and grown up with cleavage, I pin it to my bra, but I am never without it. In fact, I still have most of what I received that Christmas. The sketch pad Uncle George gave me is on a shelf at home in New York with the other filled ones. Bodie Bear and Raymond Rabbit gave me a Royal Doulton yellow rose which I still have. And, though I outgrew it long ago, I've kept the green taffeta dress Uncle Ray gave me." Arabella smiled. "One day, I can give it to Kathleen." She wiped away a few tears.

Tess returned the smile. "What did Bodie give you?" she asked, straining to recall.

"This." Arabella held out her left hand. On the little finger she wore a battered signet ring engraved with a B. When Tess blanched, Arabella withdrew her hand. "What's wrong?"

I haven't seen that ring in years. How... ?" Tess looked into the concerned green eyes.

Wondering if she'd been wrong to wear the ring, for she did so whenever she needed to feel close to home, to Bodie and Ray, Arabella said haltingly, "Ah ... he ... ah ...."

"It's all right, dear. I'm not angry. Just confused. Mother was wearing it when ...." Tess stopped, unwilling to complete the sentence. She did not want to know how Bodie had acquired the ring.

"He said he found it years later. He never told you?" Arabella was incredulous. She'd never understood the relationship between Bodie and his sister. They obviously loved each other, but Bodie kept the oddest things secret from Tess. "I don't understand."

"Although he always kept tabs on me, when he was a mercenary in Angola, we did not speak. We've never spoken of that period, and we never will," Tess said, frowning.

"Don't you want to know?"

Tess shook her head. "The man who did those things, who, extracted his revenge, was not my brother."

The steely tone of voice held a warning to push no further. Upset that she'd evoked such a painful time for Tess, a woman she loved, Arabella tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "That Christmas was rather magical till Jasmine and I decided -- at 2 a.m. -- that we needed some of Ray's gingerbread. As we passed their door, which was ajar, I heard him crying and telling Bodie how much he missed Mama." Again, tears welled in her eyes. "What if something happens to him, Tess? What if they kill him?"

Drawn from her own sad memories by the anguish in the questions, Tess hugged Arabella. "Shh, shh. You don't want to upset the baby, now do you?"

Shaking her head, Arabella sniffled, wiping away the tears that had escaped. "Bodie would kill me."

"Why do you say that?" Tess inquired, leaning back to look into the green eyes.

"He told me that Ray was not going to do this to him again, that I was simply not allowed to have Kathleen until Ray was here to take me to the hospital."

Tess laughed, her pain of a moment ago banished as she thought fondly of her brother. He had always made her smile, and he always would. Looking Arabella in the eye, she said, "We have to believe that Ray will be all right. We must have faith, dear. As hard as it is to muster any, we must have faith." She handed Arabella a tissue.

Once she felt more composed and calmer, Arabella suggested Tess continue with her tale.

"When I saw Bodie interact with you and Ray and even with George and Kate, I saw that the person I had known was still in the man. My brother had somehow survived the violence of the man's life. He was different, more cynical, harder; but I could see the cracks, too. When Ray took me to the train station, we had a long talk about Bodie. That was before he had come to terms with the fact that he wanted out of CI5. Ray was understandably nervous about what might happen, particularly since Bodie hadn't confided his problems yet.

"It was a strange conversation. I was trying to accept the fact that the two were lovers, having seen more than I should have late the night before when they thought we were asleep. In a million years, I would never have thought Bodie able to love a man and yet ...." Tess stopped.

"So what happened?"

"Full of questions and concern, I went back to Liverpool. One day in April, on our mother's birthday to be exact, Bodie came up to see me. Over dinner -- it's still the best way to get him to talk -- he confided his troubles. For me, it was a turning point. By letting me back into his life, by risking everything to bare his soul, I knew I couldn't deny him any longer. We agreed to set aside our past, to accept it as water under the bridge and go on a new path -- together. That's why I didn't know about the ring, why I don't want to know."

Arabella removed it and handed it to Tess. "When he gave it to me, he told me it meant I was his, that he would always be there to help me and to love me. In fact, I still wear it when I'm troubled and I need to feel close to him and Ray. "He did tell me it was your mother's and that made it special. He said my having it meant I was in his family. Coming so close after Mama's death, it meant so very much to me, to know that I belonged to him, too. She stopped talking as she watched Tess examine the small, gold ring. When the woman began to cry, Arabella returned the comforting embrace Tess had given her a few moments ago. "You can have it," she offered softly.

"No," Tess replied as she squeezed Arabella and sat back in her chair. "It's yours -- yours to give to Kathleen. You're his daughter, dear, and it should go to his grandchild." A warm smile affirmed her sincerity as she handed the ring to Arabella.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

Pleased, Arabella asked, "So how did he con you into coming to work for him?"

"With, dear, not for," Tess corrected. "The day he officially opened the doors of Bears, Inc., he asked me where I wanted my desk. I looked at him like he was crazy, which he was. I saw Ray smirk and I walked away muttering. Whenever I came for a visit, he asked me the same question. One day, five years later, when he asked -- I told him where I wanted the desk." Tess shrugged. "No big dramatic confrontations, no fireworks. When I could see that he was serious about Ray, about you, about Bears, Inc., I knew that I wanted to be a part of the life he was building. The best way was to work with him. Besides, the place was such a mess. I couldn't stand it. The first year, he'd had no one but Ray to help with the paperwork. After that, SAS and CI5 wives volunteered secretarial help, but Bodie has always needed more than just assistance. He likes having someone to work with, someone who is just as involved as he is. So, I went to work with him."

"Any regrets?"

"Not one, child, unless it's for all those years when I refused to know him; but I feel that distance helped us both eventually. I --"

"Cake ready?" Bodie asked, entering the kitchen.

"Does it look ready?" Tess inquired of her brother, her acerbic tone making Arabella giggle.

Before Bodie could reply, the phone rang, sobering them all immediately.

"Hello," Bodie said into the receiver.

"Bodie, it's Sam."

The woman's tone of voice indicated bad news; Bodie closed his eyes, fearing the worst, wondering how they could have found Doyle. "Go on."

"We had a tip about the whereabouts of the gunners. Two shot their way out, we took a third. Perlman and Gibson are dead. If you hear from Ray, by the way, tell him to get his ass back here because I can't tell the widows by myself."

As the words sank in, Bodie opened his eyes. Relieved that the news was not about Doyle, he took a deep breath. "I'll go with you," he volunteered, knowing there was no more difficult duty in the world than informing a newly widowed spouse.

"Can you make it within the hour?"

"Yeah. Anything else?"

"Yes, actually, well, maybe. We, of course, searched the room where they'd been. Tim Byington was in charge. At first report, I was inclined to wonder if we'd hit the right room. I mean, whoever they were, they obviously were up to something or they wouldn't have shot their way out; but I still wasn't sure they were after Doyle. It wasn't till Tim went in that he found what he considered to be incontrovertible proof."

Tension knotted Bodie's stomach again, making him close his eyes once more. "What was it?"

"It's silly really, but ... well, it's a teddy bear, and he had a large Bowie knife stuck in his chest."

"Does he have blue glass eyes?" Bodie inquired, having once more opened his own. He glanced over at his sister and Arabella.

"Yes, one at least, the other seems to be missing. How -- it's proof, then?"

"What did Tim say?" Bodie asked, smiling as he recalled how the man's rough treatment of first, Bodie Bear and then, Jasmine, had incurred Bodie's perpetual wrath. In the effort to satisfy, to move off the top of his shit list, Tim Byington had become one of CI5's top agents.

"He wouldn't explain. Said I'd have to take his word for it or ask you."

"I'll be there as soon as I've changed and alerted our house guard."

"Okay. I do appreciate this, Bodie. You know how I hate ...."

"I know, Sammy. I know. Forty-five minutes tops." He hung up.

"What is it?" Tess asked immediately.

"No news about Ray, but Bodie Bear has been found." Glancing at both women, he elaborated, "He's been injured. I'm going to get him now."

"What happened?" Arabella questioned in a voice barely audible.

The anxiety of the last 36 hours and its effect on the pregnant woman were all too evident in her pale, drawn features. When she began rubbing her abdomen in a now familiar gesture, Bodie knelt in front of her. "It's okay, princess. That no one has heard from Ray is good news. And when they found Bodie Bear, they captured one of the hit men. It makes the odds better. Your part in all of this is to stay calm." He smiled at her and, lifting one of her hands, kissed it.

Arabella mustered a weak smile.

"I'll make a pot of catnip tea. It'll soothe you," Tess offered. "You ought to lie down, dear."

Nodding, Arabella looked at Bodie, who stood up. Her hands on his forearms, she levered herself out of the chair.

Once she was on her feet, Bodie gently pulled her into his arms. They stood leaning on one another, drawing comfort for a moment. When the baby kicked, Bodie moved back a step. "What was that?"

"Kathleen," Arabella replied, smiling. "It's the only way she can express her opinions, remember?"

Bodie shook his head. "She isn't even born and already she's got the Doyle habit of wanting to be involved in everything." He sighed theatrically which made both women laugh. The tension of the past few moments dissipating somewhat, Bodie released Arabella. Addressing both women, he said, "Sam needs help at headquarters. I'm going down to give her a bit of moral support."

Tess could tell that her brother had another reason for going, but she also realized that whatever it was, to mention it would upset Arabella. Confident he would have shared news about Ray, she didn't probe further. "Will you be long?"

"A few hours, perhaps. Cheer the troops on, that sort of thing. I thought I might pick up George and take him with me. He's always good for morale." Bodie couldn't help ending with a wry chuckle. Though diminished by his illness, George Cowley still evoked fear in CI5 agents.

"What about Bodie Bear?" Arabella asked, picking up Raymond Rabbit.

Taking his childhood companion from the woman, Bodie sat the rabbit in the chair Arabella had just vacated. Kneeling, he cleared his throat. He gently picked up a rabbit-paw. "Now, Raymond, I want you to be very brave. Bodie Bear has been seriously hurt, but not critically. They didn't cut anything off, but they did...," he paused, mindful of the eyeless stare, "they did stab him. He lost some stuffing and an eye, but the doctors will be able to fix him up."

Warmed by this moment of whimsy, like so many others in her childhood, Arabella played along. "If you'd like, Raymond, we could sit together until Bodie brings your bear home." Lovingly, she picked up the rabbit.

