The Professionals Circuit Archive - A Pardon After Execution	     A
Pardon After Execution

 

by Pamela Rose

  
 *--That comfort comes too late.
 'Tis like a pardon after execution.*

 Doyle inspected his burned wrists ruefully. "I imagine Ojuka is feeling a
bit like I do at the moment."

 "What's that?"

 "'E oughta be careful who he gets tied up with in the future."

 Bodie smiled and began steering his partner toward the car. "Right, mate.
Let's get you to a medic, shall we? I wager you've more damages than your
dainty wrists."

 Doyle stopped abruptly, tugging back on Bodie's grip. "Where's Parker?"

 "Who's that?"

 The green eyes swept over the grounds, taking in the departing car
containing Ojuka's traitorous lady and the too-greedy government official,
then moved back to the other group of prisoners being herded into motors
with less politeness. "I left him in the back, down in the cellar. He was
out cold." Catching sight of Murphy, Doyle called out, "Murph, have you
searched the grounds?"

 Murphy looked up, startled. "Yeah, this is the lot."

 "Bloody hell!" Doyle took off at a sprint, Bodie following doggedly.

 "Ray, let the other lads see to it, will ya? Doyle!"

 Doyle was clutching his side when he reached the cellar steps, plainly
hurting. But he jerked out his gun with his left hand and barreled down.
It was empty.

 "Fools! They've let the bastard get away!"

 Bodie took his arm. "They'll catch 'im, mate. He can't get far, can he?
Nothing but woods for miles around, is there?"

 Doyle slumped tiredly. "I suppose you're right."

 "Of course, I'm right," Bodie said soothingly. "You're too racked up to
be chasin' through the piney woods right now. The bloke was rough on you,
was he?"

 "Well, he didn't read me poetry, if that's what you mean."

 "Come on, sunshine. Time to play doctor."

 ******

Cowley caught Bodie in the corridor. "Bodie! In my office. Now!"

 The younger man halted in mid-stride. He turned very slowly, unwilling to
face the older man just yet. It was a scene he knew he couldn't avoid, but
had hoped to delay. "Now, sir? I was just--"

 "Now, Bodie! Or is *that* order too difficult for you to follow?"

 Bodie winced, and fell obediently into step behind Cowley. *If I was a
dog, me tail would be drooping, * he thought ruefully.

 "Shut the door," Cowley commanded. "All right, first off, how's Doyle?"

 "The Doc's seein' him now, sir. Thinks he got himself a cracked rib, but
nothing worse. Some nasty burns on his wrists, a few bruises. Could be
rougher from what I gather they put him through. That Parker fella was a
real sadist."

 Cowley picked up a folder from his desk. "Yes, Parker. He's a bad one,
all right. Avery hired him through some South African connections of his.
He's a mercenary when the war and the money suits him; the rest of the
time he fills in as a hired bully boy for whoever can pay his price. We've
got quite a file on him through our own South African office. He seems to
have quite a few British contacts as well, but so far we haven't been able
to trace them."

 Bodie's eyes narrowed. "You mean they didn't nab him?"

 "No."

 "You can't be serious, sir," Bodie protested. "Where could he run? And he
couldn't'a been in such great shape after Doyle was finished with him
either. Why--"

 Cowley cut him off impatiently, "The fact is, they haven't found him, and
it's beginning to look like they won't. He's a pro. He knows all the
tricks."

 "He's a killer! We can't just let him get away. He killed a girl at the
hotel...shot 'er in the back. And the way he treated Doyle--" Bodie broke
off, realizing he was arousing Cowley's suspicions with his heat. "Well, I
just can't believe we let him slip away, that's all."

 "He hasn't slipped away yet, Bodie. And he won't, if we can help it.
That's why we're still trying to trace his contacts here. He had to've had
help, a place to go aground."

 Bodie took a deep breath. "Doyle isn't going to like this."

 "You're very concerned all of a sudden with what Doyle does and doesn't
like, aren't you, Bodie?"

 The blue eyes flicked up to meet Cowley's. "Yeah, well, I just meant--"

 "I know what you mean. And I know what you did back at the estate. Did
you think I was going to forget that little faux pas of yours?"

 "No, sir." Bodie's shoulders straightened.

 "You disobeyed a direct order, Bodie! I could have your hide for that.
You knew my rules when you entered this organization. Do'y think they
apply to ev'ryone but you? You move when I tell you to move. You bloody
well *breathe* when I tell you to!"

 "Yes, sir. No excuse, sir."

 "You're damn right, there's no excuse! It's not the first time you've
done this, but it'll damn all be the last! Do you understand me, Bodie!
The next time, I'll have you out on your ear--if you have any ears left!
Is that clear?"

 "Yes, sir. Perfectly clear, sir."

 Cowley studied the clean profile, noting the stiff, military posture, the
careful lack of expression.

 "Whatever you feel about Doyle, you keep it off the job, or so help me
I'll split you and assign you to different counties, if necessary."

 There was a split second of emotion at this; a flicker of the straight,
black lashes, a vague hint of a stubborn pout on the expressive mouth,
before the face was schooled back to blankness.

 "No, sir. It won't happen again, sir."

 "Och, get outa my office, afore I really lose my temper! I won't ha' ya
stand there an' lie to me. Go on wi' ya. See ta Doyle."

 The irrepressible grin returned, along with the blue-eyed twinkle. "Thank
you, sir. I knew you'd understand, sir."

 He slipped quickly out the door to a flurry of Scottish curses.

 Bodie found Ray still in the infirmary, just getting dressed after the
examination.

 "Don't you look all nice an' virginal in all your white bandages. Show
off your tan, they do. Very chic."

 Doyle glanced at him, then down at the white strip circling his ribs and
the smaller ones on his wrists. "You fancy mummy's, do you? If I roll my
trousers up, I can show you more."

 "Save the unveiling for later, angelfish. So what's the verdict, then?
Everything still in place? Or did you dislocate an important bit?"

 "Ah, a couple a cracked ribs, is all. The rest is only skin deep he
says."

 "Better your skin than mine, mate. And you will insist on letting 'em
smash in your skinny ribs, won't you? What's that make, three times now?"

 "Four. Broke one when I was in the Met during a drug bust. But you
shoulda seen the other fella." He tugged his tee shirt over his head,
gasping a little at the pain of lifting his right arm. "Speakin' of the
other fella, what about Parker."

 Bodie turned away, studying a jar of cotton balls. "'Fraid he's still on
the loose."

 "Wha'? They've let the bastard skip?" Doyle came off the table fuming. "I
knew I should've stayed! Those asses couldn't--"

 "Now, Raymond, not all of us are perfect coppers. Give the lads a chance.
They'll nab 'im."

 "What'd Cowley say?"

 "He wasn't pleased/" Bodie saw no reason to add that Parker's escape
wasn't the only thing he wasn't pleased about. Doyle was capable of
tearing into him louder and longer then the Cow himself, if he discovered
Bodie's actions that afternoon. Bodie felt he'd been scolded enough for
one day.

 "Any leads to where he'd go? Does Cowley have his file yet? Have they put
checks on all the--"

 "Hold it, son. As far as I know, *we're* not on this man-hunt. I know
*you're* not. Knowing our House physician, you're off for a couple of
days, at least."

 "Listen, Bodie--"

 "No, you listen, sunshine. I know you're itchin' to get hold of this
bloke and give him another portion of what he dished out to you, but
you're not in shape to do it just yet. You're knackered, son. Let's get
you home to bed, and we'll thrash it all out later, right?"

 Surprisingly, Doyle gave in. "Okay, you win." He smiled at Bodie, the
green eyes very soft, nearly flirty. "Drive me home, will you?"

 Bodie's heart thumped a bit faster, wondering how one man could hold so
many facets--from scrappy hellcat, to vulnerable moppet. Doyle was in his
moppet stage, and playing it with self-conscious appeal.

 "Come on, then."

 When they reached the car park, Doyle turned to him, eyes wide, face
sweet. "Uh, Bodie, I meant to ask you earlier...I was wonderin'..."

 "What, sunshine?"

 "Could you loan me twenty quid?"

 "What?" Bodie felt amusement bubble up inside him. He was positive Doyle
still had the first pound note he'd ever made stuffed in his mattress.

 "Yeah, well, Cowley hasn't signed me expense chit yet this month--and
what with this babysit job, I haven't had time to get to the bank, and--"

 "Here." Bodie tossed the bills his partner's way as he backed the Capri
out of the space.

 "Ta, you're a brick, mate."

 "Yeah, well, just don't forget where you got it, son. You still owe me a
fiver from last month."

 Doyle's round face was pure innocence. "I do? You sure?"

 Bodie shot him a look of affectionate irritation. "Never mind. At least
you *always* remember when I owe you money. Can't expect you to remember
everything, can I?"

 They reached Doyle's flat and Bodie went to the kitchen to put on the
kettle. "Want some hard in it, mate?"

 Doyle settled on the couch, moving more stiffly as the aches and pains
set in. "Probably put me out, but yeh, why not. There's a bottle--"

 "Over the sink, I know."

 A short while later, Bodie returned to the couch with the potently laced
tea. "Here you go, Raymond. Drink it down."

 Doyle sat up too suddenly, bit his lip at the jab of pain, then cursed as
he realized his lip was sore, too.

 "Your mouth's cut," Bodie pointed out. "It's startin' to swell a bit."

 "Yeah, I know," Doyle replied drily.

 Bodie's hand reached out to touch Doyle's cheek. "Looks sexy, puffed out
a bit like that. Suppose it would hurt if it was kissed, wouldn't it?"

 Doyle's eyes sparkled. "Probably. But do it anyway, will ya?"

 "If you insist..." Bodie leaned over and lightly--very lightly-- touched
his moth to Doyle's. "Hurt?" he whispered.

 "Yeah," Doyle said dreamily, "but don't stop."

 Bodie grinned. "Always susp[ected you was a masochist." He moved his
tongue tip over Doyle's lips, licking across the cut, then slipping deeper
into the opening mouth. But as the pressure increased, the curly head
jerked back.

 "Ouch."

 "Sorry. Got carried away. Drink up your tea, sunshine, before I pop the
buttins on me pants."

 "There's other places to kiss," Doyle suggested wickedly.

 Bodie shook his head sternly. "You've bruises everywhere, me lad. I've
never fancied you in technicolor."

 Doyle sighed and picked up his cup. "Wish you could've stayed at the
hotel last night, instead of doing stake-out."

 "Good thing I didn't, isn't it? The way things turned out, I mean.
Besides, with Ojuka in the next room, would've been a bit repressive,
wouldn't it?"

 "Oh, I dunno. We had to share a bath, didn't we?" He chuckled. "I almost
lost it, I did, when you told the desk clerk we wouldn't mind havin' to
share. Nasty, Bodie, nasty."

 "What was I supposed to say?"

 "It was all in *how* you said it, mate."

 "You've a dirty mind, Raymond. That's your problem."

 "It's a problem, is it?"

 Their eyes held, smiling, teasing. Doyle sat down his cup.

 "Let's go to bed, Bodie."

 Doubtful if Ray was in condition for it, but knowing it would be useless
to argue with those smoldering greeneyes, Bodie followed him up the narrow
stairs to the bedroom.

 At the bed, Doyle turned to face him, eyes still glowing, and the
pronounced bulge in the front of his too-tight jeans speeding a similar
reaction in Bodie.

 "Help me with me shirt, will you?"

 Bodie slipped his hands beneath the fabric, sliding it up past the taped
ribs, disarranging the thick curls even more as he pulled it over his head
and down the slender arms. He pulled Doyle into an easy embrace, burying
his face against the shorter man's throat.

 "You had me a bit worried today, you know," he said softly.

 "I was a trifle concerned myself, mate. It was a close one."

 "Yeah." Bodie breathed in the scent of him, a strange mixture of sweat,
gun smoke, and burn ointment. "I'd've missed you, I reckon."

 "I'd've missed me, too--" He broke off with a gasp of pleasure as Bodie's
mouth trailed down his neck and fastened on a nipple. Bodie's hands
slipped around to the front long enough to undo the belt and zip on
Doyle's jeans.

 "Lay down, sunshine."

 Doyle obeyed, already too lost in the heat to say more. Bodie tugged off
the jeans an inch at a time, gaze burning on the slender body as it was
revealed. He paused to stroke the quivering cock and tangle his fingers in
the dark auburn curls at the groin before standing to remove his own
clothing.

 Doyle's eyes were feverish as he watched the undressing of the muscled
body. Naked, Bodie returned to the bed, hands stroking, mouth wet and hot
over the more sensitive places. He carefully avoided the more obvious
bruises and scrapes, and was cautious to keep a damper on his own arousal.
He wanted to bring Ray off without anything too strenuous; the poor little
bugger wasn't up to much more, even if he wouldn't admit it.

 Ray's hands were hungry and eager on Bodie's flesh, demanding more, but
he managed to evade their grasp, knowing from experience that a few
moments under those skillful caresses would make him forget all his good
intentions. He had greater control than Ray, but he had his limits as
well.

 "Time for Uncle Bodie's patented sleeping aid, son." His mouth centered
on the overheated cock, and Doyle whimpered in the delight, thrusting
upward, but one hand moved swiftly to press against his protesting
ribcage.

 Bodie lifted his head long enough to scold. "That'll teach you, won't it?
Just keep still, will you?" He engulfed the cock slowly, beginning to
suck, discovering a rhythm that suited Doyle's arousal.

 The curly head arched back on the pillow in ecstacy, moaning, trying to
move, but the relentless hands held him down, forcing compliance, urging
completion. For several minutes, Bodie tortured him with pleasure, making
it build and crest, taking control of its progression.

 Then, finally, Doyle gave a cry somewhere between a groan and a scream
and came, bursting in Bodie's throat in pulsing waves.

 Bodie waited for the final shiver of pleasure to pass before moving up to
lay beside him. "How was that, sunshine?"

 Ray's smile was lazy and sated. "Good."

 "So sleep now, you silly sod. You need your rest."

