Post Wild Justice

Breathing in air that smelt all the sweeter for having regained his freedom, Bodie stepped out into the twilight and stretched. He had begun to think Ross was going to pry into his life for whatever time was left him.

Shouldn't wonder if she did. He knew he was lucky to still be in CI5 after the way he'd acted. He'd been a right berk for real--up there in Shotgun Tommy's league. Hell, he could be dead now if he hadn't obeyed Cowley and let the biker go when ordered. There was no doubt in his mind that the Controller would have put him down same as he would a mad dog. Cowley only approved of taking justice into his hands; his agents didn't have that option.

It'd taken 6 weeks of meeting with Ross almost daily, but at last he had passed her tests--to Cowley's satisfaction, he hoped. Any more time spent with that woman and he would be crazy. Still, he was willing to own she did have her uses if her poking about got him back on the squad.

Walking to the corner, he decided to wait for the bus--cheaper than a taxi and not so far away as the underground. It paid to watch every tuppence when you were on sick pay. It had irked him, though, to give up the use of his car; but he was off-duty and, according to the small print, didn't rate a vehicle. Sighing, he knew he would never again take having his own motor for granted.

As he stood there waiting in the pleasant autumn night, he gave over his thoughts to the events that had caused his temporary suspension from CI5. Williams' death had thrown him. Last mate from his past murdered by hooligans, worthless creeps who didn't have the slightest idea the worth of man they'd so carelessly eliminated.

Since, of course, he'd learned it'd been more than the way Williams had died that made him go bonkers. Several sessions with Ross had revealed that nasty bit mucking up his mind. The idea he'd subconsciously been seeking his own death had shaken him, because basically, he'd always found life good.

Of course, there was also a large element of revenge in his actions that Ross simply didn't grasp. He supposed you'd have to live it to really understand the closeness between men who depended on one another for survival. Ross had never experienced war, and it wasn't something you could totally comprehend second-hand. Not even CI5 brought that kind of closeness, except in special circumstances. That didn't mean she hadn't mouthed platitudes and acted as if she had understood though.

There'd been a side benefit to being temporarily daft. He'd rediscovered that same bright intensity previously experienced only in battle. Since it permitted exclusion of all extraneous considerations, he'd been able to avoid thinking about his other problem. He shrugged. It had been a short-lived relief.

He grinned shortly as he thought about what he had concealed from the good doctor. She had analyzed his every word, but if she fancied she knew William Bodie she was deceiving herself. Her procedures might work on the average CI5 agent, but she couldn't begin to approximate the interrogation methods of some of the pros Bodie had come up against in his career. However, she was good enough that it had proved exhausting to feed her the necessary information and still maintain his privacy, and now he was weary with the strain of running on the edge.

Unfortunately, their sessions had clarified that something he had been avoiding. As he had begun to understand the implications of this emotion, and to realize he would soon be back full-time in CI5, it made him question for the first time if that was what he really wanted.

Without being aware of it, he gave a deep sigh. That issue would have to be answered, and soon, before he was to report to Cowley at 1100 hours day after tomorrow.

His bus came around the corner then, but before he could step off the kerb, a white Ford Escort, perilously cutting off the bus, roared up in front of him.

"Get in," Doyle demanded. leaning toward the passenger side and opening the door.

He barely noted the angry look of the bus driver for the lurching of his heart as familiar slanted eyes peered up from under a disheveled curly mop. Doyle's arrival was so unexpected that his world tipped briefly, and he rested his hand on the car till he reestablished his equilibrium.

He hadn't spoken more than a few words to his partner...or was it his ex-partner now...since he'd first been suspended. And with great certainty, he knew he was not ready to face Doyle, his major complication.

"Well, come on, get in. I'm in a bus zone. You want the coppers coming round?"

As initial surprise vanished, he managed a wry grin. "You pick up strange fellers often? Got somethin' to learn about technique, you do. You almost ran me over."

"Get in for Christ's sake," Doyle growled again, ignoring the small attempt at levity.

Bodie shrugged his shoulders, unable to think of a reason why he should not accept a ride rather than wait for another bus, and got in. He busied himself fastening his seat belt so he wouldn't have to look at his partner, managing to kill about 60 seconds.

Searching desperately for a safe topic, finally it occurred to him to ask Doyle how he knew where and when to pick him up. "This wasn't a coincidence, was it? How'd you know then when I'd get away from Ross?"

"Didn't. Been parked outside that bloody office for three hours; almost gave it up. Finally had to take a pee. Shouldda' known you'd get out about the time I'd leave. Lucky I got back before you got on that bus."

Bodie was taken aback. "Surely you didn't wait around just to give me a ride home. Wasn't necessary, was it? Been taking the bus for weeks."

"I know." Doyle bit his lip and squirmed. "I found out from Betty this was your last session so I nipped around to wait for you."

