George Cowley squinted as he caught sight of one of his top operatives. 3-7 looked the worse for wear as he exited the warehouse. He was dripping wet, holding his rib cage, and was several shades paler than normal. Given that he had been on this case for the last six days, the controller figured he shouldn't be surprised, but the man looked done in, and that just didn't fit this particular agent. "3-7, report!" He ordered, watching the man stumble as he turned belatedly in response to the command.

"Sir. We apprehended four of the five. The fifth is on the second floor. He won't be causing any more trouble."

"Are you alright, Bodie?" Cowley's concern heightened as he used proximity to make a closer inspection.

"Be fine, sir, once I get a shower. I slipped in something leaking out of the barrels in there. In fact, sir, I would suggest you don't stand downwind."

"Alright. On your bike then, lad. Get cleaned up and get some sleep. I'll expect your report on my desk by 0930 tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Bodie!" Murphy hurried over to his partner on this op. "You alright?"

"Be fine, Murph, once I have a shower; a long kip and a full stomach."

"You sure you don't need a visit to Casualty? You went down pretty hard back there."

"I've had worse playing with Macklin. Just because Doyle's not here doesn't mean you need to play nursemaid, mate," he growled, knowing Murphy had done nothing to deserve his harsh tone. "The Cow's sent me home for the night. Mind dropping me off on your way back to HQ?" He accepted the blanket the taller agent produced and draped it around his weary body in order to protect the car seat.

Ray Doyle entered the restroom looking for his partner. He had just gotten off a plane from Wales where he'd been liaising with a high maintenance Arab delegation. He had been with them for almost three weeks, and was more than ready for a pint and some quality time with his best mate. Their last op together had been very difficult. He'd seen Bodie's face after their last firefight -- he had been whiter than a sheet and looked as though he'd come too close to losing all that he valued...

His time in Wales had given him time to think through their relationship, and it had come as less of a surprise then he imagined when it finally dawned on him that he felt more than friendship for the swash buckling ex-merc. They were, after all, best mates, partners, and confidants -- in fact the only thing missing was sex. And he had a plan to remedy that situation and couldn't wait to find 3-7. He had plans for the man.

"Ray!" Murphy called out as he entered the room looking for some tea.

"Murphy, how's it going mate?"

"Good, you just get back?"

"Yeah, seen Bodie?"

"He got covered in some nasty stuff on an op this morning, so Cowley sent him home for the day. I dropped him off on the way in and was thinking of stopping by and offering to buy him a pint. He saved my arse today -- again."

"Give me a ride over, and I'll buy the second round."

Despite the gathering darkness, there were no lights on in the flat when they pulled up. Picking a key off his ring, Doyle shared a smile with Murphy before letting them in the front door. Once inside, they hurried up to the second floor and stood for a moment, like expectant school boys, outside the door to the flat. After exchanging grins, Doyle leaned over to unlock the door. As he did so he realized that not only was it not locked; it wasn't even closed! He had his gun out before his brain had fully processed what he was seeing. Murphy drew his as a reflex, and they went in cautiously. They didn't get more than four feet inside the door before they almost tripped over a body. Doyle went down on his knees, as Murphy moved cautiously further into the room.

Ray's left hand frantically sought a pulse, while his gun remained aimed into the lounge. "Bodie mate?" He whispered, eyes searching the gloom for the threat.

"Place is empty, Ray," Murphy announced as he flipped on a lamp.

With the light, Ray took a careful look at his partner. His pulse was erratic, his skin cold and clammy and he was shaking as he lay in his own vomit. "Bodie? Bodie, come on, Sunshine, I need to know what's wrong."

Turning the man onto his back, they both stared for a moment at the blue tinge of the skin. Reaching over to try and get through to the unconscious man, Doyle was startled back onto his rump as the body began to convulse. "Get an ambulance!" He ordered Murphy as he worked to hold his partner down in an effort to keep him from hurting himself.

---

George Cowley walked into the hospital waiting room and took in his operatives. Murphy sat quietly, sipping a cup of tea; coming to his feet when he caught sight of his boss. "Report," he ordered, though his eyes rested on 4-5. Doyle was slumped in a chair, arms hugging his chest tightly. Murphy quickly recited what had happened and added that the doctors currently had no idea what had happened or why 3-7 was having seizures.

"I just spoke with his doctor. They think it has something to do with the chemicals from the warehouse. Seems it is a pesticide that was banned a decade ago and was supposed to have been destroyed. It's been leaking out of those barrels all that time and 3-7 rolled in the stuff."

"Why was it banned?" Ray asked roughly.

"Direct contact most often resulted in death." Cowley responded evenly. Ray ran for the loo and tossed everything in his stomach.

