The Professionals Circuit Archive - Not a Very Silent Silent Night	  
Not a Very Silent Silent Night

 

by Alexandra

  
 "Once upon a midnight drear..." Bodie muttered. He checked his watch.
Only ten. Two more hours to go until Christmas. Terrific.

He flicked on his R/T. "Doyle?"

A familiar voice replied, "What happened to call signs?"

"Bugger 'em. We're on a closed channel, remember? Besides, no one's going
to burgle this house tonight. All the sensible people are snug at home,
waiting for Saint Nick, including the criminals. Only mad dogs and CI5
agents spend Christmas Eve on stakeout."

"Tell that to Cowley." The R/T crackled as Doyle switched off.

Bodie sighed and took a sip from the small flask of Scotch he'd brought
for fortification during the long night. He and Doyle were guarding the
Belgravia home of an MP who had taken his family to his country estate for
the holidays. Since the first of December, the vacated homes of three MPs
had been burgled, each time with important papers taken. The crimes were
handled by Special Branch. Tonight, however, most of the Branch men had
the holiday off, and the homes of the most vulnerable MPs were under watch
by the Met. But this particular MP was an old friend of Cowley's. So
Cowley generously offered a better class of night watchman--or rather, he
offered to send his top team to help out.

They had taken up their posts at dusk, on the top floor of the three-story
home. Bodie settled in a bedroom at the front, where he had a good view of
the street below, while Doyle stood guard in a study which overlooked the
back garden.

Bodie used his R/T again. "Oi. Agent 4 bloody 5."

"What?" Doyle said with irritation clear in his voice.

"What do you reckon Cowley is doing right now?"

There came a long pause. Then Doyle said, "Counting his blessings. One of
which is, 'never having to fret over the sanity of my top team'."

"I'm not losing it," Bodie protested. "I'm just bored. Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Anything. How about what you'd rather be doing right now. Visiting the
family, say."

There was another pause. "Nah," Doyle replied. "We don't get on."

Bodie considered this, then tried another tack. "All right, how about
staying home--with a lovely, eager bird?"

The pause was even longer this time. "Just staying home would be enough."

"Yeah? All by yourself?"

Instead of answering this, Doyle turned the tables on him. "So what would
*you* be doing?"

Bodie thought it over. He liked his family well enough, but he preferred
to see them one on one, for whenever they gathered in a large group, tiffs
tended to break out. He'd spent quite a few enjoyable Christmases Past
with birds, but wasn't seeing anyone at the moment. "I'd probably go out
to a high-class restaurant," he said. "Splurge on a gourmet meal."

"All by yourself?" Doyle replied.

It was Bodie's turn to pause. "Well, naturally, if you weren't too busy
staying home alone, I'd ask you to join me."

"That's better. I'd like that very much."

Bodie wondered at the note of wistfulness he heard, and wished he could
see Doyle's face. "Why don't you come in here for a bit? Keep me company."

"I'm watching the garden," Doyle said.

"Who's going to leap a six-foot brick wall lined with broken glass on
top?"

"You never know. Some burglars have glass-proof gloves."

"Have it your way." Bodie didn't push it. While he had extreme doubts
anyone would knock off this house tonight, he wasn't so far gone he'd risk
their jobs for a little idle chatter. He looked out the window for signs
of imminent attack just in case. All he saw were the twinkling lights on a
Christmas tree inside the home across the way. He watched for a while, and
saw people moving about in the large living room. A young couple came in
and out of view, drinks in hand, talking, gesturing, laughing. They
stopped near the tree, and kissed. Bodie looked away, looked towards the
hallway, and thought about Doyle not too far down in the study. He picked
up the R/T. "Say, Doyle."

"4.5 here."

"Oh, stop that. Listen, did your family do a tree every year? You know,
trim it with lights and balls and garlands and such?"

"Christ, you *are* bored."

"Just answer the ruddy question."

"Sometimes, yeah. We stopped doing it when I was nine, though."

"Why?" Bodie's family had never had a real tree. His mother thought the
practice wasteful and settled for a small, fake table top travesty which
lost more of its branches each year until by the time he'd left home, it
was a Christmas stick.

"Because," Doyle replied, "the Christmas I was nine, dad got more drunk
than he usually did on Christmas Eve, knowing he wouldn't have to work the
next day and could sleep it off and all, and he crashed into the tree and
knocked it over, and then he passed out on top of it after throwing up."

"Oh." Bodie decided the topic of trees had been ill-chosen. "Sorry."

"Hardly your fault."

"So tell me," Bodie said, "have you got any *good* memories of Christmas?"

The silence dragged on. Then the R/T crackled to life again. "I had a good
Christmas three years ago. Best one ever, in fact."