"How'd she know?" Bodie asked, surprised. "I didn't know until this afternoon I was being released." Then he answered his own question. "Ross knew, though, didn't she. Probably told Cowley as soon as she knew, too. Never do, would it, to let me know what was going on. It's only my head she's been prying in."

"You know how their minds work," Doyle grunted. "Doesn't matter anyway; you passed their bleedin' tests," he said, dismissing the topic as trivial. "I need to talk to you alone. Didn't want the first time we see each other to be in the Cow's office."

He swung around a corner sharply, just missing a lagging pedestrian.

"Christ, slow down. Don't want to run over John Q. Public, do you?" Bodie grated.

Doyle cast him a narrowed glance, but slowed down. "Taking you to my place, okay? Want some privacy. Besides I've got food in."

Bodie shifted, fighting panic. "Look, let's just stop at the local for one drink and call it a night. I'm tired and I'd like some time to myself. It's pretty grueling battling wits with Ross all day. You know her: she'd pick her granny's arse if she thought she'd learn something."

Doyle shook his head. "Huh uh. I've got something to say."

Resigned, Bodie slumped into the seat and with great determination stared out the window at nothing.

Once they arrived at his place, Doyle surprised him by becoming the perfect host, bustling about, getting drinks, and offering Bodie the best chair.

It wasn't till he settled on the couch that Bodie could pin him down with a suspicious eye. Not that Doyle wasn't a good host if he wanted to be, but Bodie rarely saw this talent gifted on him without reason.

"Don't glare, it's impolite. Didn't your mum teach you any manners?"

"You're evading. What's going on? You don't usually roll out the carpet like this. It's 'Bodie, get yourself a drink, Bodie, get me a drink, Bodie, get out of my my fridge.' So sue me if I'm wondering what you're up to."

"Sod off. I'm not that bad."

Bodie didn't reply, just maintained a steady stare.

Finally Doyle heaved a sigh. "You're right though...I'm evading the issue." A wary look crossed his face as he made a last admission. "Having a tough time getting started, aren't I?"

Despite the sinking sensation in his belly, Bodie found his voice. "I suspect I know what you want to say, mate."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Bodie said, and this time he was the one who searched for the right words. "I'm not surprised you don't want to be partnered with me any more. I behaved like a lunatic. Not exactly what's wanted, is it, when you're looking for someone to guard your back?"

The confusion on Doyle's face turned to consternation, and Bodie was surprised when the other man jumped up and came over to kneel beside his chair. "Look, mate, I don't know where you got an idea like that, but just forget it. I've got no complaints." He swallowed loudly. "No, what I want to do is apologize."

"What? Why? What are you talking about?" Bodie almost stuttered the words, he was so totally taken aback.

Agitated, Doyle rose to his feet and began pacing the rug. "Come on, Bodie. I'm your partner; I'm supposed to know you inside out, better than anyone. You were below par, acting strange, and I knew it. Did I pick up on it? Try to find out what was bothering you? No, dammit! I failed you, and you could have been killed!"

Abruptly, Doyle dropped down beside him again. The intensity in his eyes and voice as he crouched there were almost too great for Bodie to bear. "If you'd've died in that fight, mate, wouldda' been my fault."

Finally Bodie found a rather ragged voice. "Cut it out, Ray. Jesus, you and your great bloody guilt complex." He looked at the stubborn face and his tone softened. "If anyone should apologize, it's me. I used you. You could've got hurt in a biker race. I wasn't thinking about you; I just wanted you to win, to beat that bastard for me."

Doyle shook his head. "It's not the same. I was mad at you long before the race."

Mystified, Bodie asked, "Now what are you going on about?"

"You shut me out," Doyle mumbled, face averted.

] "What??"

His accuser, obviously needing to gather his courage, took a minute before he explained in a near-whisper. "All of a sudden those damned walls went up and it was like I didn't exist for you. You haven't done that to me in a long time, and it made me mad." Green eyes flared momentarily with remembered anger and hurt. "Why'd you do that, Bodie? I'm your partner! Hell, I'm thought you trusted me! You treated me like a stranger!"

The pain that accompanied the words curbed Bodie's angry response and made him consider Doyle's side. "I didn't think you would want to be involved," he answered slowly, afraid the truth would further upset his partner. "Williams was from my past, and you don't approve of that. At least, I didn't think you did." He frowned a moment. "Ray, you have to remember I wasn't rowing with both oars. I do trust you. I wouldn't work with you if I didn't. I'm sorry."

"You get dumber every day," Doyle averred with fervor. "Don't give me that spaniel-eyed look. Maybe I do disapprove of some of the things mercs do, but not you. I've been tying myself in bloody knots ever since this happened. Christ, I was afraid the old man would notice and have me in to see Ross."

