The Professionals Circuit Archive - Runner Home	Runner Home

 

by Anne Carr

  
 "Drink, mate?"

"No way." Ray Doyle grinned at his partner. "I've a date tonight and I'm
not wastin' my time with *you*."

Bodie nodded. "Hot?"

"You'd love 'er--which is *precisely* why you'll never meet 'er."

Backhanded compliment. Bodie waited until his partner was almost out of
the car, then leaned over. "Figure she'll choose the better man, eh?"

"If *that* was the problem I wouldn't have to worry." Doyle slammed the
car door then leaned in the window. "Run tomorrow?"

"Think you'll be up to it?"

"If I'm late start without me." Ray waved a brief farewell and skipped up
the steps and out of sight.

Bodie set the Capri in gear and drove away slowly. Friday night with a
whole book full of eager, available women and all he wanted was the moon.
Or something just as inaccessible. It was getting harder and harder to
keep up the idle joking, the off hand backchat that had become such an
integral part of their team. He wasn't exactly sure *when* his friendship
for Ray had slipped into love, certainly didn't know *why*, and didn't
really care. One morning it was there and he'd been running scared ever
since.

He drove to the pub nearest this quarter's flat and sat lonely over a
drink. By now Ray would be getting ready for his date, probably wearing
one of Bodie's shirts that he'd borrowed and never bothered to return.
Doyle bought his own clothes for comfort, used his partner's when he had
to dress up. From the look on his face Bodie knew this was definitely a
dress-up affair.

Girlish laughter brought him back to his surroundings and he glanced at
the occupants of the adjacent table. One blonde, one brunette, both
lookers. Not so long ago he'd have been interested, exerted a little charm
and walked away with one or both. Now he mentally shrugged and took a long
pull of his lager. He hadn't been out with a bird for a couple of months,
not since he realized it was a farce to waste the money and the time.

If he couldn't have Ray, and he couldn't, then he didn't want anyone. He
had taken to spending his evenings alone at the flat, reading a book,
watching TV, reliving the day spent with Ray....

It was an intolerable situation that couldn't go on much longer. But Bodie
had not been able to find a way out. He sat and drank a second round,
worrying the problem. He could leave CI5--contract or no Cowley couldn't
stop him, probably wouldn't even try too hard. But then what? He had done
the mercenary bit, didn't *ever* want to go back. There were other
agencies, private ones, but that still put him in London and while it was
a big city, he might run into Ray anytime. In fact, he knew his partner
well enough to know it was a sure thing. Doyle might not be interested in
him in *that* way, but he cared. Bodie knew he wouldn't be left alone. Ray
would want to know what and why and when and how, and Bodie wasn't about
to tell him.

So what did that leave? Private security maybe, bodyguard to some damn
Arab? Bodie sighed. No way out. He finished his third lager, not
noticeably affected, and drove home. Friday night. Alone.

******

At first he didn't recognize the face. So much older, the beard gone and
the hair longer and styled differently. But the voice...he'd have known
that voice anywhere. Bodie gazed at the man standing on his front steps
for a long moment, then said quietly, "You'd better come in, Ian."

His flat was airy, larger than usual, free of the clutter that grew
irrepressibly in Ray's place. Bodie switched on the lights and poured his
visitor a drink then leaned against the door, watching Ian sprawl easily
into his armchair

"How'd you find me?"

Ian smiled, a genuinely sweet smile that took years off his face. "Purest
chance. After all these years. Can you believe it?"

Bodie relaxed a little, remembering. "You always were lucky, you sod."

"Saw you come in here yesterday," Ian went on, "so today I just came back
and waited."

God, the voice. That slight South African twang rippled along Bodie's
nerves. He moved away from the door. "I'm surprised you recognized me.
What's it been--ten years, eleven?"

"Twelve," Ian stretched. "I turned thirty-two last month. That makes
you...."

"Thirty," Bodie grimaced. "Don't remind me."

Ian held out his drink. "Another?"

Bodie came obediently forward, but when he reached to take the glass Ian
hooked a finger over his, pressed it for an instant and released him.
Bodie straightened and his eyes met the warm brown of his visitor's. He
took a long breath, "You had dinner yet?"

"I can *always* eat," Ian smiled again. "What've you got? Are you any
better cookin' than you used to be?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. Okay--point the way," he put his hands on Bodie's
shoulders, turned him, and pushed towards the kitchen. "One gourmet
delight comin' up."

Ian cooked the steak and veg with sauce while Bodie made salad. And while
they worked they talked.

"How's your mother?" Bodie asked.

"She's dead. Cancer." For a moment Ian lost his smile. "She used to ask
about you."

"I'm sorry." Bodie meant it. The 'older' woman of his Cape days. Evelyn
Camden, who took him in for her son's sake and loved him like his own
mother never had. "When?"

"About six years ago. It was a blessing. She hurt a lot." Ian checked the
steak, turned it. "I haven't been home since." He leaned against the
counter, slim and muscled, taller than Bodie by several inches. "What
about you?"

"I've been around."

"It shows."

"I did the merc bit, like we used to talk about."

"And was I right?"

"Yeh, it sucked."

Ian refrained from saying 'I told you so.'

"Then I ran guns for awhile. Then I went legit," Bodie eyed his salad and
gave it another toss. "Joined the army, the Paras, then the SAS."

"And now?"

"CI5."

Ian whistled. That's the *big* time! Stop mangling that lettuce, it's dead
three times over."

Bodie laughed and felt a kind of peace wash over him. It was good to be
back with Ian--no promises, no hassles Ian--who gave and gave and made him
laugh. He wished Doyle could meet him, wished...no, best not to think of
Ray. Ray was off with his date somewhere, probably dancing....

"Hey," Ian tapped his arm. "Come back."

"Sorry."

"You got it bad for him, don't you?"

Bodie's eyes instantly shuttered, but Ian wasn't put off.

"You were with him last night, remember? When I saw you. Why'd you think I
didn't come over then?"

Bodie turned away, "You mean Ray? He's my partner and that's *all*."

"Okay. The steak's done. Plates, Phil! Liven up! I'm starving!"

Phil. About to correct him, Bodie paused. It had been a long time since
anyone called him by that name. Twelve years. Bodie, he thought, is Ray's
name for me. "Over the sink," he said and reached for the thrice-dead
salad.

Over dinner Bodie got around to asking what Ian was doing in England.

"I'm on tour."

"Huh?"

"Tour. Music, Phil. Remember the guitar? Well, after you left I was a
little...upset." Ian's tone was light. "I spent a lot of time at a nearby
club--drinking mostly. But eventually I met up with some guys and they
needed another guitar," he shrugged. "I got hooked."

Bodie eyed him. "On *what*?"

"The music, you ass. I'm still Evelyn's little boy, you know. Not dumb
enough to get hooked on anything else."

True. "She'd of killed you."

"Too right, mate. After she died I went to Australia and joined another
band. Quit hogging the veg. Thank you. Anyway, we made a record, it was a
hit and here I am."

"What kind of music?"

"Rock. Sort of heavy--you know, like Pink Floyd."

Bodie remembered Ian singing ballads. "So where're your groupies?"

"Left 'em at the hotel, didn't I? Didn't figure you'd have enough to feed
'em all. They run in the millions, ya know."

Bodie laughed again. Christ, it was good, this. He looked at his old
friend, the only other man besides Ray he'd ever fancied, and found he
still liked him. Love--well love was for Ray, and unrequited; what he'd
had with Ian had been good, too.

Ian met his eyes. "You're staring."

"Seeing old times."

"Yeh," Ian agreed. "Me, too."

They looked at each other a moment longer then Ian added, "Is that gun
you're wearing loaded?"

"Wouldn't wear one that wasn't, would I? Not in my trade."

"Well, take it off. It makes me nervous and I'm not here to put cyanide in
your tea or anything."

Bodie complied, laying the holster aside, out of sight. It was like taking
off a part of his life, a piece that was causing pain, confusion, hurt.
When he turned back Ian was there beside him, standing close. Bodie
waited. Ray, he thought suddenly, viciously, doesn't want me--not in the
way I need to be wanted--but Ian does. He's here, now, and he wants me. He
met the warm brown gaze and amended...needs me.

Gentle fingers touched his face, the calluses rough along his cheek. Bodie
shut his eyes. Yes, he thought, please *need* me....

Lips moved against his, soft at first, then harder, demanding a response.
Bodie gave it, sighing as the hands moved to his back, pulling his
unresisting body closer. His mouth opened and he gasped as Ian's tongue
met his. It had been so long....

He felt the hard strength of Ian's back, stroked lower, memory telling him
what this man liked. Eventually the kiss ended and Ian spoke softly.
"Bedroom?"

******

It was late. Bodie pulled the blanket closer over his shoulder and felt
Ian's arm tighten around his waist. The lean body of his lover was spread
all along his side, the sleeping man's breath soft against his neck. He
felt, too, the sticky sperm on his belly. He was relaxed, satiated, the
pent up sexual pressure relieved after months of abstinence. He recognized
the sensation and felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn't fair to do this with
Ian when the man he really wanted was Ray.

Damn it, Doyle! Why can't you....

Stop it, Bodie. Stop now, before love turns to something sour....

But wasn't that already happening? Yesterday, not for the first time, he
had snapped at Ray for no reason at all except he was too close, too
tempting. and Bodie was too scared to lose what he already had with his
partner to risk asking for more. Ray had merely looked at him, then passed
it off like he did all the other times--but not before Bodie had seen the
swiftly covered hurt in his partner's puzzled eyes. One day it would start
to effect their work--and his love for Ray could wind up killing them
both.

Lots of questions but no easy answers....

With Ian he hadn't had to ask. Never had had to ask. From almost the first
they had been in sync, the seventeen year old, hungry, down-on-his-luck
sailor who had jumped ship and found his way to Capetown, and the nineteen
year old heir to a fortune who took him in, no questions asked and gave
him a home, self respect, and a mother. Bodie felt a rush of affection and
dropped a light kiss on the soft dark curls nestled against him. He owed
Ian his life--his body had been nothing to give in repayment. And Ian had
taught him to accept that part of himself that enjoyed uninhibited sex
with another man; a lesson that made life in the mercs bearable, if not
pleasant. Because Bodie knew it *could* be good, he learned to live with
the attempted rapes, the malicious baiting, the pain of those years.
Something else he owed Ian--the knowledge of what could be good.

There had been, he thought, a certain desperation in both of them tonight,
and he wondered what drove Ian. A musician! Well at least he hadn't just
taken the money Evelyn left and lived off it. Instead he had made his own
way--something she would have liked. Bodie's thoughts wandered on. Had
Ian's mother known about their relationship? Probably. If so it hadn't
colored her opinion of either of them. He had spent eighteen months in
that household, first as a sort of handyman, then as a full-fledged member
of the tiny family. A good, safe time that ended because he was young and
had romantic stupid dreams of making his own fortune.

They had let him go, sadly but without guilt. He promised to write but
never did--not after he found out what being a merc was all about.