Wondering why any of these people were allowed to roam the streets of London, Tess smiled wanly.

Bodie flashed his sister a dazzling smile. When she shook her head, he stood up and said to Arabella, "You and Raymond go watch the telly. I'll help Tessie with the tea and then be off."

Once the two were gone and the sound from the TV masked conversation, Bodie explained the details of what had happened and where he was going. "I'm going to have someone come inside. I don't want you two ... eh, three, to be alone in here."

"If that Mr. Stillar is on duty, you might ask him in," Tess suggested, handing her brother a cookie.

"Why?" he queried, suspicious.

"He and Arabella have talked. Only a few moments here and there, mind you, but ...."

"Are nuns allowed to play matchmaker?"

Sticking her tongue out at him, Tess replied, "As far as I know, there's no papal edict against it."

"Stillar, eh?" Bodie chewed thoughtfully on his cookie. Picking up a handful, he went to the small kitchen window over the sink and signalled the SAS man he knew would be watching. "See ya in a while." He winked at his sister and went to change his clothes.

When Tess heard a voice she recognized as Russ Stillar's, she put a third cup on the tray, as well as the tin from Marks.

---

Bodie's arrival at CI5 headquarters with George Cowley sent waves of consternation through the agents. Many of them, accustomed to Doyle's very different style of leadership, knew of the CI5 founder only through legend. Even Sammantha Weddington flinched under the steady gaze of George Cowley.

As the woman outlined her strategy for Cowley and fielded his questions, Bodie watched her. Despite the rather unorthodox way she had attempted to settle the issue of sex, Bodie was still attracted to her. There was a chemistry between them that excited him. Generally, he redirected that feeling of wild heat toward Doyle, but three years ago, he'd nearly failed.

Even now, it took only a whiff of the woman's perfume to bring back the memories: the taste of her lips, the feel of her breasts as they touched his chest. Annoyed with the direction his thoughts had taken, Bodie nonetheless found himself unwilling to end his scrutiny.

She was dressed in a black, raw silk jumpsuit and a white linen blazer that did nothing to hide the well-muscled perfection of her body. Her shoulder length black hair was thick and Bodie could still remember its silken caress. He could also recall the way the full, pink lips had devoured his own, igniting a passion he was never entirely rid of. When his cock stirred, he left the room.

Sammantha located Bodie by the water fountain. Approaching him, she stopped only when she was inches away. "Maybe we should just do it. Then we could forget about it," she said, voice no more than a whisper.

Confronted by her directness, a trait he admired in anyone, Bodie sighed. He hated the way this lust surfaced at odd moments, always catching him unprepared. "Personally," he began after the silence became awkward, "that's the way I'd like to handle it." He looked into her blue-violet eyes. Though their beauty always tempted him, they also reminded him that he merely lusted after the woman; he did not, nor would he ever, love her. "But a long time ago, I promised faithfulness." He ended with a shrug.

"Faithfulness in this age? After all these years in this business, how can Ray still be such a romantic?"

"He works very hard at it," Bodie said, smiling wistfully as he recalled a few of the ways Doyle kept romance in their lives. "I guess that's part of why I love him enough to rein in my baser, animal instincts."

"And that is why I've never pushed," Sammantha revealed, drawing in a deep breath. "He wants your thoughts about all this." She tipped her head toward the office where George Cowley was holding forth.

"Better not keep him waiting then, had we?" As Bodie followed the woman into Doyle's office, which Cowley had commandeered, he was reminded of the last time he'd kept this man waiting. It'd been so many years ago now. He and Doyle had met for a long lunch, which turned into an even longer afternoon in bed. When Doyle had left CI5 headquarters, there had been nothing pressing, no reason to be there. But by the time Doyle finally checked in, a furious Cowley had suffered a heart attack.

"Sorry, sir," Bodie said as he entered the room. "I wanted to check on something before I said anything."

Cowley eyed his friend and former operative. He knew the man was lying, but he did not know why. "What is it, Bodie?"

"Noth -- fuck!" Bodie exploded, "I hate this, all right?" Talking to Sammantha had only reminded him of all he stood to lose should the cartel hit men succeed. As quickly as anger and fear seized him, they released him. "I feel like I've abandoned Ray; I should be out there with him, not holed up in the house."

"Your responsibility to Doyle includes protecting those he loves."

Though he knew Cowley's words to be true, Bodie still had trouble carrying this weight.

"I know patience is not one of your stronger points, Bodie, but you must control yourself."

"Yes, sir," Bodie replied, winking at the rather amazed Sammantha. She'd rarely seen the older man in command, and she'd never seen Bodie back down this way.

"Now," Cowley began, motioning the two into chairs, "we must take a more aggressive position. Your plan to lure them here is sound but weakly implemented."

As the man paused for breath, the phone rang. Automatically, Cowley reached for it. Sammantha, half out of her chair, froze, uncertain of what to do. She glanced at Bodie who merely shrugged. Annoyed by his casualness, she finally stood up, intent on picking up the receiver. Before she could reach the desk, Cowley had answered.

"Yes?" he demanded.

The speculative narrowing of his eyes as he listened prompted Bodie to pull Sammantha back into her chair. Leaning over, he said quietly, "Let him help, Sammy. It's not a reflection on you. He wants to do something for Ray."

"But he's a sick old man," the woman protested.

"Not so sick or so old that I can't be of use occasionally," Cowley stated firmly as he replaced the receiver. "I do not doubt your skills, Ms. Weddington, nor Doyle's faith in your ability to assist him. But there are times when sick old men with the experiences they've survived are stronger than the brashness of youth."

Recognizing a coup, Sammantha sighed heavily. "I do protest."

"In writing, in triplicate, on his desk in the a.m.," Bodie interjected, sympathetic to Sammantha's position but desperate enough to help Doyle that he didn't care if she had her authority usurped. Cowley was, after all, still the nominal head of CI5.

"Your talents, Ms. Weddington, will be employed, I assure you. That was Jack McGuire. The SAS, MI5 and Special Branch confirm that the Colombians, infuriated by CI5's raid, have imported more hit men." He paused when he noticed the pallor of Bodie's skin. "Ray will survive this."

Grateful but skeptical, Bodie met the man's gaze. "I should be out there, with him."

"You have your wish," Cowley replied.

"What?" Sammantha and Bodie chorused in unison.

Cowley, removing his black-rimmed glasses, sat eyeing them for a moment before elaborating. "The SAS decided to airlift Arabella and Tess to Hereford. Where is Dr. Ross?"

"She's downstairs, on call."

"Please, tell her to remain here until this is over," Cowley instructed.

"Now?" Sammantha asked incredulously, not wanting to miss anything.

"Now," ordered the founder of CI5.

Though she knew he intended for her to tell the psychiatrist in person, Sammantha reached for the phone. Her direct gaze defying Cowley to comment, she pushed the intercom link. "Dr. Ross, Sam here, please come to Doyle's office immediately."

Ignoring the small display of defiance, Cowley stood up. He walked slowly, stiffly over to the shoulder-high small window near the room's corner. For several minutes he simply stared out.

Bodie, having digested the fact that, finally, he could hit the streets, stood up quietly, about to exit.

"Sit down, Bodie," Cowley directed as he continued to look at the stars.

Smirking, Sammantha pointed to the chair Bodie had just vacated.

Never far from childishness if it served his purpose, Bodie stuck his tongue out at her.

Cowley's sigh made Bodie snicker.

"Some things never change, do they, Bodie?" Cowley commented, turning around.

"More likely, it's Bodie who never changes," Ross announced, having witnessed the man's gesture.

"Sit down, Kate," suggested Cowley, his head tipped towards the room's third chair.

"What's happened?" asked Ross, eyeing Bodie.

"Well, the SAS have taken Tess and Arabella to Hereford. The bad guys have upped the ante, more hit men, " Bodie answered.

Well aware of the brutal, psychotic nature of the members of the Colombian drug ring, Ross blanched. "Ray --"

"-- is in extreme danger," finished Cowley. "The plan to lure them here to attack Doyle is a sound one. I'm sure that's why they were unprepared for your raid, Ms. Weddington."

Once again, the phone rang. Quickly, Sammantha grabbed for it. Hand on the receiver, she said to Cowley, "You may have taken over, but I do have a right to any information. Doyle willing, this will one day be my organization."

"Wisdom --"

"-- lies in knowing when to step aside," Sammantha interrupted, handing Cowley the receiver.

The faint expression on the older man's face, decipherable only after years of experience, told Bodie the news was not good.

"Just after the SAS moved the women out," Cowley began, hanging up, "the hit men attacked the house. The Met reports that one Colombian was killed and another was critically wounded. They are taking him to hospital."

"Which one?" queried Sammantha, picking up the receiver.

"St. Mark's on City Road."

While the woman dispatched several operatives, Cowley returned to the window.

"How are you?" Ross asked Bodie.

"Scared shitless, but other than that, I'm fine."

Ross smiled and put a hand on Bodie's forearm. "At least now you can help Ray more directly."

"That's why I'm scared shitless," Bodie answered, lifting the woman's hand to his lips. Kissing it, he smiled at her.

Watching the scene while issuing orders, Sammantha wondered suddenly whether Bodie's relationship with the doctor had ever included sex.

Unannounced, Byington burst into the room. He placed a sheaf of photos on the desk. "Old Salvatore Scilio just had these delivered. He sends his regards to Mr. Cowley."

Noticing the flash of anger in Sammantha's eyes as she heard and saw that the photos were of the hit men, Bodie went to her. Standing very close he said, "This is no time for anger, Sammy. This is a power game and a reminder of the temporary truce between CI5 and the mob. Salvatore didn't provide the photos before because he doesn't actually know you. It's chauvinistic as hell, so make Ray formally introduce you when he gets back. In the meantime, accept the fact that Salvatore and the Cow go way back -- to the fifth day of creation, if I'm not mistaken."

"The fourth day, Bodie, right after the sun and moon but before the stars," Cowley corrected, returning to the desk. He beckoned to Byington and Ross, wanting them to participate as well.

Accepting the wisdom in Bodie's words, Sammantha spread out the photos. "If his people were close enough for pictures, why didn't they just take the bastards out?" she mumbled.

