The Professionals Circuit Archive - The Selling Hours       The Selling
Hours

 

by Madelein Lee

  
 *Carnal Interests Part 2: Post Slush Fund*


*"Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross."
* --Shakespeare (Sonnet 146)


The Ford Escort threaded its way through lessening traffic and chilling
downpour. Even the uncooperative weather didn't bother Ray Doyle he was so
wrapped in the thought of Bodie waiting for him to come off his present
irritating assignment of babysitting a witness. The mad bastard was
sitting out a week's suspension for sassing Cowley like some teenager
after they'd found (an agent? I can't remember?) body. Didn't matter if
Cowley had them separated at the moment, though, as their personal
relationship was approaching perfection. 

Bodie had begun to conform nicely, to his way of thinking, since their
last op when Doyle'd gone undercover as the South African VanNeeKirk.
Other than sitting out his present punishment, worrying about him had done
Bodie only good as far as Doyle was concerned. In fact, he was having
trouble convincing Bodie he could manage without him at his side at all
times. 

Every night for a week Bodie had been waiting for him, seeming satisfied
with only his company. And that was something Ray Doyle had been
not-so-patiently awaiting for some time. He rather fancied his strategy of
the last months as equal to the one he had employed when he'd decided he
wanted into CI5. The old man might think he'd done all the choosing, but
Ray Doyle had been determined to be invited to join the elite corps from
its very first inception and had very carefully determined just what was
needed to get himself noticed. 

Smiling widely, he recalled the night after they'd wrapped that assignment
and the reports had been written. Bodie had abandoned all his pretensions
and been as unreserved in his loving as Doyle had ever wanted. He
congratulated himself again as he recalled the months he'd spent between
carefully maneuvering Bodie, running one bird after another under his
nose, and letting him learn for himself that even if he could live without
his partner, he didn't want to. A rich chuckle of pure exultation slipped
out as he pulled up in front of his flat and dashed through the pelting
rain. Inside one light was on, the bedroom door was closed and Bodie's
jacket was thrown on the back of the settee. It didn't take a CI5 man long
to deduce Bodie was already in bed. His partner was asleep, sprawled in
the middle of the bed and looking properly inviting. Doyle hesitated to
wake him. Reasons argued that as cold and tired as he was, a little kip
might be better than waking and ravishing Bodie on the spot. With a
prolonged groan of weariness, he pushed the prone body out of the middle
of the bed to the far side and eased into the warm spot. 

"Thanks a lot, goldilocks," came the sleepy protest. "These sheets are
like ice." 

"Poor sod," Doyle commiserated, backing up to Bodie. "He's only been lying
in my nice warm bed while I've been driving across town in the middle of
the night after 16 hours spent guarding the crown's grass." Flipping, he
rolled toward Bodie. "It's freezing out there, mate. You're lucky I didn't
put my feet on your backside." 

"You're learning, my lad," Bodie mumbled, stretching, waking up more. 

"Yeh, didn't fancy being flung to the other side of the room." 

"Too bloody right. On the other hand, I don't mind being your bedwarmer
with a little advance notice." Sliding close, Bodie pulled his chilled
body close, fitting them easily. 

Ray relaxed into the warmth of his partner. "S'more like it. Man works
late, he likes to come home to a little appreciation." 

"Oh, he does, does he?" A drowsy kiss drifted across his cold cheek. 

"Anything else he wants?' 

Doyle figured there was no harm in trying. "Breakfast in bed?" 

He felt Bodie's face lift into a smile against his hair before the man
slipped down to find his mouth. "Cheeky." 

The lips against his were soft, not demanding a response, but Doyle felt
pleasant sensations fill him as he wrapped his arms around the muscular
back. Disappointingly, Bodie stopped before the kiss became demanding. 

"Feeling any warmer?" 

"Lots, don't stop." 

"Thought you might like some sleep." 

Doyle arched the growing fullness in his groin against Bodie's hip. "Feel
sleepy, that? I think you convinced him to wake up." 

"Randy little devil. Been taking your vitamins, eh?" Bodie laughed, busy
fingers freeing Doyle's cock from clothing. 

"Who needs.." Doyle's reply cut off abruptly as Bodie slid down his length
and swallowed his whole. "Christ," he moaned, hips thrusting up, "where's
your finesse?" 

Bodie looked up, pulling a face. "Lost it with my virginity." 

"Don't talk," he protested, wanting Bodie's attention back on his
straining cock. 

Bodie ignored him, climbing up to nuzzle his neck. "What you rather do,
bright eyes?" "Mebbe I'll just give you a demonstration," Doyle whispered
rolling over on Bodie, forcing a knee between muscled legs. At the look of
surprise on his partner's face, he buried a grin in Bodie's neck. 

"Hey this is my show," Bodie said indignantly. 

"Had your chance, didn't you?" Raising up he bit at the soft pout; it drew
him back again and again as he mounted first a gentle assault and then a
more and more determined one. He drew a pinprick of blood on the bottom
lip and Bodie flinched. 

"Bloody vampire," Bodie accused, with no trace of animosity. 

Contrite, Doyle offered a gentle kiss as he trailed his fingers in a
deliberate pattern from nipple to nipple to naval, all the while reveling
in his new ownership, in Bodie's allowing this encroachment. With
satisfaction, he regarded his handiwork-Bodie's reactions were his
creation; pleased, he leaned to mouth the tender skin over his ribs, and
was rewarded with a shiver. 

"Hungry tonight, aren't we? Miss dinner then?" 

"Having it now," he muttered, laving a patch of smooth skin, causing a
rippling of belly muscles. His lust grew apace with the rise of Bodie's
sex and panting moans. 

"Don't forget two can play this game," Bodie gasped. 

"Bodie!" It was a growled warning. "Less talk, more action." 

Challenged, Bodie hauled him and kissed him soundly, until breathless, he
pulled away, too far gone to wait any longer. 

"Spread 'em," Doyle demanded, first spitting in his hand before groping
between Bodie's thighs. The long legs parted willingly, eager for him now
even as Doyle lifted his hips and penetrated the tight ring with a long
thrust. The other man's body was hot, the tight ass contracting and
releasing him, forcing them quickly to the edge of completion. He slammed
into Bodie with an urgency that took them higher and higher, until they
were claimed by t he oblivion of orgasm. 

Long minutes later, Bodie recovered sufficiently, arms tightening around 

Doyle's still recumbent figure. "I got me a tiger," he mumbled softly
before they both dozed off. 