 Doyle was half out already, but he made the effort. "But you haven't--"

 "Listen, mate, I've spent all of last night and most of today hunkerin'
down in the bushes; could use a few hours of kip meself. We're not all
such horny little buggers as you, you know." He didn't have to go on with
the sell, Doyle was already gone.

 Bodie smiled and arranged himself more comfortably, pulling up the
blankets and turning off the bedside light. Then he settled back to watch
as Ray slept, the streetlamp slanting through the open blinds to streak
across the tumbled curls, catching the slightly swollen mouth, outlining
the dented cheekbone.

 He petted the soft skin along the arm and down the chest to where the
bandage began, feeling Ray nearly purr even in his sleep at the feel of
the caress.

 It never ceased to amaze him, how tactile and ultra sensitive his partner
was. As if his nerve ceased to amaze him, how tactile and ultra sensitive
his partner was. As if his nerve endings were that much closer to the
surface than was normal. When Ray hurt, it hurt Bodie more than his own,
for Ray didn't take pain well. He could withstand it, ignore it if
necessary, but he felt it acutely, more than anyone Bodie knew. To Bodie,
pain was something to be avoided if possible, dealt with when required,
endured if necessary. To Doyle it was an enemy, an adversary he must
battle. Bodie marveled at the very real courage it must take for Ray to
remain in this profession where pain was almost a given fact of the job.
But it was probably part of the challenge as well, and Doyle was a man who
tested his limits.

 The other side of the coin was more rewarding. As intensely as Doyle
suffered, he also felt pleasure just as acutely. Bodie had never met
anyone, man or woman, who could turn on so rapidly, as a single caress,
and be totally lost in the sensations, giving themselves over to the
feelings with such total abandon. It was sheer joy, not to mention
incredibly exciting in itself, to watch Doyle work up to fever pitch.

 Bodie moved restlessly, knowing he had to think of something else. This
was dangerous ground in his condition; if he kept on, he'd end up raping
Ray, cracked rib not withstanding.

 He considered Cowley's lecture instead. The old man was right; he was
going to have to be more careful--at least more careful in keeping his
feelings to himself. Christ! How'd he let his mouth run off like that? He
could've easily kept quiet and let George believe it was Ojuka he had been
concerned about. Why'd he have to spout off about Ray? Still, Cowley would
have known the truth; he always knew. But he was usually content to let
them keep up the fiction of the job coming first. This time, Bodie had
rubbed his nose in it, and he couldn't let it pass.

 Well, what did the old man expect, anyway? When you work together as long
and as close as he and Doyle had, it was damn near impossible to remain
detached. At least for him it was. Bodie didn't let many people close, but
once he did, he trusted them totally. It was different for Ray Doyle. He
was a maze of contradictions. Prickly one moment, soft as a kitten the
next. And he never let *anyone* that close. Not even Bodie. It didn't
really bother Bodie; he accepted Ray for what he was, and was content with
it. But occasionally being partners with Doyle reminded him of riding a
roller coaster, all twists and turns and never knowing what was around the
next corner. In all truth, that was probably what fascinated him the most
about Doyle.

 Bodie's curiosity being what it was, he often tried to draw Ray out,
learn more of his past, but while Bodie kept the doors to his own past
tightly locked, Ray had a habit of opening a crack then slamming shut
again--usually hard enough to smash any prying fingers. Like in everything
else, he was a tease about that, too.

 It was only fair, he supposed, since he never intended to let some
particular skeletons escape from his private closets either.

 Finally feeling drowsy, Bodie rested his face against the soft curls and
closed his eyes.

 ******

"I can't keep you here much longer," the man said nervously.

 "No?" Parker finished cleaning his gun and closed the chamber with a
gentle click. "That's bad." The cold eyes stared the man down. "It would
be sad for you and your--" a thin smile "--'Liberation' group, if I was to
be captured. Better to have me back safe in Johannesburg where I cannot
name names and cause you such trouble, nyet? Much better."

 "We can't get you out of the country! They'll be watching every outlet,
you must know that."

 "Oh, yes, I know that. But for how long, comrade? A month, two perhaps?
How much time can they spend on one hired killer? There are so many, you
see. We must form a club sometime, you think?"

 "In two months they could trace you here."

 "So I go elsewhere. Somewhere quiet."

 The man flushed angrily. "We could simply kill you now, to insure your
silence!"

 Parker didn't even bother to look up. "You could kill me, yes, but it
would insure nothing. You think me a fool? Every hit I did for you is
carefully documented--places, times, set up, even the weapons are stored
in a safe place...and can be traced back to you. No, I do not believe you
will kill me."

 "Very well," he replied sullenly. "I think I know a place you can stay
for a time, until we can make arrangements to get you out safely."

 The South African stopped him as he turned to go. "One more thing,
soddy."

 "What?"

 "There was a girl with your group. A very pretty girl. Is she still with
you?"

 "Katrina? She's no more than a hanger-on. A...groupie. She had nothing to
do with anything important."

 "But she was involved."

 The terrorist shrugged. "A minor role from time to time."

 "Can you find her? Do you know where she is?"

 "Yes, I suppose so. Why?"

 Parker cocked the gun and fired it on an empty chamber. "I think I have a
job for her."

 ******

They were jogging again, and Bodie was far from happy about it.

 "Christ, Doyle, how much further do we drag on?

 "You're the one draggin', sunshine. I'm havin' a pleasant run. Why'd you
come along if you hate it so much?"

 Bodie threw him a disgruntled look. "Because you told me this was the
best place to pick up birds, mate. All we've seen so far is two mums
pushing prams and an old geezer who looked like Winston Churchill on the
verge of a stroke."

 "Well what do you call that, then?" Doyle asked gleefully, as a girl sped
past them, long blonde hair flowing, jogging pants molded tightly to her
neat ass.

 Bodie turned and began jogging backwards, watching her. "Very nice."

 They stopped, exchanging looks.

 "Shall you chat her up, or shall I?"

 Doyle looked offended. "I saw her first."

 "That's a rather childish way to decide something so important, don't you
think? What's happened to your logic, then? Your sense of team spirit? Of
fair play?"

 Doyle's eyes twinkled. "Race you, then. First one there moves in. Deal?"

 "Deal."

 They took off together at a run. Doyle was the faster, but he was more of
a sprinter, and their brief conversation had given her quite a lead. Bodie
was passing him when Doyle suddenly halted, clutching his side.

 "Bodie!"

 Immediately the taller man stopped and ran back. "What's wrong, mate?
Your ribs again? Christ, it's only been a few weeks. Let's have a look
then." He knelt on the path, tugging up Ray's shirt. "Told you this
running wasn't good--"

 He broke off in amazement as Doyle slipped away and sprinted off after
the girl, leaving Bodie on one knee staring after him. "Why you crooked,
little bastard! Come back here! Ray!"

 Doyle's laughter trailed back as he rounded the curve and was out of
sight. Bodie shook his head, grinning. He brushed the dirt off his knee
and set off at a more sedate pace. By the time he caught up with them,
Doyle was already deep in conversation with the flaxen haired beauty.

 Bodie loped past them slowly, then pulled up. He turned, smiled at the
girl, then looked at Doyle, eyes widening.

 "I know you! You're that fella, aren't you? The one in all the papers?"

 "What papers?" the girl asked, stopping. "Are you famous or something?"
She giggled.

 "I should say he is, luv," Bodie said excitedly. "This is that rapist
they let out on parole. You know, the one that picked up all those bird in
the park, then took them home and--"

 She looked doubtfully at Bodie, then looked at the furious Doyle, and
took off at a much faster pace down the path.

 "Hey!" Bodie called after her cheerfully. "Is that any way to be? He's
served his time, hasn't he? Paid for his hideous crimes. Deserves another
chance, doesn't he?"

 "Bodie!"

 He turned to Doyle innocently. "Life's terrible rough on ex-convicts,
innit? What good's rehabilitation if no one will--"

 "Bodaaay!"

 Bodie backed off, grinning. "Come on, mate, fair is fair. Besides, did'y
hear that giggle? Would've had you climbin' the bloody trees in ten
minutes."

 Doyle had to laugh. "You crud. She *was* pretty, you know. But I reckon
you're right about that laugh; did rather curl me toenails."

 "There now, see?"

 Doyle's head lifted. "No, but I see something else. And this time, you
lay off or I'll break your teeth."

 Bodie turned to look back the way they'd come, and saw what Doyle meant.
At the edge of the turn, a girl had stopped and was sitting on one of the
rocks that lined the jogging trail. She was rubbing her ankle.

 Doyle approached her, flashing another warning look at Bodie.

 "Are you all right, miss?"

 She looked up. "oh...I think so. I turned my ankle, I think."

 He offered her a hand, and one of his more particularly appealing smiles.
"Let's see if you can stand on it."

 "Thanks...I...oh!" She caught his arm as the ankle gave. "It's still
pretty sore, I'm afraid. It seems better though."

 "Do you think you can walk on it? Or should I get--"

 "No, I'm sure it'll be okay. It's just twisted a bit." She tossed the red
hair out of her eyes and smiled back at him.

 "What if I just sit with you 'til it's better then? My name's Ray Doyle.
And you're...?"

 "Katrina."

 ******

Bodie merged the Capri smoothly into the line of traffic before glancing
over at his passenger. "So, how was it?"

 "What's that?" Doyle's head was back against the seat, his eyes closed.

 "Last night. The red head."

 "Christ, Bodie, do'y have to have a report on every date I have?" There
was no sting to the words, however, and an amused smiled curved Doyle's
mouth.

 "Didn't the Cow tell you? New procedure. All sexual activities of
operatives must be discussed in detail."

 Doyle laughed. "Oh yeah? In the fine print, is it?"

 "Very fine. Actually, you wouldn't want to deny me vicarious thrills,
would you?"

 "She was good then. Is that what you wanted to know?"

 "How good?" Bodie wiggled his eyebrows with exaggerated interest.

 "Bodie!"

 Bodie smiled, knowing Ray loved it when he was sleazy. "Well? You going
to tell, or do I just fantasize?"

 "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

 "Oh, no, mate. Wouldn't step on your toes for anythin'."

 Doyle cranked down his window to get some air. "I'm to meet her at the
local later. Why don't you give Johanna a ring and we'll make it a double,
eh?"

 Bodie heaved a soulful breath. "'Fraid she's given me notice, mate."

 "Wha'? She ditched you? How come?"

 "Couldn't take me black humor, could she? Said my jokes were immature and
tasteless."

 "Yeah?" Well, that's true enough. What'd you say to set 'er off?"

 Bodie told him. Ray laughed, shaking his head. "Christ, Bodie, that was
terrible. No wonder she packed you in."

 "*You* laughed," Bodie pointed out cheerfully.

 "But I'm immune to you. Keep taking me pills, don't I?" Doyle kept
chuckling. They glanced at each other and grinned. "Well, stop by for a
pint anyway, why don't you? Who knows, it may work out at that."

 One black eyebrow lifted. "A troy?"

 Doyle shrugged. "She might go for it, mightn't she? Not very inhibited,
from what I can tell."

 "You'd like that, would you?" Bodie was serious now. It had been some
time since they'd shared a woman, long before they'd started sharing each
other. While it shouldn't have made a difference, somehow it did.

 "Why not?"

 They stopped at a traffic signal, and their gaze locked for a moment. The
signal changed and they moved on, the conversation switching to other
matters.

 The Capri pulled up outside Doyle's flat, and he opened the car door.
Once on the sidewalk, he leaned back through the window.

 "See you later, then?"

 Bodie grinned and did a thumbs up. "Yeah, mate. Ta."

 ******

Doyle stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He had made a
decision under the relaxing beat of the hot water. If Katrina didn't go
for a threesome, he'd politely drop her off at her flat and go with Bodie
anyway. It had been a couple of weeks since they'd last had it off
together, and Doyle rather missed the feel of it. He didn't like to start
things up too often, for he had a nasty idea that Bodie could become
addictive taken in large doses--and the last thing he wanted was to become
hooked on someone as dangerous as his partner.

 William Andrew Phillip Bodie, the man without a past. What did he know
about him anyway? Over five years together, and he could sum it up in a
few short facts. Facts that were public knowledge. An unsavory past with
very undefined edges. But one couldn't very well ask, could one? Not with
Bodie. He'd be flippant, evasive, and slick as an eel, impossible to pin
down. The wide, thickly lashed blue eyes would look at you as if to say,
'what, me? I was born yesterday'. Impossible to pry past that good-natured
but very sold wall. Doyle had seen too many people try.

 He finished drying off his hair and paused to look in the mirror. The wet
curls tumbled too long on his neck, and he wondered if he should trim them
up a bit. The reflection he saw hadn't changed much from the too-young
copper he'd been years ago. Compared to Bodie's sleek elegance, he felt
unfinished, definitely unpolished. A diamond in the rough, maybe, for he
was not totally unpleased with his appearance. He only noted his flaws in
comparison with Bodie's almost classical features. He looked like what he
had bee, what he still was in many ways, a scrappy East End kid--hot
temper, chipped tooth, broken cheekbone and all.

 He grinned at his reflection. The birds didn't complain, did they? And
Bodie seemed to like it well enough.

 As he got dressed, Doyle tried to determine when he and Bodie had first
started to fancy each other this way. He'd finally decided there wasn't a
particular moment when the idea had burst upon them. It had all been so
gradual, no traumatic revelations or stormy conflicts. The process had
probably begun as far back as when they'd gone undercover posing as
directors for a gay youth organization in order to ferret out police
corruption in a smallish city up north. The teasing and jokes had brought
the subject out in the open--whether they would ever give it a try--and
like Pandora's box, once out, it was impossible to entirely close the lid
on the idea. Somewhere along the way, Bodie's habitual ruffling of Doyle's
curls had altered to a caress and the personal space between them
narrowed. And to Doyle's mild surprise, he found he liked it.

