"Take him! Doyle, take him!" Bodie yelled.

A shot hit Martin. He looked back at Doyle as he fell. "I never shot him. It came from the ship." Doyle's green eyes were dark with anguish.

"Seems someone else wanted him dead," Bodie said softly. He looked back at Barry Martin, a decorated Army man and George Cowley's first hire when he created CI5. Shaking his head sadly, he returned his attention to his partner who was still on one knee in a firing position. "Doyle? Ray?" The man didn't even turn his head. So the younger agent struggled upright, left hand clutching his right shoulder as the pain sliced through him. "Sunshine, give me the gun," he said moving to stand between his partner and the dead man, interrupting Doyle's line of sight. "Doyle...4-5, the gun now!" The gentle way he took the pistol from the pliant hands was at odds with the harsh order.

"I never shot him," Doyle whispered again.

"I know, Sunshine, someone from the ship did. Stay here, will you?" He moved slowly to the body, a shaking left hand getting blood on the R/T as he called for backup after checking for a pulse and finding none. He looked up at the eight crewmen leaning over the side of the ship. "Stay put," he ordered, "Harbor Captain is on his way, understand?" "Yes, sir," was the chorused response.

He leaned against a piling which allowed him to keep an eye on his partner with the added bonus of ensuring he remained upright. He tried to remain focused by composing his report in his head. But he couldn't keep treacherous thoughts from bouncing about his brain. Barry Martin had been handpicked by George Cowley, himself. They'd fought together in the Army, and Cowley had made his old friend his first hire; had trusted him to train his men; had trusted him enough to try and bring him in on his own -- and that trust had nearly gotten him killed. And his partner had trusted the man; he'd seen Martin as a mentor and friend. Yet the man would have beaten him to death given the chance. And if a man George Cowley had trusted and a man Ray Doyle had trusted -- if that man could turn bad what hope was there for an ex-merc with a shady history?

His attention was forced outward by the arrival of backup in the form of four agents and three harbor patrol men. He barked out orders like the SAS Sergeant he had once been. He had Anson take Ray to A&E with instructions to check for a concussion and cracked ribs, and sent McCabe and Lucas onto the ship with the Habor Patrol.

"Bodie, mate," Jax said, moving a hand under his right arm to get his attention. Bodie couldn't hold back a bark of pain caused by the movement. "Christ, Bodie, sit down before you fall down," he ordered. "Where the hell's the ambulance," he muttered.

""M fine," Bodie huffed between clenched teeth.

"Right mate, pull the other one."

"No ambulance, you can take me in. Please."

At hospital, he was poked, prodded, stitched up, cleaned up, bandaged and sent packing when he refused to stay the night as the doctor requested. Jax drove him home. "Sure you don't need a hand, Bodie?" He asked as he pulled to a stop in front of the block of flats.

"Just going to sleep -- too knackered to do anything else. Ta, mate."

Once in his flat he poured a drink scotch and took it into the bedroom. After undressing, he popped a pain pill the doctor had given him, followed by a healthy dose of the scotch. He then did an awkward wash up standing in his bathtub before sliding into bed. His left arm moved up to cover his eyes, and he slid into blessed oblivion.

Ray Doyle was checked out -- banged and bruised was the assessment. After Anson drove him home, he took a shower needing to get rid of the grime that had accumulated over the last 36 hours, dressed and hailed a cab. He let himself into his partner's flat and checked out the kitchen before proceeding to the bedroom, when he found the lounge empty. He stood at the foot of the bed for several minutes staring at the still form of his best mate. "Sunshine?" It wasn't like Bodie to sleep through someone entering his room. "Bodie?" His eyes caught the pill bottle and the empty glass. "Jesus, Bodie, you bloody idiot!" He shouted. The sleeping man came bolt upright, pain rippling through chest. He curled into a ball on his left side, rocking slightly.

"Easy, pet, easy," Ray Doyle whispered as his hand ran small circles on his partner's clenched back. "It's alright, Bodie, only me."

