No one knows what it's like to be the bad man.
To be the sad man.
Behind blue eyes.

The day slipped into night as the steady hum of tires on the wet road filled the interior of the car. Bodie pushed hard on the accelerator, wanting to run and distance himself from the pain that consumed him. He kept hearing Cowley's words, repeating over and over in his mind. It wasn't his fault. He needed to place blame where blame was due. Directly at the feet of the men who had done this. To let others deal with bringing them to justice and not take it into his own hands.

No matter what anyone said, he knew the truth. The truth that he kept buried deep inside himself. He had failed to protect his partner and Doyle had paid the price. What had happened to Doyle was his fault. Guilt was his alone to bear. He couldn't go back and change things, but he could deliver justice. His kind of justice. One that was only understood by men such as he now hunted. He knew he was capable of deeds no civilized man would ever truly allow himself. That particular trait would serve him for once, not for someone else's gain.

The vision of seeing Ray crumpled on the floor rose unbidden in his mind's eye, temporarily blurring the road in front of him. To see first hand the violation his partner had suffered had snapped what little control he had maintained while he had searched for Doyle, fearing he'd find him dead. The rage that had consumed him had caused the other agents to back up, safely out of reach. He had dropped to his knees, gently cradling Doyle's limp body close, refusing to allow anyone to get close to him. It had been Cowley who had reined him in, got him to listen, forcing him to yield Doyle's battered form to the clinical hands of medical personnel. Yet all he heard were empty words. How none of it was his fault, that Doyle would recover and he would need Bodie to heal to get past the rape.

Discovering the identity of the men who had harmed Doyle gave his rage direction. Refusing to heed Cowley's orders to take time off and regain control, he had traced his quarry to Edinburgh. He had slipped past Murphy who had been assigned to be his minder. Now his destination through the dark, rainy night was just up ahead.

Forcing himself to concentrate on the slick road and his sole purpose for taking off instead of being where he obviously wasn't needed, Bodie continued to speed around slower cars. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, wishing flesh and bone was under his hands instead.

A coldness of old settled over him and he wrapped himself in the familiar cloak, dulling the ache that once housed his heart, allowing himself to focus on the purpose he had appointed himself. He welcomed the temporary reprieve from feeling anything. From hurting.

Driving through Edinburgh, he headed toward the docks. He found a run down hotel close enough for his purposes and paid for a room.

---

No one knows what it's like to be hated.
To be fated.
To telling only lies.

The small hotel room had the barest of furnishings. Tossing his carryall onto the chair beside the bed, Bodie stripped to ready for a shower. The hot water scalded his skin, turning it bright red. Ignoring the pain, he quickly washed, roughly scrubbing at his flesh.

Pulling back the crisp, cold sheets, Bodie slid into bed, his bare skin sensitive from the shower. He rolled over on his side, punching the pillow before settling down to rest.

The memory of Doyle lying so pale and still in the bed, nurses moving in and out of the room haunted him. He had stayed by Doyle's side until he had regained consciousness, wanting to see for himself the accusation in those green eyes. The few words spoken were etched into his memory, never to be forgotten.

"Bodie?" Doyle called out before ever opening his eyes.

"Right here," answered Bodie, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Hurts."

"I know," choked out Bodie, watching the grimace of pain on Doyle's face as he started to shift and froze.

"Should have waited for you before trying to take them on single handedly," said Doyle, his voice barely over a whisper, causing Bodie to lean forward to catch his words. "Had hoped you would have shown up sooner." There was no trace of anger in Doyle's voice, only resignation. "Guess I was lucky you did come when you did though. They would have gone ahead and killed me otherwise."

Bodie clenched his fists tightly, wanting to confess that the men responsible had already left before he had found him. That they had succeeded in their only purpose to hurt Doyle as much as they could without really killing him as an example of what they thought of CI5 and those who opposed them.

"Then again, maybe that would have been better," added Doyle, turning his face away.