When Bodie awoke he knew something was wrong. Sensing Doyle was awake,
too, he felt the form next to him go rigid. He cracked an eye with
caution, and the Uzi 2 inches from his nose encouraged him to stay still. 

"Don't try anything and we'll get along fine." The husky assurance did
nothing to allay his fears. Another voice near the foot of the bed
strengthened the feeling that this was not going to be a good day. "Come
on, darlings, up and into some clothes." 

Doyle lifted to a sitting position. "Don't know what to wear, do we? Don't
know where we're going," he said reasonably. 

The gun next to Bodie transferred itself to his ear. "Don't get sarky,
mate, these fellers don't have a sense of humour." 

Glancing over, Doyle's eyes narrowed at the sight of the blue steel
pressed to Bodie's head. "Okay, we're getting up." They moved slowly, not
ready yet to upset their captors, not when they were so disadvantaged. 

Stepping into discarded jeans, Doyle asked casually. "How'd you get in? 

He knew he'd remembered to set all the locks when he'd come in. These guys
were good if they got in without setting off the alarms, and he could only
hope they didn't know about the newest security devices. 

"Shut up and dress," was the laconic reply. 

Doyle didn't press it. Instead he surreptitiously studied their faces for
possible idents, cataloging them for the future: they were both tall,
dark-haired men, but there the resemblance stopped. The one watching Bodie
was attractive with regular features, wavy hair and dark brown eyes,
whereas his watchdog had brown rather than black hair, a cold face and the
emotionless, pale blue eyes associated with the deadliest killers. Despite
their ominous appearance, both men with their anonymous even features
could blend into any crowd dressed as they were in dark trousers and
windcheaters. They were men used to fading in and out at will. 

A malicious smile spread over the face of the man standing next to Bodie
as he spoke to his cohort. "CI5 recruiting faggots now? Or is this some
new kind of job benefit?" 

"Shut up, Hawke." 

Bodie stopped in the act of buttoning up his shirt and glowered
menacingly. 

"That's none of your business, is it?" 

"I think I've offended him, Jenkins," said the one called Hawke. "He
doesn't like me commenting on their cocksucking tendencies." 

Doyle flushed angrily. "I've always heard Americans didn't have manners.
It's true, innit?" 

Jenkins, the possessor of the cold eyes, looked irritated and gestured
with his weapon. "Enough conversation, curlytop. Hustle it, you and the
girlfriend are going for a ride." 

Bodie made a rude noise and Jenkins glared at him, too. "Don't make me
mad, hard man," Jenkins threatened. "I bite." 

Hawke grinned in amusement. "And you don't want to know where." 

Outgunned for the moment, they finished dressing and were herded through
the flat and outside where a nondescript van waited in the loading zone. 

Immediately they stepped inside they were pushed to the floor, expertly
tied, and blindfolded by Hawke while Jenkins of the cold eyes never
dropped his guard. They were good these two, perhaps as good as CI5
operatives. In frustration Doyle pulled at the bindings but there was no
give. He settled down then and extended his senses, trying to remember the
turns and determine their direction. If they were lucky they'd live to
retrace their route. 

As near as Doyle could tell, they traveled for almost 2 hours before they
arrived at their destination. During the entire drive Jenkins and Hawke
had said nothing to reveal where or why they had been kidnapped, but Doyle
hoped it wouldn't be long before they had some answers. 

******

The last swath of shaving cream wiped neatly on his towel, Major George
Cowley splashed on his after shave. The telephone interrupted his visual
inspection, and he reached it by the third ring. 

"Cowley here." 

"Yes, I see. You were right to investigate when the security alarm sounded
and no one answered the phone." 

"Yes, I'd say that was quite suspicious: a forced entry, apartment
deserted, both cars out front." 

"A van? Who reported it?" 

"The driver of the milk float was irate when he found the van in the
loading zone.yes, I see, go on. Yes, lucky for us he had a short fuse and
reported the incident along with the van's license. Anything else?" 

"Mmmm. Yes. Has anyone interrogated the driver?" 

"He's in the process? I'll take the report when I arrive." 

"You have alerted everyone to be on the lookout for the van. Yes, good,
I'm on my way. I'll meet you at 4.5's flat." 

Phone replaced gently, he stood for the briefest second, gathering himself
to face another crisis. Within 10 minutes he was on his way to see with
his own eyes if there was anything that had slipped by his men. He
absolutely refused to admit to any fears for Bodie and his partner. 

By the time he reached his destination, the van had been spotted possibly
two times heading north out of the city. Inside the flat he looked around
the main room before going into the bedroom. The unmade, rumpled bed hit
him hard even though he knew the two of them had been spending their free
time together. His nose twitched angrily at the musky smell in the room as
he looked for clues to their disappearance. If the others hadn't known
before, it would be all over CI5 by the time this was over. 

Feeling like a voyeur, he checked the bed and found the spent evidence of
their passion. One last look at the hastily deserted room, the underpants
lying carelessly on the floor, the all pervasive reek of sex-yes,
suspending Bodie had been a tactical error. And now, Bodie and his partner
were missing. Brushing aside regrets, he concentrated on facts. 

"Where's Jax?" he asked the man on the front door. 

"Here, sir," the agent answered coming down the hall. "Just finished
talking to the driver. What the police report didn't mention was that the
driver saw four men getting into the back of the van. Two of the men match
Bodie and Doyle's description. I'm getting some photos for the driver to
identify but I don't think there's much doubt." 

"And the other two?" 

"Nothing yet." 

Cowley shrugged and stepped back inside to resume his examination but saw
nothing that hadn't already been reported. The evidence of shared meals,
shared time angered him.and depressed him. Again, he regretted the
suspension before he turned his anger on himself. He had no time for
regrets-later perhaps-but not now. He was a man who knew all about
'laters'; those long hours when all the dead men rose to haunt him. Please
God, it wouldn't be these two, or the one, who peopled his nights. But he
made himself one promise. When he'd got them safely back he would do
something about their growing closeness. Doyle wouldn't have Bodie, no,
not if he couldn't either. And he knew he couldn't, not really. At first,
his feelings for Bodie had seemed simply those of a father for a son; and
he had been confounded when he realized he wanted more from Bodie. 

