The Professionals Circuit Archive - Shades of Blue	   Shades of Blue

 

by Rob 

  
 *After "Involvement "*


*Sinking
 caught up in a whirling motion
 such a strange sensation
 the currents uncertain
 like sails of a mill
 I spin
 like wheels I move in a circle
 while you stand on the bank
 immune or evasive
 Throw me a lifeline
 save me...*

Bodie watched as Doyle climbed into his car and drove off. Doyle's
expression worried him; he seemed so distant, so very far away. He cursed
Anne Holly. How could she have done it so coldly, couldn't she see what
she was doing to Ray? 

Looking up at the CI5 building, Bodie saw Cowley watching him from the
window. Bodie turned his back on him and walked to his own car. He'd
follow Ray, make sure he got home safely. The mood he was in now, he was
likely to try wrapping his car around a lamppost. 

Bodie did not catch up with Doyle until the turning before Doyle's street,
and then he watched as Doyle just sat, motionless, behind the steering
wheel. Doyle sat there for five minutes, gripping the wheel tightly, then,
suddenly, the car roared into life and pulled away from the kerb. 

Bodie followed at a discreet distance. He didn't want Doyle to know he was
there, checking up on him. Ray was driving too fast; it was nearly dark
and there was a fine mist of rain settling over London. He knew his
partner was usually an excellent driver, but his state of mind now,
combined with the roads and the weather didn't add up to good news. 

The car was heading towards the East End of London, and he wondered if
Doyle was going home. Driving into the Limehouse area, they turned up a
maze of backstreets, where eventually Doyle's car stopped. At first Bodie
thought Ray must have spotted him, for Doyle just sat there, as he had
outside his house. 

Puzzled, Bodie looked around him; it was like a million other streets,
consisting mainly of rear entrances to the tatty run-down shops, a
builders yard and a slightly more modern entrance to the local
supermarket. 

Doyle stayed in the car for about twenty minutes. During that time several
cars turned into the street, disgorging their occupants who then
disappeared through a heavy, wrought-iron gate at the end of the street. 

As Bodie watched, Doyle got out of his car, following the most recent
arrivals through the gates. So far, he had seen a number of men go through
there, but no one had yet come out. Everyone had been well dressed, as
though for a night on the town. He came to the conclusion it was a
drinking club. Ray was obviously out to get smashed. 

Bodie knew he had a choice; he could drive away now and leave Doyle to get
a cab home - because there was no chance of him emerging sober - or he
could wait, probably for a long time, until Ray was too smashed to notice
or care who was taking him home. Bodie waited. 

It was ten o'clock before he began to suspect that the club was more than
just a drinking club. He'd been there for nearly two hours and while a lot
of men had gone inside, he hadn't seen one woman. Men Only then, he
thought. But when he saw two couples emerge from the club arm-in-arm,
obviously in a hurry to get down to business, he finally realised that the
club was obviously a meeting place for homosexuals. 

What the hell was Ray Doyle doing sitting for two hours in a Gay bar...? 

By eleven o'clock there was a constant flow of men entering and leaving
the club. From his observation post, Bodie watched a couple of men
entering and re-entering the club, emerging with a different partner each
time. He timed them; a round trip, arriving empty handed and leaving with
a punter before returning for the next customer took forty-three minutes.
Business was good. 

It was eleven forty-five by the time Doyle finally emerged. Bodie watched
as he bumped into the heavy gates and sprawled across the pavement,
giggling helplessly. He was smashed all right, he could barely stand up.
Bodie was about to go and rescue him when he realized that someone else
was already there. 

He went cold as Doyle draped an arm around the other man's shoulders. He
hadn't considered the possibility of Ray leaving the club with someone.
Ray wasn't gay. 

So what's he doing drowning his sorrows for a few hours in a gay bar then?
A little voice inside him demanded. 

He watched the linked men walk down the street, and Doyle didn't even look
at his own car as they passed it. When they stopped, Bodie watched in
horror as the other man drew Doyle's head towards his and kissed him full
on the mouth. Doyle didn't pull away, or floor the man as Bodie expected,
*wanted* him to do, instead, he placed his hand on the back of the man's
head, holding him there. 

When they broke apart, the stranger opened the passenger door of the car
they were standing by for Doyle before going round to the driver's seat.
They drove off immediately. 

Bodie followed them. He couldn't believe this. Where was Doyle going? He
had hoped the stranger was driving him home, but realised they were going
the wrong way. The car ended up in the Tower Hotel car park and he watched
as they went in, the stranger propping Doyle against a wall as he went to
collect his room key. He was obviously already registered. Pausing to
collect Doyle, the two men moved to the lift and were swallowed from view
as the doors closed behind them. 

