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Bodie pulled the curtains closed without actually showing his face at the bedroom windows. Ray locked the doors downstairs, then put on a light in the spare room, just in case. Then he came in and Bodie turned to look at him, astonished all over again that this was indeed Ray.

Willing, eagerly, Ray came into his arms, kissing him with the ferocity of old, the passion he'd always loved in his partner. Demanding and yet yielding, Ray drew him to the bed and undressed them both.

The light was left on.

Now Bodie could look and touch and feel as much as he wanted to. And he went slowly, exploring every facet of Doyle's face with loving kisses before drawing him down onto the bed. He kept his eyes open, even during the kisses, wanting to recall and remember who it was he was with. For now and for later. He wanted to make a new memory, to replace all those old ones where he'd tried to erase the pain of losing this man. From now on, there would be no more. Never again would he go looking for someone to kill the pain, to replace what he'd lost. It was here, in his arms now, even if this was the last time they could hold each other. No young lookalike would ever replace this so no other man would ever share his bed again. For there were no other men -- there never had been. There had only ever been Ray.

His hands moved eagerly over that wonderful body. Carefully and joyfully, he traced old familiar scars then happily found a few new ones. With each discovery, he made Ray tell him the story in full, ekeing out the pleasure with laughter and truth. He meandered over the past, the years missing between them, collecting not facts, but honesty in his travels. Doyle held nothing back, giving him what he needed with the same openness he'd always loved in the man. And still he worked his way across skin and muscle, across the soft fur on the chest, down to the hardness at the groin. There he lingered, tasting, feeling, enjoying, bringing Ray to the brink twice before moving upwards again. With a smile, he rolled Ray over onto his stomach and began all over on his back, kissing and stroking, finding the marks of the surgery from that shooting so long ago. Down to the perfect buttocks, still taught after all these years. Down the legs and the hard muscles before going back to that incredible rear.

"Do you," he murmured between kisses, "Still wear jeans?"

A rumble of laughter was muffled by the pillow around Doyle's face. "Occasionally. Why?"

"Good thing I never saw you in them."

"Why?"

"I would have recognized you from behind."

More laughter. "God, I love you, Bodie."

In response, Bodie sank his teeth gently into the smooth flesh, making Ray groan. Then he slid his fingers between the crack, raking over the intimate pucker of flesh. Instantly, Doyle spread his legs to give Bodie greater access. Bodie explored further, only just able to contain his growing urgency. But he had to -- he knew what he wanted and he knew it would take time.

Deliberately he raked his fingers over the soft sac, pressing his thumb to the entrance to Doyle's body. Involuntarily, Doyle humped his hips into the bed.

"Slowly, now."

"I know," Ray whispered hoarsely. "But Bodie, you're killing me. You have no idea what it's like being wanted by you. That's why I couldn't refuse you at the retreat -- even though I knew I should. Nobody has ever touched me the way you do."

"You mean, you've never slept with other men? Apart from Cade?"

"No, never. And that night with Cade was far more innocent than anything we used to do together."

Stupidly pleased, Bodie kept up his attentions, making Doyle groan again. Knowing he wouldn't last much longer, Bodie rolled him over again and settled between his legs, stretching out over him before kissing him once more. The kiss more than anything scored up memory, made it the present, burned itself into his memory. Then, as Ray tried to move against him, Bodie broke off and moved south again. There he cradled the hard shaft between his hands and took the head in his mouth. Instantly, Doyle arched into him, and he began to suck, hard and rough. He worked his hands on the balls, sent a finger into the anus but still his mouth worked strong, taking the love as it was given to him. All the while, he kept his eyes open, watching Ray writhe on the bed, his fists clenching the sheets, his back arched, thrusting into Bodie's mouth, crying out, panting, whimpering.

Bodie's heart sang. With a sudden jerk, Ray twitched and hot liquid flew into Bodie's mouth, again and again. He drank it down greedily until there was no more, draining Doyle and leaving him a limp mess. With a grin from ear to ear, he spread himself beside the man, head up on his arm and waited for the recovery.

It began with a kiss, Doyle tasting himself in Bodie's mouth. Then arms came around him and words of love whispered, words of old, the way they'd been before, years ago, when they'd been happy.

And then Bodie was swept away by the inexorable flood of Ray's passion. Now on the receiving end, he relaxed back and let Ray ravage his body - but after sucking Ray, he was already too near. Ray backed off a bit, resorting to innocent massage to bank the flames. When he could, Bodie reached for Ray's half erection again, working it and making it full. Groaning, Ray pinned him down, planting moist kisses along his jaw, nibbling on his ear.

