The Professionals Circuit Archive - Autumn Time	Autumn Time

 

by Anne Carr

  
 "Two days off," Doyle said blissfully and relaxed, slouching easily in
the car seat. Beside him Bodie started the motor, "On a weekend, too. How
long's it been since we had a weekend off?"

"Since Devonshire."

Bodie took his eyes off the road just long enough to glance at his
partner. Doyle didn't meet his look. Striving for a light tone Bodie
pointed out, "Holidays don't count."

"That one did."

The simple sentence was so heavy with meaning Bodie didn't even try to
answer. He'd already said it all anyway. Ray knew his partner loved him,
wanted him--physically as well as emotionally. Emotionally Doyle thought
he could handle, the physically bit was what still threw him. He
couldn't--not yet.

If they'd only had more time, Bodie mused, and neatly avoided a near miss
with a Mercedes. In Devonshire they were alone together, no pressures, no
jobs, no Cowley breathing down their necks. If they'd had more time in
Devonshire they'd have worked it out. Instead Cowley'd called them back
the very night they'd rediscovered each other and they hadn't stopped
working since. And here in London everything got a lot more complicated.

He glanced at his partner again and smiled. Ray was half-asleep, a legacy
no doubt of their frantic pace the last six weeks. Never enough time--then
or now. He had been very careful not to bring up that particular subject
of conversation, knowing that Ray would make up his mind in his own time.
Bodie could wait. His feelings for his partner weren't going to change.
And he knew Doyle very well--Ray's meaningful little comment wasn't a come
on, it was his way of telling Bodie that he cared.

He pulled up outside Doyle's block of flats and tapped the dozing man's
arm, "Wake up Sleeping Beauty, here's your castle."

Ray stretched and blinked in the autumn sunlight. "You wanna come up?" He
was tempted. They'd been alone so rarely since Devonshire. But maybe if
Ray was on his own he could do some clear thinking. "No. Call you later
though." His baser self was pleased to see Ray's look of disappointment,
however quickly suppressed it was.

"Okay then. Later."

Bodie waved a brief farewell and headed the car back into traffic. For all
his good intentions he hoped Ray would work it out soon. He'd really much
rather have stayed.

******

The pub was noisy, smoke filled, and smelled of spilled beer, peanuts, and
several odors it was probably best not to investigate. It was not in a
salubrious area and made no pretense to be anything more than the dive it
was. The dockside Boarshead was not a place to bring your wife and the
language was as hard as the men who drank there. Bodie had no trouble
fitting in.

He downed his third pint listening to a low toned disagreement between two
men over the relative usefulness of an Ingram over an M16 in the jungle
and silently agreed with one of them. These men knew what they were
talking about--like Bodie and almost every other patron--they'd been
there. Unlike Bodie they'd be going back.

He was just considering going for a fourth--after all it was Friday night,
he was off for the next two days and there was nothing to be sober
for--when one of the men looked past him, stopped in midsentence and
stared.

Bodie felt a light tap on his shoulder.

"Mr. Bodie?"

Conversation in the pub stilled then began again, quieter and a trifle
strained. Bodie turned. She was young, no more than twenty-five, tall and
shapely, with shoulder length almost black hair and grey clear eyes. She
looked vaguely familiar and he rose politely, "Yes."

"*William* Bodie?" Now that he had turned to face her she looked doubtful.
Her fingers twisted at her purse strap, the only sign of nervousness.

"Yes," he said again, aware that the feeling of familiarity was getting
stronger. "Who are you?"

"I'm sorry. You don't look like your picture." She smiled, showing a row
of even white teeth. "I'm very sorry to disturb you, but could we talk for
a minute? I'm Merrie. Merrie Grisham." The name meant nothing to him. He
considered, taking in her expensive jacket, the sizeable diamond ring on
her finger, the way she forced her hands to be still. "Sure. But not here.
You don't belong here."

Slipping a hand under her elbow he guided her to the door and out, hearing
the collective relieved sigh that went around the smoke filled room behind
them.

This street was dark, splotched only occasionally with pale lamplight.
Bodie paused and looked around. "How'd you get here?"

Merrie pointed, "My car's back there."

"You're either desperate or an idiot," Bodie began walking again, "to come
down here alone at night."

"There wasn't anyone to bring me. Where are we going?"

"To your motor where you're going to tell me what this is about. Then
*you're* getting out of here."

She mumbled something under her breath and pulled her arm free--a gentle
gesture, not intended to do more than assert a little independence. Bodie
grinned and let her go. The car was a mini, a couple of years old and
appeared to still be in one piece. Bodie climbed in the passenger's side
and locked his door. "All right Merrie Grisham, who are you?"