Guns made Ian nervous. Ian, who detested violence because he was a
peaceful man. Bodie, who had grown up on the back streets of several
British cities and understood violence, lived with it and craved the
peace, but knew he'd no more find it in the Cape than in the Merchant
Navy. He killed his first man on a hot jungle night not two months after
saying goodbye and had never looked back. Until now.

Beside him Ian murmured and pressed closer, one leg sliding intimately
between Bodie's own. He's grown up well, Bodie thought, remembering how
the light caught the strong features of Ian's thin face. There was
character stamped all over him, vitality in every line.

Like Ray.

"'ey!" Ian interrupted his thoughts with a sleepy void. "Settle down for
chrissake, willya? Unless...."

One hand slid up Bodie's inner thigh to fondle the burgeoning sex. 

"Ummm," Ian approved as he felt the responsive hardening. "Christ you turn
me on, Phil...commere...closer...oh god, *yes*...." Ian rolled to his
back, pulling Bodie on top of him. "Do me, Phil...fuck me...I want you in
me."

Driven on by the hoarse whispers Bodie obeyed, losing himself in the dark
pleasures of the hard body moving urgently beneath his, vaguely aware of
the heady aphrodisiac of being needed. He lifted Ian's legs, wrapping them
around his waist, and plunged himself deep into the tight channel, at the
same time reaching to grip the hard cock that pressed into his belly. Ian
cried out and arched, urging him deeper, pushing him on towards release,
not letting him go until Bodie had emptied himself in wave after wave of
hot fluid.

Bodie leaned forward in that last moment, kissed his lover's shoulder,
then bit it hard as he came, feeling the pulsing of Ian's climax over his
fingers. Then, exhausted, he collapsed to one side, slipping free of his
still gasping lover, and fell easily into a dreamless sleep.

He was awakened before dawn, as Ian rolled out of bed and stumbled to the
bathroom. He took his own turn and was surprised to find the musician
sitting on the bed, pulling on his crumpled jeans.

"It's early," Bodie yawned. "Where're you goin'?"

"Back to the hotel. Phil," Ian stood, zipped the tight Levi's, and came
closer. "Come with me."

"Can't," Bodie said automatically.

Ian bit his lip, then held out his arms. Bodie went into the embrace
easily. A warm mouth touched his beard stubbled cheek and lingered by his
ear. "You can," Ian whispered. "Come work for me."

"Doing what?" Bodie was beginning to wake up.

"Anything. I don't care. Head of security--we just fired the old one so
god knows we could use it."

Bodie shook his head. "I've got a contract, and a not very understanding
boss."

"Quit. Phil...."

"Ian--I...."

"You're *real*, Phil. There's not much in my life right now that is real.
I *need* you...."

The magic words. What he wanted to hear. Someone who really needed
him...Bodie pushed back a little. "I *can't*. It's not fair."

"Because of him?" Ian's smile was there again. "This partner of yours?
Ray? I understand, mate. But if you had what you wanted there you'd never
have gone to bed with me, would you?"

Bodie was silent. This then, could be his way out. A job that he knew
without being told contained no strings. And he owed Ian, owed him for a
time when he had been lost and alone and had been given back his life.

A tour. That would take him out of London, away from Ray...pain wrenched
through him like a knife. He couldn't, he wasn't strong enough.

But what if he stayed? What if, one day, he screwed up the partnership and
got Ray killed? Wasn't it better to leave now, before it was too late?
While the times were still good?

"After the tour," Bodie asked, "what then?"

"I have a place in Scotland and I'll still need security."

Need. Oh Christ, Ray, why can't *you* need me?

Ian stepped away, giving him room, time to make a decision. Bodie went
over his choices and knew he really had no decision to make. "I'll have to
see Cowley," he said finally.

"Your boss? Okay." Ian pulled on his shirt. "First come to the hotel, meet
the lads. You don't want to burn bridges without knowing what the river's
like."

Despite himself Bodie grinned at the dreadful simile. "Are they as bad as
you?" He reached for his own cords.

"Worse," Ian said darkly. "You'll love it."

******

Doyle rang Bodie's doorbell again and frowned. It was after eight, he was
late, Bodie should be up and ready by now. He leaped down the short flight
of stone steps and glanced up and down the street. No motor. Maybe Bodie
was already at the graveyard, warming up. Yeh, that must be it. Bloody
sod, trying to be one up--probably guessed he'd be tired and slightly hung
over after his date last night.

But the graveyard was empty, except for a thin grey cat, and Doyle ran
alone, one set of footsteps sounding somehow empty as they echoed off the
cold stone slabs.

******

"How'd it go?" Ian looked up from his guitar, a slightly dreamy expression
on his face.

Bodie shrugged and shut the door behind himself. He wasn't about to
tell--didn't even want to *think* about his early morning interview with
the Cow.

It had not been easy. Wanting to keep this private Bodie had called his
boss at home, asking for an interview and Cowley, surprisingly had agreed.

And even more surprisingly--though perhaps not as the old man *always*
knew what his men were thinking five minutes before they did--he had
anticipated Bodie's request.

"Sit down, lad," he said and Bodie sat, carefully *not* fidgeting.

"Now, what's this all about?"

"I want," Bodie almost got up and walked out, this was so bloody *hard*.
He cleared his throat. "I want to break my contract. Leave."

Cowley nodded. "Aye. I've been expecting this."

"You have?"

"Have you talked it over with 4/5?"

Bodie shook his head, still stunned. Cowley *knew*?!

"Don't you think you should?"

"No!" Startled, Bodie jumped up and began to pace restlessly. "I can't. He
doesn't know...I mean...."

"I understand." For a moment Cowley looked almost sad. "I don't like to
lose you, Bodie. Despite your many regrettable faults you're a good man
and I've put a lot of time and money into you. Perhaps a reteaming...."

"No."

"Aye, well, I thought not. I suppose it's better you leave on two feet
than in a pine box. Do you have something lined up?"

Relieved, but finding an unexpected lump in his throat, Bodie swallowed.
"Yes, Sir. Security. An old friend offered me a job--I owe him a favor
anyway--it seemed best...." Christ, he felt like a child again asking for
his dad's approval.

Cowley's icey eyes were kinder than Dad's had ever been. "Very well. Leave
your ID and armament here. You'll have to vacate the flat, turn in your
R/T, your car. I'll need a forwarding address for pay vouchers--oh, and
Bodie?"

"Sir?"

"If it doesn't work, I *might* be persuaded to take you back."

It was a hell of a concession and Bodie knew it. "Thank you, Sir."

He handed over his gun, spare clips, the ID and R/T. "I'll remember that."

Cowley held out his hand, shook Bodie's firmly and ushered him to the
door. "Goodbye, laddie. Don't go too far away."

He meant stay on the right side of the law, keep in touch, and don't get
killed. Bodie said, "Okay," and left.

Now he looked at his new employer. "I've got to find a place to live and
wheels. Right away."

Ian set aside the guitar reluctantly and Bodie, with rare insight,
realized suddenly that the instrument was the musician's first and only
true love--at least for now. For all his need for a flesh and blood
friend, Ian never stroked *him* with quite that look on his face.

"Tell you what," Ian said. "Let's hire a van and put what you can't carry
in it and send it up to my place. As for a place to live--we'll be in
hotels for awhile, you know, all over Europe. Why not just wait and see?"

That made sense. "Wheels," he reminded.

"Rent. If you're serious about the security gig then you'll be too busy to
need much until we quit traveling. Take taxis. Besides, we've got enough
stuff without dragging a car along," Ian teased.

"I'm serious about the gig. Your groupies are your own."

"But from now on you shall save me from them," Ian intoned with a die-away
air, fluttering long eye lashes.

Bodie gave a snorting laugh. "Drop dead, mate."

"Too busy. You'd better meet Jack, the head man for the roadies. He's been
fillin' in since we canned the last bloke, but he's not really security
oriented, if you know what I mean. He runs a crew of twenty...."

"*Twenty*?!"

"Sure, and that's not including the sound men, the lighting men, and the
video crew. During the show you've got ten roadies who double as security
and when we need to we hire more wherever we're at."

"When's the next show?"

"We open Monday night here in London."

Bodie drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "First the flat, then the
job."

"Whatever you say. The lads can...." Ian came with him to the door.

"No look, mate. I'd rather do this on my own, okay?"

"No problem. You got enough cash? We never did talk money. Unless you said
something to Manny earlier."

Manny--the short fat manager who had approved Bodie's hire.

"Yeh, we discussed it."

"Don't let him take you, mate, make him pay through the nose."

"I did." Bodie was making more here than at CI5.

"Good. See you later." Ian pulled him close and kissed him thoroughly,
then turned back to his guitar.

******

There was a note on the door. Doyle's writing. Fast, irritated. 'Where the
hell have you been?' Doyle.

Bodie folded it carefully and put it in his wallet.

He was used to moving, had the whole rigamarole down to a set pattern. The
only difference was the name of the removal company and the price they
charged to take his things to Scotland. Money, as Bodie well knew, could
move mountains.

By dinner time he was through and standing in the middle of an empty room
with one suitcase by his side.

The flat was CI5's so the utilities stayed on, including the two phones,
both tapped, one a direct line to HQ, the other regular service.

That second one beckoned. It had rung several times during the day and
each time he had started toward it only to stop himself, standing immobile
until it stopped and silence reigned. The quiet was even worse than the
ringing.

He wanted to call Ray now, hear him one last time--say...what? Goodbye
mate, it's been great but you see I love you and so....

Bodie picked up his bag and walked out, hailed a taxi and went to the
nearest pub. He got very, very drunk.

******

Sunday morning. Ray rang Bodie's number for the fiftieth time since
Saturday and listened to the dial tone. Still no answer. What the hell was
his partner doing? On their weekends off they always, but *always* spent
Sunday together unless one or both had a hot date and even then they
usually doubled.

Feeling vaguely worried he called CI5 HQ. "Julia love, where's Bodie?"

"I don't know," she answered immediately.

"Come on," Ray wheedled. "Have a heart, he owes me money."

"Ask Mr. Cowley," Julia suggested.

Doyle was startled. "Is he on a case then?"

"I *told* you, 4/5," Julia sounded exasperated. "There's a message here
that all calls for 3/7 are to be forwarded to Alpha 1. That's all I know."

"Have there *been* any other calls?"

"No. Look--do you want to talk to Mr. Cowley? He's playing golf...."

Doyle shuddered. "No thanks, love. I'd prefer to live till Monday."

She snorted and cut the connection.

Left with nothing to do Ray wandered aimlessly about his flat, tidying
absently, wondering what Bodie was up to this time. What was the use of
having the weekend off if they couldn't be together out having fun? He
considered calling Sally, Friday night's date, but rejected the idea. It
wasn't Sally's company he wanted.

Damn Cowley anyway. They were *partners*. If one went on a case the other
should at *least* know he was gone.

