The Professionals Circuit Archive

Alone Again

Ray Doyle was pulling into a parking space in front of his flat when a call came over the R/T. "4-5."

"4-5, meet Alpha 1 at Guys."

"4-5 out...wonder what the matter is." He finished to himself as he backed out and headed toward the hospital. Murphy met him in the car park and silently escorted him up to the waiting room by the operating theatre. A request for information was met with a shake of the head. George Cowley straightened as he watched the curly headed man stalk into the room. "Sir?"

"Sit down, Doyle."

"I'd rather stand, sir," he stiffened.

"It's 3-7."

"What? NO! He's in Records." His partner had been assigned to Records today - researching a serious bit of undercover work the Cow had designed for them, while he'd been out scouting locations for a meet.

"I asked him to help 6-2 with a pick up when 2-9 called in sick. There was supposed to be one person, a grass. Instead there were six men waiting for them."

"A set up?"

"A distinct possibility. Bodie was hit from behind with a lead pipe. His skull is fractured. The doctors are operating on him now, trying to relieve the pressure from the bleeding in his brain."

Doyle sank helplessly into a chair. 'He's going to be okay, though."

The Controller wasn't sure if his operative meant it as a question or a statement "We'll have to wait and see. But Bodie is a strong man."

"Don't you bloody patronize me!" Doyle barked jumping back to his feet.

Ray spent the next three and a half days in a small hospital room where the equipment dwarfed the patient. He kept up a steady stream of patter: old cases, childhood memories, holidays they had taken together; the love they shared. "Come on now, Sunshine, I can't wait forever. Need to see those blue eyes of yours. Need to know you're alright, love, please?"

The doctor had explained all the possible outcomes and tried to talk with him about convalescent homes. Cowley had had the good sense to escort the doctor out of the room after that discussion.

"S-S-Sunshine," a slurred voice whispered late the afternoon of the fourth day.

"Bodie? Oh god, Bodie!" Ray whispered in return as he leaned closer -- green eyes fixed on unfocused blue ones.

"Wh-what happened Ra-Ray?"

"You went with Murphy on a pickup," he responded, a hand coming to rest on a pale cheek.

"M-M-Murphy?"

"He's fine." When that elicited only a blank look, he continued, "Sean Patrick."

"D-D-Don't remember."

"S'okay Sunshine, how do you feel?"

"H-H-Head hurts."

Ray paced the narrow hallway while the doctors examined the patient. Cowley joined him just as the doctor stepped out of the room. "He has significant gaps in his memory. He remembers Mr. Doyle, but is vague on the date and year. He knows he works for you, Mr. Cowley, but couldn't give us any information about anyone he worked with or what he did last week. And his speech is impaired."

"Bodie, you okay?" Ray smiled at the patient, who looked small in the bed, his face pale against the bandages wrapped around his head. Nine days after the incident, he had finally been moved into a regular room.

"Th-Th-They said I-I sh-should g-g-go away."

"Just for a bit, mate. Some folks up north can help you -- specialists."

"Wh-who-who'll watch your b-b-back?"

"The Cow will take care of that."

"D-D-D-don't w-want t-t-to go." Doyle's heart broke at the lost look in the blue eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to take the man in his arms and reassure him. But the doctor had been very clear that he was not to share anything with his partner that he did not bring up. And when Bodie had asked the second time he woke if they were partners, he'd seemed satisfied with a simple 'yes' answer.

"I don't want you to go there either, Bodie mate, but they say it's the best way to help you right now. I don't like it, but I think it's the right thing to do."

"O-O-Okay." The blue eyes closed.

"You'll be back here before you know it, Sunshine. I promise." He assured, wrapping a hand around the patient's wrist.

Bodie was gone for two months and six days. While his speech improved, and he no longer searched for words, his stutter remained. He had headaches that incapacitated him, and there were still things he couldn't remember -- the Coggan case, Jimmy Keller, Kate Ross, Ann Holly, his time in Belfast. The doctors weren't sure he ever would. And to his partner's dismay, he had no memory of the true nature of their relationship.

