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April 4.
Sunday, 7.00 am

Comfort.

Warmth.

Discomfort.

Warmth.

Turn and roll over again. Pull the covers up. Get the pillow just right. Now, back to sleep, back to dreaming soft and warm, comfortable, regain the image, the softness and warmth, floating in between worlds of glowing clouds where the warmth is a person, his hair soft like glowing clouds, his eyes emerald, his body wanting and with him, warmth inside those eyes, inside that soul, drift where he is, where his warmth is, be there, stay there, love.

Bodie opened his eyes with some degree of irritation. His bladder needed emptying again and once more the physical had overridden his dreams. Now he'd never get them back. Already they were receding and by the time he got back to bed, he'd have forgotten all about them and have to start again.

With an aggrieved sigh, he pushed the duvet back and climbed out of bed. Almost instantly, his shoulder sent a warning shot down his back -- and he remembered again that he had to be careful. He pulled on a robe and stumbled into the bathroom, trying to keep his eyes closed just a little bit longer. But it was no good; peeing always made him wake up. By the time he was washing his hands, he was alert enough to see his face properly in the bathroom mirror.

The sight made him come to a complete stop.

Slowly, gingerly, he reached up and felt four -- perhaps five day's growth on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and as though feeling left out, his stomach chose that moment to let out a huge growl of protest.

But -- how long had he been asleep?

Wait a minute--

He turned quickly and dashed back into the bedroom, cursing as he went, suppressing panic -- but there was no sign of Doyle. Nor in the lounge or kitchen. The whole flat appeared notably empty. He came to a halt in the middle of the lounge -- and that's when he saw the note on the table. An envelope, his name on the front. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands. The back was glued down but it was obviously from Doyle. Who else would seal an envelope but somebody who had things to say not to be viewed by the casual beholder.

Bodie dropped the envelope unopened and set about making some breakfast. With surprise, he found fresh bread, milk, cheese and eggs in the otherwise empty fridge.

Maybe that's what the note was for: a bill for the groceries.

Bodie ate. Then he showered. By the time he was dressed and shaved, he was hungry again and he ate again. Only then did he turn on the telly for the breakfast news -- and discovered that he'd been sleeping almost two days.

He sank back into the sofa, sipping fresh tea, watching something about a famine in Africa. More poor bloody kids dying because the boys in charge didn't give a rat's arse about them. Even now, after all these years, it was the kids he remembered most about Angola. Playing football with them, chasing them off when he was reading and they felt like mucking about, having them help him carry firewood back to the camp. They were always so terribly trusting, and he'd both loved and despised them for it -- because he knew they would be betrayed in the end, that the soldiers who'd come to help them fight their war would one day leave them to it because there was no longer enough money to pay them.

And that's exactly what had happened. They'd been left to fight their own war. Even now, so long after, Angola struggled to survive each day -- and those children would never trust anybody again, they would teach others that trust was a fool's game only the weak played. Trust revealed a vulnerability designed only to be taken advantage of. And he'd helped them to that understanding, knowing all the while exactly what he was doing.

What kind of cynic did that make him?

He got up, collected his dishes and took them back into the kitchen. When he picked up his mug from the table again, he noticed the envelope still lying there. For long moments he stared at it, wondering if it would go away all on its own. Then he sat by the phone, picked up the handset and dialled, the envelope in front of him.

"Yeah, it's Bodie. Is Cowley there?"

"What time do you expect him out?"

"And after that?"

"Sure -- if you speak to him. Tell him I want to see him. Thanks."

He replaced the phone, his gaze still on the envelope. Nope, it wasn't going anywhere. Not unless he helped it along.

He stood and sauntered into the bedroom to pick up his old bike jacket and helmet, collected his keys and went out.

The envelope remained on the table.

***

April 4.
Sunday, 1.10 pm

He waited in Regent's park where newly returned birds squawked in the budding trees overhead while blustery clouds tumbled over the sky like great white bowling balls across the heavens. What sun there was peaked out for whole minutes at a time, reminding him of how long it had been since any had touched the earth. In all his life, he couldn't remember a longer or worse winter.

He'd managed to get his bike back and luckily the damage was more cosmetic than anything else. Murphy had arranged for it to be picked up and repaired enough to run, good bloke that he was. Now it sat by the footpath, scraped red paint displaying scars to the whole world -- if the whole world cared enough to look.

Of course, it was a foregone conclusion one George Cowley would look.

Bodie sighted him the moment he came through the door opposite. Cowley paused on the Defence Building steps, frowned at the park in general, Bodie in particular, then waved a pause at his waiting driver.

Bodie stayed where he was, on relatively neutral territory. He waited patiently as Cowley crossed the road and crunched over the gravel footpath to where Bodie leaned against a grey-barked tree. For long seconds, Cowley looked him up and down, his hands holding his slim leather case in front of him. On another person, that gesture would have been interpreted as a sign of defence, of insecurity.

Bodie wasn't that thick.

Then Cowley's gaze rose to meet his, sharp grey pinning him to the spot -- and to silence. After another minute, the Old Man nodded slowly and spoke. "It's Doyle, isn't it?"

Only allowing the faintest ironic smile to shift across his face, Bodie nodded.

Cowley glanced away, seeming to watch some tourists taking photos of the park.

"How did you know?" Bodie murmured into the silence.

"Who else could do this to you?"

"Doyle's done nothing..."

"Och, don't get all defensive on me, laddie," Cowley cut him short. "You know damned well what I mean."

"Yes, sir." Bodie kept his response quiet.

"And I take it his answer is no?"

"I haven't asked. I'm not sure I can."

Cowley's gaze snapped back, "Well you'd better if you want to see the inside of CI5 again. Or are you going to walk away again, solve everything by decamping to another life where things aren't so complicated?"

Bodie didn't answer that. Instead, he dropped his gaze, hoping Cowley wouldn't press further -- at least, not yet.

Cowley stepped closer, his voice harsh in the strange quiet. "I tell you something, Bodie; a man can only give his full loyalty to a handful of people in his lifetime -- but the first and always the most important, is to himself. If you can't do that, I don't want you back."

"No, sir." Bodie looked up, unable to deny that gaze or the justified anger behind it. In that moment, he would have done almost anything to take the whole damned mess back, just to remove that look of disappointment from Cowley's face. The force of his reaction momentarily took him by surprise.

"And you do want back in?" Cowley grunted.

"I dunno. It depends."

"On Doyle?"

"Yes."

"No it doesn't!" Cowley snapped. With a rough gesture, he ordered his car brought up. Then he turned one of his best glares on Bodie. "You have one week, Bodie. One week until Doyle is certified fit for duty. If you have not resolved this by then -- one way or the other -- your position in my organisation will be terminated and I will entertain no discussion on the matter. I don't have time for this, laddie -- as you well know. If you weren't so damned expensive to replace, I'd have tossed you out on your ear weeks ago!"

"Yes, sir," Bodie nodded. "I'm sorry, sir."

Cowley's eyes blazed anger but there was just the smallest twitch of a smile at the corners of his mouth. He nodded and turned for his car, pausing with the door open to reaffirm his determination at Bodie. "I never expected this to happen to you, Bodie -- but that was my misjudgment, not yours. One week."

"Yes, sir." Bodie replied though Cowley wouldn't have heard it over the roar of his car as it pulled away. He had to smile; it took years to understand the oblique manner of Cowley's speech, longer to comprehend the myriad of meanings behind it. No, it didn't surprise him that Cowley had guessed what had been going on, nor did it surprise him that Cowley didn't appear to care one way or the other that one of his men had briefly and unsuccessfully pursued a relationship with another man. What surprised him was that Cowley had spoken to him at all, that he seemed prepared to take Bodie back into the squad. Even wanted him there, regardless of Doyle's response.

Of course, they wouldn't be working together any more but that was impossible anyway, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

Would he ever be able to stand alongside Ray, day after day and not think about what had happened between them, what could never happen between them? Was it possible for them to sit in a car, for hours on end without Bodie rememebering what it had felt like to hold the man in his arms, to taste his kisses, to feel his body respond to Bodie's touch?

Would he ever be able to forget how it felt when those eyes looked at him, deep and green and so much everything Bodie had ever dreamt of -- without wishing, even for a moment that he could somehow have it?

Most importantly, would thoughts like that impose themselves when least needed, exposing them to danger simply because Bodie didn't have that kind of discipline?

Bodie wandered over to his bike and sat astride it, taking the helmet off the handlebar and placing it on the seat between his thighs. Then he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the photo, resting it on top of the helmet.

Crisp mountain air and a Ray Doyle about to change his life forever. But that hadn't been the point where his life had changed. There'd been the choice to go skiing, the choice to go north, the choice to run out on Bodie, the choice be with Bodie in the first place, the choice not to reject -- and so on and so forth, backwards in time. There was never one single moment, never a solitary earth-shattering second where the paths of time met and diverged, where one choice meant joy, the other despair. It was all part of the same weave, the same path and all the choices he'd ever made in his life had brought him to this moment, sitting on his bike, staring at a photo of Ray Doyle.

A man who smiled without involving his eyes.

If Bodie asked, Doyle would say no. He knew that as surely as he knew he was sitting there. He would say no because he would not trust anything Bodie could say. Because Bodie couldn't tell him the truth, couldn't give him anything. Because, after all this, whatever he'd felt for Bodie, would have turned to hatred by now. The existence of that note said as much. Doyle would say no -- so did Bodie really want to ask him? Had Cowley given him a choice?

Yes, he had. Ask and get an answer -- or leave CI5; not blackmail -- but a pair of diverging paths. Cowley simply wanted the matter resolved. Bodie's decision would alter his life forever, but it wouldn't be taken in isolation. It would simply be one of many.

And how many times in his life had he made this decision? Whether to stay or leave? Whether to take a risk?

Most of his working life had involved mortal risk. Even daily life in Africa had been survived largely by chance -- the environment made it so. But those were calculated risks, things he could measure against his own skill, his own determination, his own ability and instinct for survival.

Which was why every part of him told him to leave now.

Now, while he was lucid, awake and aware. While Doyle was nowhere near him, confusing and distracting him.

But what was the risk? If he left, it would hurt. Not just leaving Doyle -- but CI5, Cowley. Murphy, Kathy and everyone else. Hurt meant he'd become attached to them -- but he'd known that for a long time. So, leaving them would hurt. It would take him a long time to forget.

But he would, eventually. Probably. Maybe not Doyle, but everyone else. Probably.

And what would he risk in staying?

If by some miracle, Doyle didn't kick him out, if Doyle still wanted him -- assuming he did in the first place -- what would Bodie risk losing?

His heart?

His sanity?

His freedom?

He'd been right all along; love hurt too much. And he'd fallen hard for Doyle. Harder than he'd thought possible.

He would have to give something this time that he'd never risked giving anyone else in his entire life. The small parts he had given away before had been destroyed. Losing Doyle on that mountain had been... But did he dare try it again? Already knowing the risk of failure? Already aware that if he did fail, there would be nothing of him left to run away with?

Doyle stared up at him from the photo but now he saw more of that gaze than he'd noticed before. A typical Doyle gaze, the one that saw straight through brick walls and scared the daylights out of strangers because it struck straight through the mess of irrelevancy and right into the soul.

No, Bodie knew nothing about love. Nothing that really gave him a clue as to what choice he should make -- especially when that choice had such an effect on so many people he hadn't realized he'd cared so much about.

He didn't understand love at all and after all of this, perhaps he was really just too old to learn. Too old, too cynical, too afraid. Loyalty to himself, first, Cowley had said.

Only a fool expects promises and guarantees. Then again, wasn't it only fools who fell in love?

And there was no getting away from the fact that he was in love with Doyle. Completely, hopelessly and permanently.

Very well then; no promises, no guarantees.

And no more questions.

***

April 8.
Thursday, 4 pm

Doyle put his hands beneath the end of the long sofa and lifted. Grunting, he inched it off the floor and shifted it to one side. With another grunt he straightened up, bending the kinks out of his back. He picked up the vacuum and proceeded to clean the dust and rubbish that had collected over the last year. He worked, whistling to the music he couldn't now hear on the radio. It was a kind of game he played, listening until the music was drowned out by the vacuum, whistling -- and then seeing if he was still in tune and in time when he turned the machine off. An idle game but it kept his mind occupied while he worked.

