He wasn't sure what the Prime Minister would think if he knew that the men running the country's elite intelligence agency, CI5, were incapable of keeping food in their flat, and he said as much to his co-controller as he sank down into a chair at the kitchen table in defeat. "Bloody hell, Bodie, I won't tell Tony if you don't," Doyle saucily replied heading for the phone.

William Bodie ran a hand tiredly through his still dark hair, eyes closed as his mind insisted on reviewing the last four months. That's how long it had been since he and Doyle had had more than the odd day off together. Every time they had planned something--even something as simple as a Saturday night at some small getaway--work intruded. It was enough to depress even the strongest of men.

"Come on now, Sunshine, brighten up," Ray said coming up behind him and massaging his neck and shoulders. "I've just ordered you a gourmet meal to be delivered to our door, and you won't even have to do the dishes. And if you're very good, I might even remember where I put the Swiss roll I hid last week."

"Don't tease, Angelfish," he responded with a half smile as he leaned back into the strong, warm hands.

"Never about Swiss rolls, mate, you have me word."

---

Ray Doyle threw his pen across the room, feeling slightly victorious when it marked the wall. Not only was he tired, overworked and underpaid, but now Cowley--still the titular head of the mob--was feeling under the weather so his co-controller, partner, and lover was headed for Brussels for six days to attend some international gabfest. He had smiled brightly and teased the younger man about alerting the Belgium police to the fact they were about to have a chocolate madman let loose in their midst, because he knew Bodie was already unhappy enough for both of them. It was getting to the point of ridiculousness that they couldn't have more than 3 hours together without some interruption or other. Case in point, Bodie had been called out three times over the course of the last five days. Something had to give, and he was beginning to worry it might be their relationship.

He was lonely. He wouldn't admit it, at least not out loud, but things had been so hectic that he missed his partner. He missed curling up on the couch together to watch football or some old movie, and he missed hearing the CD player kick in as his lover pulled him close and they swayed together, lost in the world that was theirs and theirs alone. Well, when Bodie got back they were going to the old man and telling him--not asking--that they were off the grid for a fortnight. He smiled as he imagined his partner's shock and Cowley's scathing rebuttal. That would indeed be something to treasure.

Doyle snorted when he was reminded two days later that the Deputy Director for Terrorism from the US Department of Homeland Security was due in town and wanted to spend some time discussing security issues. With Alpha 2 in Brussels, that duty now fell to him. "Great, just what I need, some snotty American cowboy telling me how to protect Queen and Country--can't wait."

Adam Roberts was in his early 60s, at 6'2" a handsome man clothed in a designer suit. Ray Doyle reached to straighten his own tie without realizing it. The man's black wavy hair, lean muscular build and deep tenor voice hit a cord, as did the hazel eyes that searched his green ones carefully. It had been a long time since he'd looked at anyone but Bodie, and he wasn't looking now, he reminded himself.

They spent the afternoon together, and when Roberts asked for suggestions on where to eat, Doyle invited him to his club...okay technically it was Cowley's club but rank had its privileges and the members had been more than eager to welcome the new controllers. They discussed politics, movies and art over dinner and the glass of scotch that followed. The hand on his forearm and the one on the small of his back as they'd walked out felt good. Ray hadn't been this relaxed in a long time--that is until he got home and realized that he'd missed Bodie's call.

Roberts showed up for lunch the next day and Ray spent the afternoon showing him the training facility: including the shooting range. That night they went to a small Indian restaurant near Piccadilly that Ray enjoyed, but didn't visit often now that Bodie's stomach no longer tolerated spicy foods. When Roberts asked if he was married, Doyle startled himself with his reply. "If the Cow had wanted me to have a wife, he would have issued me one." Well, that left a lot to the imagination, he thought, even as he returned the sultry grin the answer earned him.

He missed Bodie's call that night as well. In Brussels, the younger man switched off the light and settled on his back, "Hope everything's okay, love," he said to the answering machine. "Sorry I'm not there to share the load, but will be home soon. This conference is a bloody bore. I think the Cow faked the flu simply to avoid it. Sweet dreams, Ray." He hung up feeling empty and punched one of the pillows as though it were solely responsible for the lack of human contact at the other end of the line.