The CI5 Controller was of two minds. He knew that 3-7 would be better off with his partner at his side, but was worried about the huge burden it placed on 4-5. 4-5, however, had dug in his heels on the issue, convinced that his presence was necessary if his partner was to be made whole. So Cowley put Bodie to work in Records inputting information. He worked quietly, diligently, and stayed away from the other operatives -- many of whom he couldn't remember. He rode to and from work with Doyle, unless the older man was on an op, in which case he took a cab. Given the holes in his memory, and the large number of people with reason to hurt him, it was thought best to keep his exposure to people outside the squad to a minimum.

He didn't like the tight leash, but he accepted it because he felt it was what his partner needed from him. His friends kept waiting for the eruption -- while Doyle was noted for his fiery temper and was legendary for his moodiness, the ex-merc was known for his spectacular, but relatively brief, meltdowns when he was frustrated. He listened, followed the instructions he was given, and was almost docile, much to his partner's horror.

A new group of operatives, just out of training, were brought into HQ to work in Records, having completed their physical work. Alec Richards, a bully by nature, honed in on 3-7 immediately -- making snide remarks regarding how far the mighty had fallen and what a burden 4-5 had to bear being forced to play nursemaid. He wondered aloud when the Cow would come to his senses and cut the deadwood loose.

Bodie ignored him. He did his work quietly, and ate his lunch alone at his desk. Many days he would eat quickly and go to the target range where he would clean guns for the Firearms Instructor. While Cowley would not allow him to carry a weapon, he found the repetitive motion and the smell of gun oil soothing. Doyle was torn between pride in his mate's efforts and his despair in getting back the Bodie he knew. Richards taunting became crueler: suggesting that Doyle was being dragged down by the slow man in Records.

One night after finishing the dishes, Bodie joined Ray in the lounge. "M-M-Ma-maybe I sh-sh-should g-g-go back n-n-north."

"What? Don't be daft!" He realized he was yelling when his partner took a step back.

"B-B-Better for you." The younger man insisted.

"Bodie, that's not true! We're best mates and best mates stick together."

"I-I hit you with a stick." The younger man said: eyes glued to the floor. He'd been horrified when he realized it wasn't a dream he was having, but a resurfacing memory.

"What?" Doyle looked carefully at his partner while trying to place the statement. "Long time ago, yes, but you had your reasons."

"K-K-King Bi-Billy."

"That's right. You apologized for that and bought my drinks for a week." He was smiling -- a memory recovered was a major step forward.

"S-S-S-sorry."

"Don't be, I've hit you a couple of times, too, you know."

"D-D-Did you buy me drinks?" There was just a hint of the old, impish Bodie in the blue eyes and that broadened Doyle's smile, while at the same time wrenching his heart.

"Yeah, but we're even, you sod, so don't go getting any ideas about me buying all the rounds the next time we go to the pub."

Richards had been given a small backup role in two successful ops and was feeling his oats. He lambasted Bodie in the Rest Room, in front of several operatives, as the older man made a cup of tea. Ignoring him, Bodie headed for the door only to be grabbed from behind. He had Richards on the floor, his forearm across his neck before he realized what he was doing. Cowley, walking in to check out the commotion, went ballistic -- yelling at his former blue eyed boy at the top of his voice for ten minutes before banishing him back to Records.

Eric Larson, another new squad member, asked to speak with the Controller and was ushered into his office. He defended 3-7, pointing out that Richards had jumped the operative from behind and the older man had reacted solely on instinct -- just as he was trained to do. He then explained Richards's ongoing efforts to goad the older man into a fight.

Cowley's efforts to find 3-7 in the building met with failure. When Murphy reported that Bodie's credentials had been left at his desk in Records, Cowley sent him to check the flat. No one was home, so he pulled Doyle off a stakeout. When he was told what happened, he laced into the Controller. "He trusts you, looks up to you, has done everything you ever asked him to do -- though God knows why. You know damn well he'd never take another agent down without cause! Did you even bother to ask him what happened? No, I didn't think so. Bloody hell, sir, what did you think he'd do?" Not waiting for a response, he stormed out of the office.