 Neither of them had any particular sexual hangups, and both were
definitely unconventional enough to give anything that promised a bit of
pleasure at least a try. By the time they actually ended up in bed
together (alone, that is), there was little strangeness to it. It felt
easy, comfortable, unthreatening--and immensely satisfying. Not that they
had ever progressed much beyond the basics. Ray wasn't quite ready to try
anything too heavy, although he had often sensed Bodie wanted it.

 All things considered, their partnership was a definite success. What
Cowley would think about his operatives off-duty activities, Doyle didn't
know, and it didn't concern him too much. He figured he had the right to
some personal privacy, no matter how George Cowley might differ.

 Cheerfully anticipating the evening, Doyle trotted down the stairs,
whistling.

 ******

When Katrina excused herself to visit the ladies room, Doyle scooted his
chair a bit closer to Bodie's.

 "Well, what'd'y think, mate? A winner, isn't she?"

 They were both very fond of red heads, and Katrina was extremely pretty
and reasonably intelligent, but Bodie felt oddly uneasy about her. He
couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he didn't trust her, and
definitely didn't like her. Doyle, as usual, was a hopeless judge of
character, and seemed blind to her flaws--the way her eyes shifted
uneasily and wouldn't meet your gaze straight on, the nervous twirling of
her hair on her finger. Those were certainly not solid reasons to dislike
a person, but Bodie found he did.

 "Bodie?"

 He came out of his reverie. "Oh, yeah. Very nice, mate."

 Doyle smiled. "She thinks you're gorgeous, too, sunshine. Saya you're
almost as sexy as Sean Connery, eh?"

 "You'll never say you told her I was a secret agent?"

 "No, better. Told 'er you was a postman. She's hot for men in uniforms."

 "Haven't played post office in years, mate."

 "Not to worry, I'll coach you on all the mov-- Ah, she's comin' back."

 "Wonderful," Bodie said glumly.

 Doyle shot him a puzzled look, but Bodie was engrossed in creating an
elaborate design of circles on the table with his glass. Ray held the
chair as she sat down. He moved close to her, brushed a long curl of hair
from her ear and kissed it. He whispered something and she smiled.

 Bodie was very aware of this interplay, hating her for taking away Ray's
attention so easily and irritated at himself for feeling so. It had never
bothered him before, watching Ray charm a bird. In fact, he made a point
of matching his partner up with the ladies as often as he could. Was his
nose out of joint merely because he's had no hand in the choice this time>
No, he couldn't believe that; it was the girl herself that got on his
nerves. She was spooky. There was something unfathomable, almost sinister,
going on behind those bland, pale blue eyes. She reminded him of
someone...

 But the vague image escaped him before he could catch hold of it. He took
another drink, trying to shake off the feeling. Out of the corner of his
eye he could see that Ray was kissing her neck now, tongue touching on the
pulsebeat--he knew exactly how that felt, how good Ray was at it...

 The hand on his thigh beneath the table almost made him spill his drink.
He looked up to meet Doyle's mischievous eyes. The long fingers traced up
the inside seam of his trousers to the crotch. He was very thankful for
the long tablecoverings.

 "You bastard," he mouthed.

 Doyle just flashed one of his most dazzling smiles and turned back to the
girl. The swelling in Bodie;s groin was becoming uncomfortable against the
tight fabric. He tried to inch away but the hand moved with him. He
wondered if the little sod would be quite so blase if he threw him across
the tabletop and raped him.

 Bodie closed his eyes and gave in to the inevitable, spreading his legs
for further exploration. One of these nights, he'd do it. Doyle would push
him too far, flirt a little too outrageously, and he'd end up getting more
than he'd bargained for.

 Bodie had wanted to take Doyle since almost the first moment he'd set
eyes on the sexy little bugger--leaning against the door jam in Cowley's
office looking like a ratty little street urchin, all green eyes and mop
of curly hair, gold glinting at his throat to draw attention to the opened
shirt, jeans tight enough for any rockstar.

 But if Bodie was nothing else, he was patient. He was confident the time
came. After all, he'd seduced him this far, hadn't he? The rest was only a
matter of time. Perhaps it would've even been tonight, if not for that
bitch...

 "I *said*, are you ready to go?"

 He finally realized that Doyle was speaking to him. The dancing tease in
the green eyes made Bodie want to throttle him. "Oh, sure, mate. Any
time."

 The grin widened meaningfully. "She's asked us up to her flat."

 Bodie sat back, thinking quickly. If Doyle wanted her, that was his
business, but he had no intention of sharing him with her. "I think I'll
pass, mate. Thanks just the same."

 "What?" Doyle's surprise was obvious.

 "I'll just shove off home for tonight. You go on, though."

 Puzzled, Doyle stared at him. "Don't be daft. She wants you to come,
don't you, luv?"

 Bodie and Katrina looked at each other. She reached across the table and
ran a long red fingernail down Bodie's sleeve. "Of course I do. It'll be
lovely."

 Bodie resisted the urge to shudder at her touch. "Sorry, not tonight."

 "Bodie--" Ray protested, but before he could say more, Bodie stood.

 "Enjoy yourself, children. See you tomorrow, mate."

 All the way to the door of the pub, he could feel Doyle's eyes burning on
his back, confused and disappointed.

 ******

Doyle was furious with Bodie. He'd looked forward to having a bit of the
best of both worlds, and although the sex with Katrina was adequate, it
simply wasn't the kind of orgy he'd anticipated all evening. Truth was,
he'd wanted Bodie, and the girl had been intended as little more than
spice. While he'd been quite prepared to ditch her if she'd been
uninterested in his programme for the night, he hadn't made provisions for
Bodie's refusal. It was something totally unexpected and he didn't know
how to deal with it. After all, how would it look to Bodie if he turned
down the birds merely to go have a roll with him> He'd never believe it.

 Being stopped by a traffic copper on the way home didn't improve his
disposition, even though flashing his CI5 credentials kept him from
getting a citation. He fervently hoped Cowley never heard about it.

 However, it made him decide that he wanted to have a talk with his
partner. Instead of going home, he made a quick turn and headed for
Bodie's flat.

 It took a while before Bodie answered the door. He stood in the entrance
in his short robe, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Ray? I thought you'd--"

 Doyle pushed by him impatiently. "Don't tell me you were asleep?"

 Bodie shut the door and turned to him, amused. "It's only 2:30 in the
morning, mate. Sleeping's a nasty habit I picked up at a tender age."

 "Oh." Doyle glanced at his watch. "Sorry. Didn't realize it was so late."

 The taller man settled on the arm of the couch, yawning. "Figured you'd
spend the night with the bird. What happened? She pitch you out?"

 Doyle glared at him. "No, she didn't pitch me out, damn it!"

 "No offense, mate. What's wrong then?"

 "What's wrong? What happened to you tonight? I thought we had it planned,
didn't we? Why'd you take off like that?"

 Bodie stood and moved toward the kitchen. "Want some tea or coffee?"

 "Bodie!"

 He stopped but didn't turn. "I just didn't fancy her, all right?"

 "Why? You liked her well enough before, didn't you?"

 Bodie shrugged. "Drop it, Ray.:

 "No. I want to know why."

 Bodie spun around, irritated. "What's it matter to you, anyway? You got
yours, didn't you?"

 Doyle opened his mouth to reply but found he couldn't. What could he say?
That he'd wanted Bodie more than her? That he'd felt frustrated and
disappointed, and yes, maybe a little hurt when Bodie had walked out the
door?

 He shook his head. "Doesn't matter, I suppose. I just wondered, is all."

 Bodie continued on into the kitchen and put on the kettle. "Good thing
we've got a couple days off," he called from the other room. "Don't know
about you, sunshine, but I need my beauty sleep."

 Doyle couldn't help the grin. "I thought you got that on stakeouts,
mate."

 Bodie's head popped around the corner. "You wrong me, son. Always alert,
I am. On me toes every minute. I've just learned the fine art of grabbing
a wink whenever I can."

 "In Africa, I reckon?"

 A pause. "And other places. You never said why you didn't stay with the
bird."

 Doyle pondered that for a second, not certain himself. He'd felt vaguely
uncomfortable with Katrina, although there had seemed no good reason to
feel that way. "Dunno," he said truthfully. "Just felt like sleepin' in me
own bed, I suppose."

 Bodie returned with two steaming mugs. He handed one to Ray. "I guess
that answers my next question. But I imagine she's got you pretty well
knackered anyway, eh?"

 Doyle's gaze took in Bodie slowly as he stood there, legs slightly apart
and bare to the thigh, cup held in strong hands, short hair mussed from
his pillow and curling a little, eyes so very blue, lashes as long as any
woman's.

 "Not really," he said softly, holding the other man's look.

 Bodie smiled. "Didn't want the coffee anyway, did I?"

 ******

Doyle's fingertips stroked tantalizingly over Bodie's skin, feeling the
cords of muscle beneath.

 "You're a regular tiger tonight, ain't you?"

 "Ummmmm." Doyle nibbled along Bodie's ear. "Been takin' me vitamins." He
moved to capture the other man's mouth in a deep kiss, then pulled back to
look at him.

 "Do tigers have green eyes, do you reckon?" Bodie murmured.

 "Dunno. Didn't you see any when you was over there?"

 "Angola, you mean? Nah, that's only in the pictures, mate. It was snakes
that was bad. Saw a bloke bit by a pit viper once. Turned all shades of
green before he bought it. Nasty." He twisted a curl around his finger and
tugged gently. His eyes held a far away expression. "The dogs were worse,
though. Gone wild you see, after the villages burned. Packs of 'em, crazy
like. Starving, I reckon. Must've shot two dozen of the devils. They
wasn't scared of the campfires, y'know. Come right in, they would, and try
to rip your throat out if you wasn't quick enough to get 'em first."

 Doyle listened intently; this was almost the first time he had said
anything more than off-hand remarks about Africa. When he didn't continue,
Doyle prodded gently, "Is that why you don't like dogs?"

 Bodie shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe." He looked at Doyle and smiled. "Come
'ere, tiger. Give us a kiss."

 Doyle obliged and the passion built again. In moments Bodie had reached a
fever pitch, and found himself on top of his willing partner, their cocks
pressing hotly against the other's bellies. He bit along Doyle's neck,
moving his hips in a slowly building rhythm, then maneuvered his knee
between Doyle's legs, parting them. Doyle's breath was panting in his ear
and made no objection to the direction this was taking them. Excitedly,
Bodie slipped lower, nudging the head of his cock beneath Doyle's balls,
searching for what he needed.

 Doyle stiffened. "No, Bodie." He tried to pull away, but Bodie held him
fast.

 "Yes, Ray...please," he gasped, pushing forward.

 "Stop it, Bodie." Doyle was suddenly cold.

 Feeling desperate, Bodie reached up and pinned Doyle's arms where they
were trying to push him back. "Relax, sunshine. It's good... Just let
me--"

 "Let go of me, Bodie."

 "You'll like it you will. Trust me..."

 Ray had stopped resisting, but every line in his body was taut. Passive
resistance--it was somehow flattering confidence that Bodie wouldn't push
the issue.

 With a deep breath Bodie rolled off him, the urgent need to possess
fading, his control returning. "Sorry, mate. Got carried away."

 Doyle reached over and touched his cheek. "'S okay." He began moving down
his body, fanning the heat once more. He took Bodie in his mouth and
turned so Bodie could reach him as well. Bodie submerged himself in the
sensations, letting his disappointment recede. There would be other times.

 It didn't occur to either of them that this was something that could be
discussed. Like so many other things between them, it must remain
unspoken. As in their feelings for each other, as with the sexual
closeness they already shared, it would happen or not, and either way it
was easier not to find words to make it real and perhaps threatening.

 Doyle's grip on Bodie's ass tightened as he reached climax, shuddering
and moaning at the delight of it. A few seconds later, Bodie followed
suit, breath catching in his throat as he felt Ray's mouth coax it from
him.

 Their heartbeats gradually slowed to normal, and Doyle moved up to lie
beside him.

 They lay there together drowsily, on the verge of sleep.

 "You know, I could've thumped you at the pub tonight," Bodie remarked
sleepily.

 Doyle yawned and rested his cheek on his partner's broad chest. "Eh? What
for?"

 "That trick under the table, mate. I didn't think I'd manage to
straighten up enough to walk outa there, you sod. Cruel, it was."

 Doyle chuckled. "Deserved it for bein' so bloody prudish. Turnin' down a
chance at paradise like that."

 "Paradise was it?"

 Another chuckle. "Not exactly...but you didn't know that, now did you?"

 Bodie remembered the odd familiarity about Katrina, an uncomfortable
feeling of deja vu. "I had my suspicions." He changed the subject. "How
about that cricket match tomorrow, sunshine? Want to come?"

 "Sounds good--" He raised his head. "Bloody hell! It almost slipped me
mind. Promised Katrina I'd go with her to check on her old uncle."

 "What'd'y want to do that for, eh?"

 "He's some kind of lodge keeper or something at a place up north. Been
out of touch for a few weeks, an' her family's getting a bit worried about
the old geezer. Figured he mighta had a stroke or something, I suppose.
Anyway, Katrina says the country makes her nervous--no people around, no
phones... I just reckoned a day or so out of the city might be pleasant."
He looked up at Bodie. "Hey, mate, why don't you come with us?"

 "Me?" Bodie replied doubtfully. "No thanks, sunshine. Doesn't seem my
thing at all."

 "Ah, com'on, Bodie. There's a lake, she says. Maybe we could do a bit of
fishin', what say?"

 I dunno, mate. She might be plannin' just a nice, cozy time for the two
of you. Don't want to get in your way."

 "Listen," Doyle insisted, "she was willin' tonight, wasn't she? Just
picture it, old son--in the middle of the woods, away from motor buses,
smog, R/T's...not to mention being miles from Cowley...just you, me, and a
well plucked bird in front of a roaring fire. How's that sound, eh?"

 "Ummm, I suppose I could bear up." Remembering Katrina, Bodie wondering
if he could, but he very suddenly didn't want Ray going off alone with her
like that. "Tell me, what's her dear old uncle going to be doing while
we're havin' this orgy?"