He was officially on rest days now. There was just the damned dinner tonight, then tomorrow he was planning to go down to Somerset where Kathy and Murph had invited him to stay for the weekend. The cottage was almost on the cliffs and it would be an opportunity for him to clear his head, to do a spot of drawing and generally do all he could to forget.

And he needed to. The shadow of Bodie hung around him all day now, every day. Whereas before he had some degree of control over how he felt, now he had little. It seemed that in giving Bodie his freedom, Doyle had consigned himself to hell. His fitness test was scheduled for Monday but he had no doubts that he would pass it; Macklin had said as much. Kate Ross, of course, had said much less -- but even there he knew there wouldn't be a problem. The only nightmares he had now had nothing to do with spending 3 weeks stuck in the snow -- and he didn't tell her about those.

No, his life was about to return to normal and that was always the kind of thing to put a man's mind to rest, give him something to whistle about -- if not to -- and if there hadn't been any rumours to worry about, he could almost believe he was content on the surface. Almost. Happy was not something he even thought about any more.

But there were rumours and since he couldn't do anything to confirm them one way or the other, spring cleaning was the only option left to him -- much as he hated it and it was really too early anyway. Still, it was a good day to be doing it -- unusually warm for April, a bit breezy but quite a bit of sunshine there to be had. He had opened most of the windows to air the place out, his curtains were down at the laundry, cushion covers with them. He did the works; who knew when he'd next get the opportunity? Of course, going by his usual luck, the Old Man would probably choose next week for Doyle's next rotation of flat shifting. Cowley always maintained that the best way to avoid forming habits was to do everything according to whim. His whim. So, whenever he felt it was time one of his agents should move -- they did. Doyle had been in this flat since he got shot in the last one. Probably was about due for a move -- especially if Cowley found something he didn't like in Doyle's return to work, like his decision to work without a partner -- no matter the rumours.

When had he first heard them? Monday? Tuesday? At the pub. He'd met a few of the boys for a drink after training and somewhere in there, in the background was the suggestion. Sure, nobody actually said anything to his face -- they weren't that silly -- and so Doyle had been unable to do anything, himself. He'd just had to sit there, pretending nothing was wrong. But the following night, the same thing had happened and the rumours persisted.

Bodie was coming back.

That's what they said. Been seen training with Towser, on the firing range, given back his ID and weapon, the silver Capri was no longer in the car pool looking for a new owner.

Doyle knew that last to be untrue -- he'd checked it out himself. Bodie's old car was still sitting where he'd last left it over a month ago.

And nobody had actually seen him at Central -- though Cowley's driver had hinted he'd seen the Old Man talking to Bodie and Cowley hadn't shot him on sight. In many respects, the rumours were supported by the long-held view that Cowley had some kind of soft-spot for Bodie.

Fortunately, the same was not being said of Doyle.

It threw all his plans into chaos. How was he going to go back to work if Bodie was there? How was he going to handle it if they ever had to work together again? It was one thing to behave in a professional manner, to put personal feelings behind him for the sake of the job -- but this was not just any small problem that could be glossed over long-term. Hell, it was already eating away at him and he didn't even know if the rumours were true! And how would Bodie react, having read Doyle's letter? Would he understand? Agree? Hate him?

At least it seemed he was well again now. Cowley wouldn't have let him anywhere near the squad if he hadn't been. The training with Towser was just as likely to be Cowley's revenge than anything else.

But could the rumours be true? Had Bodie decided not to leave after all? It seemed impossible.

Doyle finished vacuuming and got himself a beer, drank half of it then emptied the vac into the rubbish bag. He tied the bag up and headed outside to dump it in the big bin. He was down stairs and on the pavement when he heard the noise. Unmistakable noise. He'd heard it enough times over the last year -- he'd never forget it. It sent his insides tumbling down a precipitous slope.

Bodie's bike.

Roaring up the street. Doyle stopped, dropping the rubbish bag without thinking. It was Bodie alright. In full black bike leathers, new helmet on his head, huge gauntlets on his hands. He slowed as he passed Doyle, roared on down to the end of the street, did a U-turn and came back, coming to a bone-breaking halt two feet away from Doyle.

He couldn't move. Astonishment and something bordering on a sense of vague unreality hindered any reaction he might otherwise have gathered. He just stood there and stared at Bodie as he pushed the visor of his helmet up. Bright blue eyes gazed at him, eyes so beautiful Doyle couldn't look away from them.

"Mornin', sunshine," Bodie yelled over the noise of the motorcycle, "don't get all worried. I just came by to give you this." He fished into his left gauntlet and extracted a sheet of paper -- no, an envelope.

His envelope. The letter he'd written -- unopened!

Bodie reached out, grabbed one of Doyle's hands and slapped the envelope into it. "I've never stooped so low as to leave somebody a note on the pillow. I expected better of you, Doyle. Don't ever do that to me again."

Then he was revving the bike again, glancing over his shoulder for traffic -- and suddenly the air was filled with deafening noise and the thick stench of fumes as Bodie made his mark on the otherwise quiet residential street. He was gone from sight within seconds.

It was easily a full minute before Doyle shook himself and tore his gaze away from the now-empty street. Absently, he picked up his bag of rubbish and dropped it into the bin. He turned and made for the stairs back inside -- but as he put his hand to the railing, he noticed the envelope.

Bodie hadn't read it; so Bodie didn't know. And if he didn't know, how could he just decide he was coming back and why hadn't he read it and god how was he going to face work next week and...

Don't ever do that to me again...

Bodie's words intruded on his thoughts in the way the bike had intruded on the peace of the street, on that of his mind.

Don't ever do that to me again...

What did that mean? What damned game was Bodie playing at now?

Doyle crumpled the letter in his hand and went back inside. He didn't have time to worry about it now. It was almost 5 and Murphy was picking him up in little more than an hour. He had to shower, shave, tame his unruly hair -- then climb into the tuxedo and be brushed and scrubbed by the time his lift arrived.

Damned bloody ceremony! If it wasn't for that, he had a good mind to go around and sort Bodie out once and for all, some kind of solution that would involve kicking, screaming and perhaps even a black eye for good measure.

But the Chief Constable of East Scotland wanted to give him a medal -- and the minister had chosen the night for it, deliberately combining it with the Home Secretary's introductory bash. This new HS wasn't too dazzled by CI5 and Cowley had impressed upon Doyle, Murphy and the three other agents attending, that they were duty bound to do all they could to change the man's mind. Future funding -- their pay -- depended on it. That Doyle was about to receive a bravery award between main course and desert only did them all a favour.

So Doyle headed off to the shower, forgetting all about Bodie...

Well, he tried. Hard. He tried very hard, indeed.

And failed miserably.

***

April 8.
Thursday, 6.45 pm

The hum of conversation filled the glittering room along with the chink of cocktail glasses. The gathering was relatively small; the cabinet, Prime Minister, heads of both MI5 and MI6, Special Branch -- and of course, CI5. Along with them a further fifty or so people, making movement through the room a little awkward.

Cowley had already arrived, in his usual debonair dark suit, playing the courtier to the Home Secretary and their own Minister. Doyle watched them from the other side of the room. His trained eye noting how Cowley smiled at all the right times, how his gaze met the Minister's every now and then, to share an unspoken thought, how the HS didn't notice.

Doyle stuck to one side of the room, less uncomfortable in these surroundings than Murphy. He kept tugging at the collar of his shirt and sipping his champagne a little too quickly.

"Relax," Doyle murmured with a smile. "Somebody might think you don't belong here."

"I don't."

"You do to the eyes of the security men in the room. I doubt the Old Man would appreciate it too much if you ended up getting accosted by somebody from Special and asked to show you credentials. Don't worry. It won't be long before they troop us in to dinner."

Murphy raised his eyebrows and made a visible attempt to relax. However, he still managed to drain his glass and collect another from a passing waiter. "All I can say is, it's a good job they're giving you this damned award."

"Why?"

"Gives me an excuse to be here. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Doyle frowned and turned his gaze on the taller man. Murphy's expression was as shuttered as usual, giving rise to a glimmer of discomfort in Doyle. "But it's just a damned stupid gesture. It's not like I really did anything."

Again Murphy's eyebrows rose and he surveyed Doyle like one would peruse the stocks and shares pages of the Financial Times. "I wasn't there, so I can't really say -- but I did go up there to investigate your supposed death -- and I saw the conditions you were operating in. Now you and I both know the real ins and outs of bravery -- but I have to say, what you did still deserves a medal in my book."

"But why?"

Murphy shrugged, "You didn't give up. You didn't just leave Russell for dead. You got back alive -- and brought him with you. Sounds simple I know, but to men like this, courage is simple. They want to think it is. They want to believe that there are courageous people out there -- and they want to reward it when they see it. Personally," Murphy added, with a typical twinkling smile, "I think you've got a lot of courage -- but don't tell anybody I said it."

Doyle couldn't respond to that and after a moment, he looked away to find Cowley signalling him over to meet the HS. Like an obedient child, he did as he was told, shaking the man's hand, murmuring the right words in all the right places, shrugging off his nominated actions, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that reminded him he'd done things that would rate as far braver in his normal run of the mill day at work. Unfortunately, he couldn't say anything about that to the HS -- nor could he tell the man that he knew somebody far braver than himself and that sometimes courage crossed the line of physical risk and battered at the doors of the soul itself. Any man who could weather that storm deserved a medal much more than Doyle did.

Ironic that he was being given a medal for courage for getting out of a situation brought about by his own cowardice.

That would wipe the smiles off their faces -- if he told them all the truth. The thought almost made him grin as he turned away, dismissed for the moment. His face froze however, as he left them and noticed somebody standing on the other side of the room.

Bodie stood alone, a glass of what looked like water in his hand. His formal tuxedo, bristling black, complimented the shade of his neatly cropped hair. His bearing was one of pride, broad shoulders back, stance tall and graceful. Elegance personified. So damned good-looking he drew the glances of more than a few women in the room. So damned gorgeous -- but what the hell was he doing here?

The normal shift of people between them hid Bodie for a moment and, suddenly terrified, Doyle took the opportunity to move away, find another spot in the room where he wouldn't have to look at him, or worse still, talk to him. He found a corner where a Grecian urn filled with a spray of flowers could hide him until the call into dinner. With any luck, Bodie might not have seen him, might not find him until it was too late. His heart pounded in his chest and his fingers grew cold and damp. He finished his drink and quickly replaced it with another, downing half that before he could stop himself.

He was being foolish, he knew. He'd only seen Bodie that afternoon -- why should he be reacting like this? Now?

What was Bodie doing here?

"One of these days," a low melodious voice behind him murmured, "I'm going to find a way to stop you running from me."

Doyle started, swallowed hard -- but couldn't stop himself from turning. Bodie stood about three feet away from him, beyond him the rest of the room spread out, oblivious to the sudden tension between them. Doyle finished his drink before he could bring himself to meet Bodie's gaze.

Electric blue zapped through him hard. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. Carefully casual, Bodie lifted another glass from a passing waiter and handed it to him, disposing of the dead one. Doyle took a heavy mouthful, his eyes unable to look away from Bodie now.

The dark eyebrows were raised slightly, but the expression on his face was anything but mocking. His gaze burned into Doyle, flaying him alive, peeling back every layer he'd rebuilt over the last few days, every rationalisation that promised he could live, eat and breathe without this man in his life -- and even those frail ones which promised he could survive working in the same organisation.

It was hopeless -- just as he'd suspected it would be. The only way either of them would survive to old age was if they parted and never saw each other again...

"You look beautiful enough to kiss," Bodie murmured, unconcerned by the people milling behind him.

Doyle's heart did a massive thump and returned to its now-normal hammering.

"But then you always did, even in your faded jeans and old t-shirts." Bodie's expression gave absolutely nothing away, displaying nothing, hinting nothing. Totally inscrutable. "Though tonight, in that getup, you look particularly appealing. Don't know how anybody could keep their hands off you."