In answer she handed him a picture and turned on the overhead light.
"That's you and Alan McKenzie--Mac you call him. He's my brother--he *was*
my brother. Do you remember him?"

Bodie ran a finger down the paper, "I remember. It's been a long time. You
look a little like him." He raised his eyes. "*Was*?"

"He died three days ago. In hospital here in London. The funeral was
today."

"I'm sorry." He said it automatically, his eyes already back on the
picture. He and Mac together--the old days--a lifetime of memories ago.
"What--how did he die?"

"Some weird fever. Something bit him."

The tone of her voice told him the death was a blessing. Down the street a
door opened and several uniformed men staggered out, laughing and
clutching at each other to stay upright. Bodie frowned. "Look, Miss
Grisham. We can't talk here."

She nodded, turned out the light, and started the car. "My flat is
swarming with roommates. Your place? Do you have a car?"

"I walked," he said quietly and gave her directions.

******

In the bright light of his apartment he could see the strain in her face.
And the resemblance to Mac was clearer, too. He threw his jacket and hers
over the chair arm. "Drink?"

"Whatever's easiest."

He poured two glasses and brought the bottle of scotch with him, sitting
beside her on the settee. "How'd you find me? And why?"

She was ready for it and handed him an envelope. It was wrinkled, stained
and well creased. "Perhaps it'd just be easier if you read this. It was in
his things." Bodie took the paper silently, opened it and read:


3 September

Dear Merrie,

If you're reading this Papa was right--I've snuffed it before I'm 30.
Whatever happens, don't be sad, I'm very likely easier now and you look
lousy with puffy eyes. You've already heard the will from the old dry
bones solicitor, so you'll know how I left things. Half to you and half to
a man named Bodie. I'm writing this to tell you why. You already know why
I left the fold. You weren't very old then but my fights with our dear
departed Papa were rotten for you. I think if Mum had lived it might have
been better, but that's not (here something was crossed out and not
replaced. Bodie skipped it and went on) I determined to run off and join
the navy but I wasn't old enough and they didn't believe me when I
lied--my lamentable face! So I ended up as a rather innocent sailor on a
ship that ran guns to Africa. I won't--can't--tell you what it was like
over there. We didn't go to the places you see in the travel ads. We went
to unnamed ports, met men with masked faces who carried guns like third
arms. In one of those ports my captain was killed, the crew panicked and
took off and I was left behind. I learned something then, Merrie. I
learned I'd do *anything* to stay alive. But I never wouldn't lasted a
week without Bodie. He couldn't have been more than 22 or 23, he never
said, but he'd already seen more than I probably ever will. Bodie found me
with some men one night and took me away with him. He had to win a fight
to do it--I still have nightmares about it, now knowing whether to want
him to win or not. But he did and took me off with him to join the band of
mercenaries he belonged to at the time. He taught me everything I know
about. A lot of things, kept me alive until I could stand on my own, and
most importantly, he gave me back my self respect. I owe him more than I
can ever repay. I don't know where he is now--I last saw him in Angola. He
may not even be alive, but you can have Dry Bones check at the Boarshead,
dockside in London. Someone will know. When you find him tell him I'm
asking one more favor. Tell him to remember and to take the money. Love,
Alan

 Bodie folded the letter, replaced it carefully in the envelope and handed
it back. He started to speak, then cleared his throat, "Excuse me. Wait
here--please."

Merrie nodded and watched as he left the room. She wasn't sure until the
water ran in the bathroom a minute later, then she swallowed and put the
letter in her purse. "He remembers, Alan," she whispered. "He remembers."

******

Doyle stretched out on his bed and tried for the fourth time to read the
book he'd bought that day. It was one he'd looked forward to, knew to be
suspenseful and well written. But the words blurred in front of him until
all he saw were blue eyes, dark hair, and the face of his partner. It was
no use. He was going to have to face facts, and the sooner the better. He
closed the novel and set it aside. What the hell was he afraid of? Not
love. That he welcomed, longed for, had probably found with Bodie. When
Bodie had held him that night in the hotel in Devonshire he'd felt
something he'd never felt before. Something warm and good. Peaceful. A
sense of coming home. If Cowley hadn't called he'd most likely have
allowed nature to take its course.

But the Old Man had called and their time together was over before it had
begun. So--honestly--was it the sex angle? It had certainly never occurred
to him before Bodie's bird Claire had brought it up. He thought about that
day on the beach when his partner kissed him, remembered the overwhelming
fire that threatened to consume him as soon as Bodie touched him. No, not
the sex--but he'd given himself the clue.