Bodie snuck out of the last afternoon of the conference hoping to salvage a late dinner. When he called the office to announce his plans, he was informed that Doyle was in conference. He arrived to an empty flat at 7:30 pm and calls to the office and the R/T yielded nothing.

Ray Doyle received a bit of a shock when he waltzed into his bedroom just after midnight singing the 70's oldie he'd heard at the club that night after dinner at an amazingly expensive restaurant. His mind had been replaying their closeness--Roberts' hard muscular thigh pressed against his; soft words whispered with warm breath into his ear so they could be heard above the music, while a strong arm held him close in order to reach said ear. His hand was pulling his gun out when the body on the bed spoke. "Hey Sunshine, late night?"

"Bodie! When did you get in? Why didn't you call? I wasn't expecting you before tomorrow." His tone, he realized, was almost accusatory.

"Did call, Ray, but you were in conference. Guess Caroline forgot to give you the message--again. Do I get my welcome home kiss anyway?"

"Oi, of course," Ray sat on the bed and sighed as strong arms enveloped him. He did an abbreviated clean up and climbed eagerly into bed. Both men were too tired, though, to do more than find comfort in the other's arms.

Alpha 3 was a little uncomfortable as he ushered the American into Bodie's office the next morning. He hadn't had time to mention the man and wasn't sure why, but he really didn't want the two to meet. Bodie's panther like grace, undiminished by age, startled him as his partner rose from his chair and came out behind the desk to greet the visitor. Ray watched Bodie carefully as he looked the stranger over. Some days Bodie's feelings were as well hidden as the true origin of Stonehenge. The only reaction he caught came when Roberts mentioned how much fun he was having doing London with Doyle--that news earned a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Something you need, Doyle?" Bodie asked as soon as the American departed.

"No." Ray was torn between following the American and telling his partner about his time with the man.

"I've got to finish the budget numbers for my meeting with the Home Office. Still trying to find some money for those new weapons you want," Bodie filled in.

"Okay, see you tonight?"

"Queen, Country and the Cow willing, yes. I am looking forward to catching up with you." The older man blushed at the suggestion and the leer that accompanied it, making them both laugh.

Roberts was waiting in Doyle's office at 4:30 pm waving two tickets. "The Embassy managed to get tickets to the gallery opening I was telling you about. You up for it?" He stood close to the smaller man, the smell of his cologne heating Ray's insides. They left the building quickly, like two school boys just let out on summer break.

When Control told Bodie that Doyle was out with the American, the ex-merc nodded his thanks and went back to his office. He hung up his leather trench coat before returning to his desk. Once the computer was booted up, he turned his attention to the budget charts. He could see no point in going home alone.

"Where the hell were you last night?" Doyle demanded as he entered the office at 7:30 the next morning.

"Here, working on the budget. Will 200,000 be enough to buy those new guns you need?" His blood shot blue eyes remained focused on the paperwork in front of him.

"Two hundred thousand? What bank did you rob?" Doyle's delight was clear in his tone. "We can outfit the entire mob and get a few special items for that." Bodie smiled indulgently at his partner. "Sorry about last night, Bodie. Roberts and I were working on the issues for the joint conference and decided to get something to eat." Doyle's assistant arrived at the door to remind her boss of his first meeting.

At lunch, Bodie went over the budget for computer security with Betty. They did this on a park bench with the files and takeaway seated between them. "Everything alright, Bodie?" She asked as they finished.

He smiled. "Just tired, love. Math and I just don't mix. Sometimes I think the old man set up the joint control the way he did on purpose, knowing how miserable it would make me."

"What about Ray?"

"Doyle? He's been having fun showing that American around."

"He's spending an awful lot of time with him."

"Why the inquisition, Betty?" Blue eyes bored into her brown ones.

"Not an inquisition, boss, just a little concerned is all. I've never known Ray to look at anyone else, whether you're in the room or not. And the American is, well he's rather touchy feely if you know what I mean." She blushed slightly, embarrassed to be talking about her friend and boss' lover, but worried enough to bring it up.

"Roberts is wealthy, powerful and not bad looking--if you go for that sort. He's also well educated and use to the finer things in life. My guess is Ray's enjoying talking to someone who's actually read a book in the last month."

"Sorry, Bodie. I just..."