"Bloody hell, Doyle," he whispered once he found his breath. "Trying to finish what Martin started?" His right hand reached for his partner when he saw the flinch his comment had elicited. The pull on his shoulder brought him up short. Curling back into a ball, he began rocking again. "Sorry, Sunshine...didn't mean it, didn't...sorry."

"Ah Bodie," Ray Doyle whispered as he put a hand back on the tense back and began to rub. "I know you didn't, silly crud."

"What did the doctor say?" Bodie asked softly several minutes later after rolling onto his back. His hand moved to cover his partner's hand where it landed on his chest.

"About what?"

"About your head and your ribs...must have knocked some of those golly brains out if you can't remember that."

"Oh, that! Said I was a bit bruised and battered but would be good as new in a day or so -- certainly faster than you -that's for certain...I'm sorry, pet."

"For what?" Tired, pain filled blue eyes sought green.

"Should have taken him when you told me to."

"No! No, Doyle, you are not going on a guilt trip over that bloody bastard. No one could have guessed it...hell, Sunshine, he even fooled the Cow."

"Still can't believe what he did...that he would do it."

"I know. Makes you wonder..."

"Wonder what?" A muscular left arm moved up to cover blue eyes. That move for some reason started alarm bells ringing. "William Andrew Philip Bodie! Talk to me!" "Nothing to say."

Ray stared at his long-time partner. "NO!" He shouted suddenly bouncing hard on the bed. "What the hell are you thinking? You are not, you will not, you won't, Bodie...you are not Barry Martin."

"No, he was a man George Cowley knew...a man who served under him. A man you considered a friend. What is it you really know about me? You know I left home at 14 -- but do you know why? You know I was a merc -- but what does that really mean?"

"Stop it, Bodie, just stop! You had every opportunity, and my guess is every reason to go bad...why did you leave Africa and join the Paras? Work your arse off to get into the SAS? Agree to join CI5? Stay with this mob despite the rotten hours, the even worse pay, not to mention the nearly daily run ins with blokes with guns? Sorry mate, but if you were going to go bad you had every opportunity and you walked -- or maybe it's more accurate to say you ran -- from it." Green eyes were warm as they gently removed the muscular arm covering the blue eyes. "You did everything possible to save your soul, mate, short of joining the church -- not that they would have had you...So Sunshine, I'm not buying it, and neither should you."

"But the Cow, he knew Martin."

"Twenty years ago, maybe. And Martin didn't have me."

"What the hell are you going on about?"

"Because I know you...I know what's important to you and despite the impression you like to give -- that of an insensitive lout with minimal brain power -- you care about truth; about justice. Don't forget, Sunshine, I know you. I've watched you - how it eats at you when good people, innocent people, are hurt. Oh, you try and hide it, but you can't -- not from me. What we do; what CI5 does -- it's important to you."

"And it was important to Martin."

"I'm not so sure about that. He told me one night - after several pints - that he joined the Army for three squares and a cot; and he joined the mob because he knew he couldn't stay in the Army forever."

"Could say the same for me."

"No, you had a long career ahead of you -- Nairn told the Cow you were one of the best he'd ever seen. He was none too happy that you chose to join this mob. He said he tried hard to talk you out of it."

"When did you and the Major get all chatty?"

"I was driving, and he and Father were discussing you. Guess they figured I couldn't drive and listen at the same time."

"Still..."

"No, Bodie. You are not, nor could you ever do what Martin did. Sorry, mate but you just don't have it in you. Now I don't know about you but I'm knackered, so shove over and make some room."

"Ray?"

"I promise I'll respect you in the morning, Sunshine. Get some sleep. You're gonna need it when you tell Father what happened."

"When I tell Father?"

"Given that you are his blue eyed boy, I figured he'll take it better coming from you."

"Sure, send me in unarmed to face the firing squad."

"Don't worry, Bodie-mate, I've got your back." Ray said sleepily as he settled comfortably up against his partner.

"And that, Angelfish, makes me a very lucky bloke," Bodie whispered as soon as his bedmate's breathing settled into a sleeping pattern. "Too bad Barry Martin didn't have his own Ray Doyle...might have kept him from going bad."

-- THE END --

November 2007