'Overwhelming fire that threatened to consume' ...Probably been reading
too many novels--but the phrase described the feeling quite adequately.
And that was what he feared. When Bodie just held him, asking nothing,
he'd felt peaceful, but when his partner kissed him, demanded a response,
he only too easily felt his control slipping. Ray frowned, his round face
set into his most pugnacious as he forced himself to face the truth. He
was afraid of giving Bodie a hold on him, afraid of giving him the upper
hand; *damn it*! He was afraid of commitment.

He glanced at his watch then the phone. After eleven. Bodie should have
called by now. Acting on impulse, only knowing he wanted to hear his
partner's voice, he picked up the receiver and dialed.

It was answered on the fourth ring. Prepared for Bodie's voice, Doyle got
a shock. "Mr. Bodie's residence."

It was a girl! Doyle stared at the phone as if it were a hooded cobra.
"*Hello*?"

The girl's voice, a little impatient at his silence.

"Is...ah...Bodie there?" Stupid question.

"Can I tell him who's calling?"

"Ray."

There was a short silence, then Bodie, sounding slightly breathless and
odd, came on the line. "Hello, sunshine."

"Didn't mean to interrupt anything," Doyle began. "Didn't know you had a
date."

"You aren't and this wasn't exactly a planned thing. Hang about, mate."
Doyle heard a muffled conversation then Bodie came back.

"Merrie's the sister of a friend."

Doyle thought he knew most, if not all of Bodie's friends--an odd word
that--and none of them had a sister named Merrie. "Nice, eh?"

"Not bad," Bodie was noncommittal.

Doyle recognized the tone. It meant 'don't ask questions'. "Thought we
might go out tomorrow."

Bodie hesitated then said slowly, "I think you'd better count me out this
weekend. It looks like I'll be tied up."

"Gettin' kinky?"

"No." Bodie didn't respond to the pun.

Doyle frowned. This sounded serious. "You okay?"

"Sure. Fine. See you Monday."

The line clicked and Ray replaced his receiver slowly. There was no reason
his partner shouldn't spend the weekend with some bird. None whatsoever.
Bodie was human, after all, and it'd been a good six weeks since they'd
been free to indulge in a little healthy sex. Doyle felt the unspent
tension in himself. If Bodie'd gone out and found an easy lay he wished
him well. But.... He'd been partners with Bodie for a long time. Little
things, nuances of speech, a certain tightness in the voice, things no one
else would notice practically shouted to Ray. There was something
different about this girl.

He wandered into the kitchen and put on the kettle automatically, then
switched off the fire and reached for a bottle instead. It promised to be
a long, soul searching night.

******

Merrie ended up spending the night at Bodie's, safely tucked in his bed
while he insisted on taking the sofa.

"I'm used to sleeping rough," he told her and went for extra bedding. In
the morning she woke him with coffee and a request to use the phone. "I'd
better call my fiance, let him know I'm okay."

"Is he bigger than me?" Bodie mumbled, trying to wake up.

"Tall blond, and gorgeous," she smiled.

"Sounds like my last girlfriend." He yawned and struggled to sit up amidst
the tangled covers. "Whas the time?"

"Gone nine. I've been up since seven."

"I can tell." He eyed her neat, alert appearance balefully. "Don't judge
by looks. I've been up since seven, I didn't open my eyes til eight." She
watched his heavy lidded, unshaven face. "If you'll give me run of the
kitchen I'll make breakfast."

"My dear Merrie--it's all yours."

By the time he showered, shaved and dressed, the meal was ready. Merrie
pulled his plate from the warmer and refilled his coffee cup with the
phone tucked under her chin, talking, presumably, with the tall blond
fiance.

Bodie took one bit of omelet and interrupted, "Ask him if he knows what a
treasure he's getting. This is good."

She raised an eyebrow, said an affectionate goodbye and joined him at his
small table. "Everything all right?"

"He's not entirely thrilled I stayed over."

"So where was he when you went blithely into the docks last night?" Bodie
asked, unimpressed. "He should at least have been there."

"Might have been a little difficult seeing as Ted's in Australia at the
moment," Merrie said coolly. Bodie choked and hastily swallowed a mouthful
of coffee.

"Don't worry, I charged the call to my phone."

"Hope you didn't say anything too bad about me," Bodie recovered. "The
line is tapped." She smiled and didn't reply.

He finished his breakfast and leaned back. "I'd like to see where Mac is
buried."