"I know Betts; you're just looking out for me. Must have done something right to have you as a friend, heh?"

Ray entered the flat just after 11 pm. His nose caught the lingering scent of spaghetti. When he didn't find his partner in the kitchen, he headed for the bedroom. The lights were out and only a few tuffs of dark hair were sticking out from under the comforter. "Bodie?" He whispered, and was relieved when he didn't receive a reply.

The next morning Ray woke to find himself alone and a small, wrapped box on his dresser. The card read 'Happy Anniversary 4-5; Love 3-7." Shit, how could he have forgotten the anniversary of their initial pairing? Bodie didn't believe in celebrating many things--but it was the day that started it all, and he religiously celebrated it--had since their first year...damn he was going to have to do some fast talking and some serious wining and dining to make up for this. He unwrapped the gift to find a heavy gold chain holding a burnished disk of the sun. 'My sun, my moon, my everything--B' read the inscription. In the card envelop were tickets to the same gallery exhibit he'd attended with Roberts. He buried his head in his hands.

Once at the office, he went looking for Alpha 2, only to be reminded he was at Whitehall for budget meetings and would be gone for most of the day. At least that gave him time to revamp his schedule so he could go shopping for a present.

Bodie made it back to the office at 3:30 pm in a less then sunny mood given the verbal abuse he'd taken on his budget. When 6-2 entered his office, he smiled and offered him a chair. The smile was gone moments later when Murphy started expressing concern about Doyle's preoccupation with the American. He was told in no uncertain terms that it was no one's business but Ray's who he kept company with, and that if he didn't have anything better to worry about he could drive up to Wales and oversee that obbo personally.

Bodie locked his office door after showing Murphy out and took a seat by the window. It worried him, too--hell it terrified him if he was being honest--but he couldn't tell Doyle who he could chat up or take out to dinner. He'd been very possessive--based on his uncertainty about Doyle's commitment--when their relationship first turned serious, and he had very nearly blown it. He'd learned his lesson, and even though it hurt, he knew he had to let this play out. Didn't mean he had to like it, he decided heading for the scotch, but he had to trust the man to whom he'd handed over his heart and soul; he had no other choice.

At 5:45 pm, Doyle appeared at his door. "Come on, lad, we have a 6:15 reservation at The Square, and we might just make it if we leave now." He held up the trench coat and felt his partner up once he'd gotten it on, earning him a laugh.

They lay in bed, sated from the wine, good food, and a healthy round of lovemaking. Ray's head rested on Bodie's chest, right over his heart. Doyle's sigh of contentment was echoed by his lover, and they drifted to sleep, only to be rudely awakened by the phone at 5:00 a.m. "Bodie," was growled into the offending instrument. "Yeah, 10 minutes--send 9.1 around with the car and tell 3.2 to wait until I'm on scene." He hung up the phone and stumbled from the bed. "Sorry pet, go back to sleep. The Ross obbo--he just arrived with Wilson and Carney. If Reynolds shows up, we can really clean up. Got to go."

Ray and Roberts were in meetings with MI5, MI6, SAS and other assorted agencies for most of the day. He did pop by the office at one point but there was no sign of his partner. As the meetings wound down an envelope was delivered to the American, who was sitting next to Ray. Feeling a hand on his thigh, Doyle looked down and saw two tickets to the hottest show in the West End; the one that had been sold out for months.

Back at the flat he changed quickly. He was excited about the evening and took pains in choosing his outfit. He opted for an open necked silk shirt of chocolate brown and a cashmere blazer that had been a birthday present. Checking his reflection in the mirror he eyed the chain sparkling in the light and removed it.

After the show, they went to the club for a late dinner and drinks. Shortly after they were seated, George Cowley approached the table. After introductions, Cowley focused on Doyle. "I need you to come with me, 4-5. There's been a bit of a problem with the Ross obbo."

"That's Bodie's," Doyle responded somewhat childishly, annoyed that his evening was being interrupted.

"3-7 is otherwise engaged. I don't wish to discuss this further in public, 4-5."

Doyle made his apologies to Roberts and followed the Controller out to the car. "What the hell is so important that you had to bother me at dinner?"

"I was left with no choice when you did not answer your R/T; your pager or your phone. 2.5 was dead at the scene, and you will accompany me to his brother's."

