Written for "Discovered in Graceland" on the discoveredinalj livejournal community.

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"Do you know why you're here today, 4.5?" Ross asked of a seated Ray Doyle.

"No. I should be at the hospital, where Bodie is." Doyle knew exactly why he was here but he wasn't going to give the trick cyclist any added help.

"3.7 is going to be just fine. You know that."

"Things can go wrong." Doyle was unable to give an inch.

"Maybe you should tell me how he came to be in hospital." Ross redirected the session conversation.

"He got hurt."

"Yes, well, that's obvious. I meant how."

"He got shot."

"What led to the shooting?"

Doyle stopped listening to Ross. Instead, he wandered in his own ruminations. Why was he here? Why wasn't he at the hospital? Why in the hell did he want to be at the hospital so very much? It wouldn't be so unusual if it were the other way around, Bodie would demand to be at his side.

And damn Cowley. Bloody Cowley.

It was the op. It had to be the op. It was just another bloody op, or at least it started out that way.

"Ten days, Bodie. We've been here ten uneventful days."

"You're beginning to sound like me, sunshine." Bodie's melodic voice was quite patient with Doyle and not so patient when he spoke of the op. "Why the B squad's not on it eludes me."

"And Murphy coming in each evening isn't cuttin' it."

"Now, now, Doyle, Cowley explained. Murphy's coming and going looks normal. Like he's a regular working bloke."

"Oh and what are we? A couple of spare tools?"

"We're the stakeout, Doyle. The agents with the eyeballs on it."

"But bloody nothing has happened."

"Well, there is that." Bodie smiled at his firebrand of a partner. This wasn't the first explosion in the last two weeks nor would it be the last before the op was over, but it was entertaining.



Five days later, Murphy arrived with multiple packages.

"Presents from Father."

"Food?"

"Relief?"

"Wrong. Wrong. Care to hazard a third guess?"

"A pay raise?"

"How about the newest in sound surveillance?" Murphy supplied.

"No, wasn't one of my guesses." Bodie shook his head. He would have preferred food.

"Should have been. You aren't getting much." Murphy indicated the tape recorder on the table. He pulled out the individual boxes.

"We already have the phone tapped," Doyle reminded Murphy exasperatedly.

"Well, Father wanted us to be able to hear whispers."

"He expecting something to happen with McFinn?" Bodie asked, alert to the moment.

Murphy shrugged. "You know Father."

"Obviously not well enough." Doyle looked over the new equipment, curious despite himself.

Bodie rolled his eyes, bored already with the inactivity.

The three agents worked at putting together all the fancy new accoutrements. Then, without fanfare, they turned it on. The parabolic dish picked up lots of new sounds.

Bodie read aloud the instructions for Doyle to follow that would allow them to fine tune the filter and pinpoint direct the equipment. Murphy set up the reel to reel for continuous recording. None were sure how this would help Alpha One.

"Are you lonesome tonight, do you miss me tonight?" The tender melody was crystal clear as the new dish picked it up.

"Not the music I expected," Doyle commented on the Elvis ballad.

"Did you expect an Irish fighting song?" Bodie smiled as he quipped at his partner.

Doyle grinned in return. "More likely."

"Elvis appealed to all manner of folks." Murphy confided.

With Murphy on duty, 3.7 and 4.5 settled in to catch some shut-eye.

Four days later, Doyle was ready to go across the way and shoot McFinn himself.

"Non-stop Elvis. I can't take much more."

"I don't know, this is a good one." Bodie lowered his voice and sang along with the rock legend himself.

"Well, since my baby left me, I found a new place to dwell. It's down at the end of lonely street at Heartbreak Hotel." Bodie acted out all the moves, gyrating in just the Elvis way.



"Well, since my baby left me, I found a new place to dwell."

"Can you turn that bloody music off?"

Ross smiled to herself as she switched off the stakeout recording of the Elvis Presley music.

"It was highly unlike you, 4.5."

"Highly unlike me? Highly unlike me to want to save someone's life?" Doyle felt the stirrings of real anger.

"Highly unlike you to disobey orders for your partner's sake." Ross maintained an even tone.