However, he recognized the fact that Bodie would never have such feelings
for him. He also discovered it didn't matter so much. He could be happy
knowing Bodie respected him, maybe even cared for him, as a surrogate
father; but he wanted Bodie's time and attention as well, and with Doyle
around he'd never have that. His own feelings amazed him somewhat with
their unreasonableness. He wanted Bodie and yet would willingly settle for
filial devotion and his company, yet he couldn't abide his loving another
man. Selfish as it was, he didn't feel guilty. George Cowley deserved
something for a lifetime dedication to his country. Because of that he'd
never succeeded in finding someone, till now, to ease his loneliness. 

When he was younger, he'd believed it wasn't important, but now, he knew
better. A very lonely old age was facing him, and he'd decided Bodie was
his answer. 

One last look and he left, snagging Jax as his driver on the way out, and
they headed in the direction of the last known sighting of the van. 

"We're here." The sound of Jenkin's voice was almost welcome after the
quiet tension of the ride. 

The ropes around their ankles and the blindfolds were removed; Hawke
prodded Doyle with the gun muzzle. "Come on, sweetie, on your feet." 

Stepping out onto the ground, he stumbled and fell as blood rushed
painfully into his feet, and he noticed Bodie sway, too, as he stepped out
into the brightness of the morning sun. On his knees he looked around
quickly, checking out the surroundings. They were parked behind an
isolated cottage that looked like it had seen better days: a scrubby stand
of trees stood between them and the direction of the road; nearby a
hastily thrown tarp covered what looked most suspiciously like a
helicopter. 

Everything was green and washed clean-after a week of rain it was going to
be a beautiful day. 

A hand yanked him to his feet. "Get inside." Then an aside. "Watch him
closer, Hawke, Jesus H. Christ, do I have to do your job for you?" 

A gun settled in his back and pushed him into the cottage on Bodie's
heels. "You son of a bitch, you better not try anything," Hawke said,
irritated by Jenkin's peremptory tone. 

"Take it easy, you bastard," Bodie snarled, breaking the long silence he'd
maintained. 

"Hey, we got us a tough guy, Jenkins," Hawke carrolled. "I wonder just how
tough Brit agents are?" A sly look crossed his face. "Maybe we should take
notes, huh, see how long before he shits his pants?" 

Bodie looked pointedly bored and Hawke pushed him into a chair. 

Doyle ignored the by-play. Now that they had arrived, he was freed from
the tedious necessity of concentrating on every detail of the drive, and
he could give some consideration to their predicament. They weren't to be
killed right away since that could have been accomplished while they lay
sleeping. Their captors didn't care that they could be identified, so he
was sure they were imported guns, probably planning to use the helicopter
as the means of escape. 

And there was a very good chance that there was a mole in CI5. These two
were good, but they had managed the break-in too easily and were obviously
not surprised to find him and Bodie together. He was reasonably sure that
if there were rumors abut their relationship, they were just that. But the
cow had complete files on all his men, and anytime such files existed, it
was always possible the wrong eyes would see them. And anyone who could
manage a glimpse at their files, had to be on the inside. 

A little man, probably the invisible driver of the van, had scuttled in
behind them. Doyle looked him over and decided he looked Indian, then
amended it to South American when Hawke spoke to him and he answered in a
heavy Spanish accent. 

"Did you hide the van, amigo?" 

"Si, in the garage." 

"Then get the equipment set up, Jesus, I'm bringing the big one in first."
He gave Bodie a conspiratorial wink. "We're gonna take you apart, big
guy." 

Bodie rolled his eyes in contempt. "Bigger men than you have tried." Doyle
ignored the tightening in his gut and continued his surveillance of their
surroundings. 

Too soon, Jesus stuck his head back in the room. "Everything is ready;
bring him in." 

When Jenkins pulled Bodie out of the chair, Doyle stood, too, ready to
follow. Hawke pushed him back. 

"Shut up and sit down. When we want you inside, we'll tell you." It was
becoming more and more obvious that Hawke delighted in baiting him. 

"You'll get to see him soon enough. Jenkins will take real good care of
your bed-buddy." 

Doyle shrugged, holding on to his temper by a thin thread. "I'd rather
know what you want." 

Hawke's laugh was cold and Doyle promised himself he was going to enjoy
taking this big mouth apart before too long. 

"You're going to have a real treat in a minute, curlytop. Jenkins and
Jesus work real well together-enjoy themselves, too. Jesus comes from one
of them little banana republics with more babies than brains, but he sure
knows his business." 

Doyle's stomach twisted in apprehension. Whatever Jesus was good at wasn't
going to be healthy for Bodie he was sure. Without hope he yanked at his
bonds. 

"Wasting your time. Nobody gets loose when I tie 'em." Eyes slitted and
Doyle pictured one of the many things he'd like to do to this man. It was
very satisfactory. 

"We're ready." 

Jenkin's voice brought him out of the chair across the room before Hawke
could touch him. Jenkins shifted aside and let him proceed ahead of them.
Inside, a cold stone centred in the pit of his stomach at the sight of a
naked, too vulnerable Bodie lying strapped to a long arrow cot. Beside him
Jesus stood next to a small hand-powered generator connected by two copper
wires wound around Bodie's ankles. 

Bodie's eyes met his. "Welcome to the floorshow. Me mum always said I had
an electrifying personality." 

Despite his schooled features, Doyle knew Bodie could read his sick
horror. It was one of their worst nightmares come true. 

Immediately Bodie shed his caustic tone. "Ray, don't do it, whatever it is
they want." 

Jenkins nodded and Jesus began to crank the handle of the generator and
gradually Bodie's face contorted as his body twitched with the electrical
shock surging through him. An almost equally shocked and enraged Doyle
flung himself at the small man twisting the crank, knocking him to the
ground before Jenkins and Hawke cold stop him. Joyfully, he kicked and bit
the shrieking man, but before he could do any real damage, he was hauled
off. 

Laughing nastily, Hawke grabbed his hair, dragging him back, but Jenkins
looked ready to kill. "Get him away and keep him away," he snapped. Almost
reluctantly Hawke dragged him a distance from the cot, and Doyle received
the impression that he was not unhappy to see neither the small man nor
Jenkins humiliated. He filed that away for the future. 

Jenkins helped Jesus to his feet as Doyle met Bodie's eyes. Mute with
helplessness he stared at his partner as Jesus regained his feet and began
cranking the generator, and again, he saw Bodie's body lift with the shock
running through it. 