"Don't say that, Ray." Bodie's voice rose, Doyle's words slicing to his very core. "Everything's going to be fine." He knew the words he spoke were hollow, lies to soothe the wounds that ran deeper than mere mortal flesh.

Doyle turned his face away, his eyes bright with unshed tears. Bodie didn't blame him for not being able to look at him. He hated himself just as much, if not more, than Doyle did right now.

"I'm sorry, Ray," whispered Bodie, backing away from the bed and Doyle. He was met with silence, which didn't surprise him. He quietly opened the door to leave, then turned toward Doyle before stepping out. "They'll pay for this. I promise that much. Even if I did fail you."

"Bodie." Ray called out as the door shut, but Bodie didn't come back.

---

But my dreams, they aren't as empty.
As my conscience seems to be.

I have hours, only lonely.
My love is vengeance,
That's never free.

Green eyes crinkled in laughter, while the sound from the full lips was rich and deep. Strong arms encircled him, hugging him close as they tumbled together onto the bed. Soft curls tickled his cheek, the feel of his love lying beside him bringing him warmth and a smile.

Bodie rolled and twisted until he covered his lover, feeling the strength and power at rest beneath him. "I love you."

His lover smiled and kissed him with fiery passion, drawing him down until they melded together. He was protected and loved, relishing in the safety of the world they had created between them. All he wanted and all he needed to be happy was here with him, sharing the joy of love and laughter in the simple pleasure of being together.

Suddenly everything darkened and a coldness descended on him. He pulled back to look into the pale, closed off face of his lover. The green eyes pierced through him with a hurt and pain that struck deep into his soul. Gradually, Doyle faded, leaving behind an empty coldness. He called out, fear slicing through him.

Doyle's faint and distant voice answered him from the dark shadows that surrounded him. "You didn't protect me, Bodie. You should have been there to stop them. You say you love me, yet you didn't save me from being raped, from being hurt deeper than any physical wounds could ever inflict. They only harmed my body, but you betrayed my trust."

"No!" yelled Bodie. He reached out, but he encountered only emptiness. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." His heart felt like it was being torn from his chest, he tried to rise to his feet to search for Doyle.

"I trusted you, Bodie. I believed in you." Doyle's voice faded into the darkness, leaving Bodie alone.

Out of the shadows emerged the two men who had taken away any chance of true happiness. He had lost what he never had to begin with because of them.

Grasping desperately to regain what he had lost, he found himself face to face with those who had taken what wasn't theirs. Letting go a roar, he lunged forward, intent on tearing them limb from limb with his bare hands. Mocking laughter echoed in the darkness as they vanished back into the shadows, leaving him powerless.

Shouting in fear and anger, Bodie bolted awake, tangled in the bedding. Taking a deep breath, he wiped the sweat from his face. It was still several hours before dawn as he dropped back down on the bed. He laid awake, staring into the darkness as the love he once nurtured was gone with only vengeance left in it's wake.

---

No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings,
Like I do.
And I blame you.

Bodie pulled up in front of the pub he had been told he would find those he was seeking. It looked like the sort of place his quarry would eventually come to, blending in with the rest of the lowlifes. Stepping inside the dark interior, he scanned the room looking for the faces he searched for. Choosing a table set far in the back, he sat down and waited.

Cowley might have large resources to call upon to point him in the general direction, but he had sources that could pinpoint exactly where to find what one was looking for. He knew the bastards were in the area, it was simply a matter of time before they showed up.

Ordering a drink, he ignored the blatant flirting of the barmaid, who quickly left him in peace. Each time the door opened his gaze narrowed as the person entered and each time it wasn't them. With patience born from the jungle, he waited, burying the dark feelings eating away at him as deeply as he could. There would be time later to punish himself for his failure.

He brought the glass to his lips and drank, Cowley's voice starting up once again. It was easy to lay blame where it belonged, and it did rest on the men who committed the crime against his partner, but it also belonged at his own feet. To make them pay for their share of the responsibility, Bodie had to shoulder his part of the burden as well.