Vaguely, Doyle noticed the tenor of the murmuring voices had changed. People were moving into the dining room. He tore his gaze away from Bodie for a moment, desperation driving his strangled voice, "What do you want?"

Bodie's gaze shifted slightly, raking over Doyle from head to foot, drinking in everything he saw, openly hungry. "I want to take you to bed."

Doyle's stomach did a flip, a not entirely unpleasant sensation -- then was abruptly filled with butterflies. But fortune smiled upon him, preventing him from having to find a reply. At that moment, the announcement was made and he took his chance. He darted past Bodie and headed for the door to the dining room, finishing his drink on the way.

Pressed in on all sides by people in suits and evening gowns, Doyle lost sight of Bodie. He entered the dining room and found Murphy already seated. Name cards dotted the round table and he sat in his place, heart slowing a little as he determined to settle himself. Murphy, the bastard, said nothing at all -- though he obviously knew the source of Doyle's nervousness.

The escape didn't last long. A minute of peace -- and then Bodie was at his side, pulling a chair out from the table beside him. Belatedly, Doyle noticed a name tag for him right there, beside his.

This just wasn't fair!

Bodie greeted his fellow agents warmly. The six of them had the table to themselves and the others looked determined to make the most of this luxury. Normally, Doyle would have joined them in making a real night of it. Now, all he could think of was how long it would take to get to the presentation bit and how quickly and cleanly he could get away afterwards.

Bodie sat, his left thigh colliding with Doyle's. He tried not to flinch -- but then Bodie moved, reaching for the jug of water. He poured, offered it to the others, then sat back again -- this time, bringing his thigh right up hard against Doyle's.

He could feel the warmth through two layers of cloth, searing his flesh, sending unwelcome signals to other parts of his body. Even as his mind cried out with anguish, his body remembered the touch of Bodie against him, welcome, heated, wanting and desired.

He was being given an award for bravery -- when the man sitting beside him scared the hell out of him--

Because he knew that if Bodie made a move towards him, he would never be able to resist, never find the strength inside to reject the chance to make love to Bodie one more time, to feel at least the illusion of intimacy, of love. He wanted it too badly, wanted Bodie too much. Loved him too much.

Did Bodie know? Did he have any idea the effect he was having on Doyle?

Bodie continued conversation with the others, his voice giving nothing away. He was his usual charming self, catching up with the others on current jobs, past glories. Doyle couldn't listen. He was too busy counting the minutes, concentrating on how to get out of the building without having to be alone with Bodie, all too aware of that touch against his leg.

The first course of the meal arrived and Bodie tucked into his, while Doyle picked at a lettuce leaf. Till now, always his greatest ally, his body was now betraying him. Every muscle, every sinew strained taught against the presence beside him. Every part of his soul longed for what Bodie offered -- even as his mind shrieked warning.

It would be just like before. Just like the last time and the aborted time before that. Hadn't Bodie learned that just going to bed together was the biggest mistake they could possibly make? Hadn't they made it twice already?

Hadn't Doyle learned?

So why did he want it so much? Why did he still want Bodie so much?

The plates before him changed as more inedible food was brought around. Doyle kept to the alcohol but after the first glass of wine, Bodie glanced at him, boring into him again with those eyes so full of heady suggestion, of lingering desire, smouldering just below the surface.

"You'd better be careful with that. Don't want you to be incapable when the time comes."

Doyle started, nearly spilling his wine.

Bodie smiled slightly, knowing Doyle read the suggestion, "You know -- when they call you up to give you your award."

Doyle couldn't stand it any more. "Why are you here?"

"I told you," Bodie murmured softly so nobody else could hear, his gaze steady, drawing Doyle in, revealing open desire. "I want you in my bed tonight." Then Bodie shrugged, hiding again, his voice returning to normal, "Besides, we were the best team on the block. How would it look if I wasn't here to applaud your courage along with half of Whitehall? You know me, if there's any glory going around, I want to be basking in it. Later, over port and cigars, I'll tell them all how I taught you everything you know."

"Don't believe a word of it, Doyle," Anson said around mouthfuls of roast beef. "He's here for the food, nothing else."

"Exactly," Bodie added, his gaze once more, only for Doyle. "Good enough to eat."

Doyle felt a flush growing up from his collar and he tore his gaze away, pinning it to his plate. But he couldn't do anything about the rush of warmth at his groin, nor the shift of Bodie's leg against his, increasing the area touched

Unwanted images sprang into his mind, of Bodie wrapped around him, naked, hot and hard. Of Bodie's hands on him, his mouth. The promise of exotic pleasures he'd only dreamed about. He swatted at them, but they wouldn't shift.

"Ray?"

He looked up. A hand moved in front of him, taking his untouched food away.

"What?"

"It's time. The Minister has introduced the Chief Constable. Do you want me to straighten your tie?"

Doyle met Bodie's gaze again but this time he saw something different there and the brief touch reached his heart, melting him. Wordlessly, he nodded and his reward was a smile so small, anybody else would have missed it. Then Bodie was fixing his tie and Doyle was coming to his feet amid a hale of applause as his name was spoken.

How he reached the small podium, he didn't know. But then things moved quickly. The Chief, a man his own height with a firm handshake and steady all-seeing eyes, handed him a small plaque and stepped back, offering him the microphone. For a second, Doyle was tempted to turn it down and make a hasty retreat -- but then, something stronger came over him and he stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"Prime Minister, Cabinet Members, my lords, ladies and gentlemen," he began, just as Cowley had trained him. "That it is an honour to receive this award, almost goes without saying -- but so much goes without saying these days, we miss out on too much. I do appreciate this award but I feel it leaves so much unsaid -- of the Search and Rescue teams who scoured the mountain looking for those of us still missing, risking their own lives to save ours," he paused as applause filled the room. When it silenced, he continued, "of those men and women who work each day risking their lives to keep our society safe from crime, who display each day a courage I couldn't begin to emulate." More applause. He paused, listening, his gaze going inexorably to Bodie. "I wouldn't honestly recommend spending three weeks on a snowbound mountainside to anyone as an object lesson -- but in that time I learned more about courage than I thought possible. I wasn't brave; I was just trying to survive, to get Russell to safety. I didn't think about it in terms of fear and courage. I wasn't afraid of the mountain -- but it taught me," he paused again, swallowing, suddenly realizing how hard it was to say this to a room full of people. "It taught me that courage was feeling the fear -- but going on anyway. My thanks go to the Chief Constable and to the people of the mountains, without whom many more would die from the cold each year."

He stepped back from the microphone to resounding applause -- and a standing ovation. The Chief shook his hand again, Cowley came forward, shook his hand and said something he didn't hear -- and then he was walking back to his table, shaking inside. As he regained his seat, another speech began and desert was being served. Anson, Murphy and all the others shook his hand, slapped his back and generally made a rather silly fuss of him until he could get free of them and sink back into his seat. He reached for his drink -- and found it handed to him.

The brush of Bodie's fingers over his set him alight all over again and he looked up, knowing his desire shone in his eyes. Bodie read it and smiled, sensuous, lingering and driven. "I'm proud of you, sunshine. Sip only. Then coffee I think."

Doyle nodded, all will emptied out of him in that one second. He would be Bodie's tonight -- and they both knew it.

Bodie watched the speaches, the award, the applause, the crowd, the waiters moving around the room, but none of it had any impact on him at all. For long moments, moments that had him drifting in time, standing apart and isolated, it seemed as if everything else in the room faded to dim grey shadows, leaving him alone with Ray.

Every small shift in the man's expression, every tiny change in his voice wound Bodie tighter until he knew that if he didn't do something soon, he would explode. But this tension had none of the old confusion to it. No. None of it. This, what he was feeling here, amid so many strangers, was nothing more than pristine and absolute clarity. Ray was his treasure, his prize, his goal.

Dressed in his sharp suit, hair clean and shining, Doyle needed no bravery award to turn heads in this place. But Bodie couldn't have cared less. His every breath, every thought was concentrated on the man beside him. Never before had he felt so alive, so wired up, so perfectly in tune with his partner.

Oh, yes, he saw the fear in Ray's eyes -- but he also saw the desire, the need. Alongside it all was the courage. Bodie only hoped there would be enough for both of them to get through this. God knew he had none of his own left.

So he breathed the same air as Doyle, watched him, watched over him and counted the minutes until they could be alone, without these shadows surrounding them.

Doyle had hoped that once he'd got his award, he might be able to slip away without anyone noticing -- especially not Bodie. A silly hope perhaps, but of course, things were never going to be that easy. As soon as the speeches were over, Cowley collared him, taking him on the political rounds, introducing him here and there. More handshaking, more nodding and smiling and saying all the right things. He downed one cup of coffee after another, supplied by a Bodie who kept appearing at his left elbow, somewhat like the devil but infinitely more attractive. After an hour, he began to get hungry and strangely enough, Bodie handed him a fresh buttered bread roll. Another followed and still the rounds of introductions continued.

The stress of the whole night started to take its toll on him. He'd drunk far too much on an empty stomach -- and the coffee was beginning to go to war with the alcohol. After too many trips to the bathroom, he began to feel lightheaded, found his smile a little too fixed -- and then Bodie appeared again, murmuring some words he didn't hear to Cowley. With a nod, Cowley released Doyle from further responsibilities and suddenly Doyle found himself being steered out of the room.

Panic struck him.

Bodie kept a firm grip on his elbow as they passed through the first room where small knots of people now spilled out from the dining room. Most likely, the evening would end up some kind of drunken revelry -- but Doyle was beyond it. He was out the door into the entrance hall before he could get Bodie to stop. Even so, coats were handed to them, Bodie helping Doyle put his on.

"Wait."

"Why?" Bodie replied, thanking the attendant. "You wanna stick around a bit longer?"

"No. I..."

Bodie glanced at him. "Come on. We'll grab a taxi." When Doyle didn't move immediately, Bodie took his elbow again and they left the building. With a wave of his arm, Bodie hailed a taxi and they climbed in. Seated in the back, Doyle tried to hide in the darkness, but Bodie's leg rested against his again, his hand now half on Doyle's thigh. As the dark city streets slipped past, Bodie's fingers gently caressed his leg and once more his body responded, betraying him.

Bodie didn't say anything. It seemed Doyle's complicity was expected, that he needed no words, no explanation, that the last few nightmare weeks had never happened, that all the turmoil had no cause. No, it appeared Bodie believed Doyle would go along with this, spend the night in bed with him and then pretend it never happened.

It didn't seem to matter to Bodie that Doyle didn't want this, that he didn't want another empty tumble with Bodie, that going along with it was tearing him apart because he knew he had no choice, that his body wouldn't let him say no. That even as these thoughts flew across his mind, he wished Bodie would lean close and kiss him -- and damn the taxi driver.

Bodie kept himself steady throughout the taxi ride only because he knew it wouldn't take long. But having Ray sitting so close to him, making no move to get away, made the ride so sweet, he almost wanted it to go on. More than once, he allowed his fingers to idly caress Ray's thigh, wishing that he was brave enough to turn his head and take those lips in a tender kiss, something that might communicate something to Ray, to settle the fear Bodie knew was rolling around inside him. He wanted that fear to end, wanted to see Ray smiling at him, wanted to see Ray want him, wanted to share the terrifying clarity with him.

But he did nothing. Instead, he simply sat there and allowed the warmth of the body beside him to seep into him, to feed him, to calm him. He needed to be calm. He would never survive this otherwise.

They turned a corner and the taxi pulled up before a glistening doorway Doyle didn't recognize. It looked like a hotel.

Great -- they couldn't even bring themselves to do it in the warmth of their own flats. This had gone beyond the realms of danger and into the sordid.

Except the hotel didn't look particularly sordid. In fact, it looked luxurious. Bodie paid the taxi and again, took Doyle's elbow, leading him through the foyer to the lift. There however, Doyle's luck turned; at the last second, an elderly couple got into the lift with them and he was not alone with Bodie. All the same, Bodie stood a little behind him, managing to bring a hand to Doyle's shoulder, unseen by the couple. There a thumb gently caressed the side of his neck, heightening the tension already flowing through his body. Any more of this and he'd snap like a twig.