---

"Come on, Bodie-mate, this is not the way it works. You were supposed to be waiting in your flat when I got back. I was going to bring that nice French red you like, your favorite takeaway and a chocolate gateau. Then after I'd softened you up with food and wine, I was going to tell you...that I can't live without you, you prat! Don't do this, Sunshine, I need you to fight. Need you, Bodie, don't you dare leave me."

---

The doctor's comments that in the unlikely event the man lived, he'd most likely be brain damaged, did not sit well with Doyle. Cowley grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him out into the hallway -- shoving him hard up against the wall. Wild green eyes looked down at the Controller. "Doyle, you will maintain a civil stance or I will have you banned from this place, and don't think I won't! The doctor is simply doing his job, giving us his best guess. It doesn't mean it is what will be. But you need to be prepared for that possibility."

"Not Bodie," the younger man whispered -- half plea, half prayer. His eyes screwed shut.

"Aye lad, I can't imagine it either," the older man responded softly. "You stay with 3-7 and convince him it's in his best interest to come back to us -- all the way back." Cowley patted him on the shoulder before leaving. Doyle returned to the small room that was overrun with equipment.

Running a finger over the crooked eyebrow, he thought back to his own time in hospital after the shooting. He recalled how Bodie had stayed with him reading him the papers; the latest Mayfair; some poetry which Ray had always meant to ask about, as he was pretty sure it was his partner's own creation. He'd also told him, late at night when they were truly alone, why he'd left home at 14; what had really happened in Africa; and why he expected Ray to keep fighting. He thought of that now as he took a cold hand in both of his.

So he talked: about art school; how he got his damaged cheek; his time in the Met; how Bodie had saved his sanity after Ann Holly; and how sorry he was about Marika. The third day he was pushed out of the room when the monitors started screaming. He stood in the hall, face pressed to the small window as he watched them shock his partner's limp body once, then again. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until it the monitor regained its normal cadence.

---

He wasn't there the first time the blue eyes sought the light. A ward sister reported that her patient had opened his eyes, and looked toward the visitor's chair before closing them again. That evening he talked of his feelings, breaking off only when the nurse entered the room for the hourly vitals check.

Two days later, as he bent over to place a good bye kiss on the smooth forehead; he froze midway over the bed when he realized he was looking into hazy blue eyes. "Bodie," he whispered, almost afraid to speak in case he was only imagining what he wanted most.

The blue eyes blinked once before refocusing. "Sunshine?" The question was soft and ragged.

"I got you, Bodie." He responded, his hands carefully cradling the beloved face. "It's going to be okay, mate. Everything's going to be fine."

"Stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere, love. You're stuck with me." His warm smile seemed to tell the man what he needed to know, as he studied it for several moments before nodding slightly and falling back asleep. "Oh Bodie, you big berk," Ray whispered, resting his forehead against his partner's.

Five days later he was released from the hospital with the proviso that someone stay with him for at least the first week. Cowley assigned Doyle to look after his partner, and he moved into the younger man's flat for the duration.

The patient slept 20 of the 24 hours for each of the first two days. The third day he surprised Doyle by joining him at the table for breakfast. "How do you feel, Sunshine," Doyle asked after pouring him a cup of coffee and putting some toast in front of him.

"In hospital, you talked to me -- did you mean what you said?"

Ray looked away from the steady blue eyes studying his face. "What? Said a lot of things -- had to talk for days since you were being bloody stubborn about waking up." Doyle rose and moved to the stove, pouring himself more coffee.

"Guess that answers the question," the younger man said, pushing away from the table and heading toward the lounge.

"Bodie?"

"Forget it, Doyle. Must have been the damn drugs. I'm going back to bed."

"Oh no, you're not, mate. You sit yourself back down in that chair. We have to get a few things straight. Now, Bo-day." He ordered. He should have known better then to play cute when his partner was not at his best, especially about this.

He retook his seat and settled his eyes on his partner as he reluctantly returned to the table. "I meant every single word I said to you in that room. And I'll restate them all, right here, right now, if I need to. I came back from that babysitting job ready to tell you everything, Sunshine, and when Murph and I found you on the floor, I thought I'd never get the chance. I needed to tell you, even if you couldn't hear, needed to say it out loud. I love you Bodie, have for a long time. Just took me brain a while to catch up with me heart is all."

He paused as the blue eyes closed. "You love me."

"God help me I do, Bodie. Want to be with you; want you...hell, I need you, Bodie, realized that a long time ago."

"Need you, too, Ray. Wanted you forever, just never thought you'd cotton to the idea."

"You sure about this, pet?" The older man asked as he moved to younger man's side. "Really sure?"

"I love you, you berk. Never been quite so sure of anything before," he finished just before his lips were covered by his partner's.

-- THE END --

May 2008