People came and went as he watched in silence. He met any glance in his direction until it turned away, just as Doyle had turned from him.

As closing time came around, Bodie rose and left. He would be back again until they showed up. It didn't matter how long it took, there was no time limit on revenge.

He sat on the bed, putting off sleep as long as he could. Eventually exhaustion won out over anger and he fell asleep. Nightmares filled his dreams and he woke as he had the night before and once again waited until dawn burned away the night.

He spent the day in his room, only venturing out to pick up the local version of take away. He stared at the phone beside the bed, fighting the need to call and hear Doyle's voice, even if it would hold nothing but coldness for him. He would make the phone call once he had dealt with those responsible, at least then he could reassure Doyle that they would never hurt him again. Just as Bodie would never fail him again. He'd disappear, leaving Doyle in peace.

He went back to the pub each day, sitting in the same chair, waiting and watching. And each night he left to go back to the hell that awaited him in sleep.

On the fourth night, the door swung open and two men entered. Bodie tensed, forcing himself to remain seated, signalling the barmaid for another round. He watched as they claimed a table near his, drawing on years of training to patiently wait for the moment to strike.

---

No one bites back as hard on their anger.
None of my pain and woe,
Can show through.

Bodie took a deep breath and forced a hard smile on his face. He slowly rose to his feet, making his way over to their table.

"Care for a game of darts?" asked Bodie, motioning toward the dart board on the back wall. "Make it interesting." He pulled out some bills and laid them on the table in front of them.

"Sure, why not?" The larger of the two stood and sauntered past Bodie, who turned to follow him.

Bodie played each of them in turn, allowing them to win half of the games. He kept them supplied with drinks, while nursing his lone ale.

Last call rang out near closing time and the two men moved to leave, slightly weaving on their feet. He watched them exit the pub before following them out. He moved toward his car, sliding behind the wheel, his attention on the two men piling into their own vehicle.

Suddenly, an arm came around from the back and turned off the engine. He grabbed the wrist and lifted his elbow to smash into the man's face. The determined look of his partner stared back at him.

"What are you doin' here?" Bodie jerked as far away as the confines of the front seat allowed.

"You're not the only one with sources, Bodie."

"You should still be in hospital, not here," said Bodie, his voice rough.

"You weren't there, so I had to come here," said Doyle. The look on Bodie's face screamed volumes to him. "Other than being sore, I'm fine. Or I will be, providing Cowley doesn't string us both up."

"You shouldn't be here," ground out Bodie.

"Where else would I be, Bodie? You led us to them, I just wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid because of some misplaced guilt." Doyle's eyes darted toward the front of the car.

Bodie looked up in time to see the car with his targets surrounded by law enforcers. "Not good enough. They deserve worse than just imprisonment."

"You don't think I want to kill them myself?" demanded Doyle. "But if I did that, I wouldn't be any better than them. Let the courts deal with them. I'd rather have them rot away somewhere than lose you. You mean too much to me, mate, and I know what I mean to you."

Bodie watched tight lipped as his chance of vengeance slipped away with flashing lights. He yanked open the car door and bolted, disappearing in the long shadows before Doyle could reach him.

---

But my dreams they aren't as empty,
As my conscience seems to be.

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free.

Bodie curled into a tight ball on his bed, cradling the half bottle of scotch. Seeing Doyle tonight had brought home just how much he had lost. The slim hope of having a dreamless, drunken sleep had him drinking hard and fast.

This time the dream centred around Doyle. Instead of fading, he pushed Bodie away and stood just out of reach.

"You're no better than them," accused Doyle. "They could have taken my life, but they didn't. Yet you would have killed them without hesitation."

"What they did was worse," argued Bodie, wanting Doyle to come back to him.

"Oh, so you'd rather me be dead, then?"

"No!" shouted Bodie.