The doors opened and they left the couple behind. Like a child, Doyle let Bodie lead him along a plush corridor and around a corner. There he paused before a door, unlocked it and ushered Doyle inside.

The sighted that greeted him took his breath away.

On the wall opposite was a window that stretched the full width of the room and there displayed for him to view was the whole of London laid out, glowing in night lights and glistening with soft rain. His feet took him to the window without thinking. There was a small balcony beyond and he pushed the French doors open, letting the cool night air touch his face, wake him up from this strange dream.

From up here, London didn't look at all like the city they'd toiled the last five years to keep clean of drugs and guns and terrorists. From up here, it looked beautiful.

Bodie watched Doyle cross the room, heard the short intake of breath as he saw the view. With the soft lights picking up the auburn glints in his hair, he looked so beautiful to Bodie, it was all he could do not to instantly take the man in his arms, hold him and cherish him, make love to him, right there.

Surely Ray would understand. He had to. He knew Bodie, understood him like no other ever had. He simply had to understand -- or Bodie would be lost forever.

For a second, panic assailed him but he kept his gaze on Doyle and allowed that presence to steady him again. Again. As it always had. Only then, when he was ready, did he finally move.

Doyle felt a presence beside him. Bodie handed him a glass of champagne. He took it, sipped briefly, then spoke, his voice filled with the awe he was feeling. "It's incredible. This must have cost you a fortune."

His answer was a vague shrug.

Doyle turned to look at the room -- or rather, the suite. They stood in the living area where crisp cream and gold dcor flashed against dark honey carpet and subtle olive trim. Antique furniture graced the corners while a huge comfy sofa stood in front of a fireplace. To his left was another door open to the bedroom. Even from here he could see the size of the bed and suddenly he remembered why they were here. "Bodie?"

"Yeah?"

"Bodie... I..."

The voice that spoke to him was very close, "Just say no, Ray. That's all you have to do. You don't need to run -- just say you don't want me and I'll take you home."

Doyle struggled for a moment, then turned, catching Bodie's gaze on him. Those blue eyes bored into him, sending a spike of anticipation right through his soul to his groin. Of course Doyle couldn't say no. That's why Bodie had gone to this trouble, this expense.

Taking his silence for agreement -- which of course, it was -- Bodie reached up and placed his hand against Doyle's face. The touch was cool and gentle and so very welcome. Then he leaned forward and buried his face against Doyle's neck. Involuntarily, Doyle moaned. How could he want this so much -- and yet not want it at the same time? Why couldn't he be just like Bodie and take the sex and run? It would be incredible, he knew -- so why did it bother him so much? Was love really so important? If Bodie could live without it, couldn't he?

The forgotten glass was taken from his fingers and put aside as Bodie continued his seduction. Kisses were left across his throat and up onto his jaw, bringing his flesh alive with tingling. Hands rose to undo the tie. It fell open at his collar like a flower opening to the sun. Then the buttons of his shirt, one at a time, slowly, deliberately. When Bodie's hand slipped beneath the cloth to touch his skin, he shuddered, leaning closer despite the war going on inside his head. Another moan escaped him. His arms moved around Bodie's neck, his eyes closed and then without warning, Bodie's lips were on his, touching deftly, lingering, soft and wanting, strong and hard all at the same time.

It was a good thing Bodie was holding him because Doyle's knees chose that moment to weaken. With a little laugh, Bodie pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, drowning Doyle and for a moment, blotting out all the arguments he'd ever had in his entire life.

God he was good at this. And so beautiful; what choice did Doyle have but to love him to distraction? So damned wounded and deprived, and needing the love Doyle would have given him so freely, if only he'd ask, if only he wanted it.

At last Bodie drew away, his arms around Doyle, his eyes gazing steadily, deep, deep blue, so devastating, Doyle wanted to live in them and forget forever all his reservations.

Bodie brushed the hair from his face, "Bed."

Like a creature without will, Doyle let Bodie take his hand and together they walked into the other room. Bodie shed his jacket as they stopped before the bed then turned to slip Doyle's from his shoulders. Then they were on the bed, lying side by side as Bodie gathered him up again, pressing more moist kisses into his throat, down to his chest. The shirt was spread open and Bodie's mouth took the first nipple he found.

Doyle stiffened, biting back a groan but Bodie had already moved on, his hands feeling the flesh beneath them, wanting, searching and seeking, finding. Doyle had no choice but to respond. Already hard, his breathing now worked in tandem with Bodie's movements as the other man gently loosed more of his clothing. Each step he took, brought them closer to damnation -- and Doyle knew it, felt it with every bone in his body -- even as he craved it so badly. If a man was to go to hell, this was the best -- the only way to do it.

But now he could make no move of his own -- and now he understood how Bodie had felt that night after the river incident. Wanting and not wanting. Needing and yet rejecting. Fighting with every breath, complicity in silence.

All he had to do was say no -- and yet all he wanted to do was say yes.

Bodie kissed him again, once more hushing the raging thoughts. His lips were sweet and tasted of champagne. More than that, they tasted of Bodie, of the man he loved more than his own life. They tasted of pain and passion, of loss and desire, of longing and belonging and the depth of it all broke Doyle's heart utterly. As Bodie moved on again, Doyle pulled in a breath, his whole body stiff against the onslaught.

"Christ, Bodie," he whispered, tears stinging his eyes. "Just fuck me and get it over with."

Slowly, Bodie's head came up, his gaze steady, locking onto Doyle's without a hint of mercy. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes. No. I mean yes... I mean..."

Something like surprise wafted across Bodie's face -- then it disappeared into a frown. He gently disentangled himself and got off the bed. Without a word, he turned to the window and pushed it open wide, bringing cold air into the warm room. He stood with his back to Doyle, saying nothing.

Doyle saw his chance to leave. If he got up now and walked out, Bodie wouldn't stop him.

But it would also be the last time he ever saw him.

He'd run away before. But to go to him now? He didn't know what to do. This was a mood he'd seen before and while it scared him, he couldn't just leave Bodie to drown on his own.

He slid off the bed and walked carefully towards the window. He could have stopped there, but he needed to see Bodie's face, needed to read what was there. He turned to find Bodie's gaze ranging across the view for a moment. Then it hit on Doyle again. Resignation, confusion and a kind of anger turned completely inwards. The gaze searched Doyle's for long minutes, achieving little but making Doyle more concerned with every second.

"Bodie, I'm sorry."

Bodie stiffened and hissed in a breath, the words acting like an open flame to a fuse wire. He turned away, shaking his head, his shoulders a solid wall. "Don't you damned well start apologising to me. Do you hear? It's not your bloody fault, Ray, it's mine! This whole stupid thing, from start to finish! You apologize one more time and I'll bloody well hit you!"

In a flash, Doyle's bewilderment vanished, replaced by simple fury. "Well, what the hell am I supposed to say? You told me to say no if I wanted."

"Yeah but you didn't, did you?" Bodie still kept his face averted. "You just told me to fuck you, reducing it all to just... making it out like it was..." His voice trailed off, compressed anger bringing in hoarse breaths.

"Sordid?" Doyle supplied, unable to help provoking the anger further. "What did you expect, Bodie? You tell me you want to take me to bed, you bring me here -- and yet it's all just like before, isn't it? All one great big seduction. Did you want me to run off again? So you could blame me? Make it all my fault? Or did you want to be able to blame yourself, like you blamed yourself for my supposed death?"

Bodie whirled around at that, his eyes wide and for a moment, uncomprehending, savage with a self hatred so overwhelming, Doyle lost his own anger completely. "Jesus, Ray," Bodie hissed, his voice coming from the depths of hell, "don't you understand -- I could have killed you! I almost did! For three weeks, I had! All because I couldn't bring myself to..."

"To what, Bodie?" Doyle replied, keeping his voice level, even as the rest of him was falling.

Bodie frowned, his mouth pressed in a thin line, his eyes darkening, "Why?" he said, almost to himself, "Why can't I resist you?"

"Then take me to bed and let's get it over with," Doyle growled, hope dying in each word. "I won't say no, Bodie. I'll give you what you want. I should have done it the first time." Suddenly the words were getting difficult to say, his throat constricting as he fought back the depths of his despair. Tears pricked at his eyes but he ignored them. "If sex is all you want, then let's do it."

Bodie stared at him, mouth open, unmoving as Doyle's words sank in. For a moment, he said nothing, then he shook his head slowly, the anger fading with each second. Then, his voice soft and full of wonder, Bodie murmured, "Christ, Ray, I don't want your body."

Doyle looked away. He couldn't stand there and watch Bodie again, watch him try to find some new way to remove love from the question. Perhaps he should have just gone, when he could. "You expect me to believe that?"

Bodie's hand came up to Doyle's cheek, touching softly, his voice low and open. "Yes, I tried to seduce you that night. No, I didn't give you enough time to think it through. But I need to know, Ray. I need to know why you're saying no."

Wanting to lean into that touch but afraid to, Doyle kept his face averted and tried to keep his lungs bringing in air. Something heavy was settled on his chest and energy was required to keep him going -- energy he no longer had at his disposal. Words were beyond him.

Bodie came closer until Doyle could feel the breath on his cheek. "You do want me, don't you?"

"You didn't read the letter."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I already knew what you wanted to say."

"And what was that?"

Bodie's voice dropped to little more than a whisper, "Do you want me?"

The touch against the side of his face made Doyle's skin burn; the voice made him die with each word spoken. A cold, worse than that coming through the windows, was filling him inside, hard and deathly, just as he'd always feared. An empty abyss he would have to live with for the rest of his life. Tears welled in his eyes again as he shook his head, a denial of what he knew to be true. Hoarse words came out of him, condemning them both at the same time. "Please, Bodie, just let me go."

"No."

"Then..." Doyle stood there, stripped of every sense he had, stripped even of his soul. "Then let's go to bed and we can finish it. Please, Bodie. I can't take any more. It hurts too much."

"You run away from me again and it will be over."

"Oh, Bodie, it already is. It was over almost the moment it began. Can't you see that?" Doyle could hardly see the city below, his eyes were glazed with tears he couldn't stop shedding.

"Then why are you still here?"

"We both know this will never be finished until we do it. That's what you wanted from the start." Doyle's voice faltered then. He'd already given his life into the hands of this man, his heart, his soul -- why not his body. Even if it never meant anything, even if it destroyed him, he would do it because it had to be done. There was something in Bodie that needed this and Doyle no longer cared what it did to him. They had to be free of one another -- and if that meant nothing more than sex, then that was what he had to give.

"Jesus, Ray."

Doyle began to tremble as Bodie leaned closer, his lips brushing the side of his cheek. Terror warred inside him with a desire that failed completely to warm the ice in his heart. He would never touch love, not now, he would only ever glimpse it, see enough of it to know that he wanted it but would never have it.

But if a glimpse was all he could have with this man, he would take it, no matter how scared he was.

Bodie turned him, placing a hand on each side of his face, his eyes open with wonder, desire and something inexplicable. "Jesus, Ray," he repeated. "You are so beautiful. And you're still here." With that, he leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to Doyle's lips. Fingers brushed away the tears as Bodie held him close, whispering in his ear. "Bravest man I ever met."

Unable to move, Doyle felt his voice catch, a sob sitting just below the surface. "Please, Bodie, just do it."

"Oh, god, Ray, I don't want your body," Bodie whispered into the silence. "I want you." Bodie kissed him again, lightly, holding his need in check, cradling Doyle's face like it was a thing so precious it scared him. "I want you, Ray. All of you."

Doyle looked up then, his fear making him shake within Bodie's hold. The blue eyes that gazed steadily at him no longer held anything but certainty, a deep well of it, a chasm so full of warmth Doyle wanted to bury himself in it. Shock held him frozen, parts of him desperate now to fall into that heat, warm the ice inside him. He needed it so much.

But Bodie simply shook his head, a gentle smile lighting the sky in his eyes. The silence stretched between them, long and empty as Bodie's gaze remained fixed on Doyle, his hands steady. Then his eyebrows rose a little, a tiny frown flashed into existence and was gone. Taking in a deep breath, Bodie murmured, "It scares the hell out of me. You scare the hell out of me... but..." Bodie paused, the smile returning, "but I do love you so much."