"The end to this threat must come from law enforcement. If Salvatore were to act against the Colombians, it would start a war he doesn't want," Cowley explained.

"Easier to let Ray take the heat -- run all the risks," Bodie said in disgust as he eyed his former boss.

"Precisely," Cowley replied. "That's why we must act swiftly, before Doyle is gunned down by a local opportunist."

Bodie studied the photos intently. "Which one did you take out?" he asked Byington.

"We took out this one," the agent responded picking up a photo. "A fax from the Met indicates the SAS killed this guy." Again, he removed a photo. "And this happy caballero was wounded." He retrieved a third photo.

"Bodie, you will have to cover Doyle from the rear where the local danger lies. I suspect Franco, and perhaps even Seamus, are in town." Cowley glanced at Sammantha for confirmation that the favored assassins for the mob and the IRA were in London. When she nodded, he continued. "Ms. Weddington, I want you up in the tower where you can direct the CI5 subterfuge. Whitehall must be flooded with decoy Doyles. They think he's hiding here. But they were not in a position to see him come here themselves so they have only the word of informants."

"Give 'em Doyles to shoot at, a glimpse here, a glimpse there," Bodie paused, eyeing the two, current CI5 agents. With a nod toward Cowley, he stated, "You'll stay here as Alpha." His tone told everyone what Cowley's role would be.

Sammantha, still upset with the loss of authority, looked at Bodie. The cold glint in his eyes told her to back down. "Agreed. My number, Bodie, in case you need it, is 1.1. Tim, get him an R/T. I'll go down to communications. Report to me there so we can set up our end."

"Right," the agent replied, heading toward the door. "I'll be in the squad room in three minutes, Bodie."

Nodding, Bodie looked at Sammantha. "Is 3.7 still available?" The number had never been re-assigned, as no one wanted to work in the shadow of the original owner. Two years ago, Doyle had officially retired the number.

"It's all yours, Bodie, just as it's always been." Returning the implied compliment with a smile, Bodie took a deep breath. He glanced at Cowley, wondering how to ask the man to dismiss him with the often parodied words, "On your bike, laddie."

Just as Cowley opened his mouth to speak, the phone rang again.

Eyes locked on Bodie, Cowley made no move to answer it.

Sammantha picked it up. "Yes?" She listened intently, all the while watching the two legendary CI5 men. "Oh, shit," she murmured as she hung up. "Bodie ...." When he closed his eyes, obviously expecting the worst, she touched his arm. "It's Arabella. The tension and the chopper ride were too much. She's gone into labor."

"Fuck her!" he exclaimed, whirling around so that only Ross could see the anger and concern he felt. "She promised not to -- damn these Doyles. Their timing always sucks." Looking at the psychiatrist for sympathy, he ignored Sammantha's snickering Cowley's chuckling. "I promised her I'd be there, but...," he shrugged helplessly, uncertain now of what to do.

"I'll go, Bodie," Ross said. "Arabella will understand. She wants Ray alive and safe as much as we all do. If your being, on the street to watch his back can make the difference, then you really have no choice."

It was the absolution Bodie needed. He smiled his thanks.

"But Dr. Ross, we need you here," Sammantha stated. "I realize that--"

"Sammantha, you are in the presence of the best interrogator in London. If you need his skills, I'm sure he'd be happy to help."

"Come on, Kate, I'll arrange an SAS escort for you," Bodie said into the silence that filled the room. Turning to Sammantha, he added, "Sammy, you're about to find out what it really means to be a CI5 agent. If you want to earn this desk, take advantage." He took Ross' hand and they headed for the door. They were nearly there when Cowley's voice stopped them.

"Bodie -- think with your head, not your heart."

Glancing over his shoulder, Bodie looked at his former boss. "Don't forget, we have a poker game next week." With that, he ushered the psychiatrist out the door.

"Trial by fire will be good for her," Ross commented as they walked toward the squad room.

Bodie nodded. His thoughts were focussed on what he'd soon encounter. While he often patrolled the streets searching for the children that people reported or those that he knew to be near desperation, he hadn't worked the back alleys as a CI5 agent in 21 years. He also knew that he would have no trouble killing whoever threatened the life he'd built with Doyle.

"What is it?" Ross asked, stopping. She turned to face Bodie.

"I'm scared, I suppose. Katie, it's been a long time ...."

"A hunter never forgets. You might be slower, but experience and wisdom make up for that. You know your being out there will make the difference, especially if Seamus and Franco are in London. Ray is in the fight of his life."

"It's not that so much, Katie. I think what scares me is that 21 years ago I said no to killing because it was my solution to any problem. It was too easy to kill. Twenty-one years later, I know it's the only solution in this situation. It's the only message any of these people will understand. What scares me down in my balls is that I'll have no trouble with it. Twenty-one years of saving kids has not changed me, Katie. I'll have no trouble killing, today."

"I won't argue that with you," Ross replied, forcing Bodie to maintain eye contact. "But you're not a cold-blooded killer out for sport. You've always been driven by the need to protect, first your sister, then the other women in your life, then Ray, then Arabella and me and all those children you've watched over these last 21 years. If you examine the pattern of your killing, especially those last two years with CI5, you'll reach the same conclusion I did -- 95 percent of the time, you acted to save Ray Doyle."

"It's the other 5 percent that worries me," Bodie responded, his voice flat.

"Yes, but 4.5 percent of those occasions were to protect yourself. Only once do I think you played the role you fear, that of judge, jury and executioner. Frankly, as a single woman who has to live in fear of rape, I think you saved every woman and young girl in London from the terror that diseased mind sought to inflict. Angus McPherson had raped 75 women, Bodie, from three year olds to a ninety year old woman confined to a wheelchair."

"I killed him, Katie. And I enjoyed it."

"It's only taken you 21 years of avoiding me on this subject for you to admit it." Ross pulled Bodie into her arms. "You're wasting time worrying about something that you know, I know, everyone knows, you will do. But I want you to understand why you do it."

"Does that make it right?" Bodie asked, holding the woman close.

"You've been all over the world; you've seen humanity at its best and at its worst. Now is not the time to feel guilty because you do not believe what the Catholic Church teaches, because you do not believe in the sanctity of every human life."

"I've been hangin' around Tess and Ray too long," Bodie answered with a wry chuckle. "Thanks, Katie." He stared into the woman's eyes for a moment. "I love you." He kissed her on the nose to forestall the tears he saw welling in her doe-brown eyes. "Come on."

Ross took a deep breath and the hand Bodie offered her. Long ago she'd accepted the fact that she was in love with the man. Long ago, she'd decided to accept the place he could give her in his life. That place, she knew, as she half-walked, half-ran with him to the squad room, was as surrogate mother to his surrogate daughter. The thought made her shake her head. Life's complexity never failed to amaze her. Before she could consider further, Byington was rushing down the hall toward them.

"An SAS chopper just landed on the roof. Said they'd come for Dr. Ross. How ...."

Bodie smiled. "Omnipotence," he replied smugly.

Laughing, Ross said, "I can get there myself. I'll take care of Arabella, Bodie. You go take care of Ray."

With a grin, Bodie flashed her a thumbs up sign. He then ushered Tim toward the squad room.

For a moment, Ross watched them, her silent prayer for all to come through this alive. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and headed toward the heli-pad.

In the squad room, Tim handed Bodie an R/T and a temporary ID badge. "Welcome back to CI5, 3.7."

Bodie smiled. "What kind of back-up can you give me?"

"We've alerted all agents to the possibility of some local thug or Seamus or Franco trying to take out Doyle. Our people are all over London, as are Special Branch's. We're all working on interagency frequency nine for emergency help."

"Great," Bodie mumbled as he checked the Uzi automatic pistol he had armed himself with.

"Heavy artillery," Tim commented.

"In case you haven't noticed, old son, we're playin' with the big boys today."

"Yeah. Oh, by the way, I have something of yours."

Bodie, his weapons check complete, waited for the CI5 man to continue. He watched as a small bear, one blue eye missing, emerged from a desk drawer. Picking up his injured friend, he examined the bandage wrapped neatly around the bear's middle. There was an American Purple Heart holding the bandage together.

"I finally understand, Bodie."

"Yeah?" Bodie replied, uncertain of exactly what the man meant.

"My first child was born two weeks ago."

"Wow. Bit old, aren't you?"

"Only 45. Took a long time to find a woman who understood how important my job is."

Smiling, Bodie stuck out his hand. "Congratulations."

The two men shook hands.

"Well, I'd best be off," Bodie said, walking to the door. He paused there and, holding the bear toward the agent, added, "Thanks. And if you ever decide that you want more time with that new baby, I've been thinking about hiring an assistant at the office."

"Thanks, Bodie. I'll keep it in mind." Tim smiled, genuinely touched by the offer. "Bring him back alive."

"I'll do my damnedest," Bodie Bear replied, following Bodie out the door.

Knowing that each agency which shared in the pursuit of the South Americans would somehow follow his every move, Bodie inspected the bear for bugs as he headed toward the car park. Once inside his Porsche, a gift from a formerly troubled teenager who was now one of England's hottest TV stars, Bodie strapped the bear into Doyle's seat.

"You know what you have to do," he said to his companion as he edged out into traffic. Glancing at the bear as he waited for a traffic light, he added, "Raymond Rabbit will be most appreciative. He's had his paws full, you know," he continued as he drove towards the West End. "Taking care of Arabella has been tough on him, especially since he's had to do it alone. In fact, he's probably at Hereford now, helping deliver Kathleen." A smile danced across Bodie's lips as he thought of his Raymond being the new baby's first crib companion.

"Makes ya proud, doesn't it?" he asked his silent friend, assuming the bear could follow his thoughts.

Bodie continued to talk to the bear the rest of the way to the Phoenix Theater. Locating a parking spot on a nearby side street, he unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over to kiss the top of the bear's head. It was a silent goodbye, for he felt certain the bear, the R/T, and even the badge he'd been given were bugged. After dumping all but the bear into the glove box, he got out of the car and locked it, leaving it in Bodie Bear's care.