Bodie watched the light stop at the fifth floor, moved to the next lift
and then stopped. Where was he going? What did he think he was going to do
when he got there? Ray wasn't so drunk that he didn't know what he was
doing and Bodie could only guess what his partner's reaction would be to
the fact that Bodie had been following him. 

He went into the bar which gave a clear view of the lobby so that he could
see Doyle when he came out. 

He had reached the end of his second whisky before he began to question
his own motives. He had spent the past five hours following Doyle, sitting
in the cold outside a sleazy-looking club, following him through the
streets to a hotel room. Why? 

Because he cared, he told himself. He knew Ray was hurt, and he didn't
like it. He wanted to make sure he was all right. Then why follow him when
Ray had obviously found someone to comfort him? Because *I* want to
comfort him, that's why. 

Bodie nearly choked on his drink. Where had that thought come from? 

He and Doyle were close. Until Anne Holly had poked her oar in they had
been very close. Anne Holly... Good riddance, thought Bodie savagely. She
wasn't right for Ray, it would never have worked. She'd ruined everything.
Until she'd come along they'd been a good team, best of friends. Life had
been pretty good. Once she'd appeared though, everything had changed. Ray
had really thrown himself into the relationship, and Bodie found himself
wondering who had first brought up the subject of marriage. He was almost
certain it would have been Ray. Anne wasn't the impulsive sort. But why
was Ray so keen? 

Bodie hadn't liked checking up on her, not for *her* feelings, but because
he had known how Doyle was going to react. And he'd been right. Ray had
been furious. But Bodie could remember the thrill he had felt when he had
linked Anne's father to Ray's 'Christmas Man', and he admitted to himself
that he had set out to prove that Anne wasn't worthy of Doyle. No one was
- except him. No one knew Ray like he did. He knew what made him cry and
what made him laugh. There was no one who knew Doyle like he did. *No
one*. 

His train of thought stopped as he saw Doyle appear in the lobby. He'd
sobered up a lot in an hour, thought Bodie as he watched his partner go
out and hail a cab. Finishing his drink, Bodie slowly returned to his own
car. Where to now? Did he really have a choice - how much longer was he
going to pretend that he enjoyed being 'just good friends'? If he didn't
tell Doyle how he felt now, he never would. And maybe next time he
wouldn't be so lucky, maybe next time he wouldn't be able to prevent Ray
from marrying. 

No, there wouldn't be a next time, he decided. 

He drove, without hurrying, to Doyle's flat. He'd make sure that next time
it would be him. Ray was too precious to risk losing him to some stranger.


Parking the car outside Doyle's flat he slowly walked up to the front
door. He just stopped himself from ringing the bell. He had a key, and he
wasn't going to give Ray the chance to push him away this time. Unlocking
the door, Bodie went in and quietly moved towards the bedroom. 

******

*Intimacy and affection
 frozen 
 in this game of chance 
 I forfeit 
 full hand of Love 
 with no counters 
 like a moth 
 with no flame 
 to persuade me 
 like blood in the rain... 
 running thin 
 while you stand on the inside 
 looking in 
 save me *

He shrugged Bodie's hand off his shoulder and walked away, driving
automatically. It wasn't until he was parked outside his flat that he
realised he didn't want to go in. 

Staring up the street, he could still feel where Bodie's hand had touched
his shoulder. How could he tell Bodie that he wasn't really sorry about
Anne, that he'd known it would never work, but that he'd tried. Oh, God,
how he'd tried. 

Now he was alone - again. Now he only had impossible dreams - dreams that
were slowly becoming nightmares. Anne had at least kept the dreams at bay.
He'd have to find another way to keep them away now. 

Doyle twisted the key in the ignition and pushed his foot down. He had to
move - get away, go somewhere where no one would know him, where he could
lose himself. 

He just drove for a while, not knowing or caring where he was going. Then
he began to recognise the streets he'd walked on as a young copper, and
realised he must have been heading for this place subconsciously. He
thought he'd forgotten about it. He parked a little way along from the
entrance and saw a few people going in. The place was still open then... 

It was a respectable, and expensive club. He had known the manager for
years, since he'd helped clear up a little trouble there one night. Most
of the clientele were straight, but it was known as a high-class meet for
Gays and there was rarely any trouble. 

Did he want to go in? What was he going in for? Maybe going in would keep
the dreams away tonight. He could get drunk, he wouldn't care then. If
only he had the courage to speak out, to tell Bodie what he felt. But he
knew that was impossible. 

Just like he'd known Anne was impossible. He'd almost jumped at her, used
her to divert his erring thoughts. And then, Bodie, after seeing them
together, had taunted him about marrying her. He hadn't thought about it
until then - but it was a good idea. 