"If I hadn't he'd be dead right now!" Doyle pushed back his chair and stood up with pent-up menace.



"Finally some action, Doyle." Bodie lowered his voice. "Elvis has left the building."

Doyle rushed to the window, barely able to make out the direction in the fading light. "Change of plans already."

Bodie swung back around and noted the new players. Armed players approaching McFinn. Bodie looked to Doyle then said aloud, "Murphy, call it in."

"'Member, Father wants everyone alive."

Bodie checked his gun as did his partner and exited down the back stairwell with Doyle right on his heels. They reached the street with their quarry still in view and hid in the shade.

The CI5 agents followed the men inside the flat they'd been watching for the last three weeks cautiously. Gunfire erupted and two of the new players bowled them over on their hasty retreat.

In front, Bodie signalled that he would follow McFinn and for Doyle to follow the two escaping out front. Bodie left by the back stair and followed McFinn into the communal garden.

Doyle knew that he should follow the two who were fleeing but instinct had him moving in Bodie's direction into the garden.

McFinn had Bodie in his gunsights and, without pause, Doyle ran full out toward the gun with his own gun out. Bodie's shout to the side startled McFinn. He jerked his head toward the movement as his finger tightened on the trigger. Bodie was shot in the shoulder instead of the heart. Doyle shot McFinn the second his attention was off his partner.

As the injured McFinn hit the ground, an unpinned grenade rolled to the side. Doyle took all that in immediately and sprinted faster toward Bodie. He grabbed his partner under the arms and dragged him for the count of five before covering his body as the explosion shook the ground. It sent rock, dirt, and wood fragments spewing outward and both were pelted with the fallout.



"He'd do the same for me."

"Yes, of course."

"What? That's a given, but the same action from me is worth psychoanalysis?"

Ross knew that if she were a man, there would be nothing to stop the enraged man before her from taking a swing at her.

"You're a moody man, 4.5, but a hard man nonetheless."

"We have each other's back--we're the only ones who do." Doyle ground out, thinking of Cowley.



"You were suppose to follow the newcomers, 4.5. We lost out there. We lost valuable intelligence with McFinn dead as well. Your partner was safe where he was. You should have saved McFinn."

Doyle shouted, "My partner had a bullet in him, blood everywhere. Unconscious already due to blood loss! He couldn't have protected himself. He's one of our own. He was damn well more important."

"You disobeyed orders, Doyle. A little self-control here would not go amiss." Cowley's tone ordered compliance.

"When did the bad guy become more important than one of the good guys? When did sacrificing one of our own to save the perp that shot him become the standard of our agency?"

"Bodie could have already been dead. What would you have accomplished then, 4.5?" Anger crept into the controller's voice.

Doyle didn't hear the anger, only the words--Bodie could have been dead. The callous bastard. Doyle picked up the glass paperweight from his boss' desk and in one motion threw it at the window behind Cowley. Glass shattered into a million pieces as the sound exploded within the room.

Cowley calmly said, "That's all for today, Doyle. Report to Dr Ross' office at nine hundred tomorrow."

As Doyle stormed out of the office Cowley picked up the phone for maintenance.



Doyle fidgeted in his seat. He knew that was the reason he was here.

"What drove you to such an extreme response?"

"An extreme response would have been shooting him."

"I'm sure Mr Cowley appreciates the distinction," Dr Ross replied dryly.

"Why is it so impossible for you and Cowley to believe that I'd choose to save my partner's life over some lowlife?"

"Doesn't fit your profile, 4.5."

"Profiles change. People change." Doyle sat down deflated.

"Do they? Have they?" She waited, but no response was forthcoming. "How?"

"Huh?"

"How has your profile changed?"

"Bodie and I are partners. That says everything."

"Does it?"

"Yes." Doyle knew it through to his inner core.

"You are two operatives working for CI5. Your duty is to the country, the agency, not the individual."

"Bodie is part of that agency."

"You sacrificed the operation for one person, then took great exception when you were called on it."

"One good person. When did we decide that sacrificing a good person is permissible?"

"He knows the score as do you."

