"... and there's nothing any of us can do about it," Ray asserted, punctuating his words with a vigorous nod and a broad gesture that sent the dregs of his scotch slopping over the rim, down his arm, and onto his trousers. He peered into the nearly empty glass, gently fuddled and sleepy-eyed. "Boy, I can really put this stuff away," he noted with a sweet, silly grin.

"That you can, Sunshine," Bodie agreed. He pulled the glass gently out of Ray's clenched fingers and hauled him to his feet. "And now it's time for sleeping. You're sleepy, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Ray leaned against Bodie's chest and shut his eyes, a blissful smile plastered across his face.

"Don't drop off on me, Sunshine." Bodie tugged him toward the bathroom. "C'mon, Ray, let me clean you off."

He undressed his partner efficiently and sponged off the stickiness of the whisky before tucking Ray in on the guest side of his big bed. Then he went back and rinsed the scotch out of Ray's clothes. Poor bugger, sleep was the best thing for him. Bodie tried for a few minutes to hate Ann for what she'd done to his partner, but it didn't work. It hadn't been entirely her fault, and she'd been hurt, too. What an awful lot of pain came out of love, he reflected. He'd known love only too well in his youth. If he'd never loved, he'd never have understood that loneliness that Ray talked about. Still, he was lucky to have avoided it in the last few years. He hung the garments up to dry and went into the bedroom, intending to undress and slip in beside Ray, but something made him stop, pull a chair to the side of the bed and sit beside the sleeping figure, watching over Ray's rest like some guardian angel. Gabriel in khakis, he thought wryly.

He hadn't avoided it at all. It was here with him now, in his bed. It was Ray, and it was a sharp, aching loneliness for something he could never have. They'd talked about it, about love and loneliness. 'We're born alone and we die alone,' Ray had said. 'And we fall in love-or we think we do-to pretend we're not really alone, but it's a cheat. We never find the missing piece.' He'd been bitter then, but the mellowing effect of some very old Glenfiddich had made him, if not less philosophical, at least less caustic. Ray could be superbly waspish without half trying.

Loneliness. Ray had said it was the search for the missing piece of yourself. Something...other was the only way Bodie could describe it. He looked down at the sleeping man. That was no less than the truth. Ray had also called it a cheat, a sham, but Bodie knew better. It was an intrinsic part of love. When could you feel it most sharply but when you loved?

Ray twitched and moaned in his sleep, but Bodie didn't disturb him. "Work through, Ray," he whispered.

If asked, Bodie would have had to admit that the idea of Ray and Ann upset him. And yet, in his own way he was happy for Ray's happiness. Ray happy was a bonfire, a Roman candle, the sun, and the warmth of him was good. If Ann could spark that incandescent happiness, Bodie would gift wrap Ray and deliver him to her door.

He lay back in the chair. Loving Ray was difficult. Ray demanded love on his own terms, and Bodie's love was something he accepted only to a point. There were fences around Doyle with large signs: 'Trespassers will be shredded.' Waspish and defensive. Part of Bodie had genuinely hoped that Ray and Ann would settle down and raise a pack of red haired brats and Bodie could settle comfortably into the 'Uncle Bodie' routine. Life would be so much easier without the scent of Ray on the clothes he borrowed or the towels and sheets he used when he visited. Without the late night calls for reassurance or companionship and the long hours of perfect silence in front of the telly or on stakeout. Perfect. Life would be easier without having to put up with Ray's indiscriminate flirting on double dates-either of the girls or Bodie-all fair game for Ray's teasing sexuality.

"'m sorry," Ray muttered into the pillow.

"Bet she is, too, Sunshine."

Once, and only once, Bodie had responded to the flirtation. The double had become a foursome, and when the girls had expressed an uninhibited interest in each other, Bodie had reached out the Ray. He winced a little at the memory of Ray twisting out of his grasp, wanting to watch the girls but not to imitate them. Message received and understood. Bodie was grateful to be let off so easily, and yet he'd always wondered why Ray had rejected the advance.

It was easier, Bodie reflected as his eyelids began to grow heavier, not to love. He'd have to practice detachment with a little more energy. Without really knowing what was happening, he dropped off to sleep.