He hadn't been thinking of Anne, of course; just himself. He knew that if
he didn't commit himself to someone, anyone, he would turn to Bodie - and
he must *never* do that. Bodie was a loner. Love 'em and leave 'em. He
wouldn't mind that, he'd take anything, but Bodie would find the
overpowering love he felt for him stifling, and Doyle knew that Bodie
would eventually push him away - just like everyone did, like Anne just
had. 

Doyle left the car and went inside the club. It was much as he'd
remembered, a nice place, a bit flashy, but nice. Most of the customers
were all right as well. 

The manager remembered Doyle and was surprised but pleased to see him.
Doyle had been an okay copper, had never caused any trouble. Once the
welcome was over, Doyle made it quite plain that all he wanted was to sit
in a corner and get plastered. The manager was happy to oblige an old
friend and issued orders which resulted in Doyle getting a virtually
bottomless glass; he didn't have to order drinks, they just kept arriving.


As the club began to fill up, so did Doyle, leaving his self-imposed
isolation to join in the party atmosphere. He wanted to talk to someone;
he really didn't care who, just so long as he didn't have to be alone. 

He knew he was getting drunk, the walls were beginning to wave about in
front of him and his legs were getting difficult to control, but he wasn't
drunk enough. He could still think, still remember, still feel that awful,
empty void inside. 

Doyle realised that someone was talking to him and struggled to see who.
He met a pair of eyes the same shade of blue as Bodie's and for a
wonderful, terrifying moment he thought it was Bodie. Then he saw the face
behind the eyes and his disappointment must have been obvious. 

"Sorry, mate, for a minute there I thought you were someone else." 

"For a smile like that, I wish I could be whoever it was," came the reply.
It was a warm, friendly voice. 

Doyle tried to imagine it was Bodie, but it didn't work and dejected, he
spoke out loud, 

"No, he'd never come to a place like this. Doesn't suit his image." 

The blue eyes stayed with him for the rest of the evening. Blue Eyes was
talking to him, asking him something. Doyle tried to concentrate. Go to
his room with him? He considered it - why not? He didn't want to go to his
empty flat, didn't want to be alone tonight. Yes, he'd go. 

The fresh air hit him and he realised he was smashed. But why, if his mind
was so clear, wouldn't his legs obey him. Blue Eyes helped him up the
short flight of stairs, but couldn't stop him as he walked into the gate.
Lord knows the gate was big enough. Doyle was sure the wind had moved it
just as he'd gone to walk past. Blue Eyes helped him to his feet, and to
stop falling over again Doyle placed his arm around the broad shoulders as
they walked down the street. For some reason they stopped then. Oh, this
was his car... 

The soft mouth startled Doyle, but the drink had slowed his reactions so
much that Blue Eyes didn't notice. This was what he wanted so badly from
Bodie, just a moment of tenderness, of love. And he wanted it so badly
that Blue Eyes became Bodie - just for a moment. 

Then they broke away from each other and climbed into the car. Doyle
peered out. The Tower Hotel, what the hell were they doing here? He didn't
want any more to drink. A room key - so he's registered here. By the time
they reached the fifth floor, Doyle's befuddled mind had belatedly
realised what he had let himself in for. 

He had a choice. He could leave, and go home to an empty flat and his
lonely dreams, or he could stay. 

And if he stayed - well, it was what he wanted with Bodie, maybe it would
work for someone else. At least Blue Eyes wanted him - no one else did. If
Bodie had been a real friend and really cared, he wouldn't have let
himself be shrugged off like that. 

Blue Eyes was very gentle. He didn't rush things and made love to Doyle
slowly and carefully. Doyle lay on the bed, passive, accepting everything
through a numb haze of alcohol and passion. 

Then Blue Eyes began to ask him to return the touches he had received and
he did so automatically. For a while Blue Eyes *had* aroused him, and he
had responded to the experienced touch, but he knew it wasn't really
Bodie, and that it was Bodie he wanted so very much. With that knowledge
his own arousal died, but Blue Eyes was past caring. He moulded himself
against Doyle's body, pressing and pushing until he gasped out his
release, coming in hot spurts across Doyle's belly. 

Doyle did not move, but lay in the semi-darkness until Blue Eyes had
fallen asleep. Then he slipped out of bed and after wiping himself on the
corner of the bedspread, dressed himself. 

He walked out of the room without looking at the sleeping man. Now it was
worse than ever. Now he knew he could respond to a man's touch, but knew
also that the only man he wanted was Bodie, and Bodie was unobtainable. 