Well, there was no use sticking around here. He pulled on a pair of
scruffy trainers and took himself to the zoo where he promptly named one
of the bears Bodie and fed his popcorn to all the others.

******

Bodie took one look at the security arrangements and threw them away.

"No good, right?" Ian was sprawled on the stage, his acoustic guitar in
hand.

"I'm surprised you're still alive, mate."

"They're not out to *kill* us, Phil."

Bodie peered out into the darkened arena. "You'd better fill me in. I'm
not up on this kind of thing."

Tommy Simmans, the band's drummer, came to stand beside him. "What do you
wanna know?"

"Everything. How you came in, how you move around up here, what numbers
cause the most uproar, general statistics of your audience...."

"Eh?"

"Age, sex, who you have the most trouble with, that kind of thing. Do you
get hate mail?"

"Nah, we're not famous enough for that."

Bodie went on, "And I want some kind of visible ID for anyone and
*everyone* who's supposed to be here. Including...groupies." He glanced
down at Ian. "Anyone without a pass stays out. No exceptions."

Ian waved a leisurely hand. "Whatever you say. Right?" He looked around to
the other members of the group. He was the oldest, the most experienced
and seemed to naturally take the lead. Tommy was first to agree, closely
followed by the nods from the other three. Manny, after all, had heard
about Bodie's credentials and had given him carte blanche.

From behind his keyboards Kenny Laughton asked, "Is this going to stop all
those girls comin' backstage after the show?"

"Yes."

"Shit," he said, then grinned.

Bodie found himself smiling back at the tall blonde. Success, he had
learned already, was too new to have gone to their heads. They were young
and hungry and willing to learn from their mistakes. On the whole they
seemed a nice lot of rather silly boys--with the exception of Ian.

Jeff and Jon Ryder, the twins who filled out the group, remained intent
but silent. That was something else Bodie had learned. On stage, according
to Ian, Jon was a wild man, his long black hair flying all over the place
("especially up my nose" was how Ian had put it), but once out of the
spotlight he was as silent as his brother Jeff. Bodie'd been with the band
for almost a day now and he had yet to hear Jeff Ryder say anything. The
boy seemed painfully shy and clearly was the pet of the group. Since that
attitude about anyone bothered him he ignored Jeff and turned back to eye
the arena again.

"We'll be doing a full runthrough tonight," Tommy said from beside him,
"for the tech crews. You can get an idea from that."

Bodie nodded. "Where's Jack? I've got to meet the others. Get an idea of
what they're good at."

Kenny pointed backstage. "Somewhere around."

Bodie left the band to practice and wandered around getting the feel of
the arena, learning the set-up. He was beginning to sympathize with the
Cow--getting to know his crew, setting up an operation. This was easy
compared to a full scale CI5 op and Bodie suddenly was very glad he'd had
a good teacher. Of course his work would be halved if Doyle were here to
help.... Stop it, Bodie. He's not here, your days of having a partner are
over. Accept it and get on with things.

He took a long breath. They said time helped the pain. He hoped it was
true.

******

Doyle bounced into CI5 HQ on Monday morning well rested and ready to brain
his partner--if he could just get his hands on the bastard. It was Bodie's
turn to drive and he'd waited until the last minute before coming in
alone. He glanced at the clock above Fred's desk. Half seven. "Bodie in
yet?"

Fred shook his balding head. "The Major wants to see you first thing."

"About time," Ray mumbled and took the stairs two for one. "Maybe now I'll
get to the bottom of this."

Cowley was waiting, sitting behind his desk, reading a file. Doyle glanced
at the name on the folder and frowned.

BODIE, WILLIAM ANDREW PHILLIP.

"Sit down, 4/5."

Doyle sat, his eyes questioning.

"There's no way to make this easy," Cowley began and Ray felt a chill run
down his spine.

"It's Bodie, isn't it? Is he hurt? What's happening here?"

"He's not hurt. No. On Saturday morning Bodie terminated his contract with
CI5. He...."

"*What*?!" Doyle was on his feet. "What do you mean 'terminated his
contract'? You don't just quit!"

"No," Cowley agreed. "Not generally. But this had been coming for quite
some time, you know."

Doyle stared at his boss. "Have I gone crazy? *What's* been coming on? If
Bodie were going to quit he'd have *told* me! No...you're pulling
something, aren't you? Some case. Right?"

Cowley looked steadily at his man, unwilling to believe Doyle honestly
hadn't noticed the change in Bodie over the last few weeks. Or perhaps 4/5
just didn't *want* to notice. He genuinely felt pity, but for which
partner he wasn't sure. "Doyle. Bodie quit. It's true. And under the
circumstances I let him go."

Ray heard the words, the tone of voice, and finally believed. He sagged
back in his chair feeling as though someone had just ripped away half his
being. "I don't understand. He was fine on Friday. Didn't say a word...."

Bodie hadn't asked for his silence but Cowley was used to keeping secrets.
"It was personal. I had been expecting it, and I must say, you should
have, too. Now...."

"Where'd he go?" It was a demand.

Cowley sighed. A Cow gives milk. A Cow looks after its young.... "Don't
you think, 4/5, that if he wanted you to know, he'd have told you?"

"I can't accept that." Ray shook his head. "What should I have noticed?
He's been a bit touchy lately, but leave the squad? Without telling *me*?
For Chrissakes, we're *partners*!"

"Perhaps he thought it best."

"Then he was wrong."

"I don't ever recall perfection being one of Bodie's traits," Cowley said
wryly. "However, there's work to do. Until I can match you up with a new
partner you can work with...."

"No," Ray interrupted flatly.

Cowley waited. 

"I'm going to find him," Doyle glared at his boss. "I may kill him when I
do, but I'll find 'im. You can suspend me, or fire me, or anything else,
but I'm going after him. Is that clear, Cowley? *Mister* Cowley?"

To his surprise Cowley smiled and relaxed a little. "I doubt the necessity
for extremes. One week. And only because it's slow and you're no use to me
in your present state of mind. Next Monday be back and ready to work, with
Bodie or without him."

On his way out of the building Doyle paused by the duty roster. Bodie's
name was not listed, but his own was. 'On Leave' was the official notice.
The printout had gone up at six a.m. Doyle smiled. Cowley, the old devil,
had been very sure of his man.

******

Bodie finished his takeaway lunch and aimed the wadded greasy papers at
the nearest trash bin. He tossed and beside him Ian applauded. "Very good.
Two outta three?" He offered his own bundle of garbage.

"Do your own," Bodie suggested without politeness.

"Later." Ian stretched. He reached out one hand and rubbed Bodie's
shoulder. "So what do you think of Sea Reef?"

"You're loud," Bodie turned into the light massage. "Which reminds me, I
want headsets for the R/T's. We'll never hear above all that din."

"Tell Jack." Ian kissed him. "Later." He moved closer and applied a little
more pressure.

"You're insatiable."

"I get nervous before a big gig."

Bodie glanced at him. "Is that part of my job, too?"

Ian took away his hands as if he'd been scorched. "Christ, *no*! God,
Bodie, I don't deserve that."

"No," Bodie got up and pulled Ian against him. "You don't. Sorry."

Ian rested comfortably in his grip. "The lads like you. In spite of all
your rules and regulations."

"Discipline is good for the soul."

"We don't do soul--we do rock," Ian pointed out glibly.

Bodie groaned at the pun and turned his head to one side to accommodate
Ian's nuzzle against his neck. "The band--and the crew--do they know about
us?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

Bodie wasn't sure so he didn't answer.

Ian's hand hovered near his zip, prolonging the moment before pulling it
down. "Several of the guys swing both ways. This is one business where
being bi or gay doesn't matter. Haven't you met Andy yet?"

"The lad with the orange hair and the fingernail polish?" Bodie gasped as
warm fingers circled his cock.

"Best sound man in the business. He helped mix the 'Darkness' album." Ian
urged him towards the bed, then rolled on top of him. "Manny got the call
that it went platinum over the weekend. How does it feel to know you're
screwing one of rock's newest stars?"

Bodie helped his lover undress. "No different than when I was screwing one
of rock's biggest unknowns. Good."

Ian laughed. "You're good for my ego, Phil."

Bodie didn't answer, concentrating instead on the sensations the touch of
rock's newest star were having on his body. Desire kept away the memories,
dulled the pain for awhile. They were in his own room, the door was
locked, and Ian was hell bent on seducing him. Bodie went willingly, eager
to forget how long the day was without Ray to share it with, how his mind
wandered away from this job to his former one. Was Ray on a case? Who was
guarding his back? What was he doing now....

"It's very disconcerting," Ian's voice whispered plaintively in his ear,
"when you go away like that. Oh yeh...that's better...."

******

Bodie's flat was empty, not that he'd expected anything else. Doyle
glanced around, found nothing and proceeded to question the neighbors. The
eleventh door brought a lead, the name of the removal company. Doyle went
back to Bodie's flat and used the outside phone to call them.

He identified himself as Mr. Bodie and made up a spur-of-the-moment
question.

The reply shocked him a little. Scotland? Why the hell would Bodie go
there? He asked them to double check the address and memorized the reply.
Ian Camden. The name rang a faint bell.

"Of course your things haven't arrived yet," the disembodied voice told
him. "You said you'd be on tour for awhile anyway. Is there a problem?"

"No. No problem. Thanks." Ray hung up and stared into space. Ian Camden. A
tour. Frustrating to have it so close....

He went to the window and looked out. This was a good place, Bodie had
liked it here, had been pleased to be assigned this one after the cramped
quarters of the last apartment. Not two weeks ago they had stood together
at this window, looking out over the city at night, comfortable in
silence. Bodie's large hands had been warm on his shoulders.

So what the hell had happened? Had he, Doyle, done something wrong? What
had driven Bodie away without even saying goodbye?

Bits of conversations drifted through his mind. More than five years
together, through good times and bad, always there for each other. It just
wasn't like Bodie to do this. Whatever the problems were they could work
'em out together surely.

And the Cow had been expecting it.

Doyle searched back, remembering, trying to pick up what his boss had seen
in Bodie that he hadn't. True, there had been a certain weariness in his
partner lately, but they'd been working hard, one heavy case right after
the other; they were both tired.

Once or twice Bodie had snapped at him for no apparent reason. Nothing
major though. Or rather, it hadn't *seemed* important at the time.

Personal, Cowley had said. Girl trouble? For Bodie, girl trouble was a way
of life. He bloody *thrived* on it. Didn't he? Ray thought about it and
realized that Bodie hadn't mentioned a bird in a couple of months. Not
since--what was her name?--Tricia. Tricia, the big blonde divorce with the
two kids.

They'd doubled once, gone together to pick her up. Where was it she lived?
Memory clicked and he pulled his car keys from his back pocket. He could
be there by noon if he hurried.

Ian Camden...who the hell was Ian Camden?

******

She wasn't home of course. But a neighbor told Doyle where she worked. He
turned the car and headed back to the city, cursing the traffic that
slowed his progress.