Suddenly Doyle couldn't breathe. He blinked, frowning, half his body making some strange effort to break away.

Bodie's smile simply widened. "Never thought I'd hear myself say it. Promised myself I wouldn't. But I should have done it a long time ago. I didn't bring you here just to seduce you -- I wanted to try and show you that I love you. You needed to know even if I couldn't say it. Was never much good with words."

His whole body trembling out of his control now, Doyle couldn't find any words of his own to say. He wanted to -- desperately -- but he couldn't take his eyes from Bodie, from what he'd just said, from the surprise, shock, disbelief, damn it, everything that was making a complete unholy mess inside him right now. His whole body felt like a warzone and only Bodie's steadiness and calm kept him in one piece.

"But you were right," Bodie continued, softly, evenly. "Only a fool expects guarantees from love. And that's what I wanted, that's what I kept expecting because I was so scared of getting hurt again, of losing myself. I never realized that what I should have been doing all along was giving guarantees. Giving promises." Bodie smiled again, bringing his face close, touching his lips to Doyle's forehead, his voice low and thick with emotion. "I love you, Ray. I will love you every day of my life. If you want me, I'm yours, till death us do part."

"And..." Doyle struggled, fighting, going down, fighting and coming back up again. It was hard... but... "And if I don't want you?"

Bodie pulled him close, buried his face in Doyle's hair. "I'll still love you. Nothing will change that. But... if you don't want me... if you were only doing this because I wanted it then... I will take you home, now. I'll let you go. If you need to be free of me, then you will be."

"If I need...?" Doyle hissed in a breath as though he hadn't taken one since this night had begun. His head spun at the sudden infusion of oxygen but he kept his eyes open, his hands going to Bodie's arms, pulling him back so he could look into that blue again. A blue that was warm enough to melt the glacier. "You said you were going to leave me."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Bodie half-smiled in that boyish way. "Couldn't. I kept telling myself I was just being weak, vulnerable -- and yet the answer was sitting there, staring at me in the face. It was already too late."

Doyle shook his head, not understanding at all. "Too late?"

"This is my life. Here and now, with you. With Cowley and CI5. This is what I made it -- and I made it because this was what I wanted. I could no more leave this -- you -- than I could leave myself. So much of what I am is what you made of me. And I wanted you to do that. I needed it. Does that make any sense?"

"I don't know." Doyle said nothing more for a moment as his gaze tried to absorb what his heart was desperate for. Bodie was standing there, telling him about love, about pain, about himself, about need and about wanting -- and every sound, every touch soaked into Doyle, feeding him, bringing him alive. No man dying of thirst in a desert wanted that drink more. But he was still so scared. Scared that it might be a dream, that Bodie might be hiding something, doing or saying whatever he thought Doyle might want in order to keep him. Silly, foolish, unjust fears -- but fears nonetheless. "Bodie, are you sure?"

"That I love you?" Bodie frowned a little, "Yeah, positive."

"But... "

"What?"

"Isn't it just possible..." Doyle picked his way through the minefield of words he could choose from, "that it is just sex?"

"No." Bodie shook his head, then paused, a shadow forming around his eyes, a plain display of his own fears. "No, I'm sure." He paused before continuing. "Ray, I never wanted to tell you this but -- remember that day I went off, came into work late?"

"Yeah."

"Well... I knew what I was feeling for you and I... well... I needed to know if it was just sex. I... er... went to Birmingham, to a gay bar and..."

"You picked a guy up?"

"Well," Bodie dropped his gaze, his hands holding Doyle's arms only lightly now. "It was more like he picked me up, but you get the idea."

Something inside Doyle wanted to laugh. Something really broken and shattered and now suddenly made whole again. He wanted desperately to laugh -- but he knew Bodie would take it the wrong way -- so he kept his voice steady as he asked, "What happened?"

"Not a lot." Obviously uncomfortable with the confession, Bodie didn't look at him. "I just wanted to know if a man... well, a man's body would really... you know, turn me on -- in reality. Whether just any man would do or if it really had to be you."

"And did you find out?"

"Oh, yeah." Bodie nodded.

"Tell me?"

Bodie stayed silent so Doyle did the only thing he could do. He reached out, pulled Bodie in close and kissed him. Deliberately. Slowly. With everything he'd wanted to show Bodie but had been afraid of. When they parted, Doyle gazed steadily into that blue and repeated, "Tell me."

Blinking, Bodie replied, "I made him come and yes, his body, his touch did turn me on. He offered to... well, my... body wanted it but... I just couldn't, you know? Didn't want... him. Wanted to be doing it with you."

And Doyle smiled. He couldn't help it. The muscles on his face had a mind of their own and right at that moment, they wanted to smile and they just did. The gesture ran right across his face, up to his eyes, down his throat and into his heart. With an almost audible sound, the ice sealing him up, cracked and split open, leaving him raw and vulnerable, but not even remotely afraid.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you... "

"Yeah."

Hesitation, fear and vulnerablility flowed across Bodie's face then. "I mean... you don't have to say anything... I know I've been an ass and I don't deserve an answer... but I would like to know... whether you..."

"Yeah, I do."

"What?"

"Want you." Doyle let his smile say the rest, then gathered Bodie into his arms and kissed him again and suddenly Bodie's arms were around him, holding him so tight he thought he might break. For long blissful moments, Doyle lost himself, let himself drown, coming up for air before going down again. He didn't mind. This was what he needed, this baptism, feeling the need in Bodie's arms, his whole body. Bodie kissed him with ferocious desire, blending them together, making a new whole, washing away the past with a determination for the future.

And then they were parted, standing there, like silly teenagers, grinning at each other, catching their breath and again, Doyle wanted to laugh.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

Bodie smiled a little, pausing, needing and trying to find a way to express it. "Do you think maybe... you might... some day... love me?"

This time, Doyle let himself laugh, low and husky, his hands coming up to brush over Bodie's lips, something he'd wanted to do for a long time. "You're right, you are an ass. You never asked me why I ran away."

"No." Quiet, hesitant, unsure.

"Ask me, Bodie. Ask me why I ran away."

"What?" Confusion over that beautiful face made Doyle laugh again.

"Just ask me, Bodie."

"Okay. Why did you run away?"

"Because when you started kissing me that night, I discovered I'd loved you for a long time. Wanted you for a long time and just never knew it. I ran because I was afraid you couldn't love me and I didn't want to lose the friendship. I didn't want us to make love and then face each other the next day, knowing we'd ruined it all."

"Would we have?"

"Yeah," Doyle's smiled softened as he nodded. "We both would have regretted it because it would never have been what either of us really wanted -- but neither of us was in a position to ask for that. We would have ended up hating each other."

"I suppose so," Bodie nodded. Then abruptly, he frowned, "Hang on, did you just say... you loved me?"

"Uh huh."

Half of Bodie's face rose in a silly smile, "Really?"

"Yeah. Of course, I was an idiot to run all the way to Scotland -- but I was scared."

Bodie simply shook his head and pulled Doyle closer, "Yeah, me too. Doesn't matter now. You're here and that's all I care about."

"Really? That's all?" Doyle swallowed, feeling every inch of Bodie's body against his. Inside, the cold left him completely and was replaced with something that was singing -- ridiculously -- but singing nonetheless. Bodie -- his Bodie -- loved him! As far as he was concerned, his insides could sing all they damned well liked! Doyle's fingers came up and traced the edge of Bodie's jaw, his lips followed, breathing in the scent of the man. He let his body go very still, suddenly unable to do anything but say the words on his tongue, "So you don't want to fuck me?"

"Jesus, Ray, of course I do!" Bodie breathed, all smiles gone, replaced by an awed stillness which matched Doyle's. "But what I really want right now is to know what you want."

The devil in Doyle made him grin, "So you want to know if I want you to fuck me?"

Bodie stiffened and closed his eyes, letting out a moan of stifled lust, "Jesus, Ray, you could get a rise out of a man dead for ten years! Do you want me to rape you?"

"You," Doyle murmured, his smile softening as he touched his lips to Bodie's. "Can do anything you want with me."

"Ray," Bodie said, warning.

"You can do anything you want because I'd do anything to make you happy."

Bodie shook his head, "No. That's still only what I want. This isn't just about me. You tell me the truth."

In answer, Doyle took his hand and led him back to the bed. He pushed Bodie down and laid on top of him, allowing their matching desire to press together. "I love you, Bodie. I want you. Please fuck me."

A small laugh escaped Bodie then, but before Doyle could say another word, his mouth was caught hungrily, Bodie's tongue exploring the inside, hard and wanting. He felt Bodie's body stiffen against his, felt the hard cock push against his own. And he wanted it. All of it. The love, the sex, the togetherness -- and the fighting and arguing and everything. He wanted it so much he could hardly think straight.

Bodie's hands claimed his body, pushing the shirt away to run his fingers through the soft down on Doyle's chest. Doyle for his part, made quick work of Bodie's shirt buttons and tie, briskly revealing that perfectly smooth chest and the skin he so loved to touch. Longing brought them both to the edge very quickly -- and they were still half-dressed. Deliberately, Bodie slowed things down, taking his time over preparing Doyle. He pushed Doyle's hands away from him and shifted. Carefully, he undid Doyle's trousers, pulling the zip down over the stiff bulge. The act in itself was a caress, almost driving Doyle wild. Then the hands were on him, deftly releasing him from his clothes. In a flash, Bodie had him naked from the waist down, his hands claiming his cock and his balls hard, striking a thrill through his whole body.

Doyle arched up at his touch, moaning for Bodie to get on with it -- but Bodie still took his time. His mouth came down, his tongue licking at the head, playfully, making Doyle moan again and again. Then Doyle took things into his own hands -- literally. He reached for Bodie's groin, swiftly releasing the erection into his own waiting fingers. Now it was Bodie's turn to shudder. His movements stilled as Doyle's hands worked on him. Doyle leaned over and attached his lips to Bodie's right nipple and was gratified to feel the cock in his hands leap.

His mouth still touching Bodie, Doyle murmured, "I hope you came prepared."

"Mmn," Bodie murmured, coming out of his haze. "S'not a good way of putting it -- but yes, I did."

With an uncoordinated movement, he reached across to the beside table and pulled the drawer open. He returned a moment later with another deep kiss. Then he was pressing a tube into Doyle's hands, "Only if you want me to do it."

Doyle didn't bother answering. He wasn't sure he had words anyway. He was entirely caught up with a long and deeply held need to be possessed by Bodie, properly and completely, wholly and totally, to give himself utterly. He needed Bodie inside him, needed them to occupy the one body, if only for a few minutes. Pain and pleasure were to him, at that moment, one and the same.

On his knees, he bent to give Bodie's cock some direct attention. Holding it between his hands, he ran the tips of his fingers up the tender under side, around the flared head, to the tiny opening at the top where a drop of fluid appeared. Gently, he touched his tongue to it, tasting it, feeling Bodie stiffen beneath him, hearing the moan. But Doyle had to do this first. Had to know this part of Bodie, had to look and touch and taste before it was put into his body.

Carefully, he let his tongue run around the head, slowly, gently. Then, feeling Bodie's hands in his hair, he took the head into his mouth, sucking only a little.

"God, Ray, stop." Bodie moaned.

Doyle took it from his mouth and let his tongue slide the length of the hard shaft from balls to tip, feeling the heavy ridge all the way. Now Bodie hissed urgently, "Ray, if you don't stop now..."

Reluctantly, Doyle pulled back and he shot Bodie a brief smug grin. Bodie was watching him, his eyes veiled, smoky with desire. Satisfied for the moment, Doyle turned back to Bodie's cock with a mind to preparation and again, his stomach twisted with anticipation at what was about to happen between them.

The tube came open and he smeared the cool gel the full length of Bodie's cock. Like a rod of steel, it sat up proudly and Doyle took his time lubricating it well, enjoying the touch and feel of the silky smooth skin, savouring the knowledge that in only a few moments, this part of Bodie would be entering a part of him never touched before.