He hailed a cab and went home, wanting to shower, to rid himself of the
smell of sex and another man's scent. He felt dirty. He didn't even know
Blue Eye's name. How could Bodie ever want him now that he'd sunk to
picking up strangers in bars? 

As soon as he closed his front door he began pulling his dirty clothes
off. He wanted to burn them; they were as filthy as he was. In the
bathroom, he stood under the shower soaping his body, trying to remove all
traces of the stranger he had shared a bed with. But over the steam and
the soap, Doyle could still smell the scent of sex and he scrubbed harder;
the scent wouldn't go away. 

Tears began to run down his face. It was no good, the scent would always
be there. No one would ever want him. Bodie would never want him; first
Anne, now this. 

For the first time in his adult life, Ray Doyle sobbed, great body-racking
sobs that he couldn't have stopped if he had wanted to. Leaning against
the shower wall he gave himself up to his desperate grief. 

He heard the shower curtain being drawn back and felt powerful arms grasp
his shoulders and for a moment, he thought Blue Eyes had followed him
home. It was Bodie. 

His whole body racked with tearing sobs, Doyle buried his head in Bodie's
shoulder, his grip so tight that Bodie had trouble freeing his arms to
return the crushing embrace. Ray hadn't questioned his presence, or asked
what he was doing here, he'd just accepted it as a fact. Bodie had come to
him. 

"Why can't I make people love me, Bodie, why?" 

The voice was so small, so vulnerable and so terribly hurt. It was a side
of Ray Doyle that Bodie had never seen before and he never wanted to
again. 

"I love you, sunshine. I love you." He felt his eyes prickling and a lump
settled in his throat, threatening to choke him. Bodie could just see the
picture they must be presenting. Two grown men, CI5 Agents, one standing,
naked, the other fully dressed, in a shower, clinging to each other,
crying their eyes out. But he didn't care, just held Ray closer, tighter. 

"It's just a word, people always say it, but no one ever means it. I've
loved people, but they always push me away. What's wrong with me, Bodie, I
try so hard. Why do I always love people who can't love me? Why do I love
you so much?" 

Bodie just held him tighter, but Doyle was lost in his drunken misery.
Anne's rejection had been the last straw. He was still crying softly, his
body heaving as he took gulps of air. "How can I make you love me, Bodie?"


The first time Ray had said it Bodie thought he must have misunderstood
him, that he was hearing what he wanted to hear; now he knew he had heard
him properly the first time. How long had Ray known he loved him; he had
only realised his own feelings tonight? 

"You can't make me do anything, Ray. It's too late, you see - I already
love you." 

Bodie pulled them both out of the spraying water, wet through himself.
Doyle had stopped crying but was clinging desperately to Bodie's wet
shirt. He remained still as Bodie turned the water off and draped a big
bath towel around his shoulders. He didn't say anything as he was pushed
gently through into the bedroom, and just stood watching numbly as Bodie
stripped off his own wet clothes. Gradually he began to acknowledge
Bodie's presence. 

"Bodie?" 

Having dried himself off, Bodie started to pat Doyle dry. 

"How did you get in?" 

"I used my key - and don't you think you can change to subject now, mate.
You were saying something about 'love'." 

The green eyes looked confused and frightened. As Bodie felt the muscles
under his hands tense he was reminded of a cat he had once caught in the
glare of his car headlights and he knew that if he looked away, when he
looked back Ray would have gone, bolting away to safety. 

He held the tense body, frightened of what Doyle would do if he let him
go. He had never heard a man cry the way Ray had been doing when he'd come
in to the bathroom. It was clear that in his present state Doyle was close
to going over the edge, how long he had been teetering on the brink Bodie
could only guess. 

He pulled Ray towards the bed and gently pushed him down onto it, but
Doyle wouldn't let him go and Bodie had to follow him down. Almost
immediately Ray snuggled up to him, his eyes closing. He was still
hiccuping slightly and his breath was still ragged, but as sleep claimed
him, so did a kind of temporary peace. Bodie wrapped his arms around him.
In the morning they would talk it over, he thought, but the important
facts had been voiced; he loved Ray, and Ray loved him. 

As he drifted off to sleep, Bodie sent a mental vote of thanks to Anne
Holly. If it hadn't been for her, he would never have admitted his
feelings for Ray. 

"Thanks, Anne, I owe you one," he murmured. 

Cuddled up together, the two men slept peacefully. Morning would come soon
enough. 

*Inside looking in 
 complete in yourself 
 throw me a lifeline 
 save me... 
 Stand on the bank 
 immune or evasive 
 throw me a lifeline 
 save me... *
 -'Save Me' by Joan Armatrading 

-- THE END --

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