"Okay. There's papers for you to sign. One of my roommates is Dry Bones'
secretary and she knows what it all entails."

Bodie took his plate to the sink and began to wash up. "Speaking of
entails, exactly how much money are we talking about?"

"After all the taxes?" She told him.

He carefully set the plate aside. "No more dishes. Let the maid do it."

"Papa," Merrie said, "was stinking. There's a house in Buckinghamshire and
some old cottage in Scotland with a couple of acres. I've never seen it
but Alan used to go there when he came home. He said it was peaceful."

Bodie imagined he and Doyle alone up north in their own retreat. "I'd like
to see it."

"You will. He left it to you. Sounds dreadful to me, but I suppose you'd
like it. Bodie, are you still a mercenary?"

"No."

"Why'd you leave Alan behind?" she asked in a low voice. "If you had so
much influence why couldn't you have...."

"He wasn't ready to leave it. Not for good."

She nodded, not looking at him. "So what do you do now? For a living, I
mean."

"A job. Nothing special."

"Your line is tapped," she reminded pointedly.

"Only because I like it that way." He shrugged. "I'm a civil servant."

"Pull the other one," Merrie snorted. "Never mind. I doubt if I want to
know. You get phone calls at odd hours."

"Ray's my partner."

Something in his voice made her look up but she merely said, "Let's get
going. If, that is, I can find my shoes."

******

Graveyards depressed him. He stood looking down at the freshly turned
earth and made a mental note. He was going to be cremated and spread over
the ocean. Slowly congealing in the ground was not for him.

He didn't think about Mac. Mac belonged to the past and he'd settled it
last night, lying awake on the sofa for a long time. Mac and his
'lamentable face'--far too handsome for his own good, with pure features
that stayed beautiful long after innocence was gone. Well, he'd done what
the boy had asked. He'd remembered and he was going to take the money.
Beside him Merrie sniffed. She was quietly crying--her grey eyes red and
no longer beautiful. Bodie hated it when women cried. It made him feel
inadequate. He put an awkward arm about her shoulders and when she turned
and buried her face in his leather jacket he held her loosely, wondering
if tears left stains and if so could the cleaners get them out? Eventually
she gathered herself together and blew her nose indelicately on a lace
trimmed handkerchief. He liked her better for it. "Come on. We'll get
something to eat and you'll feel better."

"Those papers...."

"*After* we eat," he said firmly and Merrie grimaced.

"Are you always so damned bossy?"

He led the way to the car. "Yes."

"Your girlfriends must love it," she was not being kind.

"They don't mind." Not that he'd noticed anyway.

"Oh god--beautiful and dumb, right?"

Bodie grinned cheekily. "All of em. Every one."

Merrie's laugh was watery, but he could tell she was recovering. "What do
*you* do? Other than spend Papa's lolly?"

"I design video games."

"Beautiful and smart," Bodie sighed. "And rich. And she can cook. What
more could a feller want?"

"My first husband, chosen by Papa, wanted some sort of slave."

"What sort?"

Merrie watched as they turned towards London. "The sort that obeys
commands and brings slippers."

"That's not a slave, that's a dog."

"That's what I told him. So now he has a deep meaningful relationship with
an Alsatian named Muffy." Without pausing she went on, "Tell me about your
partner."

Bodie said the first thing that came into his mind. "Why?"

"Because you don't seem like the type who needs a partner. So he must be
special."

"Ray's all right."

"Have you been together long?"

"A little over five years."

"How long were you with Alan...Mac?"

"Two years, three months, six days."

Merrie looked at him. "You do remember."

"Everything. Yeh, sure. And with the single exception of Mac, I wish I
could forget."

"Bodie...did you...love him?"

"No." He was brutally honest.

"I think he loved you. Like a brother," she added hastily. "He always
wanted an older brother."

No, Bodie thought, not like that. Not at all. But all he said was, "Maybe.
I don't know--he never said."

******

Sleeping was not a luxury to which Doyle was accustomed. He awoke as the
first ray of sunlight straggled through his curtains to slam him squarely
in the face. Trying to bury himself in the pillows, he rolled over. But it
was no use, his bladder was insistent. Groaning just a little he untangled
himself from the covers and stumbled, bleary-eyed, into the loo. When he
emerged twenty minutes later he was clean, freshly shaved and still
blear-eyes. It had been a long night.

But not useless.

Sometime during the lonely hours he had faced a few facts. One. He
definitely loved Bodie. Trying to imagine a life without him was
impossible. Trying to imagine a life *with* him wasn't all that
easy--Bodie could be a distinct pain, but then Doyle knew he himself would
be no picnic either. Wrong choice of words that. Picnics were always
disasters when he was around. Ants, bees, bank robbers.... He made coffee
and told himself to keep to the subject.