He woke to find sunlight creeping across the duvet. Morning! Sleep- sticky eyes registered six-fifteen, and Ray still dead to the world. Just as well, he decided, stretching stiff limbs and wondering if it would pay to go to bed now. Surely Ray would wake up soon and want to talk. Every muscle protested as he made his way to the bathroom. He washed his face, brushed his teeth and emptied his bladder, and managed to feel a little more human. Ray was awake when he came back into the bedroom. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No. Whas' time?"

"Half past six. Go back to sleep."

Ray scrubbed his hand across his eyes. "I feel like I swallowed mud. Haven't you been to sleep yet?"

"Dozed off in the chair." Bodie tugged off his boots and undressed quickly.

"You sat up all night? Why?"

Bodie shrugged. "Faithful old dog, Bodie, eh? Just don't expect me to fetch your slippers and pipe."

"You look horrible. Come to bed."

"I had considered the possibility," Bodie admitted. He slid between the sheets keeping a safe distance from Ray. "Night...morning...whatever." He tried to drop off quickly but was aware of Doyle watching him. "You're putting me right off, Ray. Why are you staring at me?"

"Do you love me, Bodie?" His voice had a curious childlike quality.

What price detachment now, Bodie wondered. He punched the pillow and settled more comfortably against it. "Yeah, I suppose I do," he said without looking at his partner.

"Why?"

"Damned if I know." Taking refuge in a light tone.

"You're an idiot, but I'm grateful."

"Yeah, Bodie the defective."

"I really hurt you, didn't I?"

Bodie sighed. "Ray, this isn't the time."

"We talked all night, and you didn't tell me how you felt. Why?"

Bodie plucked idly at a thread in the pillowcase. "Not the sort of thing you'd want to hear."

"What makes you think that?"

"Oh, for chrissake, leave it!"

"No! Will you turn over and look at me, Bodie!"

"I want to sleep. I sleep on my face. Go to sleep, Ray."

Ray crawled on top of him and tried to look at Bodie's face.

"I want to talk."

"Bloody nuisance. Gerroff."

"Bodie, tell me," he insisted.

"Tell you what? I love you, okay? Isn't that enough?"

"No, it's not."

Bodie's temper finally flared, and he knocked Ray back onto the bed. "It'll bloody-well have to be enough," he shouted, "'cause it's all you're getting."

Ray punched him in the hip, and they began to fight in earnest.

"Crazy sod," Bodie growled as they wrestled, hampered by the sheets that tangled around their limbs like living things. "Why the hell would I love someone like you?" he demanded.

Ray caught a handful of Bodie's hair and yanked hard, pulling him into a kiss that muffled Bodie's yelp of pain and outrage. Ray's mouth was open, inviting exploration, and his hands on Bodie moved in caresses just on the edge of violence. Their first kiss was hard and hungry and a challenge. Ray nipped Bodie's lower lip.

"God, what took you so long?" Doyle groaned.

Bodie went cold inside, and he drew back from the temptation to take what he wanted and be damned to the consequences. "No," he said, rolling back to his place in the bed. He was half erect and uncomfortable, and the anger and emptiness he felt was terrible.

"Why not? You've wanted this for a long time. Why don't you take what I'm offering?"

"It never occurred to you to offer before?" Bodie asked very quietly. "It never occurred to you to offer without expecting anything in return?"

Ray's reply was harsh. "I suppose you didn't expect anything when you started mauling me about that night with the girls."

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"You liar."

Bodie rolled over intending to end the argument with an insult or a blow, but suddenly the anger drained out of him. He didn't really care about the why or the wherefore-he was lonely. "Maybe you're right. What d'you need?" he asked. "My body is at your service." He attempted a cynical grin, but it felt wooden to him.

"Make love to me, Bodie," Ray whispered.

The unsuspected pleasures of that body-familiar yet not so-delighted Bodie as he kissed and caressed, licked, bit, sniffed and sucked at all the plains and hollows, the concavities and convexities, the smoothness and the lightly furred areas of Ray's body. He traced the paths of the blood, feeling it pulse under his lips, listened to the fast, excited rhythm of Ray's heart and the harsh, irregular breathing of arousal. He found unexpectedly sensitive areas-nape of neck, inside of the elbows and backs of the knees, and the small of the back. He explored them all, testing action and reaction. This was what he had longed for, and it was not wise to question why it was being given.