He drove home slowly, watching for any sign of his partner. Once there, he began a systematic search of their neighborhood. At 9 pm he found him in the neighborhood park near a small pond. "Hey mate, it's getting cold out. You about ready to come home? Got Indian takeaway -- and I remembered to order that hot curry you fancy."

"S-S-Sorry Ray."

"What for, Sunshine?"

"L-L-Letting you down. G-G-Going to g-g-go. Fr-France."

"No!" He took a deep breath. "Bodie, no. You didn't do anything wrong. All you did was defend yourself -- just like you were trained to do."

"You, you n-n-need to m-m-move on. Ca-Can't with me h-h-here. C-c-can't watch your b-b-back -- just in the w-w-way."

"Not true, Bodie. Not true at all. Don't listen to those lies Richards tells you, Sunshine. You and I both know they're not true."

"Tis. Know it now. S-s-sorry."

Ray knelt beside the figure hunched over on the bench; his hands resting on the muscular thighs. "Bodie remember when you first woke up, you asked me if we were partners? And I said we were. Well, you're also my best mate -- best I've ever had. And best mates stick together. You've made enormous progress since you were hurt. Your doctors can't even believe it. You just have to give it some more time. We both do. But you will be back on the job with me. I know that."

The next morning, Bodie pleaded a headache. After Doyle gave him his pain medication, he brought in a small pitcher of water and made sure the phone was within reach. Reaching out and grabbing the other man by the wrist, Bodie pulled him down on the bed. "Ra...S-S-Sunshine, I...you are my b-b-best m-mate -- couldn't ever ask for a b-b-better one." The older man smiled at the warmth in both the words and the blue eyes.

"I meant what I said last night. Now, get some sleep, okay? You call if you need me."

"Goodbye, Ray."

Bodie waited an hour before packing his duffel bag and slipping out. "Sorry, S-S-Sunshine," he whispered as he locked the door. He took the tube to the train station and used cash to buy a ticket that would take him four stops outside London. An hour later he bought a new ticket and rode several more stops. He did this three more times before ending up at the rail station in a small town about four hours from London where he had a bolt hole. He bought a small bag of perishables before walking the mile and a half to his cottage. After doing a quick reconnaissance and setting up the water heater and electricity, he collapsed on the bed, his head pounding.

Doyle had been put on a stakeout and didn't return to the flat until the next afternoon. When he didn't find Bodie, he called to see if he was at the office, but no one had seen or heard from him. It wasn't until he discovered two empty drawers that he realized Bodie was gone. Looking out the window, he replayed their last conversation. "Damn you, Bodie," he whispered as he recalled the goodbye. That was not a word Bodie used -- he'd told Doyle once he didn't like the word, because every time he heard it, he lost someone. Shaking himself, he went through the flat looking for clues -- not that he expected any: his partner was too good for that. He checked several of his partner's bolt holes within the city but found nothing. Then he stormed the Controller's office. "He's gone!" He announced.

"Who?"

"Bodie, you bastard, he's gone!"

Four days later, while walking the property line, Bodie found a kid goat with his leg stuck in a small pile of downed branches. He freed the animal and headed for the neighboring farm; the kid cradled in his arms. As he entered the tidy farm yard, an older woman -- mid-60s, Bodie guessed -- exited the barn. "Oi Sammy, what have you gone and done now?" She said, running a hand over the bleating animal's head.

"H-H-He's okay. Got his l-l-leg stuck." Bodie responded, eyes on the ground.

"Well, he's lucky you found him. I'm Elizabeth Allison, and you've already met Sammy."

"Will." The blue eyes looked up into warm grey ones.

"Well, Will, I think I owe you at least a cuppa for your services." He looked at her for a moment longer before nodding. After a cup of tea and warm scones, Bodie thanked the woman and was heading across the barn yard when he noticed the large pile of unsplit wood. Elizabeth moved outside at the sound of the axe biting into wood. "Will? Son, you don't need to do this."