"Then what do you want, Bodie?"

"To love you," whispered Bodie, bowing his head. "To have you love me. For you to forgive me."

"Love? How can there be love without trust?" demanded Doyle. "I trusted you to watch my back. How can I possibly forgive you for not protecting me?"

"I'm sorry, Ray." Bodie kept his eyes downcast, not strong enough to face the truth of Doyle's words.

"Sorry doesn't make it all go away."

"I know."

Doyle turned his back and walked away.

Bodie woke and rolled out of bed, stumbling toward the toilet in the other room. The acid burn of the alcohol seared his throat, adding tears of pain along with tears of remorse. His stomach cramping with dry heaves, he collapsed with his back against the tub, surrounded by misery and self loathing.

Knowing that Doyle was somewhere out there looking for him brought home just how lonely his life was now. He could never face Doyle for what he had failed to do and what he had intended to do. If that was the best Bodie had to offer him, it was no wonder he was alone.

---

When my fist clenches, crack it open,
Before I use it and lose my cool.
When I smile, tell me some bad news,
Before I laugh and act like a fool.

Throwing his clothes into his carryall, Bodie looked up as his door opened.

"I should terminate you for this damn fool stunt you tried to pull." Cowley stood in the doorway, looking over the dishevelled state of his agent. "You not only disregarded my orders strictly preventing you from going after those men, but you intended to commit premeditated murder."

Bodie turned back to his packing, shoving his stuff roughly inside. "Why are you even here?"

"To talk some sense into you," answered Cowley. "You're running away, just like you have every time you had to face yourself. When are you going to learn that it's impossible?"

"Not runnin' from myself," said Bodie, his fist clenched tight around his kit.

"Doyle needs you, more now than he ever did before. He's your partner, and you're abandoning him."

"I'm the last thing he needs," snorted Bodie. "He needs a bloody partner who won't let him down."

"Really?" snapped Cowley. "You honestly think anyone else would have found him any sooner? You show me the man who can predict the future and I'll give him my job. You're good, Bodie. I don't want to lose you," Cowley paused before adding, "Doyle doesn't want to lose you either."

Bodie's smile was hard as he straightened and looked at his boss. "Can't lose someone you never had."

Cowley's gaze narrowed.

"Ray's fine, told me so himself." Bodie hefted his carryall and moved to step around Cowley.

"He shouldn't have left hospital but he has the same fool sense as you," shot Cowley, reaching out his arm and blocking the doorway. "He's down in the car waiting."

Bodie stopped, waiting for Cowley to move aside. After a moment, Cowley dropped his arm and followed Bodie outside.

Doyle stood leaning against the side of Bodie's car, arms folded across his chest. As soon as he spotted Bodie, he opened the passenger door of the car. "You drive."

Bodie clamped down on his emotions and climbed behind the wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror, watching Cowley motion for Murphy to bring his own car around.

---

And if I swallow anything evil,
Put your fingers down my throat.
And if I shiver, please give me a blanket.
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat.

They rode in silence out of Edinburgh, Bodie's full attention on the road. Bodie was relieved to find Cowley wasn't following them.

"Figured you wouldn't be taking off on me while the car is moving," said Doyle, breaking the silence and twisting to sit sideways in the seat. He couldn't stop the grimace as he shifted around.

Bodie remained silent, his expression blank.

"They poisoned you, mate," said Doyle, shifting again as he tried to ease the pain of sitting. "They tried to destroy me, but damn near got you instead. The possibility of losing you hurt me more than anything they ever did to me."

Bodie looked over at him, disbelief in his eyes.

"Pull over," ordered Doyle.

Once Bodie had the car stopped, he reached over and cupped Bodie's face with his hands. "Tell me if I'm wrong, but we've always had something special between us. Something neither of us were brave enough to admit."

Bodie stared into the green eyes that held him prisoner, unable to deny the truth.