Tricia Faraday was employed as a secretary to an investment counselor in
one of those anonymous London highrises. Ray exercised a little charm and
a couple of lies, then took her out for a late lunch.

She was a pretty woman, too tall to be his type as a rule, but she was
friendly, intelligent, and willing to talk. Not that she could tell him
much; or so he thought at first.

She had met Bodie six months ago in Harrods and they had dated for about
three and a half months. "Then one night he stopped by, played with the
kids for awhile, then said goodbye. I knew by the way he said it he
wouldn't be back." She chewed a piece of salad thoughtfully, not looking
particularly broken hearted.

"You haven't seen him since?" Doyle wasn't eating. He had no appetite.

"Once. Tessie's birthday a couple of weeks ago. Seems he had promised to
take her on a helicopter ride--some friend of his has one. He took both
the kids, they were thrilled, but then...."

"What?"

"Well," she half-smiled, "I think Bodie always did like the kids more than
he did me."

Ray shook his head, "No. He used to talk about you a lot--never much
mentioned your children."

"Thanks, but he wouldn't, would he? Big, macho, Bodie wouldn't dare let
his partner know what a pussycat he really is. Might hurt his image."

Ray let her words sink in. "You seem to know him pretty well."

"Enough to know that no woman will ever hold him. Between his job and you
we don't have a chance," she smiled, taking the edge off her words.

"Me?" Doyle was startled.

"Sure," she looked at her watch. "Look, I've got to get back. Stay and
finish your drink and thanks for the lunch. I hope," Tricia paused and
chose her words carefully. "...things work out for you two."

"Wait," Ray stood and grabbed her arm. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. Only that any fool could see that as far as
Bodie's concerned you'll always come first. Isn't that what this's all
about?"

He let her go. "Uh...sure. Thanks, Tricia."

She waved and departed. Doyle ordered another drink, a double, and sat for
a long time, thinking things he'd never thought before.

******

Bodie wove through the crowd, checking on his arrangements, satisfying
himself that all was going as planned. On stage Sea Reef were far into
their act and it seemed to be going over well.

"And a good time was had by all," he muttered and winced as the young girl
beside him screamed enthusiastically.

The noise level was deafening. He moved farther back and relaxed by the
lighting panel, accepting the beer one of the crew handed him with a
grateful nod. The jeans-and-tee-shirted man yelled something and Bodie
cocked his head; not able to hear.

The man repeated, "Good show!"

Bodie nodded and turned to watch the onstage action. Ian had been right,
Jon was all over the place, his straight black hair flying as he belted
out the indistinguishable lyrics. He wore black leather pants and a shiney
bright red top that fluttered about him loosely. ("Costs a fortune," Ian
had said during last night's run through. "He always rips it off and
pitches the damn thing into the crowd. Then it's like piranha time.")

Bodie watched as Jon lingered by Ian, draping himself around the guitarist
in a suggestive move. Ian merely smiled and went on playing. Sweat
dampened his hair into dark long ringlets and streaked down his face to
his open shirted chest. He looked tall, sensual, and far away, lost in his
music. Bodie wondered suddenly if Evelyn would have liked this and decided
that, since Ian obviously did, his mum would, too. The thought pleased him
and he was smiling as he went back to work.

He inspected the front line of roadies and glanced up to the stage again.
Tommy caught his eye and winked broadly, then threw one of his drumsticks
at Jeff. The bassist retaliated and the audience howled with delight.
Bodie shook his head, slipped through the press and went backstage. It was
quieter here though people milled around, all wearing the quickly made up
ID's. Bodie recognized one or two rather well known faces, had learned
that dropping in to catch one another's act was a common practice. Someone
was smoking a joint and the smell lingered in the hallway. Bodie sneezed.
Thus far he could detect no signs of drug use in the band but there were
one or two roadies he was watching rather closely. ("It's part of the
scene," Ian had shrugged, but Bodie was adamant. "Not *my* scene--not
while they're on duty." And so the rule had been set down.) This smoker
was a guest so Bodie went away to check the stage door guard, a huge young
man who was known to all and sundry as Mister Watson.

"How's it going?" Bodie asked and took a deep breath, glad to be out in
the clear night air.

"Okay. Turned a few away that weren't too happy about it. Said they'd be
back."

"Give me the names and I'll check with the lads."

Bodie took the list and reluctantly went back inside. He glanced at his
watch. One more hour, then the cleanup and reset for tomorrow's show, and
bed.

On stage Tommie had just begun his percussion solo and, unneeded, Ian
wandered back to find a cold drink and wipe off a bit. Bodie slipped
through the tangle of wires and myriad electrical equipment to meet him
behind a towering amplifier.

"Is it good?" Ian asked. "Tell me it's good."

"S'good." Bodie tossed him the nearest towel. "Does Jon always eat his way
up your leg like that?"

"Depends. He's cookin' tonight. God knows what he'll do next." Ian didn't
sound particularly concerned. He rubbed his hair dry. "S'hot out there."

"Here's a list of people wanting in," Bodie handed him the paper.

Ian draped the towel around his shoulders and read the names. "Phil. Is
this Ray Doyle *your* Ray?"

Bodie felt the sudden rush of pleasure/pain. "Probably."

"Don't look like that, mate. If you don't want to see him you don't have
to. Just tell Mister Watson I said 'no'."

"He'll just come back."

"Then perhaps you'd better get it over with. Everyone else is okay to come
in." Ian leaned forward and kissed him, a brief, hard contact, then walked
away, back to the stage where several thousand excited yells greeted his
arrival.

Bodie picked up the list where Ian had let it fall. Ray Doyle. Yes, that
was Ray's scrawl, pressed hard into the paper, as if he were angry. It
hadn't taken Doyle long to find him. Bodie tugged his black sweater over
slim hips in a nervous gesture. He had known Ray would suss him out,
hadn't expected it this soon. Had Cowley told him? No, Ray was good enough
not to need the Cow's help and Bodie knew he hadn't tried to cover his own
tracks.

'Get it over with,' Ian advised. And so he would. Bodie bit his lip until
he tasted blood and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 'Get it
over with.'

Christ, what a way to end a friendship.

******

Doyle watched from the shadows across the street as his partner came out
of the concert hall to talk to the guard. Bodie was wearing all black and
looked darkly handsome with the pale light of the single bulb shining in
his hair. There was something different...it took Doyle a few seconds to
pinpoint it.

Bodie wasn't wearing a jacket.

Reasonable. He was no longer wearing a gun so there was no shoulder
holster to hide. Ray waited, looking on as the small cluster of people
hovering around the stage door were checked, ID tags written up and
clipped on, then allowed to enter. Bodie smiled at them while his eyes
searched the human mass. Ray nodded. Bodie had seen his name on the list
then, knew that he would be somewhere about.

He forced himself to wait, conquering the urge to go over and beat Bodie
senseless. That wouldn't accomplish anything but to make himself feel
better and besides, he wanted to know exactly what was going on before he
had it out with the stupid bastard.

Bodie paused a couple of minutes more then glanced around and disappeared
again, back into the arena. Still Doyle waited.

It had been remarkably easy to find Bodie, almost as if his partner (and
as far as Doyle was concerned Bodie still was his partner) wanted to be
found. A quick visit to the CI5 computer room was all the work it had
taken. There he had requested a check on Ian Camden and within minutes had
the printout in his hand. A cross check had put Camden and Bodie in
Capetown at the same time a good twelve years ago. It was a safe bet they
had met there.

Ian Camden. No record. Age: 32. Ht: 6'3". Brown hair and eyes. Occupation:
musician. Current status: appearing with musical group Sea Reef as lead
guitarist. Unmarried, with no ties to any criminal element. Suspected
homosexual. He was on the active records because of his job and the drug
action that frequently surrounded rock musicians. The list of associates
did not include Bodie.

He traveled under a South African passport and, according to Emigration,
was now in London.

A check with the Times told him where Sea Reef would be opening and casual
conversation with the big guard on the stage door elucidated Bodie's new
job status. Very easy. Now came the hard part.

The show was over. The street began to fill with laughing noisey crowd
and, listening to passing wisps of conversation, Doyle got the impression
it had been a good concert.

He waited a few more minutes, until most of the mass had thinned away,
then stepped out of the shadows and crossed the street.

Mister Watson saw him coming and smiled. "Mr. Bodie said you'd be along,
that you're not to be searched or anything." He handed Ray the ID tag.
"Don't lose this or you'll get pitched out on your ear. New rules and he's
very fussy."

Doyle clipped the plastic on his belt. "Thanks. Where'll I find Mr.
Bodie?"

Mister Watson shrugged. "Could be anyplace, but look for Ian first. If Mr.
Bodie's not with him Ian'll at least know where to look." He turned away
to answer someone else's question and Ray went through the door into the
building.

He walked down the dimly lit corridor, noting with interest the scurrying
roadies who all seemed in a rush to by anyplace but where they were now.
No one paid any attention to him and all wore the tags identifying them by
name and occupation. He read his own. RAY DOYLE--GUEST OF IAN CAMDEN.

He passed a number of vacant rooms before coming to the main lounge. It
was jammed with press people, guests, and what he took to be fans. He
lingered in the doorway and tried to guess which of the myriad of faces
belonged to the band.

Someone handed him a drink and he sipped it, making a face at the diluted
taste. In the corner someone was taking pictures of two men who looked
very alike. Doyle edged forward and waited until the impromptu photo
session was complete before tapping one of the men on the arm.

Jeff Ryder turned and looked at him questioningly.

"Ian Camden?" Doyle mouthed. "Or Mr. Bodie?"

Jeff pointed and Ray turned to look, but in the sea of faces he couldn't
pick out those he wanted. He frowned.

Jeff, from his four inch height advantage, could easily see the group's
leader. He noted the curly headed stranger's reluctance and moved, taking
the man's arm to propel him forward into the crowd.

But Ian had seen someone else and he too moved, going towards the door.
Jeff paused on the edge of the crowd and Doyle felt the musician's strong
fingers dig momentarily into his arm then release. He peered around Jeff.

Bodie stood in the door talking animatedly with a tall, very good looking
man. Doyle hesitated and Jeff said quietly, nodding his head to indicate
the twosome, "Ian and Phil."

It sounded like a pair--pepper and salt, sugar and cream, Ian and Phil.
For a moment Ray wondered who Phil was, then realized he meant Bodie.
Phil. He rolled the name around in his mind. No. Bodie was Bodie. Phil was
the name for someone he didn't know. A darkly handsome man with an aura of
separateness, who just looked like his partner. As Doyle watched Ian put
an arm around Bodie's shoulder and spoke intimately into his ear. Even
from this distance Ray could see the rising color seep into Bodie's face.

Beside him Jeff made a convulsive movement and turned away, leaving Doyle
alone in the crowd, still staring at his partner and the other man.

Ian noticed him first. Brown eyes met smokey green and lingered as each
man sized up the other, both reluctantly liking what they saw. A wave of
people passed between them and when Doyle could see again Bodie was gone
and only Ian remained. He crossed to Ray and held out his hand. "You're
Ray Doyle. I'm Ian Camden."