"N-N-Need the exercise," he said, a half smile gracing his sweaty face. That started a daily ritual. Bodie would come over before lunch and do chores -- splitting wood, fixing the barn roof, tinkering with the tractor. They would eat lunch together and then he would leave. Often he brought her the fruits of his other labors -- fish and the occasional rabbit, as well as fresh berries and herbs he found on his walks.

She doted on him happily, telling him once that he reminded her of her dear Albert. She asked a few questions, learning only that he'd been in the military. She did learn, after a headache caught him unawares and he nearly collapsed in her kitchen, that he'd been hurt on the job. What the job was, she never figured out. Every time she asked a specific question he would go quiet, so she stopped asking. He accompanied her twice a week when she drove into town. The first two visits, he stayed in the Range Rover until he saw her at the door with her bags. The third visit, she convinced him to come in with her, and he stood silently with an eye on the door as she did her shopping.

Ray Doyle spent every spare moment searching for his partner. Cowley kept him in house as much as he dared, as it was clear that the man's mind was not on his job. He sent a bulletin out to local law enforcement with a request to notify, but not approach, the man if spotted, but they heard nothing.

One afternoon he was asked to join Macklin to spar with some of the younger operatives. Brian motioned Richards onto the mat. Doyle's smile turned predatory as he took the younger man down hard, four times, before Macklin stopped him. The fourth time, his forearm pressing hard into the man's windpipe, he whispered, "That last one was for Bodie. This one was for me."

Nine weeks later, Mrs. Allison and Bodie made their bi-weekly run into town. As they were coming out of the shop, Bodie threw a hard arm out and pushed his companion back into the store. He pulled the door closed and took a position off to the side, where he could see the street. "Will?" She didn't know what was going on, but could tell by his tenseness that something was terribly wrong.

"I-I-In the back. Four men with guns. Now!" She grabbed the shopkeeper and his wife and ushered them into the storeroom. Three shots rang out, telling her that Will was right. They heard the door open but that was it.

The men held a shotgun on the local banker. Bodie walked down the street, slowly, looking surprised when a man stuck a shotgun in his stomach. "I-I-I got a car. T-t-take it," Bodie said, holding up the keys.

"Oh, I'll take your car mate and you as well. Any hostage in a storm, even a dim one I always say."

The local police ushered them out of the storeroom fifteen minutes later and escorted Mrs. Allison to the station. As she was telling them what she knew, and giving them a description of Will, one of the officers left the room for a moment, returning with a photo. "Is this the man?"

"Yes, that's Will...has he done something wrong?" She was alarmed.

"No ma'am. He's just wanted for some information the lads in London think he might have. I'd better give them a call."

"Get 4-5! Have him meet me at the heliport. Move, man!" Cowley yelled at Jax as he raced down the corridor.

"Mrs. Allison, this is Mr. Cowley and Mr. Doyle. They work for CI5. They'd like to talk to you about Mr. Bodie."

"You're sure this is the man?" Cowley asked, holding up the flyer with Bodie's picture on it.

"Yes. He's been helping me on my farm for the last two months. But he told me his name was Will." Her eyes widened as the curly haired man flinched.

"It is. William Andrew Phillip Bodie. It's just...well he normally doesn't let anyone call him anything but Bodie." Ray answered.

"You know him?"

"He's my partner." She didn't miss the sadness in the unusual green eyes.

She told them what she knew and noted, almost as an afterthought, "They took my Range Rover. It's almost out of petrol. Will tried to get me to fill up when we got to town. He was worried there might not be enough to get home."

"How much petrol was left?" Cowley asked eagerly as Doyle grabbed a map off a nearby table.

"Maybe enough to go 10-15 kilometers. Surely no more than that."

"That means they've run out of petrol by now and have either stolen another car, or they're on foot." Doyle said, drawing a circle on the map to indicate the radius of the search area. "If they're on foot, Bodie will be leaving clues for us. Knowing him, he'll lead them about a bit to confuse them and then angle them back toward town."