 Doyle shrugged it off as incidental. "We'll send 'im out for fish 'n'
chips."

 Bodie laughed.

 Within minutes, they were both comfortably asleep.

 ******

As Doyle cheerily told her the news that Bodie was joining then, Bodie
thought he detected a flicker of dismay in her cold eyes. It was quickly
masked, however, and she was all smiles.

 "See, mate?" Doyle said. "Told you she's be all for it, didn't I? The
more the merrier, as they say."

 "If I'd wanted cliches, I'd've gone fishin' with Cowley," Bodie grumbled
under his breath, beginning to regret his agreement to come along.

 "You can put your gear in the back," Katrina said. "I'm afraid my car's a
trifle small, and you'll be crowded."

 "Why don't we take my car," Bodie suggested.

 "No," she replied hastily. "I...I feel better with mine. You don't really
mind, do you?"

 "Of course he doesn't," Doyle put in, grinning. "He's used to taking the
back seat to me, aren't you, sunshine?"

 "It's what I live for," Bodie said blandly.

 "Let's go then," Katrina said with a touch of crossness. "It's getting
late."

 Doyle seemed in high spirits, but as the drive progressed, Katrina lapsed
into virtual silence. It became easy to ignore her as they tossed comments
and jokes at each other from the front seat to the back.

 After an hour or so they stopped for petrol in a small village. Doyle
took the opportunity to visit the loo, leaving the two alone in the car.

 "How much farther is it then?" Bodie asked, trying to be pleasant.

 "A ways," she said shortly.

 "Pretty country, innit?"

 Abruptly, she turned in the seat to face him. "Listen, I know you don't
like me, so cut the stupid conversation. I don't like you either. Let's
leave it at that, shall we?"

 Bodie's eyes narrowed. "The work turns, I see. Why'd you agree to my
coming, if you dislike my lovely self so much, eh?"

 Her mouth twisted. "Do you think *he* would've come if you hadn't?"

 A tiny bell of alarm rang in the back of Bodie's mind. "Important for you
to have him along, was it? I wonder why. Don't tell me my Raymond has
captured your steely little heart this quick, has he? Or is there another
reason?"

 Realising she had said too much, she turned back to the front. "I didn't
want to make this drive alone, is all. What if my motor would've broken
down or such? I was afraid to come by myself."

 Bodie started to say more, but Doyle opened the car door and slid inside.
"Well, we ready?" He looked at the red-faced Katrina, glanced at Bodie.
"What's up?" Even he could sense the tension in the car. "You children
haven't been fighting, have you?" he said lightly.

 There was an uneasy silence, then Katrina smiled apologetically. "I'm
afraid it's my fault, Ray. I was rather ill tempered with Bodie just now.
I'm really a bit anxious about my uncle, you see, and it's making me a
little nervy, I suppose. I hope Bodie can forgive me."

 Bodie's expression was unreadable.

 Doyle patted her hand soothingly as he started the car. "Don;t worry
about Bodie; he has a very thick skin. It's all right, luv. I'm sure your
uncle's fine."

 Bodie stared out the window at the passing scenery, trying to understand
his own sudden uneasiness with this journey. She was probably telling the
truth; she was concerned for her uncle and upset at having Bodie tagging
along. She certainly had no reason to like him; his antagonism toward her
was obvious to everyone but Doyle.

 A couple of hours later, they turned off on a dirt road. It became
progressively worse as they drove on.

 "Doesn't look as if this is used much," Doyle commented. "Wonder why they
have your uncle lookin' after the place if they seldom use it? Seems a bit
wasteful."

 "They're rich, I suppose. The new money type. Just want to have the place
to say they have it, that kind of thing. No one ever comes up here."

 The road narrowed to a dead end beside a rather run down hunting lodge.
The day had turned cloudy and a cold drizzle of rain had begun. Set
against the darkness of the trees, the house looked anything but
welcoming.

 "I'll go check on my uncle while you get the things," Katrina said
quickly. She left the car and ran toward the lodge.

 "Perhaps it'll brighten up later," Doyle said hopefully, as he regarded
the dismal sky.

 "Ray, are you coming?" Katrina called from the doorway.

 Be back in a minute, mate." He gave his partner an apologetic grin, and
started for the house.

 Bodie began to gather the gear, but at a sound from inside--a cry?--he
dropped it and automatically grabbed for his gun. He raced for the door,
listened for a second, then kicked it in.

 Doyle was laying unconscious a few feet away, a trickle of blood running
down hi forehead from his scalp. A sound from the other side of the room,
had him down on one knee with his gun leveled to fire. The man in his
sights seemed oddly unconcerned, his own automatic weapon held loosely. He
smiled lazily. "I wouldn't do that...unless you want your buddy's brains
splattered all over the rug."

 "Drop it," Katrina ordered tersely. She had Doyle's gun pressed against
the side of his head. "I'll kill him with pleasure."

 Bodie straightened. "You bloody bitch!"

 "I said drop it!"

 He saw her hand tighten on the gun grip. That nagging sense of
recognition coalesced into certainty now. He knew who she reminded him of.
The American terrorist who had worked with the Herzog group, who'd helped
strap a bomb to his chest, who'd shot one of her own group in the back.
There was the same insane light in the eye, the hard flow of a sadist, the
craving for the kill.

 Doyle's face looked very pale and still, but he was breathing. For now.

 Bodie dropped his gun with a clatter and started to rise.

 "Stay down, bastard!" Katrina hissed. "Don't move or I'll put a bullet
through his eye."

 Bodie froze, gaze switching from the girl to the man. "What do you want?"

 They ignored him.

 "Why the surprise guest, Katrina?"

 "There was nothing I could do about it." She jerked her head toward
Bodie. "He just showed up this morning. If I'd made a scene about it, the
whole thing might've been off. I figured you could handle it."

 The man smiled again. "Oh yes, I can deal with it nicely."

 "This one has some handcuffs." She tossed them over and he caught them
neatly.

 "How thoughtful." He leveled his gun on Bodie. "You, stand up very
slowly. Move over to the stairway. Any sudden gestures will mean a death
sentence for your partner there, understand?"

 Bodie nodded. He walked to the steps leading up to a small loft. A wooden
beam from floor to ceiling braced each side of the stairway.

 "Put your arms around the beam," the man ordered. He cuffed Bodie to it
and returned to where the girl knelt by Doyle. "You're very good, Katrina,
my sweet. I'm surprised the group didn't make more use of you. Did you
talk to Thomas?"

 "Yes. They have arranged for you to be on a ship leaving for Amsterdam
the day after tomorrow. He is most anxious that you be there."

 "Don't worry, I will be. I'm heartily sick of England." He squatted down
beside Doyle, grabbing a handful of curls and pulling his face up roughly.

 Doyle moaned slightly. "Just something I have to take care of first. And
there's time for that. Plenty of time."

 "They'll find out where we are, Parker," Bodie said suddenly.

 "So you've recognized me, have you? Got my sheet in your file, eh? But it
took you a while to twig." Parker looked back at Doyle, tracing his finger
across the unconscious man's mouth. "I'll wager your pretty partner here
will remember me right off. What do you think?"

 "I think you're a nutter," Bodie retorted. "You set all this up just to
get us here? Considering half the coppers in the country are sniffing for
you, doesn't seem a real bright move on your part."

 Parker spoke to Katrina, "What'd you say that one's name was?"

 "Bodie."

 "Well, Bodie, my friend, as you just heard, I'm getting out of bloody
England any day now. But me and Doyle here have a little score to settle,
and I hate leaving loose ends. I hadn't though of havin' an audience, but
it might be more interesting at that."

 Katrina touched Parker's arm. "You're going to hurt him, aren't you?" Her
eyes glinted with a dark excitement. "You're going to hurt both of them?"

 He studied her with amusement. "You like that idea, do you? You've finish
your job; you've got him here. What more do you want?"

 "I want to watch."

 Parker laughed. "God, what a bloodthirsty bitch you are. What do you have
against them, eh?"

 She walked up to Bodie. "I hate them. I hate what they are. They're worse
than coppers, they're CI5. They killed Randy and Slade."

 The names meant nothing to Bodie.

 "Oh I know it probably wasn't you personally, but it was some of those
bastards you work with and for. And it doesn't matter; you're all the
same. You don't understand about goals and causes...you don't understand
anything."

 The names clicked into place. Randy Ochers and Martin Slade--involved in
one or another terrorist group, Something Liberation Something. No
different than a dozen others and just as pointless. CI5 had broke up a
hostage situation on a London train a few months earlier. Ochers and Slade
were shot in the process.

 He looked into her eyes and saw full level of what he'd only sensed
before--the inability to touch reality, life as a drama with all the
players cardboard. The desperate grabbing for something novel and exciting
enough to make her feel alive for a few moments.

 "It doesn't matter that it wasn't you," she continued. "If you;d been
there, you would've done it, wouldn't you? You'd have killed them
yourself."

 "If they were as sick as you are, probably."

 She spat in his face. He took it calmly, letting the slimy wetness slip
down his cheek. Then he kicked out suddenly, catching her in the gut and
sending her down hard. She gasped, unable to rise for a moment, the wind
knocked out of her.

 Parker chuckled. "That'll teach you to get too close, my girl." He
shrugged. "Anyway, don't give me all this rot about wanting revenge.
That's shit. You smell blood, my dear, and you like the smell. You want
more. It turns you on." He knelt beside Doyle again, gently wiping the red
smear from his forehead. "I understand that, you see. We're just the
same."

 She recovered from Bodie's blow and lunged for the gun, but Parker was
quicker.

 "Let me kill him! Let me--"

 He wrenched the gun from her hand and slapped her. "No. Not yet, not now.
You've a lot to learn, don't you, sweet?"

 Tucking the gun in his belt, he moved back to Doyle. He picked up the
limp form easily and tossed it over his shoulder. He dropped him across
the table. Retrieving what looked like a heavy dog chain from the
cupboard, he climbed on a chair and slid it through the cross beam on the
ceiling. He pulled through the slack, located the thick leather dog collar
and bound Doyle's wrists together tightly. Attaching the chain, he pulled
on the free end, putting his weight on it until Doyle was pulled upright.
He tied off the end, and pushed the table away, leaving Doyle hanging
limply on his arms. The increased pressure on his joints caused him to
moan, beginning to regain consciousness.

 Katrina watched it all, wide-eyed. "What are you going to do?"

 Parker smiled, regarding his handiwork with affection. "Before anything
else, I'm going to tie the little sod's feet; he's a kicker." It took
longer for him to figure a method of restraining Doyle's feet so he
wouldn't be able to move enough to kick out.

 "Did you bring the supplies, luv? I'm running out of eats."

 "Yes, they're in the boot."

 "Well, these two seem nicely occupied. Let's bring it in, shall we?"

 They left and Bodie jerked uselessly at the cuffs. "Doyle? Ray, can you
hear me? Ray!"

 He searched the room desperately, hoping to see something that would give
him an idea, any chance to escape. The lodge was small, two rooms and a
sleeping loft. It was sparsely furnished with a divan and chair by the
fireplace, a narrow daybed in one corner, and a large wooden table with a
couple of straight-backed chairs. From his angle, he couldn't see into the
bath or kitchen.

 Doyle groaned and stirred, head lolling on his shoulders.

 "Ray! Mate? Are you--" Bodie shut up abruptly. What was the point of
bringing him round any quicker than necessary? The next few hours didn't
promise to be pleasant for either of them, and Parker had made it plain
that most of his attention would be devoted to Doyle.

 Bodie yanked harder on the cuffs, cutting the flesh on his wrists. You
sleep, mate," he whispered hoarsely. "Sleep as long as you can."

 But Doyle was coming to now; his eyes flickered open and he tried to
relieve the painful pressure on his wrists. He came to himself slowly,
taking in his aching arms and aching head with confusion. He stood
unsteadily.

 "You okay, mate?" Bodie asked softly.

 Doyle looked up, blinking, trying to get his bearings. "What...? His eyes
met Bodie's. "what happened? What is all this?"

 "We've got a problem, son. We were set up good and proper."

 "Set up?" He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Christ, what is all
this?"

 The door opened. "So you're awake. Good."

 Doyle's eyes widened. "Parker!"

 Parker grinned at Bodie. "You see? I told you he'd recognize me, didn't
I? We're old friends."

 Doyle's befuddled mind was clearing rapidly; it wasn't hard to figure
out. "You set this up, you bastard! The girl--"

 "Was very helpful," Parker finished.

 Katrina came inside a second later. She hesitated when she saw Doyle was
conscious.

 "Why did you do this?" Doyle asked her quietly.

 "Why shouldn't I?" she said defensively. "What did I mean to you? A good
time with no strings? A trio with your smug friend?" She made a face. "I
think they're bent for each other," she told Parker.

 "You goddamn bitch!" Doyle shouted. Parker moved up close, touching
Doyle's cheek. "Now that's interesting. You go for that, do you?"

 "Go to hell," Doyle hissed, trying to jerk away.

 Katrina laughed, high pitched, excited. "Brave man," she taunted. "But
you won't be for--"

 "Get out," Parker interrupted.

 "What?"

 "You heard me. Get lost. Come back for me tomorrow. You can take me to
the ship and make Thomas happy."

 "But--"

 "If I tell you again, I'll give you a taste of what he's going to get."

 She didn't dare to protest further. "All right. I'll be back tomorrow at
dusk." She tossed a vicious look at Bodie and left.

 Parker walked slowly around Doyle, contemplating his next move.

 "Funny, you don't look like such a hard man now, do you?"

 Doyle didn't answer, only glared at him.

 "You're the brave man, Parker," Bodie called out, hoping to draw his
attention away from Doyle. "Once he's all tied up and helpless, that is.
He'd take you apart otherwise, wouldn't he? You yellow son of a bitch."

 Parker glanced at Bodie. "This makes twice I've caught him now. I think
that makes me a bit better than he is. I'm the one winning. I've got
him--I've got both of you, don't I?"