Comfortably familiar with the area, as he often wandered its streets searching for London's "lost" children, he was soon able to lose several of the people tailing him. Straying down to Soho, he ducked in the back door of one of the strip clubs; a few pounds bought him a stage hand's clothing. Though he hated to abandon his silk underwear, he ruthlessly removed both bikini pants and tee shirt, pulling on nearly too small black denims. As he buttoned a black cotton shirt, he sat down to inspect his trainers. Satisfied they were bug free, he took the precaution of stripping off his socks. After a long farewell look at the black leather jacket he loved, he put on a battered black suit coat. A few moments at a make-up table transformed his hair and face.

Confident he could evade those who didn't know him well, he made his way carefully toward Piccadilly Circus station. He rode the train to Paddington, stopping several times en route to check for people who might have followed him. At Paddington, he lost himself in the late night crowd till he could catch a train to Earl's Court. There he went above ground to the Bromptoti Hotel where he swapped clothing in the still active back room of the bar.

Idly wondering if he could contract anything from cum-stained jeans, he caught a series of trains that eventually brought him to the Holloway Road station. From there, he darted in and out of the shadows till he was confident that none of his tails remained. Quickly, he caught a cab and rode down to one of Islington's quieter streets. Slipping into the murky, muddy City Road Basin, he cautiously headed to Colebrooke Row. From there, it was a short dash to Noel Road.

Still wondering if anyone could have kept up with him, he walked slowly down the street past the row houses till he reached Danbury. Turning a corner, he hid and looked up Noel. For about 20 minutes -- he guessed, since he'd abandoned his watch -- he kept a lookout. When no one emerged from the shadows, he quickly ran back down Noel, stopping at Number 25, where he unlocked the door with the one of the keys he'd kept.

Safely inside, he paused a moment. He hadn't been in the historic structure in months. The reason it was historic brought a wry smile to his lips. This building housed the third floor flat where the playwright Joe Orton had been murdered by Ken Halliwell, his lover for many years. Nearly 15 years ago, the building had been put up for sale. Always one for causes, Doyle had become a covert supporter of gay rights once he and Bodie had established themselves as a couple. Because his job kept him from more active involvement, buying the property became a symbol to Doyle. He felt that Orton's home should be owned by someone who understood what it meant to have a same-sex lover who drove him crazy but without whom life wouldn't be the same.

Bodie could remember not being keen on the idea, but it had been so important to his lover that he'd dutifully trudged down to the bank to apply for a loan. Cowley's influence had helped their cause. They had intended to move into the first floor flat, but circumstances altered those plans. Over the years, after its immediate use as a safe house, they'd rented out the lower two floors and kept Orton and Halliwell's place for themselves. Doyle's safe house still, the third floor had also become his hideaway. There, he painted or worked on his photographic interests in the small darkroom he'd set up.

In addition to housing the world's largest collection of Ray Doyle originals, the only piece of erotic art they owned graced one of the walls. As he began climbing the stairs, Bodie visualized the portrait a grateful Robert Mapplethorpe had taken and then given to them. In London to open a gallery showing of his photographs, the chronicler of the gay lifestyle had received several serious death threats. Long an admirer of the man's work, Doyle had investigated and arrested the anti-gay activists. In return, Mapplethorpe had offered to do a portrait for Doyle.

The photograph never failed to rouse Bodie's cock. It stirred now as he recalled both the embarrassment and the thrill of being so openly in love with Doyle for the camera's eye.

Mapplethorpe had left them alone in his temporary London studio and told them to undress, for Doyle had wanted something in the homoerotic vein Mapplethorpe was famous for. Nervous then, Bodie could remember being calmed by his lover's joy and desire to capture their feelings.

The resultant, stark black and white photo with one spot of color showed them standing sideways, lips lost in a kiss which put the back of Bodie's head to the lens. Doyle's face was more visible as was the discreet gold stud he'd begun to wear in his left ear. The luxuriant curls generally hid its presence, except in this moment, when the hair was deliberately brushed back. Their legs were entwined so that as they stood together, the ring in Doyle's left nipple glistened. Matching erections were also visible as was a small red heart the photographer had drawn in the dimple of Bodie's right buttock. At their feet lay Bodie Bear, limbs spread in open surrender as Raymond Rabbit sucked him off .

Hoping the bear was doing a good job of guarding his beloved Porsche, Bodie stopped on the landing below the third floor. One step further and he would enter what he called THE TWILIGHT ZONE. The first time he had gone up these stairs, his skin had crawled and the short hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end. It was all he could do to force himself into the room where Halliwell had beaten in Orton's head.

He'd never figured out why being in the place bothered him. It hadn't helped that on that first visit he'd wakened from a nap only to find Doyle standing over him with a hammer. He could still feel the way the blood had drained from his face, the way his heart had skipped a few beats. Shaking his head to dispel the dark moment, Bodie consciously placed a foot on the next stair.

While he didn't generally believe in ghosts, Bodie always thought that someone was watching him as soon as he began climbing that short flight of stairs leading to the third floor. Looking around to make sure it was only his imagination now, Bodie slowly ascended the staircase. He paused just short of the door, trying to shake off the eeriness he felt. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and went in.

"Took you long enough," Doyle said into the darkness, for he'd turned out the lights when he heard the door open below.

"You know this place gives me the creeps," Bodie replied, closing the door.

"What was all the commotion at the house a few hours ago?"

"The bastards stormed the place, but Arabella and Tess were already on their way to Hereford."

"The helicopter?"

"Yeah. Can we turn on the fucking lights and will you put that gun away? It is me, after all." Whenever they were here, Doyle was possessed by the darkest, Ortonesque humor. He never failed to pretend he had other uses in mind for a knife he held, a gun he was cleaning, a hammer .... Bodie shivered. "Arabella's in labor. Tess and Katie are with her."

Doyle chuckled as he bolstered his gun. He did not switch on the nearby lamp. "I had a feeling she'd do this."

"You damned Doyles are all the same. Never a moment's thought as to who you might be inconveniencing...." The rest of Bodie's tirade was lost as insistent lips took his in a deep kiss.

Doyle began undressing Bodie.

"Where the fuck did you get these?" Doyle asked as he tried to unfasten the snap of the jeans his lover was wearing. He could feel the press of the big cock against the zipper.

"Brompton's," Bodie said sheepishly. "Back room."

"The back room?" Doyle nearly shouted.

Bodie quickly clamped a hand over his lover's lips. "I just bought the clothes. I didn't have time to party, although there was a good looking guy in leather -- ouch! Doyle, you prick!" he exclaimed when the man bit him. Before he could elaborate, his mouth was again devoured by hungry lips. The passion he felt rising in Doyle's slender body made him undo his own too-tight jeans. When they were tangled about his ankles, he heard Doyle suck in a ragged breath.

"The thought of you runnin' around London with no underwear between you and rape ...."

As Doyle spoke, Bodie pressed his lover against a nearby wall. He massaged Doyle's erection, still trapped beneath clinging denim.

"Don't," Doyle warned. "I'll come too fast."

Pleased as he always was to know how much he still excited the man he loved, Bodie continued to touch the cloth-covered prick. "Come for me, sunshine, right here and now." He bit Doyle's right earlobe as he ground the palm of his hand against the hard cock. "I love you," he whispered as he tenderly kissed the atypical cheekbone. "Come for me," he murmured as he sank his teeth into the hollow of Doyle's neck. "Come on, sunshine, come," he added, rubbing up and down the front of Doyle's jeans.

"Bodie, no -- Bodie, I --"

"Do it, Doyle. Come in those sinfully tight jeans." By this time, Bodie's teeth had found a peaked right nipple. He bit down hard, knowing Doyle found this small measure of pain intoxicating. Squeezing the spot where he felt the straining cock to be, Bodie leaned into his lover. "I want you to come...now!" he demanded, his tongue sliding in and out between Doyle's parted lips. "Now," he mumbled, caressing the knot of flesh in his right hand.

Nearly lost, Doyle put a hand on Bodie's cock. When it twitched in response to the pressure of his fingers as they moved over its head, he felt his own balls tighten.

"Come, damn you," Bodie whispered hoarsely, sticking his tongue in Doyle's right ear.

That sent Doyle over the edge. He screamed his release into the mouth which closed over his own. The sudden shortage of oxygen as he tried to draw a breath enhanced the intensity of the orgasm. Eyes squeezed shut as the wave of pleasure took him, he offered nothing but sighs of contentment as Bodie worked to unzip his jeans. When the cumbersome clothing finally fell to his ankles, Doyle pushed one of his lover's hands against his balls.

Aware of how much Doyle enjoyed being caressed there after coming, Bodie lingered only long enough to gather semen into his palm. "Later," he murmured into Doyle's ear. "Later." Turning the quiescent man around, Bodie spread the warm fluid in the crease between the buttocks. "Spread 'em, Doyle," he ordered gruffly, imitating the intimidating man he could be.

Obediently, Doyle complied, shoving his ass back in invitation. He bit his lip to keep from yelling again as Bodie jammed his way past the ring of muscle. The flash of pain was lost in the renewed pleasure that fired its way through him as the hard cock repeatedly brushed his prostate. He moaned softly, continuously, till his nerves felt seared. "Bodie, Bodie, Bodie, fuck me, damn you." Desperate for an end to the almost too exquisite torture, he squeezed against the cock filling him. "Harder, harder, you bastard. Harder," he urged, wiggling now.

Doyle's sharp intake of breath told Bodie that pleasure would quickly turn to pain if he didn't come soon. But as he repeatedly thrust, he felt a different tide rise in him. The specter of loss, of death, of life without Doyle made him want to go on, to never come. He continued to pump. Suddenly, his fear come true; Doyle jerked away. As he quickly slid out of the tight channel, the friction against his cockhead sent him spiralling into the climax he'd avoided. As his cock spewed semen, Doyle's hand was there to milk him, to ease his way down from the precipice. When warm, moist lips kissed him, Bodie groaned. "Shit, I'm gettin' too old for this, Doyle."

"No, you're not," Doyle replied as he knelt and sucked on the big balls hanging limply beneath the spent prick.

"You'd think it'd been months instead of two days," Bodie said as he pulled his lover up for another kiss. Tasting himself on the lovely lips, he rimmed them with his tongue.

"Tickles," Doyle mumbled, letting himself be encircled by strong arms. He put his head on the other man's shoulder and sighed deeply with contentment.

Pleased to simply hold his lover again, Bodie tightened his grip. "I've spent these last two days learning what it'll be like if you die and leave me. I hate it, Ray. I don't care if the entire universe needs me; I hate being without you."