Involuntarily, he stepped forward, but this time Hawke was alert and
jerked him back. "Watch it, hero, unless you don't want it to stop."
Horrified, he realized how Jesus was punishing him for the attack. The
little man stopped cranking then and his victim slumped to the table,
gasping for breath, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

Doyle realized he was panting softly, inadvertently revealing his
distress, and knew whatever happened next he had to ignore Bodie. All his
attention had to be given to the sadists doing this, to find out how to
stop the horror. 

"Why are you doin' this? What do you want?" 

"That's too easy. You need to learn just how serious we are." Hawke nodded
and Jesus began to crank, at first slowly and then accelerating the speed.


Unable to tear his eyes away, he watched Bodie's muscles surge in protest
and this time, when the power was cut, his partner's eyes were closed, his
body trembling in reaction. 

"Mate?" Doyle couldn't help it, he had to hear Bodie's voice. 

"S'okay," Bodie wheezed, "it's not as bad as it looks." 

Again, Jesus moved and this time he cranked furiously, increasing his
speed and Bodie's mouth froze in a rictus of pain, a thin keening moan
forced from him. Abruptly, Jenkins pushed the small man away from the
generator and Bodie collapsed limp and silent. 

Jenkins looked at Doyle. "He's all right. Jesus got mad. He doesn't like
anyone to imply he's not doing his job." 

For long seconds Doyle's strained attention was centred on Bodie, and not
until he saw his eyelids lift did he turn to Jenkins. "So you can give him
a jolt-don't tell me you went to all this trouble to bring us here just to
torture him?" 

Hawke's answer was brutally candid. "That's right, but see we have to let
Jesus have a little fun once in awhile and get in a little practice. 

Jesus, he's one of the best, learned in the finest schools so to say. He
knows just how much it takes to kill. Did you know he can stop a heart
just like that?" 

Hawke snapped his fingers and Doyle flinched. 

"Why?" 

Hawke became more confiding. "We contracted for a hit. You CI5 boys are
making it too tough to get to him. It came to our notice that you were one
of his caretakers. Our source says you're the one to do it. Especially
since we have your boyfriend. And if you don't do it, he's gonna fry. See
how simple it is?" 

"Okay," Doyle swallowed. "I'll do it." 

"Ray!" Bodie protest was a grated whisper. 

"Shut up, Bodie, this is my deal." 

Hawke smirked mirthlessly. "Smart fellow. But there is a little hitch. It
needs to be done right away. We're not going to wait around while you're
buying time. And as an incentive, we're going to keep giving lover boy
here a little jolt every 30 minutes until we hear you've done the dirty
deed." 

His hard won calm deserted him. "You'll kill him!" 

"Nah, I told you, Jesus is an expert. You just do your part and he'll be
released almost as good as new; unless you take too long. This stuff can
do funny things to the brain. Might say he could become terminally
confused." His smile widened and Doyle ached to remove it. "Just remember
though if it takes longer than four hours, Jesus will get tired. He's apt
to decide he's worked long enough and decide to stop another heart." With
an inarticulate growl of rage, Doyle whirled to Jenkins and Jesus. "You
kill him, you'll never rest easy another day," he promised. "Now quit
wasting my time and get me back to the city." 

Worthless words of reassurance were all he could give Bodie. "I'll be back
and get you out of this. You can count on me." 

Bodie looked at him, shuttered eyes unable to hide his fear of the pain to
come, but the others only heard his sneering confidence. "Yeh, sure. Get
out of here, Ray, do what you have to." 

Bodie knew as well as he did he couldn't kill the witness, but he'd do
everything in his power and CI5s power to get him out of this mess. Doyle
looked one last time at the defenseless form and turned to go. 

The door closed on Doyle's back and Bodie squinted up at Jenkins and fond
the pale blue gaze riveted on him. He'd seen eyes like this in Angola. 

Eyes that enjoyed pain. It was both a strength and a weakness in a hired
gun. It could be good because it meant that nothing short of death could
stop him, and bad because he was hooked on his victim's suffering and
would stay for the final gasp. 

Bodie suppressed a shiver. He knew men like Jenkins often got sexually
turned on as well, and the avidity in the cold face didn't bode well. Eyes
closed against his tormentors, he tried to prepare himself against the
pain to come, but the boneless, dull ache in his body distracted him. It
looked to be a long day, at least he hoped it would be a long day. 

Once they were moving, Cowley stared unseeing at the passing scenery; he
was locked into his own thoughts yet alert to his surroundings. 

As soon as they had started there had been another sighting of the van and
he had been scouring the road ahead for a glimpse of a weathers VW van
ever since. 

The radio crackled briefly and Jax answered it. "Yeh, 7.6." 

The volume was turned down and Cowley missed what was said, but as he
started to ask, Jax slowed the car and swung around in the other
direction. 

"Another possible sighting; village just north of here," Jax explained. 

Cowley nodded and resumed his silence. For two hours he had said nothing
that did not bear directly on the case, but inside his anger was growing.
No one got away with this, no one abducted his men. Every agent had his
personal concern, each one selected by him alone, and he'd get them back.
He sank back in the seat and continued to watch the disappearing road. 

Doyle blinked dazedly in the bright sunlight. The trip back to London had
taken much less time, which had concurred with his sense that the first
time the van had taken a circuitous route to confuse them. He swayed
slightly as he looked about for a telephone kiosk. First things first. 

Notify CI5, and that meant Cowley, of just what had been happening.
Spotting one down the block, he set off running as he dug into his jeans
for some change, tied hands awkwardly fumbling for coins. He still felt
the unreality of the last hours, and despite his efforts to concentrate on
the job, his concern for Bodie overrode all other considerations. 

Sitting on the floor of the van, blindfolded, hands still bound, and
Hawke's gun aimed at his head, an opportunity to overpower Hawke on the
way back to London never occurred. He had been driven to the outskirts
where Hawke had pulled off the blindfold, and once on a trafficked street,
had ordered him to open the van door. Doyle had complied, realizing the
other man didn't intend to stop, merely slow down enough for him to jump
clear. 

Reaching the phone, he dropped the coins, cursing, picked them up and got
them into the slot. CI5 patched him through to the old man at once, and
Jax answered on his r/t. 

"7.6 here." 

"Message for Alpha One," Doyle snapped. 

" What in God's name is going on, 4.5? Where are you? Where's Bodie? "
Cowley's voice, anxious for once came through clearly. 

He knew his voice was strained, scared, but he couldn't take time to
control his fears. "We were kidnapped. They're keeping Bodie as surety
that I'll kill Bolton." He paused. "I don't know Bodie's exact location,
but I can help. I'm coming to join you." 