 Again he grabbed Doyle by the hair, jerking his head back to a painful
angle. "We're going to have a real nice time, aren't we, pretty copper?"

 "Don't give it a thought, mate," Doyle said from between clenched teeth.
"He's still all mouth."

 Parker gave him a powerful blow to the stomach and Doyle gasped for air,
nearly retching. "I thought you were smarter than to try that again, hard
man. Still think you're something special, eh? We'll see about that, won't
we?"

 "Is this how you get your kicks, Parker?" Bodie said furiously.

 The man smiled nastily. "Want to know how I get my kicks, soddy?" He
continued to say something unintelligible to Doyle, but Bodie's eyes
widened and his teeth gritted together.

 "Damn you filthy bastard."

 Parker noted Bodie's reaction with surprise. "You know Africanaars? You
were in South Africa, then?" He snapped his fingers. "No, Angola?" He
walked over to survey Bodie with renewed interest. "I think I know of you,
then. It is a small world, no? I think we have a mutual friend. Remember
Krivas, do you? Yes, I think you do. He told me about you, you know. I
went to Angola not too long after you left--after you deserted Krivas'
mob."

 Bodie's jaw clenched. "I quit. I didn't desert."

 "Ah, but Krivas didn't see it that way. He was very fond of you, wasn't
he, soddy? *Very* fond."

 Bodie didn't bother to answer. Doyle was stealthily trying his bonds
while the other man's attention was on Bodie. It didn't take long to
realize it was useless. He couldn't squirm free from the leather that
bound his hands, and he couldn't move much the way his feet were hobbled.
He caught Bodie's questioning eye and shook his head in negative.

 Parker returned to stand in front of Doyle. "I told you I was going to
find out what makes you tick, Doyle, and now I have my chance. But I never
told you just how I planned to do that, did I? There wasn't the time at
our last meeting. But we have lots of time now." He reached out,
unbuttoning Doyle's shirt very slowly. "Your friend Bodie knows, though.
He knows all about it."

 Doyle pulled back as much as he could, unable to evade Parker's hands.
"You're sick, you know that?"

 Parker smiled and ripped at Doyle's shirt, tearing it almost off. "Too
bad for you, isn't it?" He stood back. "There's an easier way to get rid
of your clothes." Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a knife and
pressed a switch. The blade snapped out and he proceeded to cut off
Doyle's clothing a bit at a time. Doyle squirmed, trying to resist, until
the knife tip cut into his flesh.

 "That's it," Parker said gleefully. "Keep moving around, soddy, and
you'll lose something important."

 "Stop it, Parker!" Bodie yelled. "Leave him alone!"

 "Why wait?" Bodie goaded furiously. "Try me now, you cowardly bastard!"

 Parker laughed in delight. "Maybe this bothers you more, eh? You got
claims on this one, have you?"

 Bodie knew better than to answer, but the very real fear beginning to
flash in Doyle's eyes as he realized where this was leading drove Bodie to
speak. "Think this will make a man of you, do you? Is this the only way
you can get it up?"

 Without replying, Parker slipped his belt out of his trousers and laid it
sharply across Doyle's naked back. Doyle stiffened but didn't cry out. At
first. By the sixth blow, however, sweat had broken out on him and his
teeth were clenched in pain. Parker didn't stop until Doyle's slender back
was crisscrossed with welts and deep cuts from the buckle. His eyes were
squeezed shut and he was shaking with the effort of holding back the hurt.

 Parker stroked his hand down the marred back, making him flinch. He
looked at Bodie, eyebrow raised in question. "Have any more remarks to
make, friend? Looks nasty, doesn't it? I can make it worse."

 Bodie remained silent, hands clenched into fists, the frustration putting
his muscles in knots.

 Parker smirked. "Maybe you'll be more careful with your mouth from now
on, eh? Wouldn't want to mess up his pretty body too much, would we."

 Doyle's eyes opened. "Say what you want, Bodie," he hissed through
gritted teeth. "The bastard will do what he likes anyway."

 Parker inspected him thoughtfully. "I think I could do with a drink." He
smiled at Doyle. "I'll bet you could, too?" He moved to the sacks on the
table. "I think there's a bottle of whiskey someplace. Ah, here it is." He
poured a tumbler nearly full of the liquor and returned to Doyle.

 "Your back's quite a mess, isn't it?" he remarked, taking a gulp of the
whiskey. "Let's clean it up a bit, shall we." He tossed the glass across
the smaller man's back. As the fiery liquid burned into the open cuts,
Doyle screamed.

 "Cheap stuff. Not worth drinking, actually."

 Bodie lowered his head, biting into his lip. He couldn't stand to watch
this. Doyle had held up well to this point, somehow sensing that Parker
wanted him to break down, to show weakness, but he couldn't take much
more. And Bodie knew there was much worse in store for him.

 "What's the matter, Bodie?" Parker chided. "Getting squeamish since you
returned to civilization? Forgot all about the old days, have you? This
would have been nothing over there. Maybe you should tell him what he has
coming next." Parker grabbed Doyle's cock, squeezing it. "Or maybe you've
figured that out already, eh?"

 Doyle swallowed, regaining his breath. "It's me you want to torture.
Leave Bodie out of it."

 Parker's eyes lit up. "Leave him out of it? You don;t know him very well
at all, do you? He used to be fantastic at this stuff. He never told you
about The Game? What men do to each other when they're stuck in the jungle
together for weeks on end? I think you know, don't you? Bodie knows. Tell
him, Bodie."

 Bodie remained silent.

 Parker hit Doyle across the mouth, cutting it open. "Tell him, Bodie!
What was The Game?"

 Bodie's mouth was dry. "It was rape."

 "And you played too, didn't you?"

 Doyle's eyes were filled with tears from the smarting of the last blow
and the raw pain of his back. Bodie found he couldn't meet the confused
gaze.

 "Yes," he whispered.

 Parker yanked Doyle's head back again. "I don't think he heard you."

 "Yes!" Bodie shouted, choking out the words. "I played the bloody Game
like everyone else, damn you to hell!"

 Doyle licked the blood from his mouth, staring at his partner in a
mixture of disillusionment and disgust. Bodie had participated in
something like what was being done to him now? *Bodie*?! He closed his
eyes, unable to deal with it now, unable to accept it.

 He felt Parker's hand probe his ass, and his heart hammered in his chest,
terror freezing him. Rape...it was going to happen. He couldn't help
himself; Bodie couldn't help him. Bodie had done similar things
himself...Bodie...No!

 "Ever been buggered, mate?" Parker chuckled. "Ever let your friend Bodie
in your pretty little ass, eh?" Noting the terrified expression Doyle
didn't have the strength to conceal, he forced his finger further up
inside. "I bet not. Too much the hard man for that, eh? Too macho to play
anybody's bottom man. Well you're going to find out what it's like."

 Parker undressed quickly, and Doyle found he couldn't control his
trembling. He looked at Bode, hoping for...something...anything. Feeling
like a drowning man searching for a rope. But Bodie's head was down on his
ar,, eyes hidden. His wrists were bleeding where he'd worn helplessly at
metal.

 Then Parker was against Doyle's back, teeth biting into his shoulder,
hands spreading his ass. He could feel the thick bluntness of the cock
nudge across his balls as Parker searched for the entrance.

 "No," Doyle whimpered involuntarily, breath catching in his throat as he
felt the pressure against his anus. "Please, Christ, no..."

 Parker shoved hard, forcing in, holding Doyle tightly.

 Doyle screamed as the pain ripped through him, searing, burning,
humiliating. The insult of the invasion, the vicious *using* of this
private part of him, made his stomach twist, made him want to vomit. But
the pain held him caught, helpless and sick and aching. He could feel the
tears streak down his face, heard his own sobbing, even hear his own voice
whispering almost soundlessly. "Bodie...stop him...Bodie..you couldn't
have done this...Bodie..." But he knew he was doing nothing but screaming.

 It lasted forever. Parker clawed at his back, making new marks across the
old, hunching in the shaking figure relentlessly, until at last, with his
own cry on a far different note than Doyle's, he came, gushing in
shuddering waves inside his captive.

 Doyle's legs would no longer hold him. When Parker moved away, he slumped
down, hanging on his wrists, still sobbing, unable to think, unable to
see.

 Parker looked down at Doyle's blood smeared across his own chest and
belly. "Looks like I need to get cleaned up. Could use some grub as well.
I know you don't have much of an appetite, so I won't ask you to join me."
He slapped Doyle's ass cheerfully. "That was quite good, luv. The next
round should be even better." Picking up the box of supplies, he headed
toward the kitchen. "You two can entertain yourselves, I'm sure. I'll be
back presently."

 Bodie waited a few moments before calling out softly, "Ray...Ray... Oh,
god, mate, I'm sorry..." His voice broke and he had to swallow back the
sob in his own throat. "Can you hear me, Ray? I'm here, sunshine. Answer
me...please answer."

 Doyle raised his head dully. He had stopped crying, but the green eyes
were flat, uncaring. "What do you want, Bodie?" His voice was as dead as
his eyes.

 "Don't..." Bodie stopped to take a shaking breath. "Don't let him break
you. Hang on, son. We'll get out of this somehow. I swear to you I'll get
that bastard. Just don't give up, hear me?"

 "I hear you." Doyle's head dropped again, wearily. He began shaking again
as reaction set in. "Oh god..." He began to weep, softly, as if he had no
energy for more. "It hurt, Bodie...I can't..."

 The sound wrenched at the man even as the screams hadn't. I know, mate, I
know. But you can take it, you have to. We'll get out of this. We'll make
him pay for it, I promise you. You've handled worse--"

 "No...not like this... I can't stand it again. I'll go mad..."

 "Ray, please. Ray!"

 But Doyle wouldn't or couldn't answer. Bodie cast his eyes over the room
again, praying for some way out of this. Doyle's ripped clothes were
scattered across the floor where Parker had tossed them. Bodie saw the
switch blade lying open and forgotten, half covered by Ray's jeans. But it
was too far away to do him any good. One of Doyle's running shoes had been
thrown a few yards from him. The key to Doyle's handcuffs was usually kept
taped under the tongue. He slid down the beam and stretched out on the
floor, trying to reach it with his foot. The edge of his toe touched it.
He stretched harder, the metal cutting again into his already lacerated
wrists. With painstaking caution, terrified he would push it further away,
he coaxed it closer. Finally he had it in the position he could hook his
foot around it and drag it forward. He got it in his hands at last and
flipped up the tongue.

 It was the wrong shoe.

 He almost cried with the frustration of it. Cursing, he dropped it and
kicked it away from him. He had known it had been too good to be true.
Nothing was going to be easy now. He looked at Doyle. For either of them.

 Parker came back into the room. He had showered but hadn't bothered to
dress. "And how have you been, eh? Not too bored, I hope."He cupped
Doyle's chin, titling up his face. Some of Doyle's spirit had returned and
the hatred burned in his eyes. "Still not broken, eh? I'll have to fix
that."

 "Lay off him, Parker!" Bodie yelled. "He's had enough!"

 Parker turned. "And you want your share, that it? No, it's him I fancy.
He can still look me in the eye. No, he hasn't had near enough."

 He noticed Bodie's gun on the table where he had put it earlier. "Nice
shooter you have here." He picked it up casually, opening the chamber and
dumping the bullets. "A .357, very nice indeed. Not my kind of ammo,
though. I prefer dum dums--Don't you, Bodie? Much more effective. But I
suppose that's out of your league now that you're on the side of law and
order." He considered the gun thoughtfully. "I think I like this one
better than my own. And I've got some dum dums all ready that'll fit it."

 He left for the other room but returned in a moment. "I've thought of
another game we can play. I think you both know this one."

 He opened the chamber and twirled it, then snapped it shut. You like
roulette, Bodie?" He aimed the gum at Bodie and pressed the trigger. The
hammer fell on an empty chamber.

 Parker grinned. "That's one. Now it's Doyle's turn." He pressed the
barrel against Doyle's forehead. "Want to make a wager?" Again the empty
click. "Back to you. Wonder if it's your lucky day or his." He continued a
couple more rounds until it was back to Doyle.

 "It's getting close, isn't it? You're sweating, Bodie. You worried about
him? Maybe I'll miss." He laughed. "Wouldn't want to miss, would I." He
forced Doyle's mouth open and stuck the barrel inside, nearly gagging him.
"Can't stick my cock in there; you'd bite it off, wouldn't you, luv? Well,
bite on this." The chamber was empty again. Parker threw a glance at
Bodie. "Gives a new meaning to 'biting the bullet', don't it?"

 He looked at the gun. "Last one, soddy. Where do you think I ought to put
it? I think I know a good place."

 He moved to where the chain was tied off and loosened it. Doyle fell the
rest of the way to the floor. Parker was on him before he could move and
clubbed him with his fist. Dazed, Doyle lay on his face, arms out in
front. Parker pulled him up into a kneeling position.

 "Do you remember what Krivas did to that Russian agent he caught it
Mobukko? Maybe you were with him then, Bodie. Did you tell Doyle that
little story? He heated a bayonnet, red hot, and shoved it up the poor
bastard's ass."

 "Parker--"

 "Don't worry, Bodie. I'm not going to do anything that dramatic--or
messy. But this should be just as interesting." He pressed the gun barrel
against Doyle's anus. Doyle cried out, coming out of his stupor. Parker
continued pushing until the barrel was inside a few inches.

 "For god's sake, Parker," Bodie said hoarsely, "stop it. Please..."

 Parker's finger tightened on the trigger.

 "Don't--!"

 The chamber clicked empty. Bodie swallowed convulsively, closing his
eyes.

 Parker chuckled. "Guess I forgot to load it after all."

 "I'm going to kill you," Bodie said in a calmly reasonable voice.

 He jerked the gun out abruptly and Doyle yelped, but as Parker stood,
Doyle twisted around and managed to trip him.

 "You little bastard!" Parker brought the gun butt down across Doyle's
head, and Doyle collapsed, out cold.