Doyle responded by kissing the soft skin beneath his lips.

"If you're inconsiderate enough to die before me, give me some warning, like about 30 years," Bodie suggested.

Chuckling, Doyle looked up at his lover, visible in the faint light of the street lamp. "Come on, peaches." Aware of the jeans clinging to their feet, he freed them both before leading Bodie to the sofa. Lying down, he pulled Bodie into his arms. When the other man was stretched out, partly on top, partly beside, he manipulated an abandoned terry cloth robe till it mostly covered them both.

"So fill me in. Some idiot cut the monitor I had in my office," Doyle began, stroking the damp, dark hair of Bodie's head.

"Must have been George," Bodie lied, knowing he himself had turned that monitor off. He hadn't wanted Doyle to hear any exchange he and Sammantha might have. "I picked him up on the way down to HQ. Sam wanted me to help her visit the widows."

"Fools. Sam's too trigger happy. I've tried --"

Bodie put a finger against Doyle's lips. "Now you know how the Cow felt whenever I went out on assignment.'' Doyle's throaty laugh made Bodie chuckle as well.

Sighing deeply, Doyle inquired, "So what do I need know?"

Aware that the casual tone hid his lover's growing sense of guilt over losing agents' lives, Bodie replied, "They died because they were careless, Ray."

"So? That makes it better? That I lose operatives while I'm hiding in a safehouse, waiting for it to either blow over or for someone else to do the job?"

"You're not the only one who's fucking frustrated, you know. I've been twiddling my thumbs, too, dying inside because I know you're holed up here wanting to smoke them out; but I can't jeopardize you by even callin' on the friggin' phone."

"All right, all right. Calm down. We're both not happy with the way this has unfolded."

"Might not be so bad if you only had to watch out for the Colombians."

"Yeah. I did go out yesterday to talk to a few people. Every fucking small-time hood is out to kill me, hoping I can be taken out on the sly."

"Nice to be popular, isn't it?" Bodie said, laughing ruefully.

"So, now that all of our loose ends are tied up at Hereford, oh, shit -- did you say Arabella went into labor?"

Bodie nodded, licking a bit of skin near his lips. "Not to worry, son. Raymond is no doubt on the scene, not to mention one Russ Stillar, SAS."

"What?"

"You heard me. You Doyles must have a thing for us SAS men." Bodie wiggled provocatively against Doyle's limp cock.

"Bodie, I've been away for two days. She can't possibly have fallen in love that fast? Can she?" Doyle added after a moment's thought.

"Tess seemed to think so. Besides, I think, if memory serves, this is the Russ we caught her at it with that time we came back from Brighton."

"You can't be serious!"

"Well, until I get a look at his arse, I can't say for sure," Bodie commented wryly, referring to what he'd seen that awkward day. "Stop giggling, Doyle. It wasn't funny at the time."

"Yeah, it was," Doyle said, snickering.

"You want to giggle, I'll give you something to laugh about, sunshine," Bodie hinted as his fingers danced lightly over sensitive ribs.

"No, Bodie, no," Doyle begged. He needed only to hear the threat of tickling or see the fingers.

Waggling his fingers in front of his lover's face, Bodie continued the familiar teasing, enjoying the fact that he could taunt. "See these, Doyle?"

"No, you wouldn't. No, Bodie, please, no --"

"Well, maybe I'll let you off the hook tonight," Bodie replied, shifting to pin the still-afraid-of-being-tickled Doyle beneath him. "There are other things I'd rather do to you than tickle you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," answered Bodie as his mouth found Doyle's. The kiss deepened.

"We are such fucks," Doyle said when they finally surfaced for air. "Arabella is off having a baby without us. Half of London's cop-spy community has its life on the line and we lay here gettin' ready to screw each other through the sofa."

"Must you always bring up a trivial subject like reality?" Bodie complained. He took a deep breath to help calm a now racing pulse.

Smiling at the familiar, good natured grumbling, Doyle ran his fingers through his lover's hair. "Here, it's so easy to ignore the world. I always feel like I'm in a truly safe place here because no one but George even knows we own it."

"Why do you think that I call it THE TWILIGHT ZONE?" queried Bodie. "Ouch -- friggin' ghost just pinched me arse," he yelped, reaching around to massage the afflicted area.

"That was me, stupid."

"Oh." Bodie moved so he could suck on one of Doyle's nipples. He licked and nipped at it till it was hard. "Are you sure we can't just have another fuck and let them all shoot each other up?"

"That's what I'd like to do, Bodie. That's what I've been doing for the past two years -- ignoring it all, hoping the Colombians and the mob would do each other in. You can see where it's landed me."

"Yeah, right where I want you -- beneath me -- beggin' for it."

"Dream on. I've never begged for it in my life," Doyle retorted, having long ago lost track of the number of times he had pleaded for Bodie to take him.

"Oh, and what about that night last week? When we were havin' it off in front of the fireplace and Arabella came home unexpectedly?"

"That was different."

Snorting, Bodie lifted himself so he could see Doyle's face. "How was it different? I distinctly remember hearing the words, 'Please, Bodie, fuck me, please!' coming from those lovely lips of yours."

"Wasn't me. Must have been Raymond Rabbit. He and the bear were on the mantle."

"I thought I would have a coronary when she walked in like that," Bodie said, recalling that night. Arabella had gone over to Kate Ross' for dinner. She was supposed to phone when she needed a ride home.

"Yeah," Doyle agreed, clearly picturing the scene. After a quiet Chinese dinner, they'd showered together. The mood created there had been sustained in front of the fireplace. Stretched out on discarded terry cloth robes, Bodie had been about to accede to Doyle's demand when the door opened and Arabella, obviously suffering baby discomfort, walked in.

When she had been growing up, they'd tried to create a positive image for her -- one where with the kisses and touching any couple shared -- she could see that they were indeed in love. But they'd been very careful to keep most of the sexual aspect of their relationship locked safely behind the bedroom door. Only once in the twelve years she lived with them had she actually seen more.

Knowing how the man's mind worked, Bodie laughed softly. "We were so fuckin' pissed that night."

"Yeah," Doyle agreed, smiling as he recalled the moment nearly ten years ago. "I don't even remember why we started; we were both too drunk to get it up."

"You dared me."

"Oh, yeah, now I remember," Doyle began, idly stroking the satiny soft skin of Bodie's back. "We were trying to decide who the winner of the 'get hard the fastest' contest was. You claimed victory and I challenged you."

"Said you didn't believe me and I had to prove it." Bodie sighed with happiness. "Those were the days, my son, of twice a night and three times if we were rested."

Always one to pounce on a wistful moment of vulnerability, Doyle asked suddenly, "Do we do it often enough for you now?"

Bodie shook his head fondly. "You've been with CI5 too long, Doyle. Maybe someday you'll ask me a question without trying to interrogate me."

Ignoring the mild sarcasm, Doyle rephrased and repeated his question. "Are you happy with our sex life?"

"Are you?" Bodie fired back, even though he could predict his lover's response.

"I asked first."

Experience had long ago taught Bodie that when delicate emotional matters were at stake, Doyle was very good at raising the issue but Bodie always had to answer first. He wondered now why Doyle was concerned. Deciding he needed to be able to see the green eyes clearly, he stood up and switched on the nearby lamp. "What's really wrong, Ray?" As he sat down on the coffee table, he noted that the furniture had recently been rearranged.

"Seamus and Franco."

"I know," Bodie muttered. Franco Borelli was one of Salvatore's favorite hit men. And Seamus was an assassin for the IRA. Both were men who had sworn to kill Doyle -- eventually. "You're not going to die, Ray."

"That's not what the local, off-track odds say. Blackie said it was 50 to 1 that I'm not walkin' the streets next week."

Bodie felt cold inside. "There must be other shooters, too."

"Yeah. Anyone with a grudge against me is out for blood." Doyle replied, hugging himself. Hell, last night I had myself convinced that Salvatore hired the Colombians so he could use them as cover to take me out." Doyle stood up and began pacing the length of the small room. "You still haven't answered my question. Are you satisfied with our sex life?"

Bodie was silent for a moment as he watched the muscles of Doyle's back and flank ripple beneath the pale skin. When the man stopped to stare at him, Bodie tore himself aware from the erotic vision of a naked Ray Doyle.

"You have to think about it?" Doyle whispered, upset by the implication of his lover's silence.

"What I'm thinking about, Ray, is how fuckin' gorgeous you are. Just watchin' you pace brings all sorts of sinning to mind." His cock twitched. When Doyle smiled, Bodie stood up and pulled the man into his arms. "I have no regrets about marrying you, about living with you all these years, about loving you. Our sex life is fine -- you still excite the fuck out of me, as you can see." He glanced down at his semi-erect cock. "My only real complaint is that you don't bake gingerbread often enough."

Doyle chuckled softly. "I haven't been this scared in years. In fact, I haven't been this scared since you quit CI5, and I had to accept that you wouldn't be on the streets with me to play my guardian angel anymore." He looked into the blue eyes watching him so intently. "Everything we've built together could end in a few hours."

"No. I won't let that happen, Ray."

Shivering as he felt the coldness radiating from his lover, Doyle said nothing. He needed to believe what Bodie was saying.

Bodie held his lover closer. The night he'd brought Arabella home, he'd promised himself that he would never let anyone destroy his world again. When it'd happened the first time, he'd been too young, too inexperienced to prevent it. This time, he was able to defend himself and those he loved. No one would take them from him. As he felt that resolve solidify and quiet his churning stomach, he began, "Once Franco, the Colombians and Seamus are out of the picture, the rest of the vermin will retreat into the shadows."

"Is that all it'll take?" Doyle shouted, jerking away. He looked at Bodie. The calmness in the blue eyes was at once disquieting and comforting. For the first time in more than 20 years, Doyle knew he'd once again feel protected while stalking the streets of London. "I'm getting too old for this, Bodie."

"For this?" Bodie asked, capturing his lover's lips in a kiss.

"Never," murmured Doyle as he surrendered to the potent combination of adrenaline, passion and Bodie.

"We'll have to mark this day on the calendar," Bodie said sleepily. "Twice in one night...."

Doyle chuckled. "Maybe we could just stay here. Let the world think we've simply disappeared."

"Can't do that," Bodie commented, working to keep his thoughts from the looming confrontation.