"You don't know where he is?" 

"We were blindfolded, still I'd recognize the cottage where we were held.
And I know you're looking in the right direction, I'm sure we were north
of the city." 

"About joining the search, 4.5, that's negative. You describe the house.
We can find the place just as well without you, but we won't recognize the
men we're after and you will. It's quite possible that they have a back up
operation in mind when they see you've not killed Bolton, and in that
case, you're the only one to keep him safe." 

"We don't know that," he protested angrily. "Bodie is my partner, I should
be with you, helping to find him." 

"You're not paid to think," came the old man's voice, angry himself now. 

"You're in charge of Bolton and his caretaking until I say differently.
I'll find Bodie." 

"But." 

"That's enough, 4.5. Now give Jax a description of the place you were held
and anything else that might be pertinent." 

Jax's voice came through, and Doyle detected a note of sympathy in the
quiet voice. "Yeh what'm I looking for, Ray?" 

He told Jax all the facts in seconds, and then he was standing alone, his
only connection to Bodie gone. Frustrated, Doyle aimed a glance of pure
hatred at the silent phone in his hand before he slammed it onto its
cradle. 

Never had to come so close to disobeying one of Cowley's orders. Bolton
was nothing to him. Right at the moment he'd as soon put a bullet through
the little weasel's head if it would really save Bodie. But it wouldn't. 

These men were killers by nature, and he was sure Jenkins wouldn't walk
away and leave Bodie alive. 

In one way Cowley was right though he had denied it. There was a chance
the villains had another plan in case he didn't follow through. Resolutely
then, he pushed Bodie to the back of his mind. Cowley was the best. And he
had his own reasons for wanting his partner safe. 

A gleam of triumph slid across Cowley's features; he knew Doyle would obey
him. He wasn't as easy to manipulate as Bodie but he still responded to
authority. Sometimes he forgot just how many of his men saw him in an
avuncular light. While the more susceptible ones, like Bodie and Doyle,
viewed him almost as a father-figure. Perhaps that was how to handle this
matter-his anger merely served to harden Doyle's determination, and
ultimately, made him and Bodie pull together. A little judicious concern,
nothing overdone of course, might just succeed. Yes that would be a useful
ploy in dealing with recalcitrant agents-especially agents who had lacked
a good father-son relationship as children. 

"Step on it, Jax." 

There was a feral cast to Cowley's eyes; he was sure they were near the
end of the hunt. Even as they flew along the winding road, another call
came through placing the van in the village of . Inquiries from the local
constable had yielded the information that strangers had taken a small
local cottage for a month while on holiday. Good instincts told him this
was it. Now if he were only in time. Doyle must have left the cottage a
good two hours ago, and he was sure any grace period would soon be over. 

He was grim-faced when finally the village came in sight. Two detours had
not made him a happy man, and everytime Jax had slowed the car, it
maddened him. He kept quiet, though, knowing how easy it was to miss turn
offs on these rural lanes. When finally the car turned down another narrow
lane, Jax slowed more. Up ahead another car had just stopped and two men
got out. With relief, Cowley recognized another team had beat them. 

Cowley was out and moving before the car had completely stopped. "Jax," he
spoke to the agent scurrying behind him. "Move up, and be careful!" Doyle
said there would be two, but no more than three men, but we won't take
chances." His attention swung to the two waiting men." You two, work
around to the back. I'll be with Jax. Get moving." 

Men deployed, Cowley stealthily followed Jax through the underbrush
surrounding the house. Jax looked in the first window, and turned to
whisper to Cowley. "We're in luck. One of them is in here alone. They're
split up." 

Cowley felt for loose rocks and tossed a pebble against the window. When
Jesus opened the door, Jax silenced him with a chop to the neck. 

"Good man," Cowley muttered, pushing past him. Treading carefully, he
moved to the only closed door. Hearing a muffled sound, he inched it open,
and saw a man straddling Bodie, gun aimed at his agent's defenseless head.
As Cowley watched, the man eased off the safety. 

Bodie felt hands loosening his restraints and tried to open his eyes.
Nothing was responding as it should-not his mind or his body. A terrible
weakness controlled him and he was consumed by pain so profound, it
engulfed him, as if he were wrapped in a fuzzy cotton wool. His inability
to keep a grasp on reality scared him badly. 

"Bodie." 

A voice. With a thrill of fear he identified it as Jenkins, the bringer of
pain. Right now he didn't know if he could endure any more. "Bodie, I know
you can hear me. Come on, wake up." 

A rasping groan forced itself past frozen throat muscles, and he managed
to crack an eye open enough to see the wolfish grin hanging over him
before Jenkins straightened up. 

"I knew you were awake; I want you to now what I'm going to do." He
unbuckled his belt as he talked. "I'm going to fuck you now." 

Bodie knew this game. In Africa he'd seen it played as a power struggle,
but Jenkins would do it because he enjoyed inflicting pain. Deep inside a
small rage kindled but couldn't penetrate the haze of exhaustion 

surrounding and insulating his mind. Jenkin's hands rolled and tugged at
him till he was on his stomach. Heart lurching, he heard a zip slide and
fought to make a fist, but abused muscle wouldn't flex, there was nothing
left to back his anger. 

Jenkins straddled him, gripping his buttocks and he couldn't even grit his
teeth against the pain to come. The irony of being able to feel but not
react was not lost on him. How could his mind grasp what was about to
happen and his body ignore his call to resist? 

As the hard flesh probed the entrance to his body, he found his rectal
muscles could still protest and new pain became a reality as Jenkins' cock
sheathed itself in him. Hard hands gripped him as hips pounded him down
into the rough mattress. Bodie's mind worked in a cadence with the
thrusting invasion, killyoukillyoukillyouBASTARD. 

Jenkins' excitement was too great to last and soon, deep in his bowels, he
felt the other man's release before his tormentor slumped forward, breath
harsh in his ear. 

Bile rose in Bodie's mouth and he knew if he vomited, he'd choke to death,
weak as he was. Didn't really matter as this act signalled his death. If
Ray had succeeded, he'd have arrived with the cavalry by now. But if
Jenkins and Jesus were finished with him, then they must not need him
anymore as leverage. And a prisoner without value was a dead prisoner.
Jenkins had just been having his last bit of sadistic fun. 