"What do you want, Bodie?"

"You." Bodie smiled, more content that he'd been in fourteen years. "That's all I've ever wanted."

A dry chuckle rumbled through Ray's chest, "And how do you want me?"

A spike of thrill sent his erection trembling, the image in his mind enough to almost set him off. With only the greatest effort, he bit his tongue and kept silent.

"On my back?"

Bodie moaned but said nothing. Torture could be exquisite.

"Can I take you in my mouth?" Doyle worked each word with deliberate seduction, knowing full well the effect he was having.

Bodie could have laughed -- if his urgency hadn't been so near-painful. Between his thighs, Doyle moved gently, sending shivers cascading over his body. Then a hand went down, brushed over his erection, across this balls and beyond. Then that deep voice came again, wanting and alluring, dizzying and full of love.

"That's what you want, isn't it?"

Bodie could only nod.

"Is it?" Doyle insisted, catching his teeth playfully on Bodie's jaw. "Tell me you want me to fuck you."

"I want you to fuck me." Bodie replied automatically, only realizing seconds later, that Doyle was already between his legs, lifting them apart, pushing his fingers in that place, slick with something Bodie hadn't noticed him preparing. Instantly, Bodie raised his hips and waited, breath held, until Doyle slid into him. The pain was sharp, necessary and fleeting. It had been a long time; he'd never let another man take him like this, this alone was Ray's. He felt filled both inside and out, overtaken completely by the delicious sensation of Ray within him, dwelling on it, wanting it, needing it. A moan, deep and raw, fell from his lips just before they were caught by Doyle's. Buried inside him now, Doyle didn't move, simply contenting himself with commanding Bodie's mouth, tugging the now bruised lips.

"Please, Ray," Bodie whispered between kisses. "Please move. I can't take much more."

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you. I love you, Ray. I love you so damned much."

And Doyle began to move, slowly and deliberately, elongating the pleasure for both of them, easing himself in and out, touching things inside Bodie he'd forgotten all about. With each thrust, he inched closer to the edge, desperate for release, but not wanting it to end. He held Doyle to him, hands on those perfect buttocks, urging Doyle with him. This was his Ray inside him now, making love to him, joining them, tearing away the years with every murmur. He was complete now, no longer empty, no longer wandering across that wasteland, lost. They moved together, always together, slowly, stretching time until it seemed endless. Then -- then, long after he thought he would die from it, Bodie felt the flesh inside twist together, his soul crying out, matching pace for pace, controlling him from within, tightening and flooding forth.

With a harsh groan, he jerked in Doyle's hand, flooding his abdomen. Still Doyle's thumb worked over the head until there was nothing left. Only then did Doyle thrust once more and with a cry, Bodie's name on his lips, he emptied himself deep inside Bodie again and again until he was empty. Little more than a limp rag now, he carefully withdrew, fell on the bed alongside Bodie and gathered him up in his arms.

"Always loved," Doyle murmured into the perfect silence, "watching you come. I love you, Bodie."

"I love you, Ray." And Bodie pulled him closer, ignoring the fact that in a few short hours, he would have to leave. They might make love again before then -- probably would -- but ultimately, it didn't matter. For the moment -- and for the rest of his life, he had all he wanted right here in his arms.

And with any luck, that might just be enough.

***

Alan Cade turned off the kitchen tap, put his mug into the dishwasher and headed into the hallway. He shrugged on his jacket, picked up his briefcase and headed out the door to where Jack awaited him. The late summer morning was grey and overcast, warning of a sweltering day to come. The worst of it was, he would spend it in some dreary hall in London, wiling the day away with endless discussions on various points of police procedure.

Jack smiled goodmorning and then they were off. For a change, Cade sat in the back; he had papers he wanted to look over on the journey and he knew he would make a mess. Jack kept up his usual light conversation, only talking when he knew Cade wanted to, keeping silent when Cade had his head down. After an hour, it began to rain heavily and Jack had to slow down on the motorway.

Finished with his work, Cade settled back in his seat and watched the countryside slip past as the rain lightened to a drizzle. Passing cars lifted the water up in a hazy mist, their lights flashing past as small yellow beacons.

Elena was due back tomorrow. He could hardly contain his anticipation -- and found meetings like this one today, more and more tedious. He understood their importance in the long run, but it was sometimes hard to remember that these small things were part of the larger picture, imperative to his ability to do his job well.