Two. He was not gay. He enjoyed the soft warmth of the feminine anatomy.
But loving Bodie brought desire for the man with it. The more he thought
about it the more he wanted him. And his imagination already supplied him
with ideas....

He drank coffee, ate a light breakfast and let his fertile mind play with
the idea of Bodie, naked and breathless beneath him, on top of him, beside
and behind.... Three. Commitment. He wanted--needed--permanence in a
relationship and he suspected Bodie did, too. No more one night stands. It
scared the hell out of him, set him up to get hurt *again*--like hearing
that certain tone in Bodie's voice last night. Had he left it too late?
Give him a chance, Doyle God knows he's given you enough. Always there to
back you up, support you, understand you.

If Bodie, the lone wolf, the determined out-for-himself-only man could
face commitment, then couldn't he?

At three am it had looked very easy. Just go find his partner and tell
him. Hell, he wouldn't even *have* to tell him. One look should be enough.
Bodie would know. At three am he had pictured Bodie dumping his new bird
and coming home with him for a weekend of...well *everything*. It was
after ten. Ray stared at his bare feet. They were definitely cold. He had
been a lot of things, but somehow 'coward' had never cropped up before. He
was damned if he'd let fear hold him back any more.

Determinedly he reached for his clothes.

Start by finding Bodie.

******

By noon he had checked Bodie's flat (no answer), two local pubs (no sign
of him), and CI5 (he's on RT standby). Ray sat in his car, staring
unseeingly at his hands and tried to think where Bodie could be.

Lunchtime. Bodie let very little interfere with eating. The girl had
sounded, if not exactly *too* posh, then definitely classy. So where would
his partner take a new classy bird to lunch? Of course. Gino's.

He was too late. Mario, the head waiter, smiled sadly with liquid dark
eyes and told him 'Si, senore, Bodie had been there--very early with his
bellisema signorina but they had gone and he did not know where.'

Couldn't he remember *anything*?

Oiled by a quid and remembrance of good tipping in the past, Mario
remembered. They were heading to the lady's flat to continue their
liaison.

Mario was inclined to rhapsodize over the girl's apparently boundless
assets (Signore Bodie was a lucky man, no?). Doyle cut him short.

"Did she sign your book?"

"Si--of course." Didn't everyone want to sign the book at Gino's? Merrie
Grisham. Address--Islington. Not much, but better than nothing. He could
always run it through HQ. They'd had an address in no time. And he'd have
Cowley on his back for a week for using Control for personal business.

He took a chance and asked Mario for phone books. And there it was: M.
Grisham--the address and number. He memorized the digits in one glance and
departed, munching on the sandwich Mario gave him under the table.

The best thing about Gino's restaurant was that they knew when and how to
please their customers.

******

Bodie signed his full name on the bottom of page six, then handed the
papers to the soliciter. Odd how his life had been changed so many times
with a signature. Into the merchant navy, into contracts with mercs, into
the paras--the SAS, and most importantly, into CI5. And now this. Suddenly
he was rich. Well, rich as he conceived it to be anyway. He certainly
never had to work again. As far as Bodie was concerned, until he could
talk it out with Ray all that meant was that he wouldn't have Cowley on
his back for an excessively high expense chit. Being idle wouldn't suit.
But being dead didn't suit either and working for the Cow...well, the odds
against living got higher every year. No, he'd try and convince Doyle to
leave with him, maybe start by taking his partner off on a long vacation,
talk him into planning some kind of future. Future...now that was a new
concept.

Merrie watched as his bland expression softened, and shivered just a
little. Bodie was nice, polite, and cold. Oh, he could turn on the charm
as he'd done when he met her roommates (they'd talk about him for *weeks*)
while they waited for Dry Bones to show up, but it was a calculated charm.
He knew how to please when the occasion called for it. She watched, and
remembered Alan. Was it from Bodie that Alan had picked up that skill?
Something else learned from this hard man? Had anyone ever gotten past his
stony exterior? Besides Alan. For though Bodie had claimed no love for her
brother, in his own way she knew he had grieved for Alan's death. Perhaps
this Ray person, the disembodied voice on the phone, really meant
something to Bodie. He had stayed with Alan for two years, but Ray'd had
him for almost six. Ray, she thought, must be a very special sort of man.

"Bodie?" She started it impulsively, but when he turned a politely
pleasant expression her way she merely asked, "A drink?"

"Thanks."