"That's Bodie's job!"

"3-7 was taken into the operating theatre 30 minutes ago."

"Bodie! What happened? Is he going to be alright?" Ray had to grab hold of the arm rest to steady himself.

"Stevens moved in too early and was hit. Bodie went in to get him out of the line of fire. They were pinned down for almost two hours."

"The others?"

"4-1 dislocated his shoulder and 3-6 has a broken ankle."

After completing the somber task of notifying the next of kin, Cowley dropped Doyle at the hospital. He visited the two operatives who were sharing a room. He looked confused when Wilson apologized. "What for?"

"Alpha...Bodie. One of us should have stopped him. Stevens was wrong to move when he did...nothing any of us could do for him."

"Trust me, 3-6, trying to stop Bodie once he's made up his mind is a little like trying to stop a lorry on a dime. He's a tad headstrong, that lad." The three men shared a smile, and Ray left to find the operating theatre waiting room.

"Murph? I thought Bodie sent you to Wales?"

"He did, but he ah called me back before I got out of London." The deputy controller looked away from Doyle, hoping his boss hadn't told him why he'd been banished.

"How is he?"

"Still in there."

Ray took a seat in the corner of the small room away from his colleagues. Oh God, he kept thinking, I'm out chatting up some bloke while Bodie's bleeding all over north London. What the hell was I thinking? His hand went to his throat, looking to finger the chain that wasn't there.

A cup of coffee was thrust into his hands several hours later, causing him to look up into Roberts hazel eyes. "Ray, you doing alright?" He asked as he settled beside him.

"No. Bodie took a bullet in the chest. He's been in there for close to three hours now."

"It's always tough when one of your own gets hit," Roberts offered in sympathy, a hand on Doyle's shoulder. At the touch, Doyle bolted out of the chair.

"He's not one of your own, he's mine!" He hissed, green eyes flashing. "You don't belong here. Please go." He turned and walked to the window, arms folded tightly across his chest. When Roberts made a move to join him, he was stopped by Cowley, who had just entered the room.

"Ray's just upset. Why don't I take him back to my hotel, and you can call us when the surgery's done?"

"You don't seem to understand, Mr. Roberts. That man in there is Doyle's partner. They've been together for almost 20 years. 9-1 will take you back to your hotel," he finished nodding at one of the agents to come collect the American.

Cowley and Doyle were alone in the room sometime later, having sent the others home. "George, what am I gonna do?" He asked softly, green eyes round with grief. "I...I didn't even say goodbye this morning when he got called out; never kissed him. I always kiss him goodbye..."

"He's going to be fine, Doyle. He's a fighter. And we both know that he'll fight to come back to you."

"Yeah, and me with a wandering eye," he huffed with a shake of his head.

"There was never anything wrong with looking, 4-5. Bodie understood that. Why do you think he kept quiet? Half of Alpha Squad expressed their concerns that you were roaming. He just smiled at them; told them you were a grown lad and allowed to have friends of your own and to go about their business. He trusts you, Doyle--a gift he has granted to very few."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because I raised the issue with him, too, laddie. I hated to see him looking so unhappy. He read me the riot act, same as the others." There was a hint of a smile in Cowley's voice as he recalled the blunt way the younger man told him to buggar off.

"I was flirting. Never any time together and then Bodie went to Brussels...Roberts was interested. I wasn't sure Bodie was anymore...NO! No, that's not fair. Bodie's been working hard, too. I just feel like we never have any time together anymore. No breathing room to just be us. I hate that...I guess I latched onto Roberts because he was there and willing to go out; listen to music; go to the theatre; talk about art--all the things Bodie will do and does do with me, just not lately." He wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure Cowley or himself.

"Bodie doesn't see this as a problem, Doyle, so you shouldn't either."

"But what if he doesn't wake up! What if..."

"Don't play that game, son, you know you can't win."

Cowley shook his head as he watched the American enter the Intensive Care waiting room the next day. Those Americans always were persistent, he thought to himself as he headed for the coffee machine.

"Ray, how you doing?" Roberts asked as he took the chair beside him. He looked confused as his arm was stopped midway to landing on the other man's shoulders.

"Adam, please, you shouldn't be here."

"Why the hell not? Don't tell me you couldn't use the company?"