Again reluctantly, he put the tube down and lay on his back facing Bodie. His eyes still dark with passion, Bodie took some lubricant on his fingers and slid his hand between Doyle's thighs. Without thought, Doyle opened to him, spreading his legs wide to permit the probing. Bodie's breath was coming in short pants now, Doyle's matching it. Then Bodie was shifting over until he lay between Doyle's open thighs. Again he kissed long and deep, his hand still pushing against the tight hole. He inserted one finger, then two and all Doyle could think about was what he wanted to happen next. The fingers slipped deep inside him, stretching him, warming him, making him want more. A third finger joined the others and Doyle began to moan softly. He couldn't take his eyes from Bodie's and the sheer open need expressed there, that Bodie needed to take him as much as Doyle needed to be taken. His hand slid down Bodie's arm, urging the fingers deeper into him and in response, Bodie took a nipple and sucked hard, his own urgency flowing through his body.

"Please, Bodie, now," Doyle managed.

"Yeah," Bodie grunted against his chest. "Now."

Bodie shifted again, putting his hand under Doyle's thigh to lift it slightly. Then, his mouth joining Doyle's he placed the head of his cock against the entrance to Doyle's body and pushed.

Doyle moaned as pain struck him but Bodie's gentle movements and constant kisses made him relax and he opened up, slowly but surely, taking Bodie into him, wanting him there. Bodie's cock entered him in one smooth stroke, filling him, joining him, completing him until at last, he was sheathed completely and they were one.

Doyle's arms came around Bodie as he lifted his legs to go around Bodie's waist. Then, abruptly awed by their actions, the whole night -- the last few months, he gazed into Bodie's eyes and heard the words speaking to his own heart. "I do love you, Ray, so very much."

"Oh, god, Bodie, I love you, too."

Bodie's response was a kiss so gentle and profound, it brought tears to Doyle's eyes. Slowly he began to move inside, pushing against the pressure, creating heat, building the joy between them like a tidal wave. Bodie snaked a hand between them to grasp Doyle's cock, nearly making him climax at once. Then he settled into a slow steady rhythm, kissing Doyle's nipples one moment, nipping his shoulder the next. The cock inside him was so hard, Doyle gasped with every thrust, hearing faint whimpers of pure pleasure coming from his own mouth. The reality of this was so far and above what he'd expected. He'd known he needed it -- that Bodie needed it -- but he'd never realized it would feel so incredible to have Bodie moving inside him, pleasuring them both. He wanted to freeze the moment, to hold it right there, but he kept his eyes open, watching Bodie's face each time he withdrew, paused, then pushed deep inside Doyle again. Though nothing had been said, it was obvious that Bodie also wanted their first time to last as along as possible.

This was his Bodie doing this to him, fucking him, driving them both towards a climax that would be both the ending and the beginning of them. And his whole body wanted it, his hips raised to take each deep thrust, wanting more, deeper, further; his legs spread wide to give Bodie all the room he needed, his muscles holding him close, holding the cock inside him tight and hot. All the years before this came to him then, the years together, the struggles, the steps they had taken to be partners, the sacrifices, the pains, the deliberate compromises. The danger and the peace, the certainty that they had always been joined like this, always a part of each other, giving and receiving in like kind, two minds, one heart, one path, always the same, travelling together. Always a part of each other.

The incredible closeness and intimacy was too much. With tears falling down his cheeks, Doyle let out a cry, stiffened and spurted his seed into Bodie's hand, and immediately, Bodie jerked hard and shot hot semen deep inside him. Doyle felt every blast, their lips joined as they tumbled over the edge and fell together, gasping, fulfilled, sweaty and hard.

For long minutes, neither of them moved. They simply stayed together as long as they could. Then Bodie lifted Doyle's hand to his lips, kissed the palm. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving this to me. I was afraid I would hurt you. That you wouldn't enjoy it."

"Oh, Bodie, I enjoyed it alright." Doyle chuckled. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Doyle gasped as he felt Bodie slip from him. For a second, the loss felt unbearable. Then Bodie moved, pulling Doyle with him until they lay side by side again, kissing softly, touching, simply being together.

Eventually, Bodie moved back a little. "So I didn't hurt you?"

"No. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd done that before."

"Well, I have had the odd fuck over the years." Bodie said with a completely straight face.

"Have you fucked a man before?"

"No. You?"

Doyle raised an eyebrow. There was just a hint of jealousy in Bodie's eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Bodie pursed his lips and glanced away, "That friend of yours, Jeff. You told me you didn't know if he was gay. You... lied to me."

Feeling the fine tension in Bodie's shoulders, Doyle snuggled closer, "I'm sorry, Bodie. I shouldn't have. Dunno why, really. I guess I didn't know what you'd think if you knew I had gay friends."

"That wasn't what I was worried about."

Doyle raised his eyebrows, "You thought I'd been with him?"

Bodie blinked once, hesitating for a moment, "I know he wanted you."

"He's been at me for years -- as long as I've known him. But I never went to bed with him. I'd never been to bed with a man until I met you. There, it's all your fault."

But Bodie wasn't ready to leave it just yet. "So why did you go and see him the other night?"

"Before I went to your place? I guess I just needed confirmation, somebody to tell me what I should do about what I was feeling. Wait -- how did you know..." Doyle caught in a breath, "You were following me."

Bodie shrugged, still not meeting Doyle's gaze, "I was worried about you. I'd rather not talk about it any more."

"Why not?"

With half a grin, Bodie glanced up, "Because I have you and he doesn't so it doesn't matter a damn how jealous I was, does it?"

Doyle had to laugh. Seeing Bodie at his irrepressible best was something he'd missed over the last few weeks. Bodie nodded and got up, ignoring Doyle's moan of displeasure. He only got a few steps before he realized he was still half-dressed and his trousers were going to trip him over. Shaking his head, he stripped them off and padded into the next room with only his shirt flapping about him. He shut the windows in the other room and came back with the champagne bucket and the two glasses. He set them down beside the bed, closed the bedroom windows and settled back on the bed next to Doyle. He poured out more champagne and handed a glass to Doyle.

Doyle sat up a little, slipping into the comfort of Bodie's arm as he rested back against the headboard. The champagne was good; sitting on top of the rest of the alcohol he'd had that evening, it did even better. Now he glanced around the bedroom as he'd not had time to do before. If anything, it was even more opulent than the other room. Again he was seized by Bodie's forward planning -- and his good taste. Doyle hadn't even known this hotel existed.

"How much did you pay for this?"

"Oh, a bit," Bodie replied evasively.

"How much?"

"A bit. Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it matters."

Bodie shifted a little and Doyle glanced up to see that fabulously inscrutable expression again. He had to smile as he remembered how afraid he'd been the last time he'd seen it.

"Well?"

"Actually, strictly speaking, it didn't cost me anything."

"You know, you're beautiful when you're trying to hide something."

Bodie glanced at him so surprised and quizzical, Doyle almost doubled up laughing.

"Come on, give."

Still sanguine, Bodie shrugged, "I give you my heart, my body, my soul -- and still you want more. Typical! Alright, it didn't cost me anything because I own it."

Doyle frowned glancing around the room again, "You own this? A hotel room?"

"Not exactly."

"Be exact." Doyle turned back.

Bodie raised an amused eyebrow and tried hard not to smile, "I own the hotel."

Doyle's jaw dropped.

Bodie added, "Except that as of this afternoon, you own half of it -- so don't go breaking anything."

"I own..." Speech failed him and he stared open-mouthed at Bodie -- who took the opportunity to kiss him. Far from fighting it, Doyle welcomed it -- until it appeared they would spill their drinks all over the bed.

When Bodie had him settled again, he began to speak, "I told you before we got all hot and sweaty -- I'm yours till death us do part. That includes everything I own."

"But you never have any money. How can you own something like this? This place must be worth a small fortune!"

"Yeah, but it earns its keep."

"But how could you afford something like this?"

Bodie reached over and topped up his glass. "Ill-gotten gains."

"Nothing illegal I hope."

"Hah! As if you'd let me give you anything purchased with crime money! Nope, all due to a few years fighting other people's wars in Africa -- and some money my father left me. You have no idea how much they pay mercenaries, do you? Well, I didn't either and that's why I put up with it for so long. But then I chucked it in and joined the army -- more fool me. In between leaving Africa and signing up, I only had a couple of months off. Not enough time to spend the money I'd earnt -- and there was nothing to spend it on in Africa. So I invested it -- with the help of a rather debonair Swiss Banker. The meagre shillings I earned in the Army and the SAS added to it a little, but my banker is a canny fellow. He suggested I buy this place a couple of years ago -- so I'd have something to fall back on if I found myself invalided out of the squad."

Doyle felt a wonderful drowsiness come over him. Comfort and warmth and champagne and Bodie all contributing. Bodie especially. "So why are you telling me all this now?"

"Because I love you. Because I only loved Marikka a little -- enough to get hurt. Because I didn't love the girl Krivas killed, Marice. Because he killed her anyway, even though I didn't love her. Because I've never had anyone to give anything to, never loved anyone enough. Because I want to. Because I want you to know I mean all this. Because I want you to know you have something if anything happens to me or your career gets cut short by some wound." Bodie paused, finishing his drink. "Mostly because I love you."

Stunned, Doyle twisted around in Bodie's arms until he could see that sombre face. "Jesus, Bodie, I don't know what to say."

Doyle moved then, putting glasses away and pushing Bodie down onto the bed beneath him, smothering him with kisses and drowning further talk. It didn't take long for his body to react again. Soon he had the remnants of their clothes tossed aside and Bodie was putty in his hands. Now the first fires of desire were dealt with, they could take it slower, learn more about each other. He wanted to spread his legs for Bodie again but he was held back by strong hands. Hands which directed him to another choice. Then Bodie was lying on his stomach beneath him, his hips raised with a pillow and Doyle was pushing into him, holding him, wanting him, once again, making them one.

The climb to the top of the peak took longer this time, was in its own way, more delicious as a result. Doyle held Bodie with one hand while the other gripped the stiff erection pressed into the pillow. Bodie moved with him, wanting him. Taking Bodie this way somehow made it right and complete and gave them both something they needed. Then Bodie murmured magical words.

"Love you, Ray. You're my freedom. Means nothing without you."

And Doyle tumbled into insanity, taking Bodie with him.

Sleep took them after that, Doyle resting in the safety of Bodie's arms, feeling none of the cold that had plagued him all his life.

Bodie woke to sounds of birdsong from beyond the window. He glanced across the pillow to find Doyle still there, beside him, fast asleep. Somehow in the night, they'd become detached and for a moment, Bodie was tempted to snuggle up again, the old fear abruptly rearing its head again.

But he fought off the temptation, normal bodily functions taking precedence. Carefully, he slipped out of bed and crept to the bathroom. He flushed the toilet and winced at the noise -- but before he could go back to bed, he glimpsed sight of himself in the mirror.

He looked different.

Hard to pinpoint how -- he just did. Different.

There were the same old blue eyes staring back at him, the same face -- in need of a shave -- but the same nonetheless. But still he looked different.

He grinned.

He turned and headed back into the bedroom and came to a halt beside the bed. Ray was stretched out on his stomach across the mattress, one leg bent, one arm over his head, naked as the day he was born, that incredible arse showing curves Bodie was only just able to keep his hands off. The auburn curls tangled around his head, long now, just the way Bodie liked them, caught in the sunlight coming from the balcony. The window eyes were shut, holding in sleep, the full lips slightly parted, the angelic face turned slightly towards him, displaying that mysterious shattered cheekbone.

What had happened to that face? And why did Ray never talk about it? Nobody seemed to know -- not even Cowley. But still there was a story there, of deep, old pain, buried beneath the look of fear Bodie had seen that one time he'd asked, at Murphy's birthday. At the time, he'd been angry, in pain and had lashed out at the one thing he knew would hurt Ray. But a greater hurt had been done to him, to break that bone, a hurt Bodie wanted to know about, perhaps to help heal. But there was nothing more he could say to Ray to encourage him to talk about it -- nor would he ever ask again. No, if Ray ever told him, the gift would be his alone to give, his choice, his desire.

And Bodie would love him either way, this man spread across the bed before him. A wild wanton creature of hidden passions and delicate sweetness. A man every inch the equal of Bodie. A heart that was his to hold and cherish.

And so incredibly beautiful, Bodie lost his breath and for a moment, couldn't bring himself to move.