Bodie thought back. Three years...that would be the second year they'd
been partners in CI5. They'd been on duty or standby for weeks due to a
rash of bomb threats, but the criminals were caught on Christmas Eve, and
Cowley graciously gave them Christmas Day off. They'd both been extremely
tired, and neither had made any plans or preparations, not knowing they'd
be free to do so. They had wound up grabbing some takeaway and then had
gone to Doyle's flat, as he had an unopened bottle of Glenfiddich about.
They'd spent the day lounging on the sofa, eating a bit, drinking a bit,
watching a little telly. They'd played some Mastermind and then gin rummy,
and later they'd gone for a short walk round the neighborhood park. And
they had talked a lot, about what Bodie couldn't really remember. He did
remember that they had a lot of laughs, that Doyle had been very good
company. He hadn't wanted to go home to his own flat when it grew late,
but he had. 

"Yeah, that was good," he said. "If we're not on duty tomorrow, you want
to have another go?"

He got hissing in reply. "Doyle? You still there?" Now he got crackling as
well as hissing, and he stood up, ready to check on Doyle's safety. "Ray?
4.5?" He moved swiftly to the doorway, reaching for his gun.

"I'm here."

Bodie halted, tucking the gun back into its holster. He glanced along the
hallway, didn't see or hear anything suspicious. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Well, don't wait so long to answer," Bodie said. "Makes me nervous." He
walked to the window and took up his position once more.

"It's quiet over here," Doyle replied.

*Must be in one of his odd moods tonight*, Bodie thought. *Well, so am I*.
He took another sip from his flask. "Same here."

"Got all the lights off in the study," Doyle went on. "The better to see
the garden with. There's a porch light down there, lighting up the patio.
The grass is black as night, though. I've taken the desk chair, very comfy
leather recliner, and moved it near the window, the better to report all
this. As you said, there's a brick wall surrounding the garden, and a
garage at the end. Can't see much in the way of flower beds, except a few
scraggly remnants of rose bushes. Everything's hibernating for the winter.
Dead quiet.

"The sky is clear for once. I can see the stars. Well, one or two, anyway.
No clouds means no snow. Won't have a white Christmas this year. When did
we have the last one? Does anyone remember? Doesn't stay white here long
anyway, not in the Smoke. More like a gray winter, even if it does snow.
Wouldn't mind going up north some year, way far away from any city, and
see the real thing. Snow lying thick on the hills and fields, snow banks,
snow drifts, wisps of new snow drifting across the roads, sparkles of
frost on the rooftops, icicles on the eaves, frozen ponds...a shaggy-maned
draft horse standing by the fence, white puffs of breath in between its
snuffling and snorting--"

He broke off, as if abruptly aware of how he'd gone on. Bodie hadn't
minded at all how Doyle had gone on; he'd been fascinated. *In an odd
mood* barely covered it.

"You still there?" Doyle asked softly.

"Yeah," Bodie said. "I'm still here, 4.5."

"'Doyle' is fine, you know."

"I know. I'm not bored anymore, Ray. You can keep talking all night if you
want. I can listen all night. It's very soothing, the sound of your
voice." He glanced out the window. The curtains had been drawn in the
house across the way, the tree no longer on view. "It's the only
comforting thing out here tonight."

"I was only rambling," Doyle replied.

"No, you made a picture for me," Bodie said. "I'll bet you'd like to take
that paint box of yours up north some winter, and paint a scene like
that."

"Yeah, I would. Get it down on canvas, instead of just words in the air."

"Words are good, too, Ray. Very powerful, especially on a night like
this."

"I thought this was supposed to be a silent night."

"Not my cup of tea." Bodie certainly didn't mind, in general, being on his
own. And he didn't usually mind having peace and quiet, but not tonight.
Not on Christmas Eve. He had spent too many of those alone, or in company
he didn't care for. His family memories of Christmas were nothing to shout
about, and he often preferred being on duty to being home. If he were
occupied with work, he wouldn't have time to dwell on the fact that the
holidays were meant to be shared with loved ones. Doyle was right--the
best Christmas in recent memory was the one they had spent together. And
here they were now--together. Working, yes, but that didn't matter. He
wouldn't have wished to spend this night any other way. Sod the gourmet
meal. Being with Doyle was all he wanted. Ever. And Bodie wanted to make
the most of it, wanted to feel close to Doyle. Talking and listening in
the darkness brought Doyle nearer.

"Hang about." Doyle's tone changed, briskly dutiful. "I heard a noise."

"I'll join you." Bodie rose.

"No need. I think it's a cat."

Bodie kept heading towards the door.

"Yeah, I can see it now," Doyle said. "It's having a pee in the rose
garden."

Bodie hesitated. "How'd it get in? Over the wall?"

"Over the garage roof. Heading out the same way. I can hear someone
calling it home."

"Lucky cat." Bodie retreated to his window.

"We'll get there," Doyle said. "Cowley might keep us out here all ruddy
night, but there's always breakfast. Have you got any food in?"