The handshake was firm. Doyle nodded. "I'm here to see Bodie. That
is--Phil."

"I wish you wouldn't," Ian said pleasantly. "It'll only make it harder for
him. But I know you have to."

"*Harder*!" Doyle's laugh was brittle. "Mate, I don't plan to make it easy
at all."

Ian opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed it again. "He's gone
back to the stage."

"Thanks."

"I wish I could say you're welcome. Just remember one thing."

Ray cocked any eyebrow.

"I only asked him to come. The decision was entirely his. And the decision
to leave will be his, too." Ian held his eyes for a long moment then
turned away to make a laughing comment to a passing journalist.

******

There was nothing left in the arena but equipment and more roadies. Ray
picked his way carefully through the controlled jumble, looking for his
partner.

"Ray."

Doyle turned. "Bodie."

They looked at each other forever. Doyle felt something kick in his gut,
felt a missing piece slide into place, and had all his doubts answered.
Or, at least...god help him if he were wrong.

Bodie's smile was crooked. "S'not very private here. Come on."

He led the way to some side steps and on into the upper seating. It was
quiet there. Dark. They sat next to each other and watched the working
roadies below as they talked.

Doyle began. "Why? Tell me why."

Bodie was bland, his mask firmly in place. "I owed Ian a favor. He's
collecting."

"Try again."

Bodie was silent.

"Cowley wants you back."

No answer.

"I talked to Tricia."

Bodie looked at him and away. Ray felt his temper rise.

"Damn it, Bodie! Say something! Tell me what's happening!"

Bodie said quietly, "It's simple. I quit the squad."

"Without even bloody telling me!? Sod you, you bastard, we're *partners*!
You don't do that to a partner."

"Well, excuse me if my etiquette's a bit off," Bodie quipped humorlessly.
"I'll have to read up on it."

Doyle got himself back in hand. "Don't."

"All right, sunshine. It was time for me to move on--this came up and I
grabbed it. The money's good, the danger's minimal and the perks...."

"Is one of the perks Ian Camden?"

Bodie stood up abruptly. "Fuck off, Doyle."

Ray hared after him and swung him around. "Bodie! For Christ's sake! Will
you *listen*?!"

"Ray." Bodie sounded tired suddenly. "Go away. Leave it. Leave *me*. Watch
your back, sunshine." He took off down the stairs and disappeared from
sight.

"Not bloody likely, mate," Ray said grimly. "That's *your* job." He had
bungled this one--but that didn't mean he couldn't try again. He still had
until next Monday and he intended on bringing Bodie back with him, even if
he had to resort to knockout drops and handcuffs to do it.

Next time he'd go slow, not try and force a confession out of Bodie. Below
him Bodie appeared by the stage and paused, wiping his hand across his
cheek in a vicious, disgusted gesture. The simple movement erased all of
Doyle's anger in a single wave. "All right, mate. You win. You'll come
back because you *want* to, not because I make you." Doyle's eyes narrowed
as he considered. "I just have to make you want to."

He smiled at his own garbled thoughts and turned away. There were things
to do--one week wasn't much time.

******

Bodie poured himself another drink and flopped onto his bed. The room was
dark except for the dim light shining from under the bathroom door,
blessedly quiet though his ears still rang from the amplifiers' echoes. He
stared at the ceiling, nursing the straight whiskey, and relived that
short, brutal conversation with Doyle.

There was a minute there, when he'd first seen that mop of silly curls,
that he would have taken it all back--if he could. It was a brief
sensation, intense and painful. Then he had hardened and had gone ahead
with the scene.

He had expected anger, rage even, because he knew his Ray and that quickly
flaring temper. He had not foreseen the bewildered hurt, that frightened
look. In the end it was 'go away or tell the truth.' So he went away.

Now that look, that tone of voice, tore at him. He'll get over it, Bodie
thought. He's had other partners. He'll get over it. 

A light tap sounded at the door. Bodie sat up, finished his drink and went
to open it.

"Want some company?" Ian asked and came in when Bodie stepped aside. "Bad,
was it?"

"He's feeling betrayed. He'll get over it."

"What about you? Will you?"

Bodie shrugged and poured another drink. Ian calmly took it from him and
set it aside. "Early start tomorrow, mate. This won't help anything. Want
to talk?"

"No."

"Okay. But I'll tell you something." Ian sat down on the bed. "I saw him
leave. You're not off the hook. He'll be back."

Bodie could find nothing to say.

"All right." Ian stretched. "Christ, I'm knackered." He leaned back
against the pillow and closed his eyes.

Bodie watched him for a moment and smiled. "Ian."

"Hmmm?"

"Thanks."

A soft snore answered this and Bodie's smile widened. Trust Ian to fall
asleep in the middle of a crisis. Bodie stripped then pulled off Ian's
boots and belt, whipped the covers out from under the unprotesting man,
and joined him in bed. Immediately Ian rolled to his side, reaching to
hold the furnace heat of Bodie's body.

Bodie relaxed in the comfortable grip and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

******

Tuesday the show moved to Leeds and Bodie had his work cut out dealing
with a completely altered type of auditorium, and a very different crowd.
He ruthlessly fired three roadies for doing drugs on the job, broke up a
fight between six knife wielding punks in the car park without *quite*
breaking any bones, and refused four bribes for backstage passes that
together would have made a year's salary. By the time the show was over
the crew knew he was as tough as he looked and eyed him with a new
respect. For Bodie it was all in a day's work--but it kept him so busy he
was forced to delegate the responsibility for checking late night ID's to
Mister Watson alone.

Doyle had no trouble getting in at all.

******

He avoided the press lounge this time and went straight to the stage,
keeping carefully out of the way as the roadies swung into choreographed
action. For the most part they ignored him and he caught wisps of
conversation, realizing that Bodie and his strictly-by-the-book security
were all the talk. One or two of the men griped about the crackdown on
drugs, but nobody, Doyle noted, broke his partner's rules. It amused him
to think that Bodie, who was not known for his morals, was playing it so
straight. Cowley, Doyle thought, wouldn't believe it.

"Thought you might be here."

Ray nodded at the approaching man. During the day he had made time to read
up on the group, and he recognized Jeff Ryder as yesterday's benefactor.
"Hi."

Jeff had changed out of his stage brilliant canary yellow shirt into an
unobtrusive pale blue sweater. His hair was black, hanging to his
shoulders and his deepset eyes were hazel. There had been, Doyle
remembered, a certain attitude in all the articles he had read. A
protectiveness, probably originating from the group members, but picked up
and maintained by the press as a whole. 'Jeff Ryder,' one woman had
written, 'is so shy your first instinct is to mother him.' Another author
went on, 'I spent an entire day with the band and he never spoke once.'
Doyle wondered why he had been singled out and waited.

Jeff stopped at Ray's side and looked out over the now empty seats.
"Looks...hollow."

"Does it?" Used to remaining in the background, Ray had no idea of what it
would be like to stand on a stage with thousands of people watching his
every move. The thought made him a little sick.

"Would you...." Jeff kept his eyes straight ahead. "Would you tell me
something?"

"Maybe."

"Why are you here?"

"Looking for Bo...Phil."

"He's off with Ian someplace, I imagine." There was a faint tinge of
something odd in the bassist's voice.

Ray remembered the bruising grip on his arm Jeff had given him the night
before and pushed a little. "Seems like he's always with Ian."

Jeff was silent, but he tightened all over.

"Do you mind?" Doyle probed, already sure of the answer.

"Yes."

"Me, too."

Almost reluctantly, Jeff turned to him. "Then perhaps we could...work
together?"

Interested, Doyle asked, "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"I don't know. Just something that will...." He waved a long fingered
hand. "Before Phil came along I had a chance at least. Now...."

"Does Ian know you feel that way?" Doyle wondered if he had ever held a
stranger conversation.

"Christ, *no*!" Jeff looked shocked. "I mean--I thought it was all *me*,
didn't know he ever even *looked* at...then all of a sudden Phil's here
and it's so bloody obvious...."

It was a long speech for the musician and he foundered to a halt, looking
acutely embarrassed.

"I never knew Bodie looked at other fellers either," Ray confessed. The
subject had never come up between he and his partner, but now, faced with
the evidence he had to admit it must be true, at least in part. And
Tricia, and Cowley, both had seen it in Bodie, whereas the person closest
to him had not. Doyle cursed his own blindness, wondering if it was too
late, wondering why Bodie hadn't just *told* him instead of haring off
into the blue.

Because, according to Tricia, Bodie wanted *him*.

And how would he have reacted if Bodie had tried anything? It would, Doyle
thought, probably have depended on the circumstances. God knew he had
often looked at Bodie with the half formed idea that his partner was a
beautiful animal. Sometimes he had wondered about Bodie's bedroom
prowess--but he had never considered himself as a potential partner
*there*. Never until the last twenty-four hours.

He watched the roadies pack up the last bit of equipment and haul it away.
"Why didn't you tell Ian?"

Jeff shrugged. "And risk gettin' laughed at? Or refused? Then the
friendship's blown, mate, and you're left with nothing at all."

Bloody hell, was it *that* easy? Had that stupid bastard, Bodie, thrown
everything away just because he was scared of a rebuff? Ray eyed Jeff
consideringly. "You should tell 'im."

Jeff looked appalled.

Doyle lost a little patience. "How d'you know he's not interested if you
don't at least try?"

"I couldn't."

"I could," Doyle said firmly. "If I wanted it enough. And I bloody *will*,
too."

"How?"

"I don't know yet, but between us we'll come up with something."

"You sound pretty sure."

"I'm willing to fight for what I want," Ray said, and added silently,
'Once I get it pounded into me what it is.' 

They decided to slip out of the building together and Jeff grabbed a
passing roadie to tell him. "Tell Jon right away so he won't be looking
for me."

The roadie nodded and disappeared.

Doyle had been looking around. "There's a side door. My car's outside."

Jeff nodded, lapsing into his customary silence, willing to let Ray lead
the way. They met no one and twenty minutes later found an ill lit, quiet
pub. Doyle bought drinks and carried them to the back booth where Jeff
sat, carefully facing away from the door. Now was not the time to be
recognized.

Ray swallowed half his lager and eyed the other man curiously. "What's it
like?"

"What's what like?"

"Being a pop star 'n all."

Jeff shrugged. "It's hard to tell. It's all been so fast. Last year we
lived in a cold water flat in Sydney and now we ride around in limos.... I
guess...it's unreal." He spoke quietly, looking inward at scenes Doyle
could only imagine. "I never wanted it anyway--but Jon, my brother, he's
hungry."

"And?"

"And," Jeff blushed painfully. "It was a way of at least being a part of
Ian's life, you know?"

The concept was beyond Ray's scope. He sat back. "I was readin' up in
Rolling Stone, about the group. One of those five year overnight success
things wasn't it?"