 "Looks like your friend is going to be taking a long nap." Parker stood
and stretched. "I might as well do the same. The little raver has tired me
out--and I want him to feel what I do to him. The rest can wait for the
morning."

 He tied off the chain again, although it left Doyle laying on the floor
this time rather than strung up. Parker moved to the daybed in the corner
and flopped down.

 "Pleasant dreams, Bodie," he said and laughed.

 ******

Sometime during the long night, Bodie decided that none of this could be
real. It was a nightmare of the most insidious type. All he wanted was to
wake up with Doyle's arms around him and all of this hell fading
comfortably back into the shadows where it belonged. As far as that went,
he'd be glad to wake up in *Cowley's* arms if it would wipe all of this
away. But before he could wake, he must sleep--and his burning eyes
wouldn't close for more than a minute.

 Parker hadn't bothered to shut off the lights, but it didn't seem to
disturb him. He lay snoring softly on the bed in the corner, satisfied and
comfortable.

 *No rest for the wicked...no rest... * the cliche circled crazily in
Bodie's mind like some infuriating commercial jingle.

 He couldn't bear to look at Doyle who lay naked and shivering on the
stone floor. He hadn't regained consciousness yet, but had risen from the
deeper levels to something more like sleep, curling up in a quivering ball
with an occasional whimpering escaping.

 Bodie had nearly called out to Parker to cover Doyle, but had faltered
before he got the words out. He was afraid. Terrified of what he might do
next.

 *Let sleeping dogs lie... * another cliche. Cowley would approve. A
regular king of platitudes was old Cowley. Never at a loss for words.
Doyle could do a wonderful imitation of the Cow, rolling r's and heavy
burr. Doyle was good with accents--like the time he'd gone undercover as
the hit man Van de Kirk; every inflection just right. Should've gone into
the theatre, that's what. Maybe even made it to Hollywood. Anything but
being chained and helpless at the mercy of some...

 Bodie rested his forehead against the rough wood, attempting to drive
away the images. He began mentally reciting poetry. *Out of the night that
covers me, black as a pit... * He stopped, knowing he wasn't the master of
anyone's fate at the moment, least of all his own. *Stone walls do not a
prison make, nor iron bars a cage... * Another bad choice, feeling the
chaff of the cuffs at his wrists. *When we two parted in silence and
tears, half broken-hearted--* He broke off the silent recital, biting his
lip until he tasted blood.

 The night passed with unbelievable slowness, and part of him was glad for
he dreaded the morning.

 ******

"Have a good night, soddy?"

 Bodie's head jerked up at the sound of Parker's voice. Parker yawned and
scratched his head. "Sleeping beauty hasn't risen yet, I see. We'll do
something about that presently."

 "Leave him alone, Parker," Bodie's voice was dull, emotionless. "Please
don't hurt him any more."

 "You're begging?"

 "Sure. I'm already on my knees."

 Parker shook his head. "Too easy." He went into the kitchen, and a few
moments later a kettle whistled. It was a while before he returned,
carrying a mug in one hand and a pan of water in the other.

 "Time to wake up, pretty." He tossed the cold water in Doyle's face.

 Doyle gasped and jerked. Parker nudged him with his toe. "Come on, wake
up."

 Doyle moaned and his eyes flickered opened, glazed and flat.

 Parker took a gulp of his coffee, watching him. "Ready for some more fun,
eh?"

 Realization dawned slowly in Doyle's eyes and he tried to sit up. Parker
put his foot on Doyle's shoulder and shoved him back down. "Don't get
ambitious, boy."

 He set his cup down and squatted down beside the smaller man. He rolled
him over on his back and Doyle's face contorted as he ripped flesh touched
the cold floor. Parker stroked over the heaving chest, pinching at the
nipples and moving down to squeeze the balls without gentleness. Doyle's
eyes were wide now, afraid but somehow resigned to the fact that he
couldn't stop it. He licked his dry lips, dehydrated from the tears and
the sweat of pain.

 But Parker wouldn't be satisfied until he forced more reaction. He stood
and kicked Doyle in the side, making him give out a choked cry. He
repeated the blow a few more times until Doyle was too breathless from the
agony to do more than gasp.

 Bodie, who had stood at the first sound of Doyle's renewed pain, slid
back down the post to his knees, wondering if Parker was breaking the same
ribs over again. He turned his face away, trying to block out the sight if
not the sound.

 Content that Doyle was hurt to the point of numbness, Parker pulled him
to his knees again, spreading his legs.

 "I'm going to give it to you again, soddy," Parker said viciously.
"You'll like that, won't you?" He teased his cock between Doyle's legs,
letting him feel it against him. "Not so gentle as last time, though. I'm
going to ram it through you." His own words were exciting him, and gripped
Doyle tighter, his fingers leaving bruises on the flesh.

 Doyle panicked suddenly, adrenaline pumping with renewed terror. He
twisted, trying to get free, yanking uselessly at the chain that held his
hands. Sensing the weakness of the struggle, Parker laughed and sat back.
"Still the big fighter, eh? Well, I want you to fight. I want this to be
good." He leaned forward and unfastened Doyle's wrists from the collar,
then removed the looser restraints from his feet. "There now, let's see
you take me out, hard man."

 Doyle lay there, unable to feel his hands from the lack of circulation,
the throbbing in his head making him dizzy. Parker's face loomed close,
and a rush of terror froze him. He closed his eyes, losing his spirit.

 Parker patted his cheek. "Poor boy. Not up to it, eh. Come here." He
forced Doyle back into position, holding his shaking form steady as he
thrust inside.

 Doyle's mouth opened to scream at the tearing pain, but nothing came out.
There was no power left in him to give it voice. His mind was almost as
bruised as his body.

 Parker held back his pace, making it last, enjoying the feel of the
slender body beneath him. He worked at it for a long time, breathing raspy
and excited. His movements became faster, more frenzied as his climax
approached. He slammed into the unresisting body a few more times, face
flushed with the pleasure, holding the peak for as long as possible before
pumping it out.

 At last he fell to one side by the collapsed Doyle, taking a moment to
recover. He looked over at him, prodding him sharply. Doyle didn't move.

 Parker stood and spoke to Bodie. "Now, he's had enough. I don't think
there's much left of him."

 He moved away, losing interest, heading for the bath.

 Bodie couldn't bear to look at Doyle.

 ******

Parker spent the next few hours lovingly cleaning the guns. He took them
apart with meticulous concentration, oiling them, rubbing them clean,
while Bodie spent the same time worrying about Doyle and thinking of
methods to kill Parker very slowly.

 Doyle hardly moved. He had curled back to his side in a fetal position,
still aware enough to keep his torn back from the cold stone. But he made
no sound and didn't try to rise. Parker had dismissed him as harmless.

 When a car pulled up to the house, Parker jumped up in alarm. He ran to
the window, gun ready. After a second he lowered it and went to the door.

 Katrina entered and Parker shoved her roughly against the wall.

 "What are you doing here now? What's happened?"

 Her gaze slipped over the room, holding on the crumpled figure of Doyle
with morbid fascination. "What did you do to him?"

 "Never mind that," he said impatiently, "why are you early."

 "They've moved up the sailing time. You'll need to leave right away."

 He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I see." He tucked the gun in his pants
and began gathering his things together without further comment.

 Katrina walked over to Doyle, looking down at him with curled lip. She
glanced over at Bodie. "You didn't do anything to him," she sounded
disappointedly.

 He looked up from loading the other gun. "That's where you're wrong,
sweet. I know his kind. I've hurt him just about the only way he can be
hurt."

 He finished his packing and headed for the door; already bored with the
situation and ready for something new. "Did you leave the keys in the
ignition?"

 She turned, startled. "Yes, but..."

 "Sorry, luv, I've got other plans. You'll find your way back easy enough.
Only a few miles to hike."

 "You're leaving me?" Her face registered disbelief. "What about the
ship?"

 "You didn't really think I was stupid enough to take your way out. did
you? I've made my own arrangements. I don't trust our friend Thomas not to
bribe the captain to have me pitched over the side in the middle of the
Channel. It'd solve the problem of my talking very nicely, wouldn't it?
And I'd be safely out of England so my compatriots might not attribute my
death to the proper place. No, thanks, my dear. I'll manage fine. I do
appreciate the safe house, however." His gaze flickered over Bodie and
Doyle. "And the entertainment."

 She caught his arm at the door. "But what about them? You're going to
leave them alive?"

 He smiled. "I wanted to leave you a present, sweet. You take care of it
for me, will you?" He handed her the automatic. "They're all yours. I'm
sure you'll find a suitable way to finish this."

 She stared at the gun in her hand as he left, then looked over both of
the,, eyes hardening. Doyle was untied but still unmoving, so she turned
her attention to Bodie, approaching him with a cold smile.

 Bodie stood warily, cuffs moving up the beam with a jingle of metal.

 "So now you get your blood."

 She came closer, raising the gun into position. She fired, lodging a
bullet into the post by Bodie's head, sending wood splinters across his
cheek. He ducked his head involuntarily and she laughed.

 "I think I'll do this nice and slowly. Maybe your kneecaps first."

 Bodie paled, finding to his surprise that he could still be scared. He'd
thought all the emotion had been burned out of him during the last
twenty-four hours.

 He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up, careful
to give nothing away. Doyle's head had lifted and he was watching the
scene across the room with rather dulled interest.

 "He's left you holding the bag, you know," Bodie remarked
conversationally, trying to keep her attention, praying Doyle would snap
out of it.

 "What do you mean?"

 "You're a fool, Katrina. They're going to find our bodies eventually. How
hard do you think it'll be to trace it back to you? Someone had to've seen
us together on the way here. Outside Doyle's flat...at the petrol
station...a hundred places. You haven't been very smart, have you? And
Parker's left it to you to finish us off. He'll be out of the country,
won't he? What's he care what happens to you? He's clear."

 She stared at him stupidly, the truth of all this finally occurring to
her.

 Doyle had managed to sit up, more alert now and cognizant of what was
taking place. Like Bodie, he recalled the abandoned knife and inched over
to where it lay jumbled in his clothes. 

 Katrina's finger tightened on the trigger, the bullet missing Bodie's
head by inches. "Shut up! They won't find you for weeks! I can get away--"

 "It won't take them that long and you know it. Cowley's probably
searching for us right now. We were expected to report in today." It
wasn't true, but she didn't know that.

 Doyle had the knife now, and was trying to stand, tottering weakly and
fighting for his balance. Her attention was all on Bodie now, Doyle
totally forgotten in her rage.

 "It won't make a difference if I kill you, then, will it? Maybe it'll be
worth it, you bastard!"

 She aimed the gun again, more carefully this time, murder in her eye, but
Doyle was there first. He plunged the knife in her back, falling with her
as she went down; the gun discharged harmlessly into the wall. Doyle's aim
had been better and she died almost immediately, with little more than a
gasp.

 Bodie slumped down on the floor, his legs giving way shakily.

 "Ray," he said hoarsely, "Ray, are you all right, mate?"

 Doyle was sitting up. braced on his hands, staring blankly at the girl's
body. He didn't seem to be aware of Bodie.

 "Ray, get me the keys to the cuffs. Come on, sunshine," Bodie pleaded.
"In your shoe, remember? It's only a little way over. Pitch it to me."

 It took some time and much gentle coaxing, but Doyle finally did as Bodie
asked, but he moved automatically, woodenly. Bodie scrambled for the shoe
when it was tossed to him, almost ripping out the tongue in his hurry to
find the key. He fumbled with the lock until he was free.

 He stood uncertainly for a moment, watching Doyle, wondering what he
could actually do to help him, free or not. Then he grabbed the covers
from the bed and wrapped them closely around his partner's shoulders.
Doyle clutched them to him convulsively, a single sob escaping.

 Bodie suddenly felt even more helpless than before. "Oh Ray...mate ..."
He put his arms around him awkwardly, wanting to cuddle him and somehow,
ridiculously, make it better. For a second Doyle relaxed against him, face
buried on his shoulder. But he pulled back stiffly.

 "I'm all right. Let me go."

 Bodie stared at him. "Ray--"

 "I said I'm all right."

 Bodie released him reluctantly. "Let's get you over to the bed,
sunshine."

 Doyle let him help him up and give him support across the room, collapsed
to the bed, and buried his face in the pillow. Bodie tucked the blankets
around him, careful of his back.

 "It'll be okay, mate," Bodie said lamely. "It's over now."

 Doyle didn't answer. After a moment, he stood, sensing it was better to
leave Doyle alone for a bit. The girl's body was still lying twisted on
the floor. Bodie grabbed her arms and dragged her outside the lodge and
left her at the edge of the woods, wanting her out of Doyle's sight and
mind. Some biblical verse twinged at his mind; something about a betraying
woman and leaving her for the jackals and crows to pick at her bones.
Jackals were rather scarce in England, but thinking of Doyle's pain, he
wished the crows much luck.

 Returning to the lodge, he brought some water to Doyle and cajoled him
into drinking. "That's good, mate. Now you rest a bit, while I try to find
some soup or something, right?" Doyle had turned his face away. Bodie
touched his hair softly, then went to the kitchen. He located some cans of
condensed soup in the cupboard. He heated it but decided to wait until
Doyle had slept a bit longer, figuring the temporary oblivion of sleep
would be more healing than food.

 While he waited, Bodie gathered wood and spent time building a fire.
Doyle needed to be kept as warm as possible, The only way they would be
able to get out of here was to walk, and Ray would be in no condition to
do that until tomorrow at the earliest. Having been through something
similar himself years ago, Bodie knew Ray needed time before he would want
to face anyone. He thought briefly of Cowley and all the explanations and
problems ahead of them, but dismissed it as too much to deal with at the
moment.

 Once he had the fire crackling brightly, he brought the broth over to the
bed. He touched Doyle lightly, and the man jumped as if he'd been struck.
"Sorry, mate. You need to eat. Come on, sit up, son."

 Doyle sat up obediently, seeming not to care enough to refuse or argue.
But he took the bowl and spoon from Bodie, unwilling to be fed. He ate
about half of it before handing it back.