"How can you possibly know this?" One of the local's demanded.

"He's an ex-merc in addition to having served in the paras and SAS. There are few men better in the outdoors then my partner: very few."

The locals found the car, and Doyle drove out to join the search. George Cowley stayed in town to coordinate additional resources. The men were wanted for a series of bank robberies across the western half of the country. Their last robbery had gone bad and they'd fled in a car with a bullet hole in the gas tank. Cowley knew that his operative had stepped out onto the street in an effort to take their attention off all the innocents, despite the fact he was unarmed and knew nothing about the situation. He chastised himself, again, for letting his blue eyed boy - he freely admitted to himself, anyway, that he had a favorite or two on the squad - get away and promised that he'd do whatever it took to bring him back into the fold.

Doyle cautiously followed the trail his partner left through the growing mist. There were overturned rocks, broken branches and bark missing from trees. The others with him shook their heads and were quite sure the man was wrong, but he knew, with every bone in his body, exactly what his partner was doing. When the trail turned resolutely east, he smiled at the men behind him and radioed his boss.

Bodie was wet, cold and tired. Never a good combination, and the men behind him, while still fooled by his 'slow' act were becoming uneasy, and he wasn't sure how much further he could lead them before they figured out he was headed back for town. He didn't know what he'd been thinking when he left the safety of the shop, except that he couldn't stand back and let the innocent townspeople get hurt. If Cowley ever found out he'd...he stopped that thought with a shake of his head and returned his full attention to the woods.

As Cowley and the Inspector traced the route Bodie was taking, Mrs. Allison stuck a slender finger on the map. "He's leading them toward the abandoned rail yard." She pointed to the place on the map. "He's doing exactly what Mr. Doyle suggested he would." She traced a route for the two men.

"It's a long shot." The Inspector said.

"No, she's right. That's exactly what 3-7 is doing. We need men out at the yard, and we'll capture them between our group and Doyle's."

After getting off the radio and being given a short cut to follow, Doyle moved his group quickly into position. He worked hard to keep his mind on the mission and not on the feelings running riot through him. To be this close to Bodie after all this time...

A quarter mile from the rail yard, Bodie stopped, hands on his knees. This was not the time to get one of those blasted headaches. They'd been few and far between the last month, usually only coming after a night of bad dreams. Well, he'd survived leaving home at 14, Angola, the Congo prison, the paras, the SAS and George Cowley, so he told himself to suck it up and get moving. That brought a slight smile as a voice echoed in his head -- Doyle's -- saying the same thing, only much louder and with a bit more color.

It took the four men with him a few minutes to figure out they'd walked into a trap. The ex-merc had known they were being watched as soon as he emerged from the woods. Knowing that someone on the force had figured out his game plan, he moved purposely into the open. Cowley's voice yelling at them to drop their guns stunned him, but only for a second. He was moving before it fully registered, headed toward the dilapidated shed which offered the only real cover.

"I've got a hostage and unless you want him dead you just stay right where you are," the leader answered, as two men pulled Bodie off the ground where they'd tackled him. "Right smart lad you have here. Too bad he's too smart for his own good."

"Let the man go, Dillon!" George Cowley responded. "Your bunch hasn't killed anyone yet. This isn't the time to start."

"Get us a car with a full tank, and we'll drop your boy outside town -- safe and sound. Otherwise you'll have to come in and get him."

Doyle had moved closer during the shouting match. He had arranged his men around the perimeter where there was good cover. Slipping behind a small stand of trees he looked up to find dark blue eyes staring at him. He nodded. They exchanged an enormous amount of information in a glance, and he knew exactly what he had to do.

It was over ten minutes later; one fugitive was dead. Bodie had disarmed one of the men and tackled another when he'd aimed his gun at Doyle. As the area filled with uniformed police, Doyle made his way to his partner's side. "Bodie mate?"

"Sunshine," he acknowledged, "see you're timing's still as good as ever." His head came up; exhaustion painted across his eyes.