The body on him stirred and the limp sex slid from him as the man drew
back. He closed his eyes waiting for the shot that would end his life when
he heard the door open. There was a shocking blast of a .38 going off at
close range, and Jenkins pitched forward onto him once again; he felt the
warm trickle of blood against his cold skin. 

Ray. It had to be Ray. 

He was surprised to hear a Scottish burr as gentle arms enfolded him.
"Bodie, lad, can you hear me?" 

He fought to keep his eyes open and was rewarded with Cowley's concerned
face. Safe. He allowed himself to sink down into a lethargy so sound, he
was barely aware of the far off wail of sirens or of being lifted and
wrapped in soft blankets. 

******

Doyle raced down the nearly deserted corridor, barely missed a sister
making her early evening rounds, turned a corner and saw Cowley standing
outside the hospital room. He skidded to a stop, the words out before he
could catch his breath. 

"How is 'e? Bloody central only said you'd brought 'im here." 

"You didn't do a very good job of watching his back this time, did you,
4.5?" Stunned, he stepped back, the words slicing through him. Cowley's
condemnation went almost as deep as his own, confirming it if he'd ever
doubted it. "Just tell me if he's okay?" 

"He'll be fine. Exhausted, minor burns, and of course, Ross will have a
field day dealing with the rape, but other than that, he'll do." 

"Rape?" he parroted mindlessly. 

"Yes, Doyle, rape. Jenkin's last living act, I might add." 

"Bloody Christ." He could hardly grasp this final outrage. "I want to see
him." 

"Well, you'll have to wait until he wakes up. He's been given something."
Cowley's voice took on a new edge. "He'll be fine. Bodie is a strong
personality. I've already been in contact with Ross and she feels he'll
need a minimum of counseling. 

The asperity in Cowley's tone ceased to bother Doyle as he looked closer
at the older man who was also exhausted, worried, and loved Bodie as much
as he was capable. Cowley wouldn't lie, not about Bodie's well-being. "All
right, I'll wait." 

He dragged a chair from a nearby lounge and settled down. He'd be here
when Bodie awoke, and now that the man was safe, he could use the time to
regain some inner balance as well as examine what the past hours had shown
him. He'd been through a time that had come as close to a living hell as
he'd ever want to experience, and the relief he was feeling at present was
almost debilitating. 

For hours he'd counted seconds, added up minutes, and everytime he'd
reached the half hour, his stomach had twisted in agony. It was senseless,
keeping track of the time, thinking about what was happening to Bodie back
at the cottage, but he was powerless to stop. Now he had to ask himself if
the pain was greater than it would have been before they'd become lovers;
and then he had to ask himself if it was worth it. The night loomed ahead,
full of lonely corridors and even lonelier thoughts. 

******

Bodie shifted slightly, and suddenly realized his body was moving of its
own accord. It wasn't a dream, he was alive. Carefully, he opened his eyes
and with a sinking feeling saw he was in hospital. Still the novelty of
moving his own limbs distracted him as he waved one hand in the air over
his face. As he experimented wiggling his feet and then legs, he began to
remember bits and pieces of the past. Ray. Moving to reach the phone, he
sat too rapidly and his head swam. 

"Easy, laddie." 

Through the spin, he saw Cowley approaching the bed, and he peered around
him, thinking to find Doyle. 

"Aye, he's here. Finally fell asleep an hour ago." 

Bodie sank back, satisfied. He decided to try his voice. It was a croak
but it served him. "You got me out?" 

Cowley nodded, and Bodie saw the old man was fatigued. "Jenkins?" 

Again Cowley nodded in the affirmative. "Dead. And Hawke and his little
friend are in custody." 

Bodie growled. "Only thing I'm sorry for is that I didn't get to do it.
Had a score to settle didn't I?" 

"Yes, this time I can't fault you for wanting revenge." 

Surprised, Bodie's eyes lifted to Cowley's. The man's face was grim with
repressed rage. "Torture, rape, attempted murder-he got a clean, quick
death which was more than he deserved." 

"Rape.who.you saying I was raped?" 

Cowley's brows lifted. "Yes, laddie..?" His eyes cleared then, and he
continued. "Aye, the doctor did say your memory could be affected. Could,
in fact, lose whole blocks of what happened during the time they had you.
Electric shock can do that to the mind." 

Bodie closed his eyes trying to catch hold of the hours with Jenkins and
Jesus. "All I remember is hurting and hating." 

Cowley cleared his throat. "Not to worry. Probably best if you don't
remember." "Yeh, don't imagine it's one of those things you'd want to
spend time reminiscing about." Uncomfortable with what he perceived as
personal concern, Bodie cleared his throat. "Doyle? I mean what happened
there?" An impersonal mask settled over Cowley's face. "He got Bolton
under extra security and then tried to find me, but I was already on my
way to. At Bodie's inquisitive look, he continued. "We had a tip about the
van, and of course, earlier when the security in Doyle's flat was
breached, we knew something was afoot." 

Impatiently, Bodie repeated, "Doyle?" 

"After we found you, I contacted him and he met me at hospital." Cowley
shrugged wearily. "We've been waiting most of the night." 

There was a sound at the door and Bodie's insides turned over as he saw
his partner leaning against the door, and realized then he'd believed deep
down, he'd never see Ray again. 

"Ray." Not even his raspy voice could hide his satisfaction. >From the
corner of his eye Bodie saw Cowley shrug into his coat. 

"I'll be back," the controller said. "Time to check in at headquarters.
There's more important business for me to attend. 4.5, you're off duty til
4 p.m.; get some sleep before you come in." He paused at the door,
glancing back briefly. "Rest 3.7." And then he was past Doyle and out the
door. 

Bodie sensed at once something was wrong in spite of Doyle's hesitant
smile. Resorting to flippancy, he asked, "Aren't I irresistible anymore?
How can you just stand there?" 

Doyle remained tense, but he came over and sat on the edge of the bed. 

"Cowley told me what the bloody bastard did to you." Suddenly, he ground
his teeth together and smashed a fist into a hard palm. "Christ, I should
have been there." 

Bodie understood his rage. It would have been his if Ray had been the one
hurt. "You would have been there if possible. You were doing the job. It
comes first." 

Anger subdued for the moment, Doyle looked down. "Yeh, the job." With
horror, Bodie heard Doyle's voice quaver once before it steadied. Smoky
eyes full of pain met his then. "I failed you, mate. I promised to come
back. If Cowley hadn't pulled you out, you'd be an ex-agent: tortured,
raped, and murdered." He moved from the bed to stand at the window. "It's
almost daylight," he remarked without purpose before he turned again to
Bodie. 