So this was what he'd been afraid of all these years. Feeling this. And it was terrifying; would probably remain so for the rest of his life.

But somehow, he knew he could do it now. Even if Ray woke up and changed his mind about them; Bodie knew he'd deal with it, be able to go on living, would be able to keep hold of himself through the whole thing. And why?

Because in giving himself to Doyle, he'd been given something back; something infinitely more valuable and cherished than he'd ever imagined. And feeling this love filled all the emptiness inside him. It made him strong where he'd feared weakness, made him indomitable where he'd feared vulnerability.

He'd been right to be afraid -- but what he should have been much more scared of was the prospect of never feeling this any time in his life. Once again, Ray had given him a reason; this time, the best reason of all.

A wave of awesome tenderness came over him from nowhere that he could name and he crept forward to get back into bed. He didn't want Ray to wake up alone.

Doyle shifted as Bodie put his arms around him, coming gently awake. Without asking, Bodie took that beautiful face in his hands and covered it with soft kisses, trying somehow to communicate the dizzy thoughts assaulting him so early in the morning.

But Doyle didn't argue. Instead, his strong arms came up to hold Bodie close, his mouth finding Bodie's, taking kisses in equal measure. For long minutes they simply laid there, making out like they were a pair of teenagers, flushed with the first breaths of spine-tingling sensation.

Then Doyle moaned softly, rolling over until Bodie was trapped beneath him. Bodie grinned and held him tight, planting a goodmorning kiss on his nose.

"How do you feel, sunshine?"

"Wonderful," Doyle stretched -- then winced as he felt certain twinges he'd not felt before -- in places he'd never felt them before. "Yeah, wonderful. You?"

"Never felt better in my life. Are you sore? I was a bit... rushed last night."

"A little sore -- but I don't mind. What about you?"

"Fine. Hungry?"

"Don't tell me this hotel of yours has room service too?"

"Hotel of ours -- and of course it has room service. Would I buy it if it didn't?"

Doyle chuckled, throaty and delicious, sending all sorts of things spiralling through Bodie. "Sorry. What's the choice?"

"Whatever you want."

"But I want you."

"For breakfast?'

"For lunch and dinner."

"Might get a bit boring after a while."

Doyle paused, lifting an inquiring eyebrow, "Are you serious?"

Bodie did a classic double-take, "No -- I didn't mean that as it sounded. At least, I don't mean it. You make up your own mind."

"Whether we stay together, as a couple?"

"Yeah."

Doyle grinned, "Doesn't sound boring to me at all. I'm in. So what's for breakfast."

Bodie began to laugh, holding Doyle to him for safety's sake. This was getting way too ridiculous for serious thought. Things as good as this simply didn't happen in the real world. He quickly rattled off a suggested menu, rang it down to room service, then wrapped his arms around Doyle again. "You know, I think I'm going to kick myself at least once a day for the rest of our lives together."

"Why?"

"For not seeing the error of my ways sooner."

"Oi! Guilt's my trick! Get your own!"

Bodie dissolved into laughter again. When he finally sobered, he shifted until he was half sitting against the headboard, Doyle stretched the length of him, arms wrapped around each other. Bodie felt a strange but not unpleasant desire never to move from this particular spot for the rest of his life.

Doyle settled against him, growing quiet. Bodie waited, knowing something was bound to come out of last night.

"Bodie?"

"Yeah."

"I love you."

"I know." He nodded. "But?"

"But... you are sure about this, aren't you? About us being together? Staying together? I mean, it won't be easy."

"Hell, it hasn't been so far. Why should the future be any different from the past?"

"Because something has changed, Bodie. We've changed. You know as well as I do that not everybody is going to be as happy about it as we are."

"Yeah, I know." Bodie stroked his hand slowly down Doyle's arm. "But we'll survive."

"But you are sure? Sure that you want to go through that?"

"Ray," Bodie said carefully, "there is no alternative. Not for me. I don't care what opposition we get. I'll fight to keep you as long as I know you love me."

Doyle sighed against him, "Then it's going to be a long hard battle. Of course, the worst part is going to be Cowley."

Bodie chuckled a little, making Doyle twist until he could see Bodie's smile.

"What?"

"He knows already."

Doyle frowned. "What do you mean, he knows? You told him before you told me?"

"Hell, Ray, I didn't even tell me before I told you. No, he guessed. At least, he guessed that what was bothering me were my feelings for you. He didn't seem unduly concerned by it. Only that I find a resolution. Now, go on, I dare you."

"Dare me to what?" Doyle asked, knowing full well what Bodie was suggesting.

"I dare you to claim that I did all this just so I could get my job back."

"Well, I thought that much was obvious," Doyle replied with a completely straight face -- and Bodie nearly died laughing. "After all, you did tell me you didn't want me for my body."

"Ah, you believed that too. Damn, I'm good at this lying thing! Wish I'd tried it years ago. I could have had you all this time. Guess I'll have to make up for it now." And to back up his words, he made a dive for Doyle, struggling until he had him pinned beneath him, a giggling, tousled mess of muscle and bone.

But even amidst the laughter there was desire and he felt Doyle rise as well. Things progressed rapidly, however, before they could get too involved, the door buzzer went off.

"Damn!" Bodie lifted his head reluctantly from Doyle's tender regions. "Food. How inconvenient."

Doyle blinked, shook his head and dropped his jaw in amazement. Then he began to laugh, "Well, now I really have heard everything!" Bodie simply grinned smugly and got off the bed. He grabbed a robe and headed off for the door, Doyle's delighted laughter floating after him. All this and room service too.

He wheeled the trolley into the bedroom as Doyle got up and put on a robe. They sat opposite each other on the bed, feeding each other, laughing and saying little -- at least with words. Finally, with crumbs scattered everywhere, Doyle leaned back and gazed at Bodie, his eyes smiling enough to melt.

"What?"

Doyle blinked and shook his head, "Where do we go from here?"

"Well, neither of us needs to be anywhere for the next three days. We could just stay here and... I'm sure we'll find something to do."

A husky chuckle was the first response. "Yeah, I'm sure we could."

"Why?"

"Well... it's just that Murphy and Kathy are expecting me at the cottage."

Bodie's face fell, "Oh. And you want to go?"

"I hate to say it, Bodie, but after all the time I've spent cramped up indoors, I really don't want to spend my last free weekend for a long time here, nice as it is."

"I see." Bodie got up and began clearing plates away, piling them back on the trolley.

A hard serious voice stopped him. "God, Bodie you really are an ass."

Bodie glanced over his shoulder to see Doyle get off the bed and come towards him. "You really think I want to go anywhere without you? Sure, if you want to stay here, we can. I just thought you might like to get out of London for a while, you know, get some fresh air, walk along the cliffs -- especially since Murph and Kathy know all about us and don't give a damn."

Bodie ducked his head, not understanding where this sudden fear came from. "Are you sure they don't care?"

Ray came close, putting his arms around Bodie. "They care -- and I think they deserve to know that we're okay now. Let me ring them and tell them we're coming."

Bodie couldn't answer. He just stood there, not looking at Ray, not doing anything.

"Come on, Bodie, talk to me. What is it?"

"Nothing." Bodie lied.

Ray reached up and kissed him, soft and gentle and at last Bodie moved, bringing his arms around the man. "Bodie, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, really." He struggled to put his feelings into words, words that would make some kind of sense. "It's just that, here, we're safe, you know? Nobody knows we're here. Not Cowley, not the real world. It's just you and me."

"And room service."

A small smile escaped Bodie then and he sighed. "Sorry. I know it's stupid."

"No, it isn't. I understand."

Bodie blinked, capturing those wonderfully green eyes as if for the first time. "You do?"

"Yeah. But you and me? We're not going back to that place. Ever. We're gonna make new places, together. You need to start trusting yourself, Bodie. I meant it when I said we've changed. But we changed because we wanted to. Yeah, the real world is going to try our patience with its prejudice and fear and hatred. But it won't break us up."

"No," Bodie began to smile at the famous determination he saw in Ray's eyes. "I don't think it has a hope."

"Exactly. So?"

"So... make the call -- and I'll get a shower. Just break it to them gently, will you?"

Ray laughed, "As gently as I can."

The drive out to the coast was long and delicious. Doyle had stopped by his place long enough to throw a few clothes in a bag and to grab his camera. Bodie had almost disuaded him at one point, making noises about a certain bed that was calling to him, but Doyle had simply kissed him, pushed him out the door and locked it behind him. One more brief stop at Bodie's place -- where the same comment was made about another bed making noises -- and they were on their way.

The weather beamed at them all the way, a warm invitation to spring that made Doyle want to hang out the windows to enjoy it fully. He let Bodie drive largely because he didn't trust what a pair of unoccupied Bodie-hands might do if he didn't.

As the last hills began to rise and fall before them, Bodie glanced at him, "So what did Murph say?"

"Jesus, Bodie, that's taken you nearly four hours!"

Bodie chuckled, "I didn't want to appear anxious."

Doyle grinned. "No, I'll bet you didn't."

"Well?"

"Oh, you know Murph, cool as a cucumber."

"Oh, yeah."

Glancing aside at Bodie, Doyle smiled, "Actually, he was frantic with worry."

"Really? Why?"

"Because he'd seen me leave with you last night and hadn't heard anything since. He'd tried ringing your place and mine."

"Christ, what did he think I'd done with you?"

"I didn't ask," Doyle replied dryly.

"So what did you tell him?"

"A carefully edited version of the truth."

"Edited, eh?"

"Well, didn't seem to be much point in telling him all the details." Doyle stretched -- and winced as his elbow touched the roof of the car.

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"Positive. Just a small bruise."

As though he didn't really believe, Bodie reached out and took his hand, throwing him a smile, "Well, that'll teach you not to attack me in the shower without warning."

"I should have thought telling you I love you was sufficient warning. Besides, I didn't attack you -- you attacked me. I just went in there to shave."

"Oh? You always shave under the spray, when somebody else is in there? Somebody who has such shameless designs on your wet, naked body?"

Doyle was laughing.

"I see," Bodie nodded, smugly. "I'll have to remember that."

"Not much chance you forgetting, is there?" Doyle glanced at the map, at the next road sign and pointed for Bodie to make a turn. "Next on the left. I think it's that house with the cliff behind it. Looks the way Murph described it. Bodie, are you sure you're okay with this? Us being together, with them around?"

"Sure."

"I mean, I don't want you to start feeling uncomfortable -- or awkward about touching me or anything."

"Ray, I'm fine about it. I promise you. Remember, I was the one who told them about us in the first place."

"Yeah, okay."

Bodie pulled into the drive next to Murphy's car. Nobody came out to greet them but he wasn't surprised. Murph had said they should just go in as he and Kathy had planned to go out for lunch.

Leaving their bags in the car, they went inside the small cottage -- and Doyle fell in love with it immediately. Bodie looked a little uncomfortable, as though the place wasn't quite big enough to hold him. Doyle just laughed at him, grabbed his hand and together they wandered through, up the stairs to find two bedrooms, one with a note on the door saying this was theirs. The room had a double bed and a window which faced towards the sea. For some reason, that made Doyle nervous and he turned and headed down the stairs before he could stop himself.

Bodie caught him in the kitchen, "Stop, Ray. What is it?"

As Bodie's arms came around him, Doyle shrugged, feeling silly. "My turn to behave like an ass. I guess..."

"You're more worried about coming out than I am, I think."

"Maybe. It's a big step."

"With two people who not already know about us, but appear to approve wholeheartedly? You're right, Ray, you are being an ass. Just relax." With that, Bodie held him close and kissed him, long and deep, making him remember the rewards for the risks, payment in full, the best prize ever.

"So it's true."

The voice from the door made Doyle start like a guilty creature. His head whipped around to find Murphy standing there, Kathy with him, a smile on her face. Close by, Bodie began to laugh. "Sure, it's true. Why, did you think I was holding a gun to his head while he phoned you?"

"Wouldn't put it past you." Murphy replied, his usual understated humour filling his eyes.

"Wouldn't have needed to from the look of them," Kathy laughed, coming forward to give Doyle and then Bodie a hug. "All I can say is, if it is true, then I'm happy for both of you. Really, I am. So is Michael."