"Why not?"

"Because Charbonnel won't deliver, and I can't live the rest of my life without their truffles."

"I see." Doyle sighed. "Truffles are more important than me."

"Well," Bodie admitted, comfortably certain his lover was too tired to hit him, "yeah."

Laughing, Doyle edged over to kiss the nipple near his mouth. "No matter what happens in the next few hours, I want you to know that --" Doyle stopped himself. Bodie hated maudlin, just-before-a-particularly- dangerous-mission, confessions. " -- that when we get home, I'll bake you a big gingerbread."

Relieved that his lover had restrained himself, Bodie replied, "Great! And don't forget, I'm hosting the poker game next week."

"I love you, Bodie." Doyle said hurriedly to forestall any complaint by kissing the man's lips. "We'd better get going, I want this over with by dawn." Without waiting for a reply, Doyle stood and walked toward the other room.

"Where are you going?" Bodie called out, jumping up.

"Just to the bathroom," Doyle responded.

"Well, wait for me."

Stopping in the doorway, Doyle spun around to look at his lover. Shaking his head, he said, "You're daft, peaches. You're ready to singlehandedly take on some of the world's best paid guns yet you're standing here, pale as a sheet because you're afraid of ghosts."

"Yeah, well, assassins I can kill. I don't know what to do when a ghost grabs me arse." Deftly, he reached for his lover's buttock.

Comprehension slowly dawned, but not before Doyle felt the biting pinch of Bodie's fingers.

"Bastard," he said, bolting into the next room before Bodie could attack again.

It took them twenty minutes to clean up and dress. Nearly an entire tube of KY was sacrificed to tame Doyle's curls enough for the hair to be pulled back in a severe ponytail.

"My, you look ugly," Bodie commented when the last, errant curl was plastered against the other man's head.

"Thanks," Doyle replied lightly, trying to keep his fear in control, safely hidden behind other emotions. Gingerly fingering his new coiffure, he commented, "With this 'do, I'll stop a speeding bullet at --"

Bodie jerked his lover around. "Shut up. Don't you dare breathe another word about stopping a speeding bullet. Don't ... you ... dare!"

The tone of Bodie's voice reminded Doyle of how superstitious his erstwhile street partner was. "Sorry," he offered, apologetic. "Are you ready?"

"Let's rock," Bodie replied, touching the gun he carried. He stopped at the door. When Doyle frowned, Bodie said solemnly, "Ray, we will come through this, alive and together. You have to believe." He smiled and added, "I love you."

Returning the smile, Doyle clapped his hands. "Okay, Tinkerbell, let's roll."

---

Arabella opened her eyes slightly, aware of the too-bright light. She heard a sound and opened her eyes wider. "Thank you," she murmured, not sure of whom she was expressing her gratitude to. Her head hurt too much for her to turn and see who had dimmed the light.

"I didn't think you'd wake up this soon," Russell Stillar said softly, suspecting the woman might have a headache.

"Russ?"

"Yes, it's me," the SAS man replied, taking Arabella's hand. He kissed the palm.

"What happened?" she asked, turning her head just enough to look into the brown eyes watching her.

"You went into labor on the chopper ride here to Hereford. When we arrived, the doctor found out Kathleen was in a breech position. You were in such pain and so near hysteria that Dr. Caneford decided to do a C- section."

"Me? Near hysteria?"

"Well, not really, but you were pretty scared and --"

Arabella closed her eyes, cutting him off. The scene came back now. She could remember climbing awkwardly into the belly of the transport chopper. Immediately, the vibration nauseated her. As the vehicle lifted off, another wave of nausea overcame her. An awful pain had welled up from her abdomen. The accompanying wetness had been alarming, for she knew it signalled the onset of labor. She had reached out for Tess' hand as she began throwing up the tea and biscuits from a short time before. Her head swimming as she pictured the scene, Arabella saw herself stretched out, vibrating with the turn of the rotors. "I felt so incredibly sick."

"You were."

"Where are Tess and Kate?" Vaguely, she recalled seeing both women as they wheeled her toward a set of doors.

"Dr. Ross is with Dr. Caneford and the baby. Tess went to the chapel."

"How's Kathleen?" Arabella was almost afraid to ask.

"Fine. They're doing a few tests to make sure she suffered no undue trauma. But you're not to worry. She's okay. In fact, she bit Dr. Caneford when he reached inside her mouth to make sure everything was all right." He chuckled.

"Bodie would say that proves she's a Doyle -- obnoxious as always."

"Well, I happen to think she's gorgeous -- just like her mum."

Arabella smiled. "You always were such a romantic, Russell Stillar."

"I still am, Ari." He emphasized his words by brushing back the damp hair and kissing the woman's forehead. "I know this isn't the best time to ask you this, but I'm sure to be reassigned before the day is over. And I --"

"I'm not planning to go back to New York, if that's what you're asking."

Incredulous, he asked, "You're not?"

"Not right away. I don't really know, Russ. When I came home, I intended to stay only till Kathleen was born. But being here made me realize how much I would miss London and my family. Staying with Bodie and Ray -- I want my daughter to know them, and that won't happen if I move back to New York." She paused, licking her dry lips.

"Here, sip it slowly," Stillar instructed, holding a cup with a bent straw near Arabella.

"Thanks," the woman whispered when she was finished. She closed her eyes, exhausted.

"You should go back to sleep, Ari."

Green eyes shot open. "Russ, where's Bodie? He promised me that--"

Fingers pressed against her lips. "Don't talk anymore. Just listen. Bodie went to CI5 to talk strategy. When he left, everyone followed or monitored him, but he shook them all and disappeared. No one knows where he is."

"With Uncle Ray," Arabella murmured, relieved by the thought. She felt guilty that her presence had kept them apart at this time of crisis.

"Let's hope that's where he is, Ari. I want to tell you ...." his voice faded as he realized the woman had fallen asleep. "I still love you, Arabella. I've never stopped," he admitted quietly, almost glad she couldn't hear him.

Remaining discreetly by the door, Tess smiled when she heard the softly uttered confession. For a moment, she scrutinized Russell Stillar closely. Wondering what it was about SAS men that attracted the Doyles, she decided she should go to see how the baby was. And on the way back, she'd stop again at the chapel -- this time to pray that Bodie and Ray would be there to give the bride away.

---

It was later, nearly dawn, when Doyle and the CI5 agents closed in on the man leading the Colombian hit men. Sweeping through Whitehall, all but two Colombians had been accounted for. Five were dead, one might live for a few days in the hospital and the other was in the interrogation room beneath CI5, talking to George Cowley.

As Bodie climbed over a ledge onto the rooftop, he heard gunfire and knew that the odds had now been reduced to CI5 versus Enrique Estefan. Or more precisely, Estefan versus Raymond Doyle. Bodie glanced to the right to make sure the CI5 chief was in position. Crouched down, both he and Doyle waited for the ruse they'd implemented below to draw the Colombian's fire. When a burst of machine gun bullets was triggered, the two located their target. As they moved forward, Bodie hung back slightly, knowing the man was Doyle's to take. Bodie also wanted to watch for signs of Franco or Seamus. They were his targets.

Glad that the sun was finally rising, that he could see better, Bodie crept along, senses straining to detect anything out of the ordinary. A short whistle brought his attention back to Doyle. Pointing to a small rooftop air conditioning unit on the next building, Doyle twirled his finger in the air to indicate his route. Quickly, Bodie circled in the opposite direction.

Grateful that the buildings in this area were all attached and relatively low, Bodie moved into the position that would best provide cover for his partner and afford him a view of the surrounding rooftops. They were over-extended he realized as he scanned the windows of several nearby buildings. If Seamus and Franco were waiting for an opportunity, they would have an excellent one should there be trouble with Estefan. One day, they would learn to go into these situations with proper backup. That was when he noticed two black-clad figures approach. A glimpse of silhouettes told him it was Sammantha and probably Byington. Relieved, he turned his full attention to his lover and waited for the signal.

It was soon over, a hail of bullets Enrique Estefan's last act. Gun out, lest the man had survived the combined f ire of his and Bodie's weapons, Doyle warily approached the Colombian. Doyle's heartbeat steadied when he removed the man's gun and confirmed that he was indeed dead. Doyle stood, staring at his foe as Bodie neared.

"Get down," Bodie hissed. "You want your balls on the roof next to us?"

Frowning, Doyle crouched down behind the parapet. "Have you spotted them?"

Bodie shrugged, noncommittal. He wanted Franco and Seamus to himself. That way there would be no troubled consciences. "Dead?"

"Yeah."

The almost pensive note in the man's voice annoyed Bodie. Aware of what his lover was thinking, Bodie spat out, "Doyle, who the fuck cares how many kids he had?"

"You should, you know. They might end up on our doorstep, homeless, afraid, needing your help because their father was gunned down." Drawing in a deep breath, Doyle eyed his partner. "I know, I know. But it keeps me from forgetting."

"Yeah," Bodie replied softly, understanding, marvelling at how his one word response summed up numerous discussions of how compassion kept Doyle on an even keel and how it seemed lacking in Bodie when he had a gun in his hand. He began searching the dead man.

"What are you looking for?"

"We need to send something belonging to him to the cartel, send 'em a message they can't miss."

"How about this?" Doyle asked, holding up a rapidly cooling finger.

"That's good. Can you get the ring off?"

"Why bother?" Sammantha Weddington inquired as she and Byington reached the scene. "Just cut the bastard's finger off." She held out a large Bowie knife, the one which had been retrieved from Bodie Bear's chest.

"I have a better idea," Bodie said, hearing the coldness in his own voice. He did not meet the green eyes he felt boring into him. Taking the knife, he sliced through the man's trousers. "Italian wool and silk," he commented blandly as he exposed the Colombian's genitals.

Realizing what his lover was about to do, Doyle touched Bodie. "Let me." He was surprised by the evenness of his voice; inside he was seething turmoil as he wrestled with his revulsion, his fear, his sense of duty and the need to make an unmistakable statement to the Colombian cartel.