"Do you know what I'm feeling?" 

"Happy I'm alive," Bodie ventured. 

Green eyes stared hard. "Do you need to be told." 

"No. Look Ray, I know there's something going on here and I'd like to get
it straight. You did what you had to. What I'd've done in the same
circumstances. I'm just glad to be alive, glad you're alive. Can't we
leave it at that?" 

"You were raped." It almost sounded like an accusation. 

"So Cowley says. I don't remember, do I?" 

Doyle looked and sounded confused. "How could you not remember?" 

"It's some kind of after-affect of electric shock. But I still don't like
the idea." He twisted the sheet angrily. "Couple of times in Africa,
fellers tried.and succeeded, till I got better than them and made some
bigger, tougher friends myself." 

Doyle moved closer and he fixed him with a glare. "Would have killed
Jenkins myself if I could. Couldn't though, so that's it. I'm not about to
get hysterical over something I can't recall. I'm alive and he's dead that
that's it." 

"Is it?" 

'Yeh," Suddenly suspicious. "Why, does it bother you somebody else." 

"Stop it. You know better than that." 

The angry voice hung between them, and Bodie shut up and waited. Doyle
would eventually spit it out when he was ready. 

Finally, his partner approached the bed and when he spoke again his tone
was quieter. "Doctor says you can get out of here tomorrow. Mostly you
need rest. The Cow said I was to pick you up." He rubbed red-rimmed eyes. 

"I'll see you then, okay?" 

"You're going?" he asked, disappointed. 

"I need some sleep, don't I, and you look proper knackered." 

A little surprised, Bodie realized he was fighting a creeping lethargy.
"Yeh, you're right," he said around a yawn. "Tomorrow then." He tried to
meet Doyle's eyes, but they were averted, and then he couldn't keep his
own open any longer. 

After checking into HQ, Doyle received the message that Cowley wanted to
see him. The four hours of sleep he'd finally managed had left him
gritty-eyed and heavy-limbed, but he knew there was no putting off the
interview. He'd known that it was what the old man had intended when he'd
been ordered in at 4:00. Probably lucky he'd got a twelve hour reprieve
after the greeting he'd received at hospital. 

The sarcastic reprimand had sliced deep even though no one knew more than
he that he'd let Bodie down. If Cowley intended to run it in, he didn't
know what he'd say or do. The only other time he'd felt anywhere as
inadequate was when Sid had bought it. 

Guilt riding close to the surface, he entered Cowley's presence with
something approaching the trepidation he'd felt when he'd first joined
CI5. The old man kept him standing several minutes before deigning to
notice him and when he did glance up, he was pierced by a rapier gaze. 

"I've asked you here to discuss your behavior, 4.5." 

With one quiet statement Cowley reduced him to an obstreperous schoolboy
on the defensive. "What's wrong with it, then?" Sounding sullen to his own
ears, he was unable to dispel the feeling he was about to be thrashed. 

"What's wrong? Let me refresh your memory, beginning with your conduct
yesterday, not even mentioning the fact that my two best agents were taken
completely unaware and kidnapped." 

Doyle felt the heat flood his skin. "I was worried about Bodie. Remember
him, my partner?" He'd been crazy with fear more like, but he wasn't going
to admit that to the Cow. 

"I'd say it bordered on insubordination. I'd say you almost forgot whom
you take orders from, wouldn't you? 

Doyle maintained a stubborn silence. When in the wrong, admit nothing.
"And there's the matter of not doing your job." 

"My job?" Doyle exploded. "I did the bloody job. Bolton is nice and cosy,
isn't he?" 

Cowley leaned forward, voice no longer accusatory but laced with concern.
"Only because you were so ordered. Listen to me, 4.5, the job comes
first-always. And if you forget that, you're no good to me or to Bodie."
Doyle looked down, confused by Cowley's change in demeanor and tone. The
blue ice of rage had disappeared and had been replaced with warmth and
caring. 

Cowley's voice softened further. "Don't be thinking I've forgotten Bodie
is still on suspension for his own insubordination. When my two best
agents both start acting so irrational, of course, I'm alarmed." He pushed
his desk chair back and stood. 

Before he could continue, Doyle interrupted, his emotions fluctuating
between anger and guilt; between suspicion and the respectful affection he
still felt for Cowley. "We're partners. Partners are supposed to watch out
for each other. Even the rule book says so." 

The honeyed answer covered cold steel. "Don't quote rules I wrote. And
they do say, do they not, that you watch out for each other while you're
doing your job, not to the exclusion of your job?" 

Doyle contented himself with a ferocious scowl since he couldn't
truthfully contest the facts. So far he was coming off second best in this
confrontation. 

Cowley stood them and leaned forward, palms flat on his desk. "And this
brings me to another topic, 4.5. You told me some time ago that you and
Bodie weren't seriously involved. Well, you two are behaving like
moonstruck lovers, so if you're not, then you'd better persuade me
differently as I'm considering splitting the unit." 

"You can't," he blurted uncertainly. "You said yourself we were your best
team." This Cowley was throwing him off balance. He wasn't sure he trusted
the man, but he knew he was responding to the firm kindness despite
everything. "Who'd replace us?" he asked desperately. 

"Don't worry, lad, that's my job." 

"Bodie and I...it's not serious," Doyle mumbled, awkward with the
falsehood in the face of such concern. 

"So you maintain it's casual, despite the appearance of an intense
relationship?" 

Doyle blushed as much at the lie as at discussing their feelings, but
animal caution made him continue to deny it. "Sex with Bodie is good. But
it's better with birds. What do you want to hear? That we'll break it
off?" 

Cowley's rueful smile offered understanding. "I want the truth." Then he
leaned closer. "My god, man, don't you understand you could get each other
killed? Or innocent bystanders?" He went on before Doyle could reply. "I
want you to take this job seriously. Do you? Can you break it off? Because
I'll tell you that's the only way I'm prepared to let you both stay on." 

Doyle swallowed hard. CI5 was too important, and he couldn't make that
decision for both of them, remembering then that Bodie had never wanted to
get so close as to jeopardize their jobs or their lives. He had been the
one to push for this closeness, and now it was going to destroy
everything. 

Bewildered he shook his head; he hadn't expected to be treated like a son,
even a wayward one. That Cowley meant every word, he had no doubt. 