He stroked Ray's erection, sliding his tongue under the folds of the foreskin, flicking across the sensitive tip, and taking it into his mouth. He said a silent thanks to the man who had taught him his skills. If he only had this one chance, he was going to make Ray remember him. Doyle was responding to Bodie's expertise with obvious and very vocal pleasure, writhing and moaning and begging Bodie to stop, begging for more. He came in Bodie's mouth in great, shuddering spasms.

"'S'nice," Ray slurred as he stroked Bodie's hair.

Nice, hell, thought Bodie, knowing the feeling too well. That was as close to rape as you can get without saying no. He settled down and tried to sleep, the taste of Doyle bittersweet on his tongue.

"Don't you want..."

"No. Go to sleep, Ray."

"You get off on going down on guys?"

Bodie was too tired to argue. "Oh, yeah, I love it, y'know. Black lace bras and whips, too. Go to sleep."

There was a long silence in which Bodie found himself wondering why he felt as though he was at the bottom of a well. He felt the bed dip and rise and heard Ray go into the bathroom.

A few moments later, "Bodie, you asleep?"

"No."

"Can I borrow some clothes? Mine are still wet."

"Just come back to bed. They'll be dry soon."

"Don't you want me to take anything?"

"Oh, God, take the whole bloody wardrobe, but drop the Christian martyr routine!"

Ray knelt beside the bed and stroked Bodie's back very softly. "I've been such an awful shit the last few weeks, haven't I?"

"Yes... no. I don't know. Leave it. Go to sleep."

"I can't, Bodie, I hurt."

Bodie sighed as he rolled over. "Come to mum, then," he said with resignation, parting the covers for Doyle. Ray stretched out beside him, burying his face in Bodie's neck.

"I hurt because I hurt you. I'm sorry, Bodie. I'm stupid sometimes, don't know what I want."

"Just want to be loved, I reckon. Nothing bad about that. We all want it."

"You do, too."

"Too expensive for me, mate."

"Giving or getting?" Ray asked, perplexed.

"Getting. Giving is easy."

"Is it?"

"By comparison," Bodie told him.

"And you love me?"

"I have the occasional twinge," Bodie admitted, feeling a proper fool.

"No joking, Bodie-straight up."

"Straight up then, I love you."

"Does it feel," Doyle began wistfully, "like being more alone than you've ever been in your life?"

Bodie chuckled. "Not all bad, Sunshine. It can be quite nice."

"I know. Like you've found that other piece, yes? And you're lonely 'cause you can't pull it inside yourself for safe-keeping, can you? It hurts to know that someday you'll lose it entirely."

"Yeah, you're infected, all right." Damn her, Bodie thought viciously. Damn her.

"Making love is the only way to do it, Bodie, and it's over so quickly..."

Bodie couldn't bear the raw pain in Ray's voice. He pulled his partner close. "She'll come back, Ray. She loves you. She'll come back," he promised, determined to drag her back by her red hair if she refused to come willingly. Shotgun wedding.

"No! No, not her. It wasn't like that with her. She wasn't any part of me. You, Bodie. You're the one who makes the pain bearable. You're that missing piece. I didn't know before. Isn't that love?"

Bodie froze. "Is it?" he asked warily.

"Must be, Bodie." He grasped Bodie's face and looked into his eyes. "What do you feel?"

"Numb."

"I love you. How does that feel?"

He drew a sharp breath. "Frightening. I don't know."

Ray's fingers were digging into his flesh rather painfully.

"I feel warm inside at last. Bodie, I haven't felt anything but cold inside for weeks. Since before Ann."

Bodie was at a loss. The thing he'd wanted most had been put into his hands, and he didn't know what to do with it. He kissed the top of Ray's head. "Warm," he mused. "Yeah, I know."

Ray settled back into Bodie's arms. "Good start. Maybe we should sleep on it."

"Sleep?" He was utterly bewildered, utterly happy. "Yeah."

"We can talk later, and...other things," he promised, tonguing the hollow of Bodie's throat, sending a shiver of pure joy through his partner. "Happy?"

"Besotted."

"Oh, good." He laughed into Bodie's neck, raising goosebumps. They shifted until they found a comfortable position that allowed them to sleep entwined. "Glad I met her now, yeah," Doyle decided. "I might not have met you otherwise."

"Go to sleep, Doyle, or I swear I'll divorce you."

Born alone, die alone. In between, it could be sweet.

-- THE END --