Justice, Takeaway, Fugitive, Graveyard
by Brenda K
Bodie takes the glass, avoiding Doyle's eyes.
"Cheers," Doyle says cheerlessly.
"Go on then, say it," Bodie sighs.
"I'm a prat. Yell about me keeping you in the dark. Or how I'm lucky Cowley didn't shoot me."
"Why say anything? You know that, Bodie."
"Got justice and vengeance mixed up a bit, didn't I?" he says eventually.
"Not when it mattered," Doyle grins. "Refill?"
"Fine. Pride a bit dented, since you ask."
"Right. Doyle - I won't...."
"...do it again. I bloody hope not. Here's to--"
"Justice," Bodie knocks it back.
"And the takeaway?" Cowley peers over his glasses.
"We're bloody brilliant?" Bodie suggests. "If you aren't talking about stir-fried chicken."
Cowley purses his lips.
"What did you learn from it all, man?"
"Oh that," Bodie grins. "CI5's methods work. Yours, that is."
"And we're bloody brilliant," Doyle adds cheerfully.
"But hungry, sir. Been a long day." Bodie manages a plaintive note.
Cowley permits himself a smile.
"Off with you, then. Reports tomorrow."
"Takeaway," Bodie mutters as they leave. "Gave me ideas, that did."
"Flattery works with Cowley. That's another takeaway, my lad."
"Hungry idiot. Lead on, Raymond."
"Agent 3.7 sustained minor injuries," Doyle suggested, fingers hovering over the typewriter.
"Allegedly sprained fingers, a couple of bruises? Oh, please."
"Write on, McDuff. Keep up those big words."
"You're just trying to get out of writing this. It was your turn."
"Would I do that?"
"Wrap it up, then. Something about a superb job and us nabbing the bastard when he did a runner."
"In conclusion, CI5 provided the investigative support requested," Doyle spoke as he typed. "And 4.5 and 3.7 successfully apprehended the fugitive."
"Excellent," Bodie grinned. "You know, I think I've made a lightning recovery."
Post-Discovered in a Graveyard
Doyle hates graveyards because they remind him of pain, confusion, myriad thoughts and doubts when he hung between life and death. He still visits one, though: one where there's a simple stone to remind him of a woman who taught him something about life and love. He takes flowers with him.
Bodie hates graveyards because they remind him of early-morning jogs with hangovers, and a man called Plum. He still visits one, though: one where there's a simple stone to remind him that he killed a man he'd once fought beside, who turned on him. He takes nothing except sadness.
-- THE END --