"Yeh."

"And you're all Aussie except for Ian."

Jeff nodded.

"So how long have you...I mean...."

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry. I'm just naturally curious."

"Ian told Jon you were Phil's partner. In some security thing."

"That's right. Fox six years."

"You must know him pretty well, then."

"Not well enough, it seems."

"You got any ideas yet?"

Doyle grinned. "Apart from bashing a couple of heads? No. I need to get
Bodie alone--*really* alone--and that's out. He won't come for me."

Jeff looked surprised. "How do you know?"

"Because we've been partners for six years, that's how."

"If you were sick...or hurt...."

"But I'm not, and I won't lie about it." Doyle emptied his mug. "There's
got to be a way. Second round is yours, mate, but I'll go fetch."

Jeff looked at the small crowd around the bar and shuddered. "Thanks."

******

"He did *what*?" Jon looked aghast at the roadie, then at Ian and Bodie.
"Jeff went off with a *stranger*?"

The roadie looked nervous. "He had on a pass."

Bodie frowned. "What'd he look like?"

"I don't know, it was dark, mate, and Jeff didn't look upset or
anything...."

Jon was frankly worried. "Ian, you *know* Jeff. This isn't like him."

"He's a grown man, for god's sake. I'm sure he's fine." Ian put a casual
arm around the singer's shoulder and squeezed. "If Jeff wants to go off
with anyone...."

"I take it he doesn't make a habit of it?" Bodie put in.

"We all do occasionally. Except Jeff. He's too bloody shy. Christ, it
wasn't until this tour he's even been able to get on stage without
throwin' up! He's not the kind you have to warn against strangers." Ian's
tone was wry. "Look, what'd you think we should do?"

"Wait awhile," Bodie half-smiled. "Maybe he ran into an old friend."

"I don't know...." Jon was fidgeting.

"If he's not back by one, I'll check around."

Jon looked at him and seemed to find reassurance. "Midnight."

Bodie nodded. He let Ian precede him out of Jon's room and went to unlock
the door of his own just down the hall. "Come on in."

Once inside Bodie relaxed in the only chair but Ian wandered about, going
from bathroom to bed to window. Bodie watched him for awhile, amused.
"You're really worried, aren't you?"

"Did you know Jeff's gay?"

"No. Does it matter?"

"When he's out with a stranger, yes."

"Do you always vet the comers?"

Ian shrugged. "I know we sound like mother hens but Jeff...needs taking
care of."

Bodie raised an eyebrow and didn't answer.

After a minute Ian said casually, "Did you see Ray tonight?"

"No. This is Leeds, mate, he's back in London."

"No he's not. Mister Watson told me he let him in during the last set."

Bodie frowned. "Well, I didn't see him. And if he'd wanted to find me he
would have."

Ian was back at the window, looking down at the dark street. "One worry
gone."

"What d'you mean?"

"Jeff's back."

Bodie merely yawned. As far as he was concerned all this worry over a
grown man was asinine. If the bloke wanted to go out and get screwed, then
let him. He started to say just that when he caught a glimpse of Ian's
face. "Mate?"

"Hmmm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"You looked..." like you got your guts kicked in, Bodie thought, but said
only, "...odd."

"No. I'm fine." The musician stretched. "Birmingham tomorrow. They say it
can be a good crowd. We're sold out."

Bodie took the hint and went along with the change in subject. But that
look bothered him.

******

Doyle checked the tour schedule Jeff had scrawled out for him and frowned.
After tonight's show in Birmingham and tomorrow's in Glasgow, Sea Reef had
one day off then began the Continent gigs with Hamburg. He stretched out
on his rather lumpy B mattress, closed his eyes and tried to think. There
had to be some way, some time to get Bodie alone. Time to really talk
without chance of interruption. But as far as he could see every minute
his partner wasn't actually working he was with Ian.

He would have to find a way, and soon, because once Bodie left England he
wasn't at all sure he could get him back.

Bloody sod.

There was a light tap on his door and Doyle reluctantly rose to answer it.
He expected his landlady with the towels she had promised, or perhaps Jeff
(the only person who knew where he was staying). He did not expect Ian
Camden.

They eyed each other warily, then Ray stepped back. "Come on in."

Ian half smiled and looked around. "Not bad."

"What d'you want?"

He wasn't answered directly. "Jeff told me where you're staying."

"Yeh?" Ray motioned to the only chair and sat on the bed.

"I figured he'd know--after last night."

"Last night?"

"I saw you drop him off at the hotel." Ian crossed his long legs and gazed
steadily at Doyle. "So I'd like to know something."

"What?"

"Are you here because of Bodie or Jeff?"

Ray looked at him, stunned, then he began to laugh. "Me 'n.... Oh Christ!
If this isn't beginning to sound like Coronation Street!"

Ian blinked and seemed a little confused--and in the man's bewildered
response Ray found a solution...if he could just act it out. "Are you
Jeff's keeper or something?"

"He's a mate," Ian said flatly. "And I won't have him hurt."

"And what exactly does Jeff say?"

Ian shrugged. "Nothing. You didn't answer my question."

"I'd just like to know what difference it makes to *you*," Ray countered,
playing for time. "So what if I'm having it off with Jeff?"

Ian stood up and paced to the window. "I told you...."

"...yeh, you don't want him hurt. Sounds like sour grapes to me, mate."

Ian shook his head, still staring out the window. "You can't care about
Phil if you're...havin' it off with Jeff."

"Who says?"

"I say!" Ian was beginning to get angry. "Jeff...."

Ray hoped he was reading the musician correctly; if not he was about to
blow the only chance he could see of getting Bodie back. "Jeff's a good
lay. Isn't he?"

"You bloody bastard." Ian came closer and Doyle stood to meet him.

"You mean you don't know? You're missin' something. He's hot for it...."

It was as far as he got before Ian swung. Doyle could have blocked the
blow easily--could have beat the taller man in seconds. Instead he rode
the punch and sprawled back onto his bed. He eyed Ian, watching the wild
fury die slowly from his eyes, and when the clenched fists relaxed he
rubbed the already darkening area on his chin. "Feel better?"

Ian slumped on the chair. "I don't understand you."

"Oh, I'm easy. It's you has the problems." Ray kept his voice hard. "You
have no claim on Jeff, but you don't want anybody else to have him either.
Who are *you* really interested in? Bodie, or Jeff?"

Ian sat silent, a bemused expression on his face.

Please, Doyle thought. Please say Jeff. The room was quiet for a long
time, then Ian said, "Jeff isn't interested in me."

"How do you know?"

"He never said--hell, he never says *anything*."

"Maybe he's waiting for you to make the first move."

"Phil...." Ian glanced up. "I *care* about Phil. I really do."

"So do I," Ray told him quietly. "I just didn't know how much until I got
it beat into me." He hesitated, then went on. "His place is with me, doing
what he's trained all his life to do. It may be good with you now--but
what about next week? Next month? Bodie gets bored very easily, you know."

"This morning," Ian remembered, "he called me Ray. And he didn't even
realize he'd done it." He paused, "I like having him about."

"So," Ray said, "do I."

"He's *real*--something solid. I live in a fantasy world...."

"Jeff is real. Don't confuse him with the fantasy."

Ian stood up. "You coming to the show tonight?"

"Should I?"

"I don't know," Ian whispered. "I honestly don't know."

Before he left Ray asked him one more question.

"Did Bodie see me with Jeff last night?"

"No. And I care too much for him to tell him."

******

Bodie watched idly as the band did the runthrough. He knew the set up now,
was familiar with the program. Big entrance, promote the album by playing
the songs, get the crowd (when there would be one) going, build them up,
then let them down, build 'em up again and go for the rousing finish.
Encores optional.

The sound echoed around him without the sheer body mass of audience to
soak it up. He slouched in his seat in the middle of the arena--a crowd of
one--and reflected that the band members looked tired.

Ian had disappeared early and returned just in time for the runthrough. He
stood tall and lean, the lights making an elongated shadow of his body.
His face was a studious blank. Bodie knew that look. It meant Ian had a
problem and was working it out in his mind while his fingers automatically
played the riffs.

Jeff, too, seemed preoccupied. More than once his brother took advantage
of the 'breather' spaces to turn away from the seats and speak urgently to
him. But Jeff merely shook his head and huddled further back between the
keyboards and drums.

It was driving the lighting crew crazy.

Behind him Bodie caught the sound of excited voices and rose quickly. Yes,
somehow three young girls had slipped through his security net and had
gotten into the arena. He met them in the aisle.

"Hello, ladies."

"Don't throw us out," one of them pleaded. "*Please*! We couldn't get
tickets and we've come all this way...."

Three sets of tearfilled eyes begged and Bodie hesitated. "Okay," he said
finally. "Sit here and keep quiet."

They obeyed him eagerly and he rolled his eyes at one of the roadies. So
young. He didn't remember *ever* being that age.

One of the girls tugged his arm and, egged on by her compatriots, asked,
"Do you *know* Jon? I mean...."

Her eyes were green. Bodie smiled a little crookedly. "Yeh, sure. Listen,
you three stay right here and I'll see if maybe we can get you some
autographs, okay?"

Overawed, they sat back, and Bodie went, first to give a royal talking to
to the guard at the door, and then back down the long aisle to the stage.

The band was wrapping its finale, calculated to bring the crowd to its
feet and keep them there. Bodie waited calmly until the last note faded.
"Ian!"

Ian bit his lip and looked at his lover somewhat reluctantly. Bodie read
guilt there, and indecision, and was amused. So that was why he'd been
late, eh. Foolin' about with somebody else? He smiled at the musician and
indicated the darkened seats. "Three fans slipped in. Can you reward
their...ah...ingenuity?"

Bodie almost laughed at the relief on Ian's face. "Sure. Jon!"

But Jon was ahead of him. "Well get 'em down here!" He grinned at Bodie
and waggled an eyebrow. "Cute?"

"Jail bait," Bodie told him severely. "And don't you forget it."

Tommy swung down from his drums. "I *told* you guys he'd put a damper on
everything."

Even Jeff laughed at that. Ian glanced the quiet twin's way and Bodie saw
the sudden softened expression in his eyes. Lies the ground in that
direction?

But Jeff had been underfoot all day--certainly not out with Ian. Bodie
shrugged and went off to get the girls. If Ian had something to tell him,
he'd do it in his own sweet time.

He made sure the girl with the green eyes got the first autographs.

******

The show was over, the equipment packed and on its way to Scotland, and
Bodie was exhausted. He yawned hugely and wandered down the hotel corridor
to Ian's room to pass on the change in morning travel arrangements.

The hall was quiet. Jon and Kenny were safely tucked away with a couple of
(legal age) groupies, Tommy was giving an interview to a local paper, and
Jeff was off again on his own. At least this time Jon was too busy to
notice.

Bodie used his key to get into Ian's room and found that somehow the
musician had twigged the largest suite, complete with sitting room. He
closed the door quietly behind himself and didn't bother with the lights.