"He's my partner and I have his back."

"You don't feel you took it a step further?"

"He could have died. He would have never known. I've never told him." Doyle's voice faded out, "He should know it's returned." Doyle's thoughts became clear to him.

"It's in 3.7's actions that he's already aware."

Doyle jumped up. "Tell Cowley I'll be happy with whatever punishment he doles out. Gotta get to the hospital." He smiled at the doctor before he exited the room.

Cowley entered as the door closed behind Doyle.

"Thank you, Doctor. I think 4.5 will be fine now."

"I hardly think we've touched the surface."

"Yes, but Doyle can take it from here."

---

Doyle rushed to the hospital, more relaxed than he'd been in months. He checked in at the nurses' station for an update on his partner's condition. He was in time for lunch. He collected the food they were on their way to deliver to Bodie's room. He offered to do it and make sure that Bodie ate the food. Overworked, the nurses agreed readily, happy to have one less patient to worry about.

Bodie's neutral expression transformed into a welcoming smile as he recognised his partner.

"Bring me some real food at last?"

Doyle shook his head. "A couple of more days of hospital food and then I'll load you up with Bodie's goodies."

"A couple of more days?" While the prospect of Doyle-purchased treats was delightful, the news that he would continue with his incarceration was not. "I was hoping to be sprung today."

"The antibiotics only work intravenously. Too much dirt got into your wound."

"Thanks for that, mate." Bodie's sincere tone let Doyle know exactly what he was speaking of.

"I always have your back."

"Know that."

Doyle stared hard at Bodie. He could let it go, or this was his chance, if he wanted it. Without hesitation, he knew...he wanted it.

"Don't know if you know how much."

"Know you care, same as me."

"That's just it, I don't know if you know it really is the same as you." Doyle's intent look prevented any misunderstanding.

Bodie cocked his head to the side, unsure, but hoping where his partner could be heading.

"Bodie, I discovered I care on so many levels. Levels I'd never dreamed would exist for me." He stepped up right next to the bed and grabbed Bodie's unencumbered hand. "I care on levels that I've never even felt for a bird."

Complete understanding dawned and Bodie's eyes softened. He grabbed Doyle's hand in return.

Doyle's heart soared. Bodie understood and it really was the same for him. He leaned down for a kiss. It was to be a kiss of understanding, a pledge of what could be, but it was so much more.

A hidden hunger sprang forward and communicated an equal need. Lips devoured lips, tongues sucked and explored. Both were lost in a maelstrom of ignited passion.

Gasping for breath, Doyle straightened up. Bodie's fingers stayed wrapped in the curls. Heavy-lidded blue eyes spoke of unfulfilled passion and Doyle lost all will power. His hand stole under the cover and cupped the hardened organ. If he had any doubts, they were wiped away in the low groan, closed eyes and arched neck.

Doyle's fingers, not satisfied with the cloth-covered erection, slipped inside the hospital waistband and encountered the velvet flesh.

Heat. He felt smooth skin and heat. Bodie's heat. The flesh throbbed in his hand, because of his hand. Bodie's sounds, while intoxicating, were forgotten in his thrill of discovery.

His discovery of how much he'd yearned to touch, to mould this hardness to his hand. His finger traced the lightly furred testicles and longed for deep exploration. Instead, he splayed his fingers wide, relishing that all this was all his.

The thrust of Bodie's hips reminded him that he would have more time for future exploration and of a joyous duty at present. He cupped and squeezed and pulled just as he would himself to find himself rewarded with a wanton spread of legs. He sped up his hand movement and received the gift of Bodie's fluid. A bonus was the low haunting moan of his own name.

Curious, he brought his hand up to his lips. He licked off a taste that was solely Bodie.

Bodie's eyes widened and his hand reached out to cup the jean-covered bulge.

Doyle pressed into the hand as he continued to lick off all the semen from his hand. It was all such a rush of emotions and just enough to send him over his own edge.

He sagged against the bed and Bodie pulled his head down for a quiet kiss.

"Seems we're on the same wavelength again."

"Always were, sunshine, always were."

-- THE END --

August 2007