 "No more."

 "There's some whiskey--" Bodie cut off, remembering how Parker had used
it to torture. But Doyle didn't react to it.

 "Yeah," he answered calmly, "I'll have a drink."

 Bodie found the bottle and brought it back. Doyle took a drink and
coughed. Then took another, larger one.

 "Let's have a look at that back of yours," Bodie suggested quietly.
"There's a medical kit in the bath, I think."

 "I want a shower."

 Bodie looked doubtful. "I don't think--"

 "Bodie," Doyle cut in, voice expressionless but determined, "I want a
shower."

 His partner hesitated, seeing the dark, dead look in Doyle's eyes. "Okay,
mate, I'll help you."

 "No. I can do it. Just...just help me in there."

 Bodie half expected Doyle to pitch over on his face, but Doyle seemed
stronger than he thought--or more determined.

 "I lit the heater earlier; the water should be warm by now." He set the
water temperature and watched Doyle slip off the blanket and stepped under
the flow, teeth setting as it washed across his welts.

 Bodie waited outside the door nervously, understanding Doyle's need for
this, but wishing there was more he could do for him. He'd expected Doyle
to need him more, and this air of independence worried him.

 He remained inside for a very long time, until Bodie's anxiety forced him
to check. He found Doyle slumped to his knees, oblivious to the fact the
water was running cold now. Bodie shut off the water and grabbed some
towels. He dried him hastily and wrapped the blanket around him again.
Picking Doyle up in his arms, he carried him back to the bed and sat down
holding him for a long time.

 "It's over, mate," he crooned, touching his lips to the cold forehead,
"it's all over."

 Doyle didn't cry. He shivered violently, teeth chattering, hands
clutching at Bodie for warmth. At last he calmed, slipping into an uneasy
doze. Bodie didn't move although his arm was cramped and his clothes were
clammy and damp from pulling Ray from the shower. Eventually exhaustion
claimed him as well, and he feel asleep with his face pressed against the
wet curls.

 He awoke to find himself alone in bed. It was dark and the only light was
the glow of dying embers from the fire. He stood, feeling stiff and sore,
picking out the huddled form on the divan.

 "Ray?"

 Doyle didn't reply. Bodie went to him, knelt down in front of the divan.
"Are you all right?"

 Bodie couldn't make out the expression of the eyes in the dimness, but he
didn't have to. "I know, stupid question, right?" He took a deep breath
and moved to the fireplace, tossing on more wood, stirring the embers
until the flames caught again.

 "What I mean is...does anything hurt worse? You got some bad kicks to
your ribs and--"

 "I'm all right."

 The sound of his voice made Bodie turn back to him. He could see Doyle's
face now, in the firelight. It was drawn and pale and there were black
circles under his eyes, but the eyes themselves were sane again.

 "You sure? I could go find a car maybe..." Bodie suggested
half-heartedly. He didn't want to leave him alone.

 "If you want."

 Bodie returned to the divan, sat beside him gingerly. "I don't think you
should be alone."

 "It doesn't matter," Doyle said quietly. "Do what you want."

 "Ray--"

 "Bodie, I don't care." Doyle looked at him. "Do you understand? I *don't
care*."

 At a loss, Bodie reached out to him.

 "Don't touch me, please."

 His hand stopped, dropped nervously to his knee. "I'm sorry."

 "I can't stop you," Doyle continued as if he hadn't heard, "but I'd
rather you wouldn't."

 Confused, Bodie stared at him. "What'd you mean 'you can't stop me'? I
would never hurt you, Ray."

 Doyle's eyes regarded him bitterly. "Wouldn't you? You wanted to do what
Parker did."

 "No! Not...like that. Nothing like that. Ray, don't--"

 "Why not? You used to do it, didn't you? A game you...mercenaries played,
isn't that right?"

 "No...I..." Bodie felt a dismal cold settle in his stomach.

 "No?: There were tears in Doyle's eyes now, but his voice was still hard.
"Then tell me you didn't do it, Bodie. Tell me you've never raped anyone.
Say it!"

 Bodie remained silent.

 Doyle's eyes closed slowly, a tear squeezing out to drop down on the
blanket. "Okay. All I ask is that you...don't touch me again. Please. We
both know I can't stop you--"

 "But you can!" Bodie broke in helplessly. "You could've stopped Parker if
he hadn't taken you off guard. Don't let him make you believe that, Ray!
That's what the bastard wanted--to make you feel weak. You're not! It
wasn't *you*, Ray. It could have been anyone. It could've been me!" He
dropped his face in his hands. "Christ, I wish it would have been..." He
raised his head, feeling desperate. "It's not like that with us, you know
that. It's never been like that. I know you've been hurt, that you need
time. But don't confuse what happened here with--"

 "With the things you did in Angola?" Doyle finished flatly.

 Bodie froze. With an effort he held back the rising anger and
frustration. "All right, Doyle, that's enough. You don't know anything
about it."

 "I know enough, don't I?" Doyle said viciously. "Enough to know you're no
better than Krivas or Parker or any of the others. I reckon I forgot that
for a while."

 Bodie let his breath out slowly, relaxing his clenched fists. "Believe
what you like." He stood. "We still have to walk out of here tomorrow. We
need to get some rest. I'll sleep in the loft."

 He went up the stairs without looking back.

 Doyle remained awake, staring at the fire.

 ******

Doyle's clothes were too damaged to wear, so Bodie took the jeans from the
dead girl. They were too short and a bit too large in the hips but
serviceable.

 Doyle's face was expressionless as he put them on. Bodie gave him his
undershirt and located an old raincoat in the back of a closet.

 As they started to go, Doyle paused. "What do we do about the girl?"

 Bodie shrugged. "Leave it. Frankly, I don;t give a damn, do you?"

 Doyle bit his lip. "Perhaps we should...report it."

 "Then report it."

 Doyle hesitated again. "If we do, it...the whole story will... I don't
think I can face Ross and her bloody tests..."

 "Then don't report it."

 He looked at Bodie furiously. "Christ, you're damned cold about all of
this, aren't you?"

 "I'm a mercenary, remember?" Bodie retorted flippantly. "We're not nice
people."

 "They'll find her, you know."

 Again Bodie shrugged. "I wiped her prints, dug our bullets out of the
woodwork, took care of anything that could trace it to us. They'll be no
proof. I reckon Parker will take the blame." His gaze rested on Doyle for
a second. "Unless you want it otherwise?"

 Doyle shook his head. "No...I... No. Let's just get out of here."

 ******

Doyle reported for work the next day. He looked pale and moved slower than
usual, but he explained it off as having a rough case of the flu over his
free days, letting Cowley believe he was lying and trying to cover some
pub brawl. Most of his injuries were not physical, and the ones that were
did not show.

 When Bodie showed up a short time later, Cowley made a re-evaluation of
the situation. While he looked all right, except for a small elastoplast
on his cheek ('...cut meself shaving, sir...') and a tendency to keep
tugging his sleeves down over his wrists, the tension between he and Doyle
was more than noticeable.

 A few moments after they'd left his office after receiving separate
assignments, Bodie returned. What he had to say really didn't surprise
Cowley.

 "A leave of absence, you say? How long?"

 "I don't know."

 "That's very indefinite. And you haven't given me a reason."

 Bodie's eyes were fixed on the floor. "It's personal, sir."

 "But it has something to do with you and Doyle?"

 "No, sir."

 Cowley pushed his chair back angrily. "Don't lie to me, man! I ken see
farther than my nose. You've had a row."

 "No,sir," Bodie repeated firmly. "It's nothing like that."

 "What happened over these last few days?"

 Bodie's jaw set stubbornly. "I'm not at liberty to say, sir. That's not
what I came in here to discuss."

 "Damn it, I want some answers!"

 "You'll not get them from me."

 "How about from Doyle? Does he know about your request to leave?"

 "No. It's not his business, sir." He met Cowley's gaze steadily. "Or
yours, sir."

 "Then why should I grant it?" Cowley demanded.

 Bodie was silent for a moment. He leaned forward and put his hands on the
desk. "I'm taking the leave whether you agree or not. The only say you
have in it is whether I still have a job when I get back."

 Cowley tapped his pencil on the desk restlessly. "Do you want to have a
job?"

 "Yes, sir."

 "Will you still want to be teamed with Doyle?"

 Bodie straightened. "Yes, sir. If possible."

 Cowley considered the situation, judging the earnest expression in the
blue eyes. "Very well. Get out."

 Bodie turned away.

 ******

The next morning Cowley dropped the news very casually to Doyle.

 "You'll be working with Murphy for a few days, perhaps longer. Mostly
research into--"

 "Where's Bodie?" Doyle interrupted suspiciously.

 "On leave," Cowley said coolly. "As I was saying--"

 "Leave? When did this come up?"

 "Yesterday morning. He requested an indefinite leave of absence and I
granted it. Now, may I continue, 4.5?" Cowley asked sarcastically.

 "Sorry, sir."

 As Cowley went on describing the bookworm of the case involved, Doyle
didn't hear a word. After a few minutes, he broke in again.

 "Did he say why he needed it?"

 Cowley looked at him sharply. "Needed what, 4.5?"

 "The leave!" Doyle said impatiently. "Bodie. What was he doing?"

 The older man observed him carefully. "I suppose it had something to do
with what happened on your off days."

 Doyle stiffened immediately. "What? What did he tell you?"

 Cowley paused. "What do you think he told me?" he asked craftily.

 "I..." Doyle's mouth snapped shut, catching the glint of curiosity in the
Scot's eye. "Nothing. There's nothing to tell."

 "Och!" Cowley threw his notebook across the room in a fit of temper.
"I've had enough of this blasted mystery. First Bodie and now you! I've
tried to do it easy, since both of you are like clams when y'r noses are
out o' joint, but I don't have the time for all this pussy footing. You'll
tell me what went on, an' you'll tell me now!"

 Doyle's eyes were as hard as jade. "No."

 "Then you're suspended as of now!" Cowley roared.

 "Why? It's nothing to do with CI5--"

 "Everything's to do with CI5! I would expect that from Bodie, but you
know better."

 Doyle's eyes narrowed. "Then I'm not just suspended, I'm out! I resign!"

 As Doyle started out the door, Cowley yelled at him, "Doyle, come back
here! That's an order!"

 Doyle hesitated. Reluctantly, he turned around, the habit of taking
Cowley's commands was too strong to allow him to walk out.

 Cowley's voice lowered. "One of these days you're going to give me your
resignation, and I'm going to accept it. Then where will you be, eh? Sit
down, laddie."

 Doyle's shoulders relaxed and he smiled ruefully. He say down in front of
the desk.

 Cowley walked around to lean against the front of it.

 "I know there's trouble here," he said softly, "and I have a pretty good
idea what it is."

 Doyle looked up, surprised and wary.

 "I can't say I approve of what's happening between you two, but I'd have
to be blind not to see it. Bodie's always been a bit protective of you,
but it's always worked in our favor. He doesn't have your ideology or
purpose; watching out for you gave him that, kept him in CI5 maybe. And
he's a handy man to have in the organization. So are you, Doyle. I need
your teamwork."

 Confused, Doyle asked, "What's this got to do with--"

 "I'm coming to that. As I've said, Bodie watches out for you--too much
sometimes. Oh, I know you watch his back as well, but it's different for
you. Bodie isn't as hard a man as he'd like everyone to believe. And he's
let you in deeper than most, Doyle. Perhaps he;s let himself feel more for
you than he can comfortably handle."

 Doyle stared at him. He'd ever heard Cowley talk like this, and he wasn't
sure he liked it. It was leading up to something.

 "What are you saying?"

 Cowley looked at the floor, strangely uncertain. "Obviously something
caused a rift between you during the last few days. If Bodie
somehow...made advances--"

 Doyle jumped out of the chair, totally aghast, feeling almost hysterical
laughter build up inside him. "Is *that* what you think the problem is?
That I had to defend my virtue? Christ, I don't believe it!" He laughed
harshly. "Or maybe you reckon we're already havin' it off and it was just
a lover's quarrel, eh?"

 "Doyle--"

 The younger man's face twisted bitterly. "Forget it. I wouldn't let that
mercenary son of a bitch touch me!"

 He slammed out the door before Cowley could say anything else.

 ******

Doyle spent the next week in his flat, hardly going out, seeing no one,
speaking to no one. He couldn't really be sorry for the suspension for he
realized he needed the time to heal--emotionally more than physically. It
didn't come easy or quick, but the memories and the pain began to recede,
to become less like something he'd experienced as something that had
happened to someone else. The vivid images of Parker faded back to the
deeper recesses of his mind reserved for dark nights and bad dreams.

 The thoughts of Bodie, however, refused to be dismissed. He kept hearing
Bodie's voice--"Yes, I played the blood Game like everyone else..." Doyle
was honest enough to realize that it was what happened to him that made
the real difference, not what Bodie had done or hadn't done in the past.
He'd known there were ugly aspects to Bodie's past, and it hadn't really
made that much difference to him--until he'd been forced to experience it
himself. It made him sick to realize that someone he'd--yes, loved; why
not admit it now?--was capable of such a savage act. That he hadn't known
Bodie at all.

 But another part of him denied it. He did know Bodie. It was madness to
think Parker was right about him. Not, Bodie, the man who made him laugh,
who owned that beautiful teasing smile, who could make love with such
exquisite gentleness, who had held his head while he cried... Not Bodie.

 But then, Bodie had said it was true.

 That fact was so hard to swallow he turned to liquor to make it go down
easier. When Cowley arrived that Monday evening, Doyle was already well
pissed.

 Doyle opened the door to him, barely electing not to shut it in his face,
then turned and went back to sit on the couch. "I was wondering when you'd
show up, you nosey old bastard. Something come up you want me to handle?
Am I off suspension?"

 Cowley shut the door. "Something came up." He moved to where Doyle sat
and handed him a picture. It was of Parker.

 Doyle's eyes shot up to Cowley's face, his spine prickling. "So?"