The bedroom door was half open, the meager shaft of light adequate to see
by. He started across the room, then paused as he heard voices.

"Look, if I'm out of line then just *say* so," that was Ian's voice, a
little strained, "and we'll forget I ever mentioned it."

"No...."

Bodie couldn't place a face to the second voice.

"Did you see him tonight?"

"Ray? Yes--after the show. He was waiting...."

Jeff? Bodie'd only heard him once and that was to softly answer one of the
fan's questions. Ray...he took a step closer.

"Did you...I mean...Christ, Jeff! I'm not tryin' to put you on the rack. I
just don't want you gettin' hurt." Ian took a long breath. "Jeff, he's
here because of Phil. Surely you know that."

Jeff must have nodded because Ian went on, "Then why are *you* always with
'im? Last night, tonight...no wait--forget I asked that. I've no right to
ask."

It sounded to Bodie as if Ian were screwing himself up into circles.
Personally, he didn't see what all the fuss was about as far as Jeff was
concerned.

But Ray...now *that* was another matter. He knew Doyle well enough to be
certain he wasn't *sleeping* with Jeff, but he certainly didn't know Ray
was still about. Half of him wanted to turn away, to find his
partner--former partner--and demand to know just what kind of game he was
playing.

Reason told him to stay still and he might find out anyway.

"I don't..." Jeff swallowed audibly and added, "...what does it matter?"

"It matters to *me*," Ian said fiercely. "Can't you see that?"

"Why?"

"Huh?"

Mister Glib, Bodie thought with fond amusement.

"I said 'why'? Why does it matter to you?"

"Well, *because*."

There was movement inside the room and Ian asked, "Where're you going?"

"'Because' is not an answer."

"Damn it all! All right, *this* is why!"

Silence. Bodie went to the doorway and watched. Ian held Jeff in a hard
grip, his mouth moving on the other man's, and Jeff melted into the
embrace with a soft moan.

Bodie raised an eyebrow, turned, and let himself quietly out of the room.

******

It was a short walk from the hotel to the arena. Bodie found Mister Watson
just as the big man was ready to climb on board the equipment lorry. A
couple of studied casual questions told him Doyle was about somewhere.

But where? And *why*?

He sent Mister Watson off to Edinburgh and stood by the darkened backstage
door for a long moment, trying to decide his next move. 

There was too much he didn't know. What had begun so easily a couple of
days ago had somehow become very complicated. Ian and him...Ian and
Jeff...Jeff and Ray...he and Ray....

All he knew for certain was that he missed Doyle even more than he had
imagined; like a physical ache, the emptiness spread through him,
unassuaged by Ian, by work, by anything.

Why didn't Ray go back to London--leave him the hell alone?

'Why doesn't he come to *me* and talk me into goin' back with 'im?' Even
the yearly testing for Grade Seven call-out didn't hurt this much.

Bodie slouched against the wall. Overhead clouds were gathering and
thunder rumbled in the distance. It was growing windy. He hunched deeper
into his leather jacket--not thinking of anything--because what he wanted
to think about hurt too much.

"Excuse me...." A tentative hand touched his arm and withdrew.

He turned a glowering look on the speaker, but softened as he recognized
the face. "Hello."

It was the girl with the green eyes, together with her two friends. She
looked relieved. "I...that is... *we* wondered if anybody, you know,
someone from the group is still inside...."

He shook his head. "Sorry, luv. Everybody's gone."

Thunder sounded louder and a streak of lightning lit the sky briefly.

One of the girls sighed. "We thought maybe they were still here. Since you
and that other guy are around guarding the place."

"I'm not..." Bodie began, then paused. "What other guy?"

"The curly haired guy that guards Jeff."

Ray. It had to be Ray. "Where is he now?" Bodie asked Green Eyes.

"Somewhere over there," the girl waved a hand toward the car park. "At
least he was awhile ago."

Bodie nodded. "So did you like the show?"

"Yeh--it was great," she sparkled and looked about thirteen. "Thanks again
for gettin' us the tickets."

A bit embarrassed being regarded as some sort of paragon, Bodie shifted.
"Look--it's getting cold and it's going to rain any time now. Hadn't you
lot better be off home?"

They all smiled at him. 'So young,' he thought. 'In a few years they'll be
hell on wheels....'

"Cathy's brother's going to pick us up," Green Eyes glanced at his watch.
"Five minutes ago!"

They all three turned and ran down the alley. Bodie followed more
leisurely, driven by some faint paternal instinct to make sure they were
safe. He reached the street in time to see the girls get into an old Ford,
then turned towards the car park.

The lot seemed empty, no longer any cars filling it, only the plane trees
tossing in the wind. Bodie waited for the lightning to flash twice,
getting his bearings, then made his way to the center of the flat
concrete. He'd seen no one, but....

"Ray!"

Silence.

"Doyle! Get out here!"

He made a slow turn, and a second circle before he saw Ray.

The man was standing by one of the trees, barely visible in the darkness
as he huddled into his jacket, his hair wilder in the wind.

Bodie strode over as the first of the raindrops splattered across the
dusty surface.

He reached Doyle's side and stopped, unsure what to say now he was here.
Ray just looked back at him silently. The rain began to fall in earnest,
driven by the rising wind, and Bodie turned his back to the storm.

"We're gettin' wet," he said finally.

"Not so sweet we'll melt," Ray half smiled. The water ran in rivulets down
his face and he blinked rapidly. "You," he told Bodie belligerently, "are
a bloody great idiot."

"And you're a river rat," Bodie looked around. "Where's your motor?"

"At my lodgings. I walked." Doyle sneezed. 

Bodie made a face. Every inch of him wanted to drag Ray into a tight
clasp, but that wouldn't solve anything. "Come on, Sunshine, we'll go to
the hotel."

Ray nodded and they walked side by side, out of the rainsleek car park,
into the street.

******

Bodie unlocked his door and pushed it open with one foot. "This is it."

Doyle went past him and surveyed the room in a quick glance. He had half
expected to find Ian there, not knowing what the actual sleeping
arrangements were. But the room was unoccupied, the bed neatly made. He
paused, then turned the face his partner. Now that the moment had come and
he finally had a chance to talk with Bodie alone, he found all his
carefully prepared speeches had flown his mind.

Bodie said mildly, "You'd better go shower and warm up a bit, mate. You're
turning blue."

"We have to talk."

"Later," Bodie was firm. "*After* you shower off."

Doyle found his temper slipping. "I'm not cold!"

"Right. You always walk around looking like something the cat dragged in,
right? Have a little sense."

While Ray was still trying to find a properly worded pithy reply, Bodie
went into action. Taking Doyle's arm in a hard grip, he propelled him into
the bathroom. He turned on the shower, waiting until the water steamed,
ignoring all of Ray's voluble protests.

"You gonna strip or do I have to do it for you?"

"Chance would be a fine thing," Ray mumbled. "All right already." He took
off his jacket and shoulder holster, and handed them to his partner.

Tucking the articles under one arm, Bodie left the room only to return
several minutes later. Doyle was already under the hot water, his clothes
a damp, untidy heap on the floor.

Bodie knocked on the shower stall door. "Ray, there's fresh towels now."

"Um...thanks," Doyle's head poked out momentarily. "You'd better dry off,
too."

"Later," Bodie said politely.

"No one will love you if you're full of germs," Doyle pointed out and
tossing one of the towels in Bodie's general direction before disappearing
back into the steam.

Bodie grinned in spite of himself and used the towel to good advantage,
before slipping on a terry robe. He poured two stiff whiskeys and took his
along to the window, staring out at the wet neon reflections in the
street. Now that Ray was here he had no idea what to say to him, how to
explain his actions--wasn't even sure he could.

Doyle's voice rose above the noise of the shower, singing one of the few
ballads Sea Reef performed. The tune was right, the verse garbled, and
wherever he didn't know the words he substituted with an unconcerned la da
da. Bodie smiled. How many thousands of times had he heard Ray sing in the
shower? It was a standing joke in the CI5 locker room--Doyle and his
incapability to remain silent under running water.

Bodie felt a sudden, overwhelming homesickness for the dingy building off
Whitehall--for the men and women who worked there, even--or more
precisely, *especially*--Cowley.

"Bodie?"

He could see Ray's reflection in the glass, damply curling hair, pale
skin, wearing nothing but a skimpy, bedraggled looking towel. Bodie didn't
turn. "There's plenty of clothes. Take your pick."

"Thanks." Doyle didn't move. Bodie stared at the reflection avidly,
storing it for his memories. He took another sip of whisky.

"There's a drink."

"Yeh." Ray stepped out of sight then and Bodie turned to see him down the
liquor in one smooth swallow. He wasn't ready when, a second later Doyle
threw the glass at the wall.

It didn't break, only bounced back onto the carpet where it was ignored.

"*Damn you Bodie*!"

Bodie stayed silent.

"Why? *Why*?" Doyle was close now.

Bodie stood his ground. "I told you...."

"A bunch of fuckin' garbage," Ray glared at him, his green eyes sparking.
"Look at us! 'Have a drink Ray--Here's a towel, Ray'--like we're a couple
of bloody strangers! For Christ's sake, Bodie!"

"What do you want?"

"I want you to quit runnin' away!" Ray yelled. "You *always* run away!
Don't look at me like that! You *do*! Every time...."

Bodie watched Ray rant, listened to the sudden impassioned speech as it
poured out of his partner, and turned a little white. Was it true? Did he
always run?

He ran from home when Dad tried to tie him into the family business.

He ran from Ian and his mother when they got under his still fragile
protective shell.

He ran from the Mercs, the Army, the SAS...everytime his emotions got
involved. The pain of leaving was better than the pain of being left. Of
being refused. If he left first he couldn't be rejected, right?

And it had always worked. No one had ever cared enough to come after him.

Until now.

He cut through Doyle's still tumbling monologue with a low voiced demand.
"You tell me why."

"What?"

"Why'd you come after me? What does it matter? Cowley'd give you a new
partner just as good as me. Probably better, if you consider age. Why are
you *here*?"

Ray glared at him for a moment then reached to hook his hands in the belt
of his partner's robe. He jerked and pulled Bodie against him. "Because,
you damned bloody idiot," he ground out, "I...oh *shit*, Bodie, I *love*
you!"

"No...."

"Don't you say 'no' to *me*, mate. I oughtta know--you've damn well put me
through the mill for the last couple of days and I'm still here. I can't
think of anybody else I'd do that for."

Bodie stared at the familiar pugnacious face so close to his own. He saw a
total stranger. "You never said...."

"I didn't know, did I?" Doyle suddenly smiled. "Had to have it pounded
into me."

There was a long silence as Bodie read the fire in Ray's eyes. All there
for *him*. It overwhelmed him.

Doyle continued softly, "Something else...if you're not in the Squad, then
I'm not either. I learned that these last couple of days. If you want to
travel round with a pop group, or go back to gun running, or go live on a
mountain somewhere--you'd better plan on havin' me along, 'cause I'm not
lettin' you go again. Is that clear?"