"And we'll have to talk about yours, pet. I think you might need a few more lessons." He slid an arm under Bodie's left shoulder and held him tight against his side as they headed toward the front of the yard.

"3-7, report!" George Cowley demanded as his two mud splattered operatives came into view.

"One dead, two wounded, sir. Left you one to interrogate right off."

"And you, Bodie?" While he wouldn't admit it, he'd been a little worried about the reception he'd get from this man. He was keenly aware that his actions had led to the man's decision to disappear.

"Nothing a hot bath and a long kip won't cure, sir."

"4-5, see to your partner." Cowley ordered before moving to join the Inspector and his men.

"Well, that was easy," Ray muttered as he took a firmer hold on his exhausted mate. "Where to, Sunshine?" Mrs. Allison was waiting in her Range Rover across the street as they left the yard.

"Will, you and Mr. Doyle are to come with me," she ordered, opening the back door.

"Don't argue with the woman, Doyle," Bodie stage whispered, "she makes the Cow look like a kitten when she gets her dander up."

"I heard that Will Bodie," Elizabeth responded; her smile warm beneath the brisk words.

"Oh yeah, and she has ears like a bat," he finished with a smirk as Ray helped him into the backseat. Once they were settled, Bodie leaned heavily against his partner and closed his eyes. Ray gladly accepted the extra weight, maneuvering the slack body until the dark head was cradled on his shoulder.

Elizabeth ran ahead to start a warm bath, as soon as she stopped the car, leaving Doyle to get his companion into the house. "Bodie?"

"S'okay, Ray. We'll talk later. Promise," he said before turning his attention to getting his feet to move. He was tired and between his jaunt through the woods and the shock and pleasure of having his partner at his side again, he needed a few minutes to gather his thoughts. "I can undress meself," he assured both Elizabeth and Doyle when they followed him to the bathroom door.

"Fine, just remember, Sunshine, that I'm not going to explain to Cowley how you drowned in the bath, so don't fall asleep." Doyle responded easily.

"Your concern is overwhelming, Raymond," was the somewhat muted response from behind the closed door.

At the kitchen table, Elizabeth poured them both a cup of tea. "Thank you," Ray said, "for taking care of him."

She laughed. "I'm not sure exactly who took care of whom. He's a good man, your partner." She finished seriously.

"The best. How is he?"

She searched the concerned green eyes before answering. "He's regained some of his muscle, but he's still too thin. There's not a chore round here -- well except dusting maybe -- that he hasn't tackled," she said with a smile. "And he started running two weeks ago. He's had a couple of headaches, but they seem to come only after he's had a bad night."

"A bad night?"

"Aye, he...I think he's been remembering things -- and some of them weren't pleasant memories; of that, I'm sure. After a difficult night, he wouldn't talk about it, but I could read the signs. Dark circles under those beautiful blue eyes, pain creases in his forehead, things like that."

"Did he tell you what happened? Why's he up here?"

"Not in so many words. He did say he'd been hurt on the job and that it had impacted his ability to speak and his memory had some gaps, but he never mentioned he worked for CI5. That was a bit of a shock! And when you were telling the Inspector today about his time as a mercenary - that explained a few things, too. Why is he up here alone, Mr. Doyle?"

"He was hurt badly -- a lead pipe to the back of the head. The Doctors weren't sure if he'd live. Of course, Bodie never did put much store in doctors... He went north for six weeks and came back better, but not well enough to go back in the field. There was a blow up -- not his fault - but it upset him and I think he felt he needed to leave to protect me...Do you think he remembers everything?" Ray finished.

She looked up to see the subject of their discussion leaning against the door frame, dark hair still wet, blue eyes intent on his partner. "I think that's a question you'll need to ask him."

"Now Liz, it's not fair to interrogate a man when he's wet, muddy and tired. Doyle, I left you some hot water and a pair of track pants. Get going." Ray shot him a grateful smile before disappearing.

"Will, are you going to be alright?" The young man looked thoughtfully at the woman who had taken him into her home and her heart and smiled.

"I'll be fine, love. Just have some decisions to make, that's all."