"Don't let them win, Bodie," said Doyle, his voice softening. "If we never move beyond partners and friends, let it be because we decided not to."

"How can you even consider such a thing after what you went through?" asked Bodie, unable to accept that Doyle was offering him his heart's desire.

"Because it's you. But don't do this because you feel obligated. I'll get past what they did to me, but I'll get past it a lot faster knowing you can still love me despite what happened. Please, Bodie. Love me."

"I'll always love you, Ray. Always have, always will." Bodie felt a loosening around his chest and a weight lift from his shoulders, only to be replaced with tremors that made his hands shake.

Doyle drew Bodie into a tight embrace, running his hand up and down his back. Gradually Bodie's shivering eased and he tilted his head back to get a good look at Bodie's face. With a smile, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Bodie's lips. "Love you, too. Now what do you say we go home?"

Bodie raised a hand to his lips, wanting to capture the feel of Doyle kissing him. It took only a moment for Bodie to shift the car into gear and head for home.

---

No one knows what it's like to be the bad man.
To be the sad man.
Behind blue eyes.

Bodie strode into the rest room at headquarters, spotting Doyle sitting in the corner. The tense concentration as he read the paper had Bodie moving to his side.

"They're dead," said Doyle, his eyes still fixed on the paper in his hands. It had been six months since Doyle's assailants had been sentenced and the nightmares for them both had slowly faded.

Bodie didn't have to ask who. "Can't say I'm broken up about it."

"They were found stabbed to death in their cells, no likely suspects at this time," read Doyle. He folded the paper, turning to study his partner.

"Let's go home," suggested Bodie, digging the car keys out of his pocket and tossing them to Doyle. "You drive."

They entered the flat, which was considered Doyle's by headquarters. Although they still had separate homes, they always stayed together at one or the other.

"Hungry?" asked Bodie, moving into the kitchen.

"Not for food," answered Doyle, shedding his jacket and holster. The news that the men were dead gave him a sense of liberation he didn't want to admit, yet Bodie would understand.

Bodie turned around at the tone and couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. A sexually aggressive Doyle was still a rare occurrence. He quickly removed his own coat and holster, walking backward as Doyle stalked him.

Quickly they undressed and climbed into bed, rolling back and forth together. Bodie reared back, looking into green eyes crinkled at the corners as he lover grinned up at him. "I love you."

Doyle encircled him and hugged him close, kissing him with a fiery passion, melding them body and soul.

Bodie squeezed his eyes shut, the shadow of a dream floating up from the depths of his memory and he held on tight. He felt the strength and power at rest beneath him and he shivered, afraid everything would prove to be a dream.

"It's okay," soothed Doyle, petting lightly down Bodie's back to his bum. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Love me," whispered Bodie.

"Always have, always will," replied Doyle, repeating the words Bodie had said to him when he had asked for the same thing. He pushed against Bodie's shoulder, rolling them until he was stretched out on top.

Bodie watched Doyle, his blue eyes half shuttered as he accepted his lover inside himself. Pleasure coursed through him, filling him with the feeling of being cherished.

"Love you," gasped Doyle, thrusting deep inside.

Green eyes locked with blue as they rode the waves of passion, joining their very existence.

Collapsing in a tangle of arms and legs, Doyle buried the questions that had started to form when he had read the paper earlier. He didn't want to know if Bodie was connected to the events that led to the demise of those two men. Not because it would change the way he felt for him, but because Bodie would imagine the judgement he would search for in Doyle's own eyes.

"You always could chase away the demons," murmured Bodie.

Doyle lifted his head, wondering if Bodie really could read his mind. "We chase away each other's demons."

Curling on their sides, Bodie spooned behind Doyle, tugging him close. Despite the way Doyle perceived him, Bodie knew the darkness would always be a part of him, no matter how far down he buried it. Holding Doyle tight, he nuzzled the soft curls that tickled his cheek.

-- THE END --

(Lyrics by The Who - Behind Blue Eyes)