Shaking his head, Bodie looked at the CI5 chief. "No. If there's any inquiry, you have to stay clean. This way, you can pass it off as the work of an overly eager underling." With a precision that came from experience, Bodie deftly severed the man's cock and balls. Memories of the day he'd done the same thing to his parents' captors came back. "Get the ring," he ordered, his gaze on Sammantha. When she'd pulled it off and handed it to him, he crammed it over the prick he gingerly held. Defiantly pleased with this resolution, Bodie looked at Doyle; beneath the cold glint that told him Doyle approved, there was sympathy. Bodie turned back to his self-appointed job.

Byington, anticipating, had removed the dead man's jacket. When Bodie's grisly task was finished, he wrapped up CI5's message. "Come on, 1.1. Let's get this expressed to the cartel."

"Good thing we don't have to fill out a customs --" Bodie stopped. "Get down." As the four flattened themselves, a burst of bullets tore through the air conditioning unit -- just inches above where they'd crouched. "Laser sight," Bodie mumbled, having seen the red dot -- and the direction it came from.

"Bodie ...." Doyle began, his fingers reaching for his partner's hand. "Don't go yet...let us get in position."

An R/T crackled, making everyone jump.

"l.1, here. Report."

"A few locals have decided to play -- they have you in a cross-fire. Alpha is directing backup into the area and advises you wait till the crowd is thinned out."

"Acknowledged," Sammantha replied.

The four waited silently for some time, Bodie occasionally peeking over the waist-level retaining wall to check on the location where he'd seen the laser rifle. When the all clear came, they carefully headed back to CI5 headquarters, nearly half a mile away.

Ambushed on the way by two Muslim extremists who were determined to take advantage of the CI5 head's vulnerability or die in the attempt, Doyle had to fight back a wave of nausea that nearly overcame him when he saw Bodie fall. In the several minutes it took Doyle to recover, he realized that his lover had not been hurt but rather had used the incident to slip away.

"Where's Bodie?" Sammantha asked after she called for a crew to help clear away the carnage.

"I don't know," Doyle lied, fully aware of where Bodie was headed.

Puzzled, Sammantha knew her boss well enough to understand that he would say no more.

As he suppressed the conflicting emotions Bodie's self-appointed mission roused in him, Doyle took a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders, he resumed his role as head of CI5. After issuing orders to the agents on the spot, he sent Byington to dispatch his bundle to Colombia. Doyle and Sammantha quickly traversed the remaining block between them and the safety of CI5 headquarters.

When they were back in Doyle's office, he forestalled the queries on his deputy's lips. "Sammy, I know this is chauvinistic and sexist, but would you please get me some tea?"

Astute enough to see that the man wanted to speak to Cowley alone and wise enough to know when to push and when to back off Sammantha said, "Once, Doyle, and only because I'm glad to see you back where you belong." Her annoyance evident in her expression, she marched dramatically out of the office.

"Did she train under Bodie?" Cowley asked once they were alone.

"No, but she'd like to," Doyle murmured, all too aware of the lust the woman felt for his lover. As the words came out, Doyle glanced at the older man.

"He will not betray you with her."

"How did you know?" Doyle asked, wondering if his lover's desire for Sammantha was that obvious or if Bodie had confided in the man.

Cowley sighed and shook his head.

"I forgot. Omniscience -- you wrote it into your job description." Doyle smiled at the man he was genuinely fond of. "He almost did, you know."

"Almost," Cowley began, removing the now ever-present, black- rimmed glasses. "But he didn't then and he won't now."

"What makes you so sure?" inquired Doyle as he sat in a chair opposite the desk. It struck him as odd that with so much else to discuss, they were talking about Bodie's faithfulness.

Cowley answered with a question, "He's gone after Franco and Seamus, then?"

Nodding, Doyle sighed deeply.

"There's your answer. No matter what he has achieved or accomplished, or who loves him, for him life revolves around one, simple, clear truth: he loves you."

"Then why the fuck did he almost --" Doyle caught himself. It was his own complacency that had led Bodie to provoke Doyle's dormant jealousy. He met the still steely gaze. "I should be upset that he's out there playing vigilante."

"A stand must be made. If those two die, everyone will understand your message."

Unable to remain quietly sitting, Doyle jumped up and began to pace. "You never had to make a stand this way. You always found another way."

"Not always," Cowley responded softly, leaning back in his chair.

Doyle stopped to stare at the other man. "When?"

"Whenever I needed to."

Over the years, Doyle had learned to read between the lines of Cowley's often cryptic remarks. The implication alarmed him. "When?" he demanded to know. "When did you send Bodie out to make your stand?"

"My memory's not what it once was, Doyle," Cowley parried.

"Bullshit."

"You're a detective -- you tell me."

Stopping in front of the desk Cowley sat behind, Doyle looked the man in the eye. "The Marshes rapist."

"Aye."

Forced to confront what he'd known for 21 years, Doyle drew in a deep breath. "He did it, didn't he?" Angus McPherson had declared war on the female population of London by raping at least 75 individuals, including several three year olds.

"His orders were to bring the man in for questioning," Cowley stated, meeting the green eyes directly. "He was cleared of any misuse of authority."

"I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now. I can take care of it another way."

"What other way, Doyle? The reality you persist in ignoring has always been your weakness. Despite that egalitarian, idealistic morality you've lived by, it would have caused your death, many times over. Why should your sense of justice or your need to ensure that innocent people have the freedom to live terror-free lives be taken from us? Why isn't your life more important?"

"It shouldn't be!" Doyle shouted.

"That's why you and Bodie were the perfect partners. He's always known what you can't accept. Until the time when humans behave responsibly towards all other humans, people like Bodie will be needed. He understands that some people, by their actions, forfeit the right to the justice and freedom and fairness you want for everyone. This is a dirty war. And someone has to protect those like you who lead the fight."

"And that someone is Bodie, isn't it?" Doyle asked softly. He did not need an answer, nor did he need to hear more. This was an old debate. As he'd grown older, he'd come to hate the fact that the ends too often had to justify the means. He hated a reality where his crime fighters were all too often nearly indistinguishable from the criminals. "Why did you pick me, then?" It, too, was a question he'd asked before.

"Because of your idealism and your compassion. We need them. That you wrestle with the questions of ethics and morality is important." Cowley paused. "Framed in more personal terms if you ever decide that your life is not more important than Franco's or Seamus', then order a headstone; and while you're at it, order one for Arabella and her baby girl. If you aren't here to wage the war, Ray, what will Kathleen have? A London full of drug users and pushers, terrorists, amoral thugs, people who care nothing about whether she is raped in an alley or killed by a stray bullet."

"But why isn't Good strong enough to win without using the tactics of Evil?"

"If I had an answer to that question, neither of us would be here."

"The wisdom of age doesn't help?" Doyle queried with a pensive sigh. Always they reached the same conclusion.

"If anything, it muddies the issue."

"He has always been a guardian angel, hasn't he?" Doyle asked, sitting down again.

"Why do you think I gave him to you?"

The twinkle in the man's eyes brought a weary smile to Doyle's lips. So Arabella had Kathleen?"

"Seven pounds, six ounces; eighteen inches long; red hair."

Doyle's smile brightened. "Sounds like Bodie'll be beating off the suitors with his cane -- provided they stay in London." Both he and Bodie had carefully avoided asking about Arabella's plans lest she think they wanted her to leave.

"I think they will be staying," Cowley said, pushing a folder toward his friend.

"Wedding bells?"

"If my sources are correct," Cowley added, smiling himself.

Though he picked up the information about Russell Stillar, Doyle didn't look at it.

"Bodie may be older, but those skills are never forgotten."

It was several minutes before Doyle offered his mentor another wan smile. "I hope you're right."

"Besides, Sister Teresa has been praying."

Chuckling, even as he felt comforted by this, Doyle stood up. "Guess we'd better start tying up the loose ends. I'd like to get home before Christmas. And I think you should go with me," he hesitated, changing the word he'd been about to utter from if to when, "when we go to see Salvatore. Also, I want you to do a post mortem evaluation on how my people, especially Sammy and Tim, handled this situation."

Cowley nodded.

Pacing with a purpose now, Doyle retreated to a corner where a hatstand held court. "How do you think my desk would do in this corner?"

---

Three days passed before Raymond Doyle was able to walk up the short flight of stairs leading to the Islington home he shared with Bodie. It was nearly midnight and the rain clouds had parted to reveal a full moon which, in turn, revealed the damage to the shrubbery. Wondering if he could bill the SAS, Doyle let himself in. Since the lights were out, he assumed everyone was asleep. As he crossed through the doorway and locked the world out, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Leaning against the door, he stood quietly, content to absorb the joy of returning safely to his own home. He was about to head for the kitchen when he heard a gentle humming. Curious, he stealthily moved from the confines of the coatroom-foyer into the open living room. The rhythm of a familiar lullaby asserted itself.

For several moments Doyle stood, transfixed by the scene. Seated in the rocker, bathed in silvery moonlight, Bodie sang to Kathleen. It reminded Doyle of that night so many years ago -though it seemed like only yesterday -- when Bodie had rocked a troubled Arabella to sleep the night Colleen died. Though he wanted to see the Bodie who had methodically killed Franco and Seamus, Doyle could see only the Bodie he loved.

Much as he wanted to ignore or even hate that part of the man who had carried out the executions, Doyle knew he couldn't. If he was being honest with himself, which he did try to be generally, he had to accept that one of the reasons he loved Bodie was because he could and would kill to protect the people he loved. Doyle had to admit that he was attracted by that power of Bodie's, even if he didn't agree with it or even like it.

Cowley had been so perceptive when he partnered them. Not only were their individual talents complementary, their moral codes fit nicely as well. Doyle's compassion tempered Bodie's cynicism. Bodie's practical approach to reality stood in counterpoint to the idealism which often led to Doyle's unrealistic expectations of human behavior. They balanced one another; they were two halves of a whole.

That notion made Doyle smile now. He could still vividly picture that night when Bodie, tongue loosened by excellent champagne, had launched into a very metaphysical discussion of why their partnership worked so well. Seduced by the conversation, by the way the candlelight had illuminated those deep blue eyes, Doyle could recall helping when Bodie wanted to demonstrate just how well they fit together.

Yearning for that fit now, unable to hold back his need for the comfort and security of Bodie's lips, his arms, his body, Doyle resolutely abandoned any lingering distaste for what Bodie had done. Envying Kathleen her spot on Bodie's lap, Doyle approached the pair. "I leave you alone for a few days and you toss me over for a younger woman -- a much younger woman," he said softly, kneeling beside the rocker.