The wistful note was back. Bodie's curiosity was piqued by the way Doyle
kept inviting himself to share his holiday meals. "Eggs, toast, a few
sausage rolls. Coffee. That's it."

"That'll do."

"Oh, it will, eh?"

Doyle, of course, couldn't see the smile on Bodie's face, and concern
crept into his voice as he said, "You don't mind, do you?"

"'Course I don't mind," Bodie reassured him. "You can invite yourself over
any time."

"Ta, mate."

"You know," Bodie said, "I worry about you sometimes."

"Like now?" Doyle sounded wary. "I thought you were the one in a funny
mood tonight."

"Could be we both are."

"Could be."

Bodie smiled, even though Doyle could not see, because he was amused by
their mutual perception of each other's state of mind. Then the smile
turned to a puzzled frown as the significance of the thoughts he'd had
earlier suddenly became startlingly clear.

*Christmas was meant to be shared with loved ones*.

*Being with Doyle was all he wanted. Ever*.

"Bloody hell," he murmured.

The R/T was still on. "Something up?" Doyle asked.

"What?" Bodie jumped at the sound of Doyle's voice, nearly dropping the
R/T. "No, no. Nothing's happening."

"So that was just a random 'bloody hell', then?"

"Everyone's entitled to a few of those once in a while."

"Fine," Doyle said. "Don't tell me. I'm only your best mate, after all."

*Too true*. Bodie wished he could see Doyle's face. Then again, maybe this
was better. Maybe it would be easier to bare one's soul as a disembodied
voice in the night. "Tell me something," he said. "Why do you want to
spend Christmas Day with me?"

But then again, there was also something disconcerting about disembodied
silence in the night.

"Ray? Did you hear me?"

"Yeah. I heard you."

"Well?"

He thought he could hear Doyle sighing. Or perhaps it was merely a draft
in the house.

"Because I've had a lot of unhappy Christmases," Doyle replied at last.
"And I don't want to have another one."

"Meaning you're not going to be unhappy simply 'cause I'm around?"
*Optimistic*, Bodie thought.

"That's what I mean."

"How can you be so sure?" Bodie was trying, though not terribly hard, to
not believe they were so well suited to each other. "We're not perfect.
We've had our tiffs."

"Nothing we couldn't work out," Doyle said.

Bodie gave it another shot. "We don't always like the same things."
Doyle's taste in films got up his nose, for instance. He knew he could
think of others.

"Nothing we couldn't compromise on."

*Bloody optimistic*. "We get into moods," Bodie offered.

"Lame," Doyle said. "Can't you do any better than that?"

"Yeah," Bodie replied. "You've got a sarky streak a mile wide that can
start to irritate a mate after four or five years."

Doyle laughed. "Oh, that's bound to spoil things, all right. Can't
possibly have a happy Christmas if I make a sarky comment or two. Sorry,
Bodie, but if that's the worst you can come up with, I think we're
doomed."

"I reckon we are." *Doomed to spending Christmas together, or doomed to
spending their lives together, that was the question*. "Hey," he said,
searching for a distraction, "you said my name, *4.5*."

"Did I? Me brain must be addled."

"Happens to the best of us."

"Been addled for a while, actually," Doyle said.

Bodie felt a tingle up his spine, and he wasn't cold. "Got something you
want to confess?"

"You told me to talk," Doyle replied. "Said you could listen all night."

"So I did. So talk to me, Ray." *Tell me the things that I need to hear*.

There came another silence, one of anticipation. Then into the quiet
night, Doyle began to speak.

"Last month I went to my sister's wedding in Derby. Kathleen, the youngest
of the Doyles. There are a lot of us--I know you can never keep track of
my family; I can hardly keep track myself. I'm the second oldest of six.
Kathleen is ten years younger than me. They're all married. Each and every
one. And they were all there, and they've all got kids. Even Kath was well
on the way. Everywhere I turned around, there they were--families. You can
probably guess what happened."

Bodie shivered. "You got nagged."

"In a big way. *When are you going to find someone. Only one more wedding
left to go. About time you joined the rest of us.* All of them did it, and
me mum as well."

Bodie dared to ask, "And your dad?"

"No. He was sleeping off a bottle of Scotch in the back of his car."

"Ah. Small mercies."

"Yeah," Doyle said, "you could say that. It was dreadful, I'm telling you.
Happy couples wherever I looked."

"Well, there are two basic reactions to that kind of thing. Either you run
away in terror, or you wish you could join them."

"Neither," Doyle replied. "At least, not in the way you might think. You
see, after the partying was over and done, they all got into their cars
together, and they all drove off home together. And I watched them all go,
and then I got into my car by myself, and I drove back home by myself--"

"Thought you liked that," Bodie interrupted. "That's how you said you'd
prefer spending Christmas Eve--just staying home, by yourself. Until you
invited yourself to my gourmet dinner, that is."