"Bodie isn't just my work partner--he's my life. So you don't belong here."

"Couldn't have meant that much, considering all the time we've spent together. Come on, Ray, I know you feel the connection."

"Look, I was tired and lonely. Works been unbearable and with Bodie being sent to Brussels, you're timing was just good. Gave me a chance to have some fun. I didn't mean any of it, Roberts. It didn't mean anything to me. I'm sorry if I led you on. All I'll ever need is on the other side of that glass."

"I don't believe you! You're just feeling guilty." Roberts argued.

"Guilty that I wasn't there when he needed me...that he went into a life threatening situation without me there to watch his back, yes. And guilty that I ignored him to play with you. But I love him, Roberts, have for years, and I plan to keep on loving him as long as he'll let me. Funny thing is he knew I was flittering with you. In fact half the Alpha Squad knew it," a sad laugh accompanied that statement. "He told them all to leave me alone; that I was a grown man and could play with anyone I wanted. You know why he said that? Why he didn't cause a scene or kick you out of the country? Because he trusts me. Imagine that? He trusts me to come home to him. And that is exactly what I plan to do. So you really need to leave."

"I don't believe this. You're going to stay here because you're afraid what the men who work for you think? That just because they ratted you out, you can't pursue things with me? I wouldn't have taken you for a coward, Doyle."

"I don't expect or need you to understand, Roberts. I already found the love of my life. I'm sorry." Ray moved into the small room where his partner lay covered in wires and tubes. "Hey Sunshine, thought I'd check and see how you're feeling this afternoon. I must admit you've had better days...ah, Bodie I'm such an idiot. I have no idea why you continue to put up with me."

"No one else would have you," came a hoarse whisper from the bed.

"Bodie?"

"S'okay, Sunshine." A shaking hand lightly petted the curly hair, offering comfort to the man as he tried to compose himself.

"Sorry, mate," Ray said softly a few minutes later. "Just so worried. Thought I could give up the bedside routine once we left the field...should have known better, heh? How do you feel?"

"Be alright...just glad I don't have to visit the training facility anymore after one of these stays. Stevens?"

"I'm sorry, Bodie, he didn't make it." Blue eyes closed tightly. "Not your fault, you know that."

"So damn young..."

"Wilson said he went in too soon, and that you went in after him." A nod. "Not your fault, Sunshine," he repeated. They both startled as a deep voice was raised just outside the door. "Be right back, love. Don't go anywhere." Doyle moved quickly out of the room and grabbed the American by the arm, pulling him brutally down the hallway.

"Look, Roberts, I'm only going to say this once. There is nothing between us, and there never will be. So please, do us both a favor and get the hell out of here."

"Come to the states with me, Ray. I made a few calls--as a security consultant you could rake in $600-$700,000 a year easy. We could stay in Washington for a year or so and then anywhere you wanted. We could be very good together."

"Told you already that all I need is down the hallway there. Nothing and nobody else. Now go, please."

"Thought before I did I might tell him about us...about you." Roberts waited hoping to gain the advantage.

"I told you, he knows. Hell, he even told Father to fuck off when he raised it. He doesn't care because he knows it was nothing; knows I want and need only him. Works both ways, that."

He returned to the room and took the cold left hand in both of his. "Bodie, about Roberts."

"Nothing to know, Ray," blue eyes looked straight into green ones.

"I'm sorry, love. It was stupid and there was nothing--only that he was here and you were halfway across the continent and there's been so little time lately--guess I was missing us and in doing so, almost lost all that really matters. I'm sorry, Bodie."

"Nothing to be sorry for, Sunshine. We're both here and we're going on vacation--already told the Cow. Missed you too, kept feeling like I did before...before you loved me. Don't ever want to feel that empty again, Ray."

"You won't, love. I promise. Now why don't you close those beautiful blue eyes and get some rest. The sooner you get better the sooner I can take you home, and I have plans for you and that body."

"Plans?"

"Wicked, wicked plans, Bodie love, so catch up on your beauty sleep while you can. That's right; close your eyes and rest. I got your back pet, it's okay. Everything's okay." He settled into the predictably uncomfortable bedside chair, never relinquishing his grip on his partner, and smiled. Yes, everything was going to be just fine.

-- THE END --

June 2007