"That's what happens when you aren't here to bribe me with gingerbread on Sundays," Bodie retorted, his words mingling with those of the song he continued to sing.

Doyle smiled. Despite his doubts about the morality of Bodie's actions, he could never not love this man. Feeling a bit like Dorothy after she finally landed back in Kansas, he peered over the chair's arm to see the baby.

"You've got to see her in the light -- she's a raving beauty, at the tender age of four days." Bodie started to stand.

"Sit down. I'll see her in the morning." When Bodie looked at him, Doyle grinned and added, "Right now, I'd rather see you." Understanding, Bodie put the sleeping Kathleen into the nearby wooden cradle Kate had bought for her. He sat back down in the rocker before pulling his lover onto his lap.

They sat in silence for some time, till the moon moved on.

As they rocked, Doyle let his thoughts drift, memory carrying him back to that night when Bodie had helped him come to terms with Colleen's death. Unable to count the number of times since then that he'd taken refuge in Bodie's arms in this very chair, he sighed deeply, allowing contentment to steal into his heart. This was his favorite place to be with Bodie. Nowhere else, not even bed, felt so safe, so secure. Wishing he could thank the man for his love and all that he gave, Doyle finally looked at his lover. Bodie was asleep.

Wanting him to stay that way, Doyle began to hum the ancient lullaby Bodie had taught him. As the man settled into a deeper slumber, Doyle smiled. He put his head beside Bodie's and dozed off himself, the peacefulness of the song's melody flowing through him. Tomorrow he would confront the changes this past week would warrant. Tonight, he just wanted to sleep in Bodie's arms.

---

EPILOGUE

"We could move, you know, get a place with a larger kitchen," Bodie said as he edged out of his lover's way. "George left us enough ...." He found himself staring at the enjoyable vision of Doyle's still firm bum as the man bent over to check the gingerbread's progress.

"Thought we were savin' that for retirement."

"Oh, yeah," Bodie replied. Although he had recently hired Tim Byington, Bodie had no intention of retiring, nor did Doyle. Dismissing the idea entirely, Bodie caressed his lover's derriere.

"Keep that up, peaches," Doyle began, glancing over his shoulder at Bodie, "and the gingerbread will burn."

"Oh," Bodie responded solemnly, managing to keep a straight face. It would go against years of tradition to admit that the baker was more important than what was being baked.

As he inched the gingerbread back into the oven and closed the door, Doyle straightened. Facing Bodie, he waggled a finger, beckoning him closer. When he was near enough, Doyle put his arms around the man's neck. For a minute, he simply looked into the sparkling blue eyes watching him. "Have I told you recently that I love you?"

Bodie smiled and hugged his lover, pulling him in tight so their bodies touched in as many spots as possible. "Are we really doing this?" he asked finally.

"Yeah," Doyle answered, chuckling ruefully. "Proud grandparents, that's us." He leaned back slightly so he could look at his lover.

"More like sucker grandparents. Here we are, entering our golden years; and for two weeks we're babysitting a hyperactive, over-imaginative, three year old wood nymph and a rocket-powered 18 month old who's just realized he has the ability to terrorize his adult wardens."

"You're just upset because it means less gingerbread for you," Doyle said.

"Can't put anything over on you, can I, Doyle?"

"That's why they made me the head of CI5."

Bodie laughed.

"I just hope the SAS can leave Russ alone long enough for this belated honeymoon to take place."

"I don't think you call it a honeymoon after a three year delay. But don't worry, I've made sure nothing will prevent them from getting on that plane," Bodie replied.

Eyeing his lover speculatively, Doyle grinned. "Pulled a few strings this time, eh?"

"That, my dear boy, is what strings are for. Just because you resist calling in favors, doesn't mean I have to." Bodie could no longer resist a certain pair of lush, moist, smiling lips.

"Mmm," Doyle murmured appreciatively before he realized someone was standing in the doorway watching.

"I'm sorry," Arabella said softly when the two men turned to look at her. "I thought we were baking gingerbread, not ...." She smiled as she let her voice trail off suggestively.

Before anyone could say anything else, Andy Stillar burst into the room, followed closely by Bodie Bear, Raymond Rabbit and Kathleen.

"Mama, mama, mama," he shouted, giggling as he took refuge behind the two men.

Looking down at the little boy peeking between legs, Bodie commented wryly, "He's only 18 months old and already he has gender identification problems."

Arabella smiled indulgently. "Well, if he does, it's all your fault."

"Burn?" Kathleen asked, wrinkling her nose as she pointed toward the oven.

"Oh, fuck, my gingerbread," Doyle muttered, breaking away from Bodie, only to trip over Andy.

"Whose gingerbread?" queried Bodie as he scooped up the little boy. "Let's even the odds, Andy," he said, grinning wickedly at Kathleen and her companions.

As chaos was about to erupt in the kitchen, Arabella made a rapid exit.

"How's it going in there?" Tess inquired as she finished setting out the tea service that Colleen Doyle had given Arabella when she was five.

"Oh, fine," Arabella replied, rolling her eyes heavenward.

High-pitched screams emanated from the kitchen.

"I hope they don't reconsider," Russ said, taking his wife's hand.

"He's right," agreed Kate Ross. "If you were really smart, you'd duck out now."

Arabella smiled and sighed deeply. "I'm afraid I couldn't do that to them. It wouldn't be fair."

"Spoken like a true Doyle," Bodie observed as he entered the living room with Andy on his shoulders and Kathleen, Bodie Bear and Raymond Rabbit in his arms.

"Here, let me help," Doyle said, approaching from behind. "The gingerbread is cooling in the fridge for a few minutes," he explained as he relieved Bodie of only the bear and the rabbit. Ignoring the general snickering and Bodie's outrage, Doyle asked, "Is everything set up, ready to go once we serve?" He only half-listened as his niece explained where everyone would sit so they could update the photo of the TEA PARTY. The derivative painting of it would introduce the characters for her new, soon to be published series of children's books chronicling the adventures of Bodie Bear and Raymond Rabbit.

When she was finished, Doyle suggested she get everyone in position while he cut the gingerbread.

Noticing the distant expression in the man's eyes, Tess volunteered to get the tea. "What's wrong, Ray?" she asked when they were in the kitchen.

Unable to stop the flow of tears, Doyle looked at the woman. "Have you ever had one of those moments when you realize how fucking lucky you are, how incredibly wonderful it is to have a family, to have someone who loves you, to have a comfortable home ...." He stopped speaking and turned away, oddly embarrassed.

Before Tess could respond, Bodie came into the room. Nothing that happened with Doyle ever escaped her brother's attention. Touched by a love that only seemed to grow, she smiled at her sibling. "I'll pour the tea," she said needlessly as she left carrying the pot.

"What is it, Ray?" Bodie asked, serious and concerned.

"We're so fucking lucky, Bodie. It's just one of those times when you're happy and you actually know it; it's so overwhelming." He moved into the arms Bodie held out toward him. Ear pressed against the other man's chest, Doyle remained silent for a few moments, letting the strong, steady heartbeat comfort him.

Aware of what his lover meant, for he'd felt the same contentment all afternoon, Bodie gently kissed the top of Doyle's head. Chin resting on grey-tinged curls, Bodie sighed.

"I never did thank you for doing away with Franco and Seamus. If you hadn't ...." Doyle ended with a shrug.

"You've thanked me every day we've had together since that whole incident. We've worked damned hard for everything we have, Ray. I couldn't risk letting it end...," he paused before adding, "and it would have, if Seamus and Franco had lived. And before you get into that endless debate about good and evil, your rights and theirs, just think about how you feel right now. They would have stolen this from you, from me, from all of us and for what? So crime and violence could have an easier time of it?"

Recognizing the truth in what Bodie was saying, Doyle sniffed. "I wish Colleen were here. I miss her when we're all together."

"Come here," Bodie instructed, taking his lover's hand. He led Doyle to the doorway that went into the dining room. "She's here -- in Arabella, in Kathleen, in Andy."

"Yeah," Doyle replied, retreating into the kitchen again. He still hated the fact that he cried so readily.

"It's okay, sunshine," Bodie said as he once more gathered Doyle into his arms. "You know, I wonder sometimes, if Colleen knew what her death would start in motion. Today's tea party brings us round full circle to the first tea party. We all felt so good that day, remember?"

Nodding, Doyle sniffled again. When he'd taken the original photo, Colleen had been in an up mood. Contentment was evident in her expression, which Doyle could still picture if he closed his eyes. Arabella, too young to sense the impending end of her innocence, was child-happy, carefree. Bodie glowed with pleasure. And Doyle could see the soppy smile on his own face. He knew that same smile graced his lips now.

"Tell him to get the gingerbread." Bodie shushed the bear now peering over Doyle's shoulder.

"Where'd he come from?" Doyle asked, having himself put the creature in the dining room.

"THE TWILIGHT ZONE," Bodie intoned, doing a perfect imitation of both Rod Serling's voice and the distinctive music.

Shaking his head, Doyle grabbed the bear. As he looked from bear to Bodie, he said "Mad. Both of you are certifiably crazy."

"That's us, over the fucking top," responded Bodie with a cross- eyed, dopey grin.

Completely in love with the little boy in Bodie who had come to feel so safe with him, Doyle kissed his lover.

As Bodie deepened the kiss, Arabella walked in. "Maybe we should have this tea party when Russ and I get back from New York."

"Nah, we were just havin' an appetizer," Bodie said, facing the woman even as he retrieved the bear from Doyle.

"Get 'im out of here," Doyle instructed his niece.

"Come along, dear," Arabella began in her motherly tone of voice. "I have a lovely treat for you, and for you," she added, patting her long time friend, Bodie Bear, on the head.

"Yeah?" Bodie asked eagerly, always able to play the six year old with ease.

"Yes." Taking Bodie's hand, Arabella led the two toward the doorway.

Reaching it, Bodie paused. Half-turning, he and the bear waved at the watching Doyle.

A huge smile claimed Doyle's lips and he sighed with deep contentment as Bodie and the bear followed Arabella into the next room. Deciding that Alice had nothing on him, he went to cut the gingerbread.

-- THE END --

Originally published in Walking in the Moonlight (You and I), Friends Will Be Friends Press, 1989