By the time she returned the papers had been set aside, her witnessing
roommates vanished into another part of the apartment and Dry Bones gone
to whatever dusty hole he had sprung from. Bodie stood by the window,
staring out with unseeing eyes. He took the drink with a faint smile. "It
has just occurred to me--you must have expected to get it all."

Merrie joined him and watched as two little boys practised soccer in the
park across the street. "Yes. But actually it worked out for the best. Ted
wasn't keen about me having so much."

"When's the wedding?"

"Two months. When he gets back. I miss him." She was wistful. "Coping with
all this, alone, hasn't been...easy."

Unable to think of a suitable reply Bodie bent his dark head and kissed
her. She smiled at him, "What was that for?"

"Good drink?" he suggested and she laughed.

******

Coming across the park on foot, Doyle looked up to the window and paused.
Well, if he wanted proof, he'd got it. And he had only himself to blame.
From his vantage point behind a convenient tree he eyed the girl. Not
Bodie's usual type at all--which only made things worse. They looked
comfortable together. Feeling like he could use a little comforting
himself, Doyle turned away.

When it came right down to it he'd rather talk to Bodie alone.

******

Saturday passed very slowly for Doyle. Saturday night was even slower. He
awakened Sunday morning to bright skies, a thumping headache, and an empty
cupboard. He was contemplating the relative merits of shopping versus
eating out when the intercom buzzed. "Yeh?"

"Let me in, mate."

Bodie.

Wordlessly Doyle pushed the release button and went to open his front
door. Sounding like a herd of elephants, Bodie pounded up the stairs and
paused on the half landing below, grinning rather idiotically up at his
partner. "Hi."

"Hello yerself. What's that?"

Bodie glanced at the box he held. "Breakfast."

"Good. I'm out of everything." Doyle led the way into his flat and closed
the door, leaning against it. He hadn't expected Bodie, hadn't prepared
himself, didn't know all his bones could turn to water with one look from
blue eyes.

"You always are on Sundays. Come on, make yourself useful." Ray unpeeled
himself from the door and watched as Bodie spread out the feast. "Who
exactly are we expecting? The SAS? The entire population of China
perhaps?"

"Don't be grumpy. I'm in a good mood and I won't allow you to spoil it.
Eat something, you'll feel better." Bodie proceeded to follow his own
advice and with a shrug, Doyle joined him. Normally--or rather, *before*
their vacation in Devonshire--he'd have made a joke about the latest in
Bodie's string of birds overworking him. Before. But not now. He ate the
still hot food without comment and felt his headache ease away as he
finished his third cup of coffee. He also felt his partner's gaze on him
and looked up, "Well?"

Bodie grinned. "You're welcome."

"Steak for breakfast," Doyle seized on the first thing that came to mind.
"Turn over a bank last night, did you?"

Bodie ignored that one. "You look terrible," he said bluntly. "What's
wrong?" Defensively Doyle pulled his bathrobe tighter around himself and
huddled into the protective warmth. "Still waking up."

Bodie leaned back in his chair looking slender and deadly, dressed
entirely in black. "Go take a shower or something then, and wake up."

"You're full of orders this morning."

The blue eyes fixed on him over the rim of the coffee cup, but Bodie
didn't answer. "Oh all right." Doyle stood up, stretched, and felt himself
steadily watched every step of the way to the bathroom. It gave him an odd
and very pleasant tingle. Bodie winced as the door shut behind his partner
with unnecessary force. He should have known better than to burst in on
Ray like this. Doyle was not known for being bright-eyed and cheerful
first thing in the morning. Oh, he could *function*. But the major
portions of his conversation were growls, and Bodie had once heard a
London hard boy say with complete sincerity, "I'd sooner go up against
Jaws than Ray Doyle in the morning."

Yeh, well Bodie knew all about that, better than most, and it didn't
bother him in the least. He'd lain awake most of the night, making plans,
indulging himself in dreams and very aware that without his grumpy, hot
tempered, infuriatingly independent partner, not one of them would mean a
thing. He awakened at dawn and couldn't stand another minute away from
Ray. So here he was. And now what? How do you actually say, "Look I've
just been given a fortune so how about running away together?" He
remembered the poetry that had crossed his mind during the safe night
darkness--*Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures
prove.... *

In the bathroom the toilet flushed and Bodie was still laughing when Doyle
emerged--wet, but completely awake.

He stood, clad only in a bedraggled, half sodden towel, and stared at the
unbelievable picture of Bodie clutching his stomach, helplessly rocking
and, god help him, *laughing*. "Whas so funny?"