"Yeah, I said that," Doyle replied. "I didn't mean it."

Bodie felt a flush of warmth spreading out from somewhere deep within.
"What *do* you want, then?" 

"Someone to get into the car with." Doyle spoke so softly that Bodie held
the R/T tight to his ear to hear. "On the long drive back to Town, all I
could think of was how good it would feel to have some company--not just
then, not just there, but all the time, everywhere I turned around.
Someone to laugh with when things are good, someone to hold tight when
they're not. Someone to share all the little things with, to help bear all
the large things, someone I could watch fall asleep beside me, and wake up
to in the morning. Someone I could talk to, not have to talk to, agree
with, argue with, someone I could rise to the heights with or go through
hell with--all of it, everything, good and bad. I want someone to share my
life with, all the way up to the stars, and all the way down to the nails
on the coffin." Doyle paused. "But mostly, I just want someone to be with
on the long drive home."

Bodie's hand felt frozen on the R/T. He couldn't bring it to his mouth, he
had no words to match Doyle's. But he felt an amazing power within him, a
strength and a love he had not known possible.

"When I got into Town," Doyle went on, "I rang you up. Because when I
thought about who I wanted to do all those things with, you were the one
who instantly came to mind, first, foremost, and always." He paused again,
and his next words sounded more down to earth. "Pity you weren't about
that day."

"I was at my local." Bodie managed to get the R/T to his mouth. "Feeling
lonely."

"Quite the pair, aren't we."

Bodie ached to go down the hallway. He stayed firmly in his place by the
window. "There's one small piece of that lovely speech which I'd rather
like to pursue a little further."

"Oh, yeah? Which part would that be?"

"The part about falling asleep and waking up together."

"Ah."

"Oftener than not, there's a bit of something that takes place before
sleeping, at least if you're in *my* bed."

His attempt to keep this light-hearted succeeded, for he heard Doyle
laughing lightly. 

"Just 'a bit'?" Doyle said, and Bodie could hear the relief mixed in with
the cheer.

It had been quite the confession; he must have been terrified at Bodie's
reaction. He needn't have worried. Bodie might not have consciously
thought about him and Doyle as lovers before this night, but the moment
the idea hit, he knew it had been lurking within his subconscious mind for
a long, long while, waiting for time and circumstance to bring it to the
surface. 

"Well," he replied, "it's a bit of this, a bit of that, and a bit of the
other."

"Oh, Christ," Doyle said, his tone turning more serious again, "I wish I
could see your face."

"What you would see," Bodie replied, "is the smile of someone who wants
very much to share the drive home with you."

Whatever Doyle started to say in response was abruptly drowned out by the
sound of a ringing telephone.

"What's that?" Bodie asked.

"It's a phone."

"I *know* that, you berk. Who'd be ringing here?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, pick it up!"

Silence returned. Bodie leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes.
What a crazy night. He had no idea how it would end, but he had an idea
how he wished it to end. He felt a familiar heat in his groin. If the
image alone of going to bed with Doyle was enough to excite him, what
would the act itself be like? 

Before he could get much further with his imaginings, the R/T crackled to
life. "We're free," Doyle said happily. "That was Cowley."

"I'll be damned. Not counting his blessings, then?"

"He probably is--they've caught the burglars."

Bodie heard footsteps along the hallway. "The Met?"

"Yeah, one of their stakeouts nabbed 'em." Doyle's voice grew closer,
louder.

"We can go home now?" Bodie stood and moved towards the doorway.

"Yeah." And there Doyle was, walking into the room. He lowered his R/T and
stopped just inside. "We can go home."

Bodie tucked away his R/T, took three large strides to meet him, and the
next moment they were locked in an embrace that had been years in the
making, and Bodie took Doyle's mouth with his in a kiss that held a
lifetime of promises and pain, of joy and sorrow, of the clearly seen and
the unforeseeable paths that would mark the wide compass of their
companionship.

When they broke the kiss at long last, Bodie touched Doyle's cheek,
holding him tightly still, and said, "So much for silent nights."

"I think I'm all talked out," Doyle replied. "And right now, I think
that's a good thing, 'cause we have better things to do."

Bodie gently turned him round and shoved him out the door. "My flat. It's
closest."

"And you've got food in for breakfast." Doyle led the way down the stairs.

"And you'll be there for breakfast."

"I'll be there for a lot of things."

"For everything," Bodie said.

Doyle paused on the landing and gazed up at him. "Yes. I will."

"So will I," Bodie replied, and he meant it with all his heart. "Happy
Christmas, 4.5."

Doyle grinned. "Happy Christmas, 3.7."

They went on down the stairs, locked up the house, and drove on home to
spend this Christmas, and many Christmases to come, together.

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