"Bodie has diverse tastes just like me. Christ, we do this job together.
Who else understands what we do, how we feel about doing it? Sometimes we
need each other; but most of the time, not. At least not that way." His
voice lowered, bitter with concealed pain. "We could stop. We will if
that's the only way to stay on." 

"And you speak for Bodie?" 

"I speak for me." Knowing if he pulled back, then Bodie would have to
agree, knowing Bodie would be hurting as much as he was, knowing it was
the only way to continue doing the job and keep them both alive. 

"Aye," Cowley eased back, giving him space, returning to his chair. 

"That's good enough for me." Absently, he reached for a pen and paper and
wrote for a minute. "Sit down, lad." 

Still not off the hot seat, but feeling not quite out of favor, Doyle sank
into the offered chair. He almost couldn't believe what he'd just said to
Cowley, that he hadn't fought for them harder. And then he knew he
couldn't fight for something he was beginning to believe, if not wrong,
was dangerous to Bodie. He had put Bodie before the job, just as Bodie had
put him first. And if it hadn't almost killed the man this time, it might
the next. Could he live with himself if he caused such a thing to happen
even inadvertantly? He slid down the seat, a compacted ball of misery. 

"You were right," he whispered. "I didn't want to safeguard Bolton, I
wanted to find Bodie." He looked up, eyes wide. "You followed procedures,
you found him. And I haven't even thanked you properly." 

"Not necessary." Cowley looked up. "Can I assume you will take care of
this matter posthaste?" 

"Yes." Shocked depression settled squarely in the pit of his stomach. 

"Good, now since Bodie will be on the sick list for the rest of the week
and then up for a refresher course, there's a little matter pending in the
north, and Murphy could use some back up. Talk to Betty about your travel
arrangements." 

Gratefully, Doyle pushed Bodie to the back of his mind and attended to the
details of the present case. Later he would deal with his partner. 

The next morning Bodie resisted the sister's efforts to help him bathe and
dress, and had become highly impatient before Doyle arrived. His mate
didn't look well-rested yet and Bodie was anxious to get him alone to find
out why he still acted cool, remote, and miserable, but he refrained from
initiating any conversation until they were at his flat. 

"All right, what is it?" he asked, flopping onto the settee. 

"What's what?" Doyle answered. 

"Come off it, mate, you know." 

"I've been thinking." Nervously Doyle shrugged and began pacing about the
room, aimlessly touching small objects. 

"I can tell. Strain shows, doesn't it?" 

Doyle ignored him and continued relentlessly. "I've been thinking about
us." Bodie didn't answer for a moment. "Reach any conclusions I don't
already know?" "You always said we shouldn't get so close. I think mebbe
you're right." Bodie's eyes narrowed. "Why now." 

"The job." 

"What?" 

Doyle tried to explain. "You heard me. Yeh, the bloody job. They used our
relationship to try to get what they wanted. And it almost killed you. 

Just because they didn't this time doesn't mean someone won't try it
again. "I know, I've thought abut it; but this time was a fluke they found
out." "It was a mole," Doyle broke in sarcastically. "And Cowley found out
who. Sweated it out of Hawke last night, didn't we? Anyway, you can't get
past the fact they used it against us. And the Cow isn't happy." 

"Okay, I listened, now I want the truth, sunshine. Other agents have
relationships, families, and they could have grabbed someone's wife or
kids, and they probably would have if any married men had been on that
job." He folded his arms across his chest and waited expectantly for Ray
to try and refute his logic. 

Stormy green met his. "Okay then, how's this for the truth. I really
considered blowing Bolton away. Oh, yeh, I didn't but I wanted to. He's
nothing, just a piece of dirt. And you, and well, you know. Began to see
why you always hold back." 

Bodie could see he was refusing to remember that wall had been removed
just recently. Unacknowledged pain welled in Bodie and with quick
savageness, he quelled it. "So you want to cool it? Us? Is that it?" He
was unaware of his whitened face. "I still don't understand why now. I've
been in danger before." 

"Not like this." Doyle shuddered as he remembered his helplessness, his
sheer inability to save Bodie. "Dammit," the words burst from him. "I
would have been too late. Cowley saved you." 

Bodie's eyes softened. "And you feel like you let me down?" 

"I know I did. And by the grace of whatever gods you believe in, Cowley
got there in time. I keep thinking about what it would've been like if he
hadn't." He slumped down on the settee beside Bodie. "I found out what a
coward I am. I found out I don't want to know what it'd be like to lose my
friend, partner, and lover. We've got too much, Bodie. Too much to risk
losing it all at once." 

"We could always quit." 

Doyle swung around angrily. "There's always that, although we neither want
to. And how soon would we be blaming each other for giving it up?"
Gloomily he looked down at his hands, both fisted with his inner anguish.
"I don't want to find out. Besides if we can't manage it doing our job,
will we do any better off the job?" 

Doyle's face reflected so much inner pain, Bodie backed off. "So it's all
over?" 

"No!" Doyle leaned towards him, misery radiating. "No, it can never be
over between us. Let's just keep you and me for special. Let's go back,
Bodie, to the time when we could both handle it." 

Bodie's eyes closed against all the anguish in Doyle. He could live with
his own, but not his partner's. "Okay. It's okay by me." He reached
blindly for Doyle's hand. "Listen, you better go to work now. I'm tired." 

It was true, he'd never been so weary in his life. 

Doyle squeezed his hand briefly and let go. "Yeh, good idea. I'll call you
later." 

Before he cracked his eyes, he felt Doyle move from the settee. Then
hearing the door open he saw for the first time since he'd known Doyle
that the man looked uncomfortable in his body, and it was with sorrow he
knew their relationship was to blame. Ray Doyle was used to expressing his
emotions, and the new restraints he had placed on them was going to hurt
them both. He sighed deeply at the irony of the situation. He'd got what
he'd originally wanted, but now knew it wouldn't make him as happy as he'd
been this past week. 

Resolutely he got up and went to his bedroom to lie down. Once there he
couldn't rest, but depression had settled in too solidly to even consider
moving. Instead he thought about how he might still have Ray, but it was
temporary. It wasn't over yet, what they had, and it wouldn't be for a
while, but these things followed a pattern, and this was the beginning of
the end. When it was ended, he'd figure out how to deal with the pain. 

Later, when Doyle was lost to him for good. Until then he'd enjoy what was
left, take what was offered and then never look back. 

Life was almost back to normal. 

-- THE END -- 

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