Bodie sobered up abruptly then had a sudden picture of Doyle gambling
about with the renowned shepard's sheep. His face crinkled and again he
burst out laughing. Thoroughly alarmed, Doyle strode forward and shook his
arm. "Bodie! You dumb crud! Are you crazy?"

Bodie shook his head and took a deep breath, "No. Sorry."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What was all that about? And don't start cackling again. It's weird."

Bodie turned away. "I doubt if you'd see the humor. Look...get dressed,
will you? I want to talk. Unless you've got plans?"

"No." Doyle hesitated a moment longer then went in search of a clean pair
of jeans. He hesitated over choosing, finding that with Bodie so close all
his vaguely noble ideas were slipping away. Fuck it anyway. He didn't
*want* Bodie to go off with some bird. He liked having his partner to
himself, and if that meant commitment--then it was too late, he was
already hooked.

He reached for his pants and pulled them on, thinking furiously all the
while. When was the last time he'd seen Bodie laugh like that? Never. Not
once. He smiled, he occasionally chuckled, once or twice he'd even made a
funny sort of low giggle--but really *laugh*? Never. It was a little scary
seeing Bodie that relaxed--happy. Scary and nice and.... He grunted and
found a shirt--a green one. Bodie liked him in green. Not that he'd ever
said anything but Ray knew anyway. He knew more about Bodie than anyone on
earth. Except he didn't know what made him laugh.

******

Bodie was relaxing on the sofa, his feet up, when Doyle finally emerged
from his bedroom. He said nothing but Ray could see his eyes--that hazy
look of...whatever it was that expressed enjoyment in Doyle's company. He
let the silence grow for a moment and when they spoke it was simultaneous.

"I want to talk to you."

"You first."

Bodie grinned. "No you go. Mine'll keep."

'Not if I can help it,' Doyle thought. He moved a little closer, found his
knees to be just a trifle wobbly, and leaned against his desk. "I've been
thinking." Bodie raised an eyebrow.

"A lot. About you and me...and us."

Bodie looked at him silently.

"When you...when you kissed me that time, on the beach, it scared the
bloody hell out of me. No--don't say anything, let me finish now I've
started. It scared me because I like it. Better--more--than anybody else.
Ever. You could, you *can* make me lose control and that's what really
scared me. Then. Not now. Not once I realized I was afraid of, I don't
know...shadows, I guess."

He took a step closer and suddenly Bodie was standing in front of him,
meeting him halfway. Smiling. Accepting.

Doyle pulled him into his arms, forgetting everything as Bodie's mouth
touched his, lingered, then opened with hungry demand. The fire was there
as before, unbanked now, as they strained together. Doyle heard himself
groan, felt fingers against his back, up under his shirt. Stroking fingers
that trembled slightly. It made him aware for the first time that Bodie
too could lose control--all it would take was a soft push in the right
direction. The thought of Bodie lying helpless and trusting beside him was
unbelievably exciting. He pulled away just a little, gasping for air, his
eyes half closed. "Christ!"

"Bedroom?" Bodie suggested and followed when his partner led the way.
Standing next to the bed, Ray paused, a little unsure of how to proceed.
With a girl he'd know, but this was a man, the situation was new, and his
mind was spinning. He bit his lip and glanced at Bodie.

As if he knew, understood, Doyle's hesitation, Bodie touched his cheek
then slid his fingers into Ray's unruly curls. "This is what you want?"

Doyle nodded.

Bodie smiled. "Me, too," he said quietly and moved his hands to his
partner's waist. "For a long time."

"I thought," Doyle began, and hissed as exploring fingers stripped him. "I
thought maybe I was too late."

Bodie paused. "I said I'd wait."

"Yes, but that bird...I wanted to tell you, but she was different...you
acted...." Ray found it hard to concentrate as Bodie's nude body pressed
close against him.

"She was--but not in the way you mean," Bodie whispered along his cheek.
"I'll tell you--later." He led Doyle to the bed and watched as Ray
finished undressing, drinking in the sight of his eager body--eager for
*him*. Though Ray was lighter, he was just as strong and his engorged sex
thrust forward between slim hips. Bodie sat on the bed beside his partner
and touched the soft hardness as Doyle lay back against the pillows. He
half wanted to claim his gift quickly, before Ray changed his mind, but
the trust he saw in the half-closed green eyes slowed him into a gentle
working rhythm. They had time--a lifetime--to explore, to learn each
other. He stretched out beside his lover and kissed him.