 Wordlessly, Cowley handed him another photo, this one a police shot of a
corpse with its face mostly blasted away. Doyle stared at it.

 "In case you wondered, they're both of Parker."

 Doyle's eyes closed and the picture crumbled in his hand. "He's dead..."

 "Yes. This was taken yesterday morning. The South African authorities
knew we were looking for him. He made it home, at least."

 Cowley took the photos gently from Doyle. "It was Bodie, wasn't it, lad?"

 Doyle swallowed, knowing he was trembling as it all flashed back to him
again, but unable to control it. "I imagine so."

 "Customs reported that he left the country, but he managed to lose the
tail I put on him in Paris. He was making certain he wouldn't be stopped."

 Doyle nodded, hardly hearing.

 Cowley sat down. "Are you ready to tell me about it now, lad? Best to get
it out in the open."

 "No." Doyle refused to look at him.

 The older man pulled another photo from his coat. "Do you know this
girl?"

 Doyle glanced at it, not surprised to recognize Katrina. He didn't
answer.

 "We had a tip that Parker was hold up in a hunting lodge near Beldon, but
he was no doubt long out of the country by the time we got there. The girl
had been dead several days." He studied the picture. "Katrina Morville was
her name. Supposedly affiliated with a terrorist group headquartered in
London. It's a pity; she was a pretty girl. The police figure that
Parker--"

 "I killed her," Doyle said quietly.

 Cowley nodded, tucking the photograph back in his jacket. "I know, son.
And Bodie's killed Parker. Now tell me why."

 Doyle covered his face with his hands. Cowley poured more liquor in
Doyle's glass and handed it to him. Doyle accepted it gratefully,
swallowing it down without a blink.

 "Did you know where Bodie was going, lad?"

 "No," he took a deep breath. "Should've, I suppose." He took another
drink. "Or perhaps I did know. Maybe I wanted it. Didn't have the guts to
do it myself. Bodie must've guessed that, so he took care of it for me. He
always takes care of me, doesn't he? You told me that yourself. My big
brother...my protector...Oh hell--" his voice broke.

 "What did Parker do, lad?" Cowley asked.

 "You know what he did!" Doyle threw his glass across the room and it
smashed against the wall with a thud and tinkle of broken glass. "He...
set us up...tricked us into..." Doyle wrapped his arms around himself,
shuddered. He'd thought he was over this, thought he'd managed to accept
it. "He...used me...raped me...Oh Christ..."

 Cowley waited for a moment. "And Bodie!"

 Doyle lifted his head. "He didn't do anything to Bodie. Nothing!" His
voice was savage, and he heard the note of bitterness and was surprised by
it. Was that it? Was he hating Bodie for getting off so east?

 Cowley didn't say anything for a bit, then, very quietly, "Is that why he
went to Johannesburg, Doyle? For nothing?"

 Doyle looked confused. "I...don't know..."

 "He was raped, too, you know. Just as surely as you were." Cowley waited
for that to sink in. "Save a little pity for him as well as yourself."

 Doyle's eyes flashed. "I don't want pity, damn you."

 "You've been wallowing in it for over a week now."

 "I didn't ask you to come here."

 "I still have to have answers, 4.5. There's been murder done. Am I to
ignore it just like that?"

 "Am I under arrest then?"

 "Och!" Cowley stood impatiently. "I need the facts, Doyle. If I'm to keep
you and Bodie out o' this I must know what happened."

 "You're going to cover for us?"

 "If I believe what you did was justified, yes. If not, I'll throw you to
the wolves."

 Doyle laughed harshly. "Good ol' George Cowley, judge and jury. Scottish
pragmatism, I suppose."

 Cowley ignored the sarcasm. Bit by bit he pulled the entire story from
Doyle. At the end he patted the younger man's shoulder awkwardly,
uncomfortable with the matter and uncertain of how to deal with it.

 "I'll keep your names out of it. Dragging the muck up now wouldn't help
things."

 "And it could hurt CI5," Doyle added bitterly.

 "Aye," Cowley replied, unshaken.

 "We clean our own doorstep, right? Or throw a rug over it when
necessary."

 "That's right, 4.5," Cowley snapped. He calmed. "Would it do that girl or
her parents any good to know what she really was? Bringing out the
circumstances of her death would serve no purpose."

 "What about Bodie? What if they trace Parker's death back to him."

 "They won't. You know Bodie better than that."

 "You're right; he's a pro," Doyle's voice was acid. "Just like Parker."

 Cowley's eyes blazed. "Stop it! Blaming Bodie won't change what happened,
and it's liable to destroy him. Start think of someone besides yourself
for a change. I know you've had a rough time, but so has he."

 Doyle bit his lip. "I'm not blaming him. It's just..." he trailed off,
shaking his head.

 Cowley took a deep breath. "I'd best get back."

 "Am I still on suspension?"

 Cowley paused at the door. "For now."

 Doyle looked down. "Will I have to see Dr. Ross?"

 "It might be for the best."

 "I'd rather not, sir."

 "Give it a few more days, lad. It might be easier then. And wait until
you've spoken with Bodie."

 Doyle looked up. "Is he back? Have you heard?"

 "He's back in the country as of this morning. He hasn't been in touch. He
hasn't been home yet." Cowley opened the door.

 "Sir?"

 "Yes, Doyle?"

 "Thank you."

 Cowley nodded brusquely and left.

 ******

Doyle pounded on the door. There was no answer, but he persisted, sensing
that Bodie was inside. Finally he used his key and entered. Bodie was
standing in the kitchen doorway, watching him, his expression wary but
resigned.

 "Most people would've realized I didn't fancy company."

 "I'm not most people," Doyle repled, closing the door and leaning back
against it. He thought Bodie looked weary, as if all of his usual zest and
humor had been drained from him.

 "No, but you've no right to come barging in here either, do you? Well,
never mind that. What is it you want?"

 Doyle hesitated. "You haven't called Cowley."

 "I'm on leave."

 "Suspended is more like it. o'm I."

 Bodie raised an eyebrow. "'S that right? How come?"

 "I suppose he didn't like us runnin' about while he covered up our
assorted murders."

 Bodie sat down the cup he was holding. "He knows?"

 "Yes, he knows."

 He turned away. "I'm sorry, Ray."

 "Why? I'm the one who told him."

 "You? But I thought--"

 "The Cow can be very persuasive," Doyle said drily. "Besides, he'd
figured most of it out by himself. I reckon we weren't too subtle."

 Bodie was silent for a moment, then his eyes sought out Doyle's. "How are
you, Ray?" His tone was earnest, caring.

 Doyle's shield snapped up immediately. "I'm all right. I'm just fine."

 Bodie's gaze dropped. "I see."

 The flash of hurt on Bodie's face before he masked it made Doyle realize
what he was doing. He stepped forward. "No, I'm not all right," he said
softly. "But it's better."

 Doyle's sudden openness seemed to surprise Bodie, making him strangely
nervous. He moved on into the kitchen and Doyle followed, unwilling to let
him run away.

 "I was going to make some tea; you fancy some?"

 "You already have," Doyle pointed out the mug on the corner. 

 Bodie shrugged refilling the kettle. "It's cold."

 Doyle caught his arm as he turned off the tap. "Bodie, I know what you
did to Parker...what you did for me."

 The other man pulled away cautiously, putting the kettle on the burner
and lighting the jet. "What's that?"

 Impatiently, Doyle took him by the shoulders and turned him around,
forcing Bodie to look at him. To his shock, the blue eyes were watery,
tears caught and held back by sheer will.

 "Bodie?"

 Bodie jerked back angrily. "Stop it, Doyle."

 "Stop what?"

 "Whatever it is you're trying to do. I don't need it, do'y hear? Your
condemnation, your high-flying idealism, your disapproval...I've had all
of it I can take. You've force-fed it to me for years, an' I've had a
belly full of it!"

 "How do you know I disapprove? I'm glad Parker's dead," Doyle said
quietly. "Not very idealistic, is it?"

 Bodie laughed harshly. "Christ, so it's gratitude, is it? Ta, mate for
blowin' away the bastard who raped me. Nice thought, but you're thanking
the wrong bloke."

 "I wasn't exactly thanking you--" Doyle broke off. "What? What do you
mean?"

 "I mean that I didn't do it. I didn't kill Parker."

 "But Cowley said--"

 "Well for once the ol' bastard's screwed up. Oh, I was there alright, and
I had every intention of doing it. But someone beat me to the punch. Our
friend Parker must've had a line forming to see who'd snuff him first. Not
a popular fellow at all it seems. He was dead three hours after he stepped
off the plane."

 Doyle let that sink in for a moment. "It doesn't really matter, does it?
He's dead either way. And I'm glad it wasn't you, Bodie. I hated him, I
wanted the bastard dead...but it wouldn't have been right for you to do
that for me--"

 "For you?" Bodie spun around to stare at him, eyes hard. "You think I
wanted to do it for you? Wrong, mate. It was all for me. And it was
Parker's good luck someone got to him before I did, for I wouldn't have
made it nearly so easy on him." Their eyes held, Doyle feeling as if he
was seeing a stranger. "Parker was right about one thing," Bodie
continued. "There are things you learn in the bloody jungle you never
forget."

 "Bodie--"

 The tea kettle whistled abruptly, making them both start. Bodie turned
off the fire, but made no move to do more. He leaned heavily over the
sink, with his back to Doyle, hands clutching the edge with white-knuckled
intensity.

 "Do you want to hear what I had planned for him?" His voice was a hoarse
whisper. "I worked out all the details on the plane, you know. I could
tell you--"

 "No. Bodie don't... There's no point in this."

 "Isn't there, Doyle? You said yourself there was no difference between me
and Parker. I was just out to prove it."

 "Bodie, I didn't mean it. I was hurting, for god's sake. I was
confused...sick. I'm not even sure what I said. You can't--"

 "You meant it," Bodie cut him off. "It wasn't the first time you've said
something like that--only it was the first time I was sure you believed
it." He turned and faced Doyle. "And you were right. That's the hell of
it."

 Doyle moved forward until he was close enough to touch him, but he was
afraid to reach out. "No. No, Bodie. I *don't* believe it. Tell me the
truth. I have to know. Tell me you didn't do those things. Tell me about
Angola."

 Bodie shook his head.

 "Listen, Bodie, we've both been though hell. Maybe it took Cowley for me
to see how bad it was for you, too. If we're ever going to make it back to
safe ground, there's got to be a bit more honesty."

 "You're a fine one to talk of honesty, mate," Bodie snarled. "Since when
have you been pouring your heart out to me either? Let's just leave it.
I'm tired; I'm going to bed." He pushed past Doyle.

 Furious, Doyle followed him. "Wait a minute, Bodie! Stop hiding for once!
Stand and answer for yourself, you bastard."

 Bodie swung around. "I don't have to answer to you or anyone else. Don't
push it, Ray. I've taken enough."

 Doyle took a deep breath. "Okay. So we won't talk." He kept walking
toward where Bodie stood in the door to the bedroom.

 "Where do you think you're going?" Bodie demanded, blocking the opening
with his arm.

 Doyle stuck his finger toward the bed. "In there."

 For a second alarm flickered in the blue eyes. "No."

 "Why not?"

 Bodie blinked. "It's too soon. You don't want--"

 "Too soon for whom, Bodie? Me or you?"

 Bodie stiffened. "Forget it. Who says I want you in there."

 "Don't be stupid. Of course you do." He tried to move through, but
Bodie's arm held firm.

 "What are you trying to prove, Doyle?" Bodie said harshly.

 The green eyes tilted up to meet the icy blue. "Maybe that I'm braver
than you are."

 The dart struck home, ice was melted by fire. Bodie struck back. "Or
maybe you liked getting fucked more than you figured, eh?"

 Even though Bodie was half-prepared for the punch, it still caught him
very soundly. He went down hard, dazed for a moment. Doyle stood over him,
breathing hard, fists clenched.

 "Listen, you god damn son of a bitch, I'm trying to prove to you that I
trust you...that I...I love you, damn it all! That I'm not going to let
some sick *dead* bastard destroy something that was pretty bloody good
with us. It wasn't easy for me to figure it all out, y'know. I didn't have
a hell of a lot of help with you off playing some Shakespearean tragedy in
South Africa. Didn't you ever stop to think that I might've needed you
here more than out trying to slay my dragons for me? That maybe I didn't
have the guts to reach out and ask you to help? Yes, I was scared of you,
resented you--maybe even hated you for everything that happened and what
Parker said about you. But did you try to explain? I *needed* you to
explain, Bodie! I needed it so bad I was sick inside from it. But it was
easier for you to run, wasn't it? Easier to deal with blowing a hole
through Parker than to make me understand what happened with you. I'm
sorry I hurt you, you stupid ass, but it's your fault as well as mine. You
could've *made* me understand--that's what I really wanted, damn you!"

 Bodie looked up at him, aghast at this hot, rapid tirade. He rubbed his
aching jaw gingerly, feeling for loose teeth. "Christ, Doyle. Can't you
ever pull your punches?"

 Beyond patience, Doyle jerked him up by the collar to his feet. "And
another thing, you ignorant sod, the next time you don't like one of my
girlfriends, tell me instead of being some kind of cruddy martyr. They're
not worth it, and you know it. You mean more to me than any of them, damn
you. And it would've saved us a lot of trouble--"

 "Doyle?"

 "--if you'd just told me straight off what you thought of her. And next
time, if I need someone killed, I can do it myself, thanks very much--"

 "Ray?"

 "--I'm not exactly helpless; I can beat the crap out of you or anyone--"

 "Ray!"

 Doyle shut up. Their gaze locked. Bodie's fingers touched Ray's cheek,
tracing across it with amazing gentleness.

 "Did you say...that you loved me? Did you really say that?"

 Doyle swallowed. "I reckon I did." Then belligerently, "But that's not
all I said."

 "That's all I heard, sunshine."

 Bodie pulled Ray into his arms and kissed him.

 -- THE END --

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