"We're pretty pathetic, eh?" Bodie asked, a small smile creasing his mouth. "Here I'm thinking you wouldn't want to be partnered with a berk, and you're thinking I don't trust you." He relaxed slightly, and without thinking, automatically reached to tousle the curly head of his now smiling mate. "S'nice to know we're both wrong."

Just as quickly, his hand dropped as he considered the revelations of the past minutes. It wasn't easy, but it caused him to reach a decision. Because of him, their relationship had become unstable, and it had hurt Doyle. Everything had been resolved this time, but if Doyle ever learned Bodie's secret, there'd be more pain. As he considered the future, it seemed to him that it was dangerous for Doyle to continue on such a course.

"Got something to say meself, sunshine." He paused as his eyes traced the familiar features of the expectant face. "Been thinking it was time I moved on; I've been with this mob too long. Anyway, I have to make a decision before I see the Cow," he added quickly. "That's why I wanted to be alone tonight. Got some heavy thinking to do, don't I?"

Afraid to look at his partner, he got up quickly and walked over to the door. "Thanks for the offer of a meal, but I think I'd better go home. Can catch a cab out front." Finally sneaking a peek at Doyle, he saw the man had slumped to the floor and appeared as bewildered as a child who'd just been unduly reprimanded. It was cowardly, but before Doyle could recoup his senses, he ran. "See you later, okay."

By the time he found a cab and got home, he was completely depressed. With nothing but his own thoughts to occupy him and knowing he wouldn't sleep if he went to bed so early, he found a book on World War I he'd been meaning to read. Doggedly he set himself to read every word, even though none of it seemed to register. He never knew when he finally dozed off, but he was in that first deep sleep when the intercom sounded. Instinct pulled him out of bed to answer, but his response was groggy. "Yeh, who is it?"

"It's me."

"What's wrong?" he asked, senses suddenly alert.

"Nothin', just lemme in."

Pushing the release button, he opened the door to wait for Doyle to come up the steps. Amazed, he realized there was a slight slur in Doyle's speech.

"What is it then?" he asked, slightly alarmed. This was very unlike his partner.

Without preamble, Doyle grabbed him, forcing him up against the wall. "Bodie, don't do this. Maybe I shouldn't try to stop you if it's what you really want, but I don't believe it. I can't have been all wrong about you, can I?" Then with some urgency, he was clenching Bodie's arms painfully. "Were you lying before; don't you trust me anymore?"

"God yes." As he looked at the pugnacious face so close to his, he felt his bones go soft with the realization of how much Doyle must care to make such an appeal.

"Then why are you thinking about leaving m...leavin' the squad?" Doyle asked. "Is it because I got soppy?"

"Ray, come on in and let me shut the door. I'll make some coffee."

"I'm not drunk," Doyle protested.

Bodie didn't want to argue; it took more than three or four beers to make Ray Doyle squiffy. "Maybe you don't, but I need something to wake up properly."

Doyle let himself be drawn into the kitchen and sat at the table, but never for a minute did Bodie feel the eyes leave him as he put the kettle on and spooned coffee into the mugs.

Finally with cups in hand they settled on the couch, and he took pity on Doyle. "I didn't say I'd definitely made up my mind to go. Just that I was considering it."

His words didn't make much of an impression. Doyle still looked about as miserable as a wet cat, and Bodie knew then he was sunk. He hadn't been able to resist the appeal in those huge green eyes for a long time, especially when they were looking at him so beseechingly. "It's...it's just that I was worried I might fail you," he lied facilely. "Something else from my past could set me off..."

"Don't be a clot," Doyle interrupted. "This won't happen again."

Bodie shook his head. "I'd never want to, but..."

"No buts, I know," Doyle said with firmness.

Bodie sat very still, weighing pros and cons, but finally in the face of such faith and persistence, he just simply allowed all resistance to drain away. "Okay, sunshine, whatever you want," he said gently.

At his abrupt capitulation, a smile spread over Doyle's face. For a moment Bodie felt disquieted, but it was too late to backtrack now he'd declared himself willing to stay. What he felt for Doyle was frightening, but now that he was beginning to get a glimmer of the extent of the other man's true feelings, leaving him was impossible. Then impatient with himself, he resolutely dismissed the fears; he'd made a decision whatever the cost, and just seeing Doyle happy now was more than satisfactory compensation.

His attention returned to the man happily prodding him with a sharp finger. "You got anything in? I'm so hungry, I'm about to perish. Never did get supper."

The contentment he saw there bought Bodie's peace of mind. A tug from Doyle brought him to his feet, grumbling ineffectually as he followed his mercurial partner out to the kitchen. Giving a small shrug then, he decided worrying about the future was more in Doyle's line. Right now he was exactly where he wanted to be and with whom he wanted to be. Justice might be blind, but for once the scales seemed to be tipping in his favor.

-- THE END --