"Bodie, where the fuck are you?"
God knows why Doyle thought he'd be inside a pitch-black shed out here, miles from the pick-up point. But then that was it, wasn't it? Bodie hadn't been at the bloody pick-up point. Doyle kicked the ground in frustration, sending leaves and mud flying as he reached for his r/t-
"You...kicked me, you...bastard."
Doyle crashed to his knees and his hands found the slick of wet on leather a second before the smell and Bodie's groan spiked his pulse.
"Easy, easy." All along Bodie's right side. Not his lung, but still.
"We got him. Just lie still." Doyle removed his jacket and wrapped it around his partner, not liking the cold, weak fingers that tried to grasp hold of him. "Just a sec, mate." Doyle barked into his r/t, and then gave his attention to those fingers. They were cold and wet with blood, and he didn't know what to do with them. So he brought them to his lips and kissed them.
"What?" Doyle sniffed, he couldn't help it.
Bodie's hand squeezed his and Doyle didn't have to see him to hear the smile.
-- THE END --