Doyle looked into her eyes, then at Murphy, then back at Bodie. With a grin, Bodie put his arm around Doyle's shoulders, giving them a squeeze. "Relax, love. The worst is yet to come."

And that was enough to make Doyle laugh, emptying the residual nerves from his body. When Kathy suggested a cup of tea, Doyle insisted on making it.

It was the least he could do.

The nights were drawing out longer and Bodie was glad. Glad that the winter was finally over, that darkness gone, the terror, the pain and agony it had brought him. Even now, with Ray walking beside him, holding his hand, he wasn't sure he was ever going to be able to face snow again and not shiver with the memory of what it had, for a few weeks at least, meant to him.

Loss. Death. Not just Ray's -- but his own along with it. But for a stroke of luck, a minefield of courage, he might have lost Ray completely. Not only missed what they had together now, but everything.

Of course, he could still lose Ray, one day in the line of duty. It might happen, no matter how hard Bodie might try to watch his back. It was a risk they both took -- and yet, they both knew they couldn't stop working, couldn't change they way they were, how important the work was to both of them. Sure, it was going to be a battle to get Cowley to agree to them remaining partners -- but Bodie would rather resign than leave Ray to somebody else to look out for.

And maybe, just maybe, Cowley would understand enough to know that they would be fine working together as well as living together. And they would be. Largely because, ultimately, nothing had changed, not deep down. All that had happened was they'd actually acknowledged the thing that had been growing between them all these years, the source of their bond, the specialness of how they worked together. It was all about love, always had been. They'd always protected each other fiercly -- and would continue to do so.

And now, if he lost Ray, he would at least have the memory of love to live on. Not the pain, not the agony -- but the love. Enough to sustain him. That's what Ray had given him. He'd handed Ray his heart and had received it back, enriched and nourished with so much love, Bodie was staggered by it.

Staggered -- and happy. An odd feeling, unfamiliar, but nice. Yeah, he could live with this.

They walked along the cliffs, following a path that took them up and down, pausing to gaze at birds as they hovered in the breeze, or to watch the heavy swell pound against the rocks below. They were utterly alone and Bodie was glad Doyle had suggested this. Outdoors was Ray's natural environment and he'd blossomed the moment they got out here.

Even now, Bodie smiled at the memory of Doyle's shock at them being caught kissing in front of Murphy and Kathy. Bodie didn't care. It kind of made it more real.

Ray came to a halt where a few boulders piled up at the cliff's edge. He sat and pulled Bodie down beside him, instantly snuggling into the arm Bodie put around him. Bodie glanced either way along the path, then turned Ray's face towards him, taking and receiving a gentle kiss for his troubles. For long wonderful minutes, they sat there in silence, listening to the gulls, the wind and the waves, watching the sky slowly edge towards sunset.

"'S'nice, this." Bodie murmured into Doyle's ear, his lips lingering, drawing in the scent of the man he loved. He shifted slightly, so Doyle could sit between his legs, lean back and have both Bodie's arms around him.

"Yeah, glad we came."

"Me too."

Doyle was silent a moment then said, "Do you think we'll be ready? To go back to work?"

"I think so."

"And Cowley?"

Bodie almost smiled, having just had this conversation with himself. Doyle was a born worrier and nothing -- not even a relationship with Bodie was ever going to change that. "What about him?"

"Well, you said he didn't seem too bothered about us. Are you sure? I mean, what if he won't let us stay partners."

"He will."

Doyle shifted, expressing concern in his movements. "Are you sure? You know his rules about relationships within the squad as well as I do. Hell, you've broken them often enough. But then you were able to hide it from him."

"Don't kid yourself." Bodie grinned.

"He knew?"

"Christ, Ray, he knew about you and me -- and he hardly saw either of us. There's virtually nothing in this country that old man doesn't know about. How the hell do you think he's managed to survive so long? No, it'll be okay. We'll just tell him he doesn't have a choice and he'll learn to live with it."

Doyle chuckled, "Oh, yeah? Like we have the power to force him to agree."

"Ray," Bodie leaned close, "he wants us in. He said as much to me. He also said that if I wanted to stay, we had to find some resolution. We have -- so why should he complain? He may bluster about us staying partners but we'll volunteer to give it a trial period, to prove to him that our work won't change. And even then, if he doesn't agree, we'll just threaten to resign."

Again, Doyle chuckled, easing back against Bodie, getting comfortable. "Can't wait to see the look on his face. I suppose he'll see the bright side."

"And that is?"

"If we're living together, there'll be money to be saved."

"His first thought, I'd bet."

The sun now crept towards the horizon but Bodie didn't want to move, not just yet. This was too nice, too real. Dinner was more than an hour away anyway so there was no real need to rush. He could find his way back to the cottage in the dark without a problem.

"Bodie?"

"Yeah?"

A long silence had Bodie a little worried. Doyle took his hands and held them against his stomach, as though he were afraid they might leave him. When it seemed he wouldn't speak, Bodie prompted him.

"Ray? What's wrong?"

Doyle held a breath for a moment, then let it out. "Before you talk to Cowley, there's something I have to tell you."

"Go on."

Another agonizing pause and Bodie's instincts were seriously aroused. But this time, he said nothing, allowing Ray the time to put it together on his own.

Eventually, the voice came to him, level, on a small gust of wind coming over the cliff. "I am sorry, you know, for lying to you about Jeff. I know it was important to you, especially at the time and you didn't deserve something like that -- but, it was so hard to tell you, you know?"

"It's okay, Ray. I understand."

"No, you don't."

"Okay, explain." Bodie pressed a kiss to the side of Ray's face, a gesture of security he hoped would sink through the veil of worry clouding his partner. "I'm here, I'm listening."

"You know when... remember that night at the pub? Murphy's birthday? When I said you weren't easy to confide in?"

"I'll never forget it. It was the night I realised I loved you."

"Oh, Bodie," Doyle breathed, more sorrow than anything else. "I'm not surprised you were scared. I mean, there I was accusing you of never giving anything of yourself and I was busy doing the same. And then you found out I'd lied to you, about Jeff and well..."

A hushed silence came over Doyle then, a silence Bodie didn't like at all. He waited but again, had to prompt. "What?"

"You couldn't trust me. And with reason."

Something cold gripped Bodie on the inside. "About Jeff?"

"No, not about him. Nothing to do with him. Something much older, much worse. Something you wanted to know, something I've never told anybody." When Bodie would have asked further, Doyle stopped him by taking a hand and raising it to his face, to press Bodie's fingers against that dented cheekbone.

Instantly Bodie breathed, relief, whatever. Didn't matter. He pulled Ray close again, kissing his neck, instilling his whole body with reassurance. "It's okay, love. You don't have to tell me."

"I know -- except that, I think that's why I have to."

Bodie frowned at this obscure piece of logic. "But if you've kept quiet about it so long, there's no need to..."

"Yes, there is, Bodie. You were right about giving guarantees. About giving. I do have to tell you."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because... it hurt too much." The simplicity of the response made Bodie ache inside. "Please, love, don't..."

"I was sixteen," Doyle paused. Bodie wanted to hear the story - needed to hear it -- but he didn't want Doyle to go through it unless he wanted to.

"Ray..."

"Please, Bodie. Just listen. It's important." Doyle shifted until he could see Bodie's face. "I had this friend, Joe. We used to run the streets together. We were pretty wild, getting into everything."

"You told me a little about those days and how the cops never caught you."

"Yeah, well this time they should have. Joe had an older brother. He was into dealing. Anyway, Joe and I were pretty bored one day and broke into his brother's room. We took some of his stuff and ran off to an empty warehouse, a place we knew junkies hung out at night." Again, Doyle had to pause to take in a breath. Bodie said nothing, simply caressed his shoulder with one hand, held his other. "So it was almost dark and we couldn't make up our minds what to do with this stuff. I think we had it in mind to sell it then go do something with the money. Probably buy some booze or something. Anyway, it was after a couple of hours and nobody showed up so we decided that... that... well, the best way to work off a few hours was to... shoot up."

For a second, Bodie froze. Then he relaxed, letting his fingers continue the gentle encouraging caress.

"We knew how to do it. We'd seen it plenty of times. Joe went first, then he helped me push the needle in my arm. We thought we were pretty tough, imagining all sorts of things happening to us before the drug really had a chance to affect us. But then it did and well, you don't need to hear how it felt. After about half an hour, when we were on the point of being really off our faces, these guys came into the warehouse. Joe wasn't worried, but I was. I scrambled out of sight just in time to see Joe's brother find him.

He knew Joe had stolen the stuff -- he was a mean bloody character, I tell you. The next thing I knew, he was kicking Joe, his mates joining in like it was some kind of bloody festival. Joe screamed for help but I couldn't move."

Bodie shifted until he held Doyle tighter, feeling the tension in that body, the horror of the story.

"He screamed and screamed and then he went quiet and I still didn't move. Then the guys left and I stayed where I was. My head was still spinning and I was all over the place but... after a while... I just got up... and ran off. I went home. I must have thrown up a dozen times on the way there. By the time I got to my street, I was pretty much over the heroin and sober enough to ring the cops from a payphone. Then I ran home and didn't leave my room for two days. When I did, I rang the hospitals until I found Joe."

Doyle ran out of words so Bodie prompted him.

"What happened?"

"He was alive -- but comatose. He recovered slowly but he remained pretty much a vegetable for the next three years. He died one night in his sleep."

"And your cheekbone?"

"His brother found out I'd been there -- I don't know how. Joe must have screamed my name while they were kicking him to death. Anyway, a few weeks later, I was walking home from school and he caught me. He didn't do too much -- he just threatened the same for me if I ever talked -- then he pushed me down a set of concrete stairs."

"Christ!"

"I didn't remember too much after that until I woke up in hospital a week later with my face all smashed in. Broke two ribs and fractured my collarbone at the same time."

"Damned lucky you didn't get killed!"

Doyle nodded then slowly turned and looked at Bodie. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do you still love me? Knowing all that?"

Bodie sighed comfortably, "I told you, you idiot, I'm going to love you for the rest of your life. Jesus, Ray, I knew it had to be something pretty terrible or you would have talked about it of your own accord. That's why I wanted to know."

"But it really is terrible."

"Yeah. It's called a crime in the legal books."

"So?"

"So what? You think I was a saint when I was a kid? Sure I never used drugs, I admit -- but you know I had reasons why I ran away to sea."

"What reasons?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow. The point is, we don't end up in this kind of work because we twaddled about all day as kids, looking after old folk and taking care of our devoted mothers. We landed in this job because we aren't saints -- but we've learnt which side we want to be on. We chose this side because -- from experience -- we know it's the right one. I learned that from you. So you made some mistakes. So did I. I can live with that. Either way, it sure as hell aint gonna stop me from loving you so you can get that idea out of your head right now."

Doyle stared at him, his gaze searching and uncompromising for long, deep seconds. Then slowly, he shook his head, "God, I do love you, Bodie. You are one of a kind."

"Yeah, well," Bodie grinned, "World couldn't take two of me, could it?"

"No, one is just enough."

"Are you sure?"

"One of you is all I want." With that, Doyle leaned close and kissed Bodie, putting his arms around Bodie's neck, holding him tight. Bodie kissed him back, revelling in the taste and feel of him, of being allowed to do this, of allowing himself the privilige of loving. It was rare and precious and surprising and totally intoxicating.

But it was also his.

As Ray settled against him once more, he gazed out to watch the last of the sun dip into a calm and undisturbed ocean. There would be days when the wind would whip up a fury, days when lives would be lost upon that sea and others when no breeze would scurry a whitetop. But that was the nature of the beast, the nature of the sea, the nature of life.

Bodie held Ray tight, pressed his face to the soft curls, left one more kiss beneath an ear, using each movement as part of a tiny ritual. Step by joyous step he let the last of it go in a long sigh. "Yeah, this is really nice out here."

He could hear the smile in Ray's voice. "Glad we came?"

"Oh yeah. You cold?"

Doyle shook his head, leaving an imprint over Bodie's heart. "No, Bodie, not cold at all."

***

And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows.

-- Billy Joel

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