"Is Mr. Doyle one of those decisions?"

He shook his head slowly, blue eyes studying the carpet. "Never could slide anything past you could I? Yes, he is...the most important one."

When Ray rejoined them, Bodie asked to borrow the Range Rover with a promise to return it the next morning. He drove to the cottage, both of them silent: Bodie's eyes on the road and Doyle's on his partner. "Tis nice, this place," Ray said looking thoughtfully around the small, clean open floor plan while Bodie heated up some stew. "Would make a grand holiday getaway."

Bodie started a small fire before they sat down to eat. It was a quiet meal with Doyle's eyes never leaving the man across from him. He smiled slightly as he caught his partner stealing his own glances through his long lashes. Standing in front of the small sink after dinner, Bodie said softly, his back to his partner. "I remember everything, Ray."

"Bodie!" He came to his feet so fast his chair crashed to the floor.

"Never forgot 'bout you and me, to be honest," he said turning to face the man. "Just...just didn't want you to feel saddled with me because..."

"You bloody bastard!" The anger and pain in that simple sentence had the younger man taking a step back only to find himself pressed hard up against the sink.

"When I woke up, I asked if you were my partner -- you told me you were my partner and later you said you were my best mate. But that's all you said! I figured you didn't want me anymore." Blue eyes begged for understanding.

"Jesus Bodie! You are so, so...God, you big idiot!" Ray started yelling, and began to pace restlessly, his hands flying. "What did you expect me to say? You'd just had your brains scrambled and the doctors cautioned me against telling you anything you didn't willing offer up. And then you just up and disappeared."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I was useless - couldn't talk, couldn't remember, wasn't even allowed to carry a gun! What use was I to you?"

"Is that really all you think I need from you?" He pushed the man back against the sink, his hands fisted in the black polo neck. "To watch my back? You really think that's the only reason I've stuck with you all these years?" Ray's voice rose with his temper.

"You needed a partner who could protect you." Bodie responded evenly, blue eyes dark with some emotion his partner couldn't read.

"And what about my lover? Didn't I need him, too? Well, I did you stupid sod.....God, Bodie...you can be so bloody thick sometimes." He put a hand on a pale cheek before pulling the bigger man roughly against him. "I will always love you, you big ox -- always. Never doubt that, and promise never to leave me again. I couldn't take it, love. Promise me. Now."

Green eyes regarded the blue eyes thoughtfully. Bodie didn't always say everything he was feeling, but if you knew what to look for you could find it in those eyes. "Ray...I...Christ, I missed you." He whispered before closing the small space that remained between them to claim a kiss.

"Bed, now!" The older man said, grabbing him by the hand. "I need to hold you for a while and you need some sleep. After that, well, we'll see," he said with a smile that sent shivers through the other man. They fell asleep wrapped around each other.

When Ray woke, there was a sliver of light coming through the small opening in the curtains. He found himself with his head on Bodie's chest and muscular arms holding him close. He sighed happily and wiggled to get comfortable again. He woke a little later and sat up so he could look at his partner, his eyes following his left hand down the smooth, white chest. "Lost some weight, mate, going to have to do something about that," he whispered. "Damn, Sunshine, what have you been doing out here? I can feel every rib."

"Ray?"

He turned his attention upward. "Morning, love. We need to put some meat back on these bones. Thought I'd get up and make some tea. Would you like a cuppa?"

"Rather have you, Ray. But your idea is probably wiser. I need to get the Rover back to Liz so she doesn't miss her church group meeting."

"When you get back?" Ray asked softly, his eyes gleaming with lust and love and the happiness he felt now that he had his mate back.

"Perhaps you'd better stay in bed and rest up. After all, I understand that older men have more problems...geroff Doyle!" He growled as he found himself pinned to the bed.

"As you're the one who is responsible for all me grey hairs, you don't have any right to talk about me getting old. Hear me?" He finished with a gentle kiss that sent shivers through both men.