Ray opened his mouth, returning the kiss, encouraging Bodie, wanting more
of this new-found incredible feeling. His hips lifted to the working
fingers and he groaned. How was it Bodie knew exactly how to touch him? He
tentatively reached out and stroked one hand across his partner's chest,
over ribs, down the flat belly to the hardened cock. Bodie's response was
immediate and, less shy, Ray found that he too somehow knew just what to
do. It was natural, right, and he let go the last shade of fear, losing
himself eagerly in his lover.

******

It was late Sunday afternoon. Doyle opened his eyes reluctantly and edged
away from his partner's encircling arm. He hated to leave the warm bed but
his bladder demanded a trip to the loo. Bodie was awakening as he returned
and Ray watched as he reached out, found emptiness and rolled over, his
blue eyes wide open.

They looked at each other for a long moment, neither knowing exactly what
to say. Then Bodie moved over and held out a hand. "It's warmer here."

Snuggled back amidst covers and entangled limbs Ray sighed contentedly.
"It feels...good."

"Yeh."

More awake now Ray began to remember. "Bodie...who was that bird?"

Bodie kissed him and tightened his arms. "Sister of an old mate from my
African days."

"And?"

"She found me to tell me Mac was dead."

Doyle didn't have to look up to know what his partner was feeling, he
could hear it in the blandness of his voice. "I'm sorry, mate. Special was
he then?"

"*Then*, yes."

Something egged Ray on. "Were you...."

"Lovers? Yes."

He'd asked. He hadn't expected the searing jealousy--more and different
than any he'd ever felt for a women. Perhaps, he thought with sudden
insight, because no women had ever meant as much to him as Bodie did.
"Okay."

Bodie nuzzled him lightly. "That was a long time ago, mate. In a different
place, under different circumstances. I hadn't thought of him in years."

Some of the ache eased. Ray shifted until he was comfortable with Bodie's
chest for a pillow, the steady thump of his heart matching his own beat
for beat.

Bodie seemed to read his mind for he went on, "He was a kid and I liked
him. Don't compare, Raymate, because I won't."

The pain went entirely away.

Bodie's arms tightened almost too hard then relaxed again. "Ray, there's
more."

"The sister? I saw you, you know. Kissing her. At her apartment."

Bodie had to think to remember it. "Oh that. That was nothing. She missed
Mac."

"What then?"

"Mac's father was very *very* wealthy. And he left it all to Mac. And Mac
left it to Merrie and me. Split right down the middle."

Ray leaned up on his elbows, astonished. "How much?"

Bodie told him. "That's what the solicitor thinks it'll come to after
everything's taken out."

"Christ."

"Yeh."

"What're you going to do?"

"What're *we* going to do?"

"It's your lolly, mate." Doyle grinned. "You could always donate the lot
to CI5."

"I'd thought of that." Bodie smiled back. "Briefly. Before you...."

"Tripped you?"

"So delicate," Bodie murmured and slid his hands to Doyle's waist,
enjoying the slender strength of him.

"What difference did *that* make?"

There was so long a pause Ray glanced back up. "Bodie?"

"Don't you understand?" Bodie asked softly. "Without you it wouldn't have
mattered."

Aware that, without meaning to, he'd just asked for and been given Bodie's
innermost emotions, Doyle swallowed, "So what now?"

"I don't know." Bodie managed a credible shrug in spite of his partner's
weight sprawled across him.

"You'll have to tell Cowley."

"Yes."

"You plannin' to quit?"

"Not if you don't."

"What would you do?"

"*Us*, Ray." Bodie paused. "Or not, if you don't...."

"I do," Doyle interrupted immediately, fiercely.

"I want," Bodie made a face. "It sounds stupid--but I want us to have a
chance to...live. But I can't just leave Cowley."

"No, me neither."

"Course, once he finds out about us...."

"He probably already knows, sunshine."

"Yeh, well, we'll get thrown out on our ears most likely. You know the
rules."

Ray shifted again, stretching catlike against his partner, feeling the
feather touch as Bodie kissed him. "Whatever happens, whatever you
decide--I'll be there. I don't think we'd be very good at doing nothin'
though."

"You could paint."

"Only," Doyle said in an evil tone, "if you're the model."

"Okay, so you don't paint. What've you got for food?"

"Eh?"

"I'm hungry. What's for dinner? You and your empty cupboards...."

"We're talking about our lives here, and you're hungry?"

"First things first."

"Oh, in *that* case...." Doyle effectively pinned him and began a
leisurely assault on his body. "Still hungry?"

Bodie grunted and pulled him back down. "We've got time Ray, for the first
time in our lives we've got time."

"Shut up," Ray told him. "I'm busy."

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