Bodie raised an eyebrow. "Conditions, 4.5?"

"Just getting the facts straight up front. And one more thing...."

"What?"

"No more Ian. In bed, I mean. I don't plan to share you with anybody."

"You're a great one to talk. News Of The World'll have you 'n Jeff on the
front page...."

"You know better."

"Yeh, but Ian didn't...."

"Oh, did that work then?"

"We're alone," Bodie pointed out. Doyle's hands had slipped inside his
robe as they talked and were rubbing his shoulders. It felt good, a
soft/hard touch that explored and lingered. Bodie took a deep breath.
"Ray, d'you know what you're getting into?"

"I know *who*," Doyle answered promptly, with a veiled glance. "And *why*,
and presumably *when* and *where*...but as to *how*--I'm counting on you
to help out."

Bodie rubbed his hardening shaft against the like one on his partner.
"You're doin' fine, mate," he whispered.

"Yeh, except any minute now my legs are gonna give out...."

"Bed," Bodie ordered and pushed him in the general direction. 

The room was still chilly. Doyle slipped under the covers, sending his
towel flying. Bodie paused to turn off the lights before joining him.
Their legs curved naturally together and Bodie leaned up on one elbow,
gazing down at Ray with a kind of scared wonder. "Are you *sure*?"

"Shut up and fuck me," Ray told him succinctly, "before I lose my mind or
my temper, or both...."

Bodie stopped him with a kiss, tentative at first, but when Doyle's mouth
opened eagerly under his, the touch hardened. He demanded and was given
entrance, tasted and felt the moan that came from his partner. He lifted
and smiled. "Okay?"

"What exactly am I supposed to do here?" Ray sounded breathless.

"What ever you want to, short of leaving."

"Yeh?" Doyle pushed Bodie aside, then rolled on top of him. "Like this?"
He began kissing down Bodie's neck, investigating the crevices with his
tongue. "And this?"

"Christ!" Bodie sucked in a heavy breath. "Yes...."

It was all the encouragement Doyle needed. He took his clues from the
reactions of Bodie's body, kissing and licking down the hard torso,
learning what pleased and what didn't, finding the different erotic zones
of male from female. It was fascinating, a special sort of aphrodisiac
watching Bodie turn from the hard man he'd always known him to be into a
touchingly vulnerable lover. He lowered his hand to the taut genitals and
Bodie arched, hissing unintelligibly. Pleased, Ray ran a finger along the
blood hard cock; felt it lift towards the touch, and chuckled. This was
*good*, better than all his imaginings put together. He buried his tongue
in his partner's navel then followed the dark line of hair to the base of
the shaft. There was a clean, musky, *Bodie* smell concentrated there and
he breathed it in, suddenly aware that with no help at all he was about to
come.

Bodie tugged at him. "Slow down--I'll be off in a second...."

Doyle raised up, grinning, "Me, too...are you *always* this quick off the
mark?"

"Shut up," his partner growled. "And come here."

"I thought I was supposed to do whatever I wanted to."

"Ray...."

He went and was rewarded with a tight embrace and a deep satisfying kiss.

"Ray...."

"Again," Doyle demanded.

Bodie kissed him again. "Ray...."

"Hmmm...."

"Ray, did you mean it?"

"Yes. Did I mean what?"

"Do you want to...."

Ray caught on, "Fuck you? Yes. But only if you promise you'll do me...."

Bodie took a deep breath. "*Jesus*, Ray...."

"I've never done this before, you know. You'll have to show me how." Ray
was suddenly serious. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Bodie promised and his legs lifted and wrapped around Doyle's
waist.

"Like this? I thought...."

"I want to see your face," Bodie told him softly. "I want to watch
you...."

"Kinky sod," Ray said. "Where's the stuff? Hurry up, Bodie, I'm about
to...thanks." He applied the gel to himself and, guided by his
partner...no, his *lover*, he began to enter the tight channel, gasping as
much from the effort of holding back as from the incredible feel of it. In
the dim light he could see the sweat glistening on Bodie's face--and the
intense expression there. He stopped, afraid he was hurting him, but Bodie
used his legs to pull him closer.

"Don't stop...s'good...."

Encouraged by hands and legs and voice Ray continued, then forgot
everything but the feel. He began to move, sliding with ever easier rhythm
in and out of his partner as the fire inside himself burned hotter than
he'd ever known. He was vaguely aware of a cry in the distance, drowned
out by the pounding of his heart, of the sudden tension of his lover, and
the feel of something wet between them as Bodie pulled him closer, then he
was coming, pouring himself into Bodie, giving his lover a part of
himself....

******

"Doyle?"

"I'm here."

"I know that, mate, but I'm having a bit of trouble breathing...."

"Too bad," Doyle sympathized, but didn't move.

Bodie pushed at him and he slipped free and rolled to his side. "You
okay?"

Ray took a deep breath. "The Greeks," he said seriously, "definitely were
on to a good thing."

"You're all right."

"Bodie?"

"Yeh?"

"Let's do it again."

Bodie took his relaxed hand and laid it over his own heart. "When it slows
down to where you can count it."

"Did you? I mean...." Doyle found the evidence and the answer for himself.
"Was it good?"

"Are you always this talkative?"

"Only when I'm...happy."

"Yeh, it was good. Better. Best. Okay?"

Arms encircled Ray and held him safe. Doyle snuggled closer. "No more
running?"

"No more running."

Doyle kissed the nearest part of Bodie's body, somewhere in the area of
his shoulder. "You remember that doctor you used to do it with in Africa?
The one who always took your pulse to see when you'd be ready to do it
again?" He found Bodie's hand.

"Yeh," Bodie sounded a bit doubtful.

"What *exactly* was her criteria?"

******

Bodie awoke slowly and lay there for a few seconds wondering if it had all
been a dream. But the body tangled with his was real and the curly hair up
his nose was Ray's. He slid a cautious hand over the warm shoulder and
down Doyle's back, wanting to touch but not wake him yet.

There were a few details he had to come to terms with first. To want
something so badly for so long, then to be handed his wish...it was a new
sensation. Good, yes--no, better than that--it was incredible. Ray had
given of himself wholly, typically jumping in with both feet, and had
awakened in Bodie an answering emotion. He had known he loved Ray, but
this total commitment was scary. He wasn't sure he could live up to
it--was terrified he'd somehow let Doyle down.

And what of the future? Back to CI5? Continue on with Sea Reef? When Ray
said he would follow Bodie anywhere did he mean it? (If so, right now that
mountain looked pretty good.)

Ray mumbled something and snuggled against him, turning his face into his
partner's neck. Bodie felt the brush of lashes and a moment later Doyle
lifted his head to blink at him sleepily.

Bodie smiled, "'Morning, mate."

"Is it?" Ray looked around, still three quarters asleep. "Oh yeh--the
hotel." A sudden wave of color swept up his neck and Bodie watched its
progress with interest. What was Ray thinking now? He became aware of
green eyes gazing at him solemnly, a slight worried look in the depths.

Deciding he'd better make his own position very clear Bodie said promptly,
"I'm here."

Immediately Ray smiled and settled back into his partner's arms, not
speaking. They lay quietly, barely stroking each other until a heavy knock
sounded on the door.

Doyle jumped and made to pull away but Bodie held him tightly. "Stay put."

"But...."

"Look--you gonna admit we're lovers or not?"

"Yes, but...."

"Start now," Bodie advised him and called, "Who is it?"

"S'Ian."

"You've got a key. Come in."

Doyle shook his head. "You're a bastard, Bodie."

"Probably," Bodie agreed and reached to fluff his pillow so he could sit
up a bit better. He kept his other arm firmly wrapped around his partner.

Ian was fully dressed, awake, and disgustingly alert as he came into the
room. "Listen, Phil, I wanted to...."

He took in the cozy scene and paused. Bodie said nothing, just smiled a
little at the amazed/relieved look on the musician's face.

Ian, who had left a very happy, but nervous, Jeff in the corridor, said,
"You look too damn smug."

"So," Bodie agreed, "do you."

They smiled at each other in perfect understanding and when Doyle rolled
over to see the action he was included in Ian's good will.

"You 'ad me goin' there for a bit, Ray," the musician said.

"You don't look too upset."

"Jeff explained."

"At great length," Bodie added with real amusement, "For most of the
night, I should think."

Ian came to sit on the edge of the bed. He stroked a long fingered hand
down Bodie's stubbled cheek, but spoke to Ray. "He's very special, is
Phil."

Ray agreed politely, just barely able to stop himself breaking Ian's hand
where it touched Bodie.

"If I leave him in your hands...."

"I'll take care of 'im."

Bodie made a face. "I'm still here, you know."

Ian nodded. "You coming ahead with the tour? All offers stand."

Bodie thought about it and finally looked at Doyle. "Well?"

"Told you last night," Ray said cheerfully. "Trite, but true. I just want
to be where you are."

Bodie eyed him fondly. Ray belonged out on the streets doing what he'd
trained his whole life to do. He'd not be happy anywhere else. "Think
it'll effect our work?"

"Yeh, I do."

"We could always try."

"Yeh, we could."

"When do we have to be back?"

"Next Monday."

"Fancy a short holiday in Scotland?"

"Why not?"

Bodie ruffled his wild curls, wondering when this agreeable cherub would
turn back into Doyle, then turned back to an interested Ian. "One more
show, then Mister Watson can take over. Okay?"

"You think he's capable?"

Bodie just looked at him.

Ian threw up his hands, "Okay, I'll take your word for it." He raised an
eyebrow at Doyle then leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on
Bodie's mouth. "See ya later."

"Not," Ray said carefully, "If you keep that up."

Ian just laughed.

When he had gone Doyle rolled fully on top of his partner, nipping at the
smooth sheen of Bodie's chest, working up his neck before suddenly
relaxing into a warm heap.

Amused, Bodie stroked the bare shoulders. "What was that for?"

"Reminder that you're *mine*," Doyle grinned at him. "Poor sod."

Bodie tried to look miserable and failed utterly. "You don't really mind,
do you? Finishing the job, I mean."

"'Course not. I always finish what I've started," Doyle deliberately
misunderstood.

Bodie didn't try to explain. He was too busy capitulating to the
determined advances being made on his body.

******

Monday morning, 0700. Bodie led the way into the motley CI5 HQ and paused
to greet Fred. They passed a ribald time of day and when he turned Doyle
was several yards away staring at the large cork board.

Bodie ambled over. "What're you impersonating a Cheshire cat for?"

"You didn't phone the Cow and tell him you were coming back, did you?"

"No, thought I'd give him a joyous surprise. Why?"

"I didn't either." Ray pointed to the posted duty roster. "Look at that."

3.7 BODIE, 4.5 DOYLE, (the board read) ACTIVE

The men looked at each other and back to the listing. "Bloody warlock,"
Bodie muttered.

Doyle was still grinning. "Welcome home, mate."

They turned as one and went up the stairs.

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