They were headed for the car when Bodie stopped in mid stride. "Company," he said softly. "Nobody's ever been out here, except Liz." He moved to the car and stood behind the open door while Ray disappeared behind the side of the house.

"3-7," George Cowley called as he got out of the car.

Bodie's body sagged slightly from relief. "Sir."

"George gave me a ride over. Thought it would save you the trip," Elizabeth said alighting from the passenger side, "and I brought breakfast since your shopping was interrupted yesterday. I wasn't sure if you had enough for two." She startled as Doyle appeared beside his partner.

"I need a report from of you for the locals. And 4-5, I wanted to drop off your travel bag. I'll expect you both in a fortnight."

The look exchanged between the two was not lost on either of their visitors. "George, you promised you wouldn't push. After all, such decisions should not be made on an empty stomach. Come on, lads. Will, help me with the hampers would you?"

Bodie retrieved two wicker hampers from the boot and followed his neighbor into the house, leaving his partner with Cowley. "Sir, don't you think..."

"There is nothing to think about. It's clear that his time off has done wonders for 3-7, if his performance yesterday was any indication. Elizabeth tells me he still has some work to do to get back in top shape, and I want you to work with him to make sure he'll make it through a course with Macklin."

"I don't know if he wants to come back." Ray said, green eyes challenging the older man. "We haven't had time to talk about what happened."

"Come along, 4-5, if the smells emitting from those hampers is any indication, this is one breakfast I don't plan on missing."

Shaking his head slowly, Ray followed the older man into the cottage. The food was spread out on the small table and his partner was making coffee. He moved beside him and put a hand on the small of his back. "You alright, Sunshine?"

"Yeah. The old man doesn't change, does he?"

Ray laughed softly, "No, I guess he doesn't. But you don't have to decide anything right now, regardless of what he wants."

"S'okay, Ray. Come on, let's eat."

"Now that's the Bodie I know and love," he said, earning him a laugh from everyone in the room, except the subject of the comment, who was intent on spreading butter and jam on two thick slices of homemade bread.

For two weeks they kept to Bodie's original schedule. They'd take a run to the farm, do chores, have lunch with Elizabeth and then run home. Bodie's appetite improved as his lover took over the cooking and he put muscle and a little weight back on his frame. Talks about the job and the future were few. Ray finally figured out his mate was afraid he wouldn't be able to get past Macklin. He'd had a row with him on that point, since he was pretty certain that half dead Bodie would still pass the course simply because he was too stubborn to let Brian win.

A lot of tension ran out of the man when Doyle breezily announced during one morning run that they'd figure out what else they could do together when and if they needed to, but in the meantime he thought it best to concentrate on Macklin and Ross and all that they'd throw at him.

Six weeks later, Bodie stood uneasily in the Controller's office, waiting for the man to get off the phone and tell him if he'd passed. He was certain that he had -- after all he'd done the refresher so many times he knew exactly what it took to get through it. But, with Cowley, you just never knew.

The next round of partner training, Macklin decided to use 3-7 and 4-5 as an example of teamwork for the six new pairs he was training. Each group ran the obstacle course on their own, ran it again with Bodie and Doyle and then once more on their own. All the groups but one increased their scores by 20 to 25 points on their third try. Alex Richards and his new partner, James Williams, were the only pair that failed to improve. That might have had something to do with the fact that Richards had spent the better part of the week poor mouthing 3-7 and wondering why anyone thought they could learn anything from him.

In the gym the next morning, he nodded to the two senior operatives. They were demonstrating 'team fighting' and were better at it than any team Brian had ever seen. The two seemed to have a sixth sense about where the other would be and how they would react. They went through two of the partner pairs before Richards and his partner were up.

Richards was in the midst of some snappy comment when he was taken down with a flying tackle. Bodie showed no mercy, as he efficiently and effectively shut the man down. Ray was a bit more tactful, but none the less efficient in his takedown of Williams. Macklin blew his whistle and Bodie withdrew immediately. He moved beside his partner and the two stood, grins on their faces, staring at the younger pair, both of whom were gasping for breath.

-- THE END --

October 2007