Inevitably the subject of his drugs project would come up during the discussion breaks. Now, two months into the second trial, figures were beginning to present themselves -- and it all looked good. Not that anything concrete had been proved; nobody would assume that. No, it was more that there was now growing evidence to suggest a full scale trial in a couple of the larger cities -- with government approval. He'd already had some tentative suggestions put his way; a few words murmured over dinner, the odd scrap on a division memo. It was going to happen. Soon. From all he had seen so far, he felt reasonably confident there could be some kind of constructive move made. If they could get Glasgow, Edinburgh and perhaps Birmingham in on a proper year-long trial, there would be sufficient data presented to prove his case. And if that happened...

No. Best not to get too far ahead of himself. There was still a chance of too many things going wrong.

But Elena would be back tomorrow. She'd been gone three months and so much had happened in that time -- not that he could tell her about most of it. He couldn't mention a word about finding Bodie again, about falling in love all over again -- and then denying all possibility of a proper relationship. If she asked him again why he didn't find himself somebody, he already had his answer prepared.

But he could tell her about the drugs program and he knew she would be pleased. She'd want to know all about it -- and some of the things the public didn't know. So far the public response had been quiet -- a kind of wait and see attitude he rather liked. Not only that, but since it became public that he had started the trials in the other regions, his popularity had increased within Eastland; as though the people were rather proud that their Chief was leading the country in the drugs battle.

Oddly, though his own officers had been less than enthusiastic in the beginning, they too had begun to see the benefits of the program - and since it had started in the other regions, they too had been proud to know that they had broken new ground on what was otherwise a blatantly hopeless struggle.

The grey outskirts of London approached and his thoughts turned again, as they always did now, whenever he came into the city. Would Bodie be at the meeting today? Would they get a chance to talk? Would he feel just as bad again when they parted -- as he did every time?

Seeing Bodie was both wonderful and terrible at the same time. Since that night after the arms bust two months ago, he'd seen the man five times. Each time had been the same. They'd made an effort to build a friendship, to talk as they'd once done, to find some middle ground they could occupy safe from the scavengers. There'd also been a few phone calls, particularly in the first couple of weeks after they'd parted. Long phone calls where each had talked long about difficult things they'd not spoken about before. Clearing the air in a way they couldn't afford to do face to face.

As the car threaded its way through the city towards Whitehall, Cade couldn't stop that sense of anticipation that grew inside him. Hell, if Bodie wasn't there, he'd be so disappointed. And then he was there, the rain had stopped and he was getting out of the car.

The building was as grey as the sky and he went in, found the meeting room and spent the first twenty minutes shaking hands and catching up with people. He tried not to look for Bodie. But in the end, he didn't need to.

"So you emerge from the dark north at last."

The words cut into the silence left over from a conversation just ended. Cade was alone and turned slowly to look at the other man. Bodie wore a dark suit, a crisp white shirt adding perfect contrast, stunning as always. Those blue eyes studied him without giving anything away and Cade, ever mindful of where he was, reached out and shook the proffered hand. "It's good to see you again, Bodie. How have you been?"

"Oh, the usual. Too much work, too little money to play with, too many boots that need licking. Can't say I ever thought I'd be playing this game at my age."

"You mean you prefer getting shot at?"

Bodie smiled and Cade saw a lot of interesting shared history in that look. "Yeah, well, if I could do all this and avoid getting shot at at the same time, it might be bearable -- but the bastards still think I'm a target so now I'm doing two jobs. What about you? Isn't Elena due back tomorrow?"

Cade nodded and tried to ignore the fact that people were taking seats and these precious few seconds would be over soon. "That's right. I'd like you to meet her. You should come up for lunch or something."

A pale frown creased Bodie's brow, his gaze moving to take in the rest of the room. "Perhaps."

And then they had to move apart and take their seats, concentrate on the work of the day, get things accomplished, do their jobs. But as every moment of the day wore on, Cade became more certain that Bodie would never go to Eastland, would never meet Elena, would never allow himself the chance to be alone with Cade.

And he knew why.

So, at least now he knew he wasn't alone in the way he felt about these brief meetings. And why the phone calls had dropped off. He'd not called Bodie lately either. It was as though they were both backing off, to give themselves time to put some distance between everything that had happened between them -- so they could live with the reality that they would never be together again.

But did that mean they couldn't try to be friends? There was no reason they shouldn't. Every reason they should. But if being friends meant they would both feel like this -- should they try? Wouldn't that only make it worse?

Perhaps Bodie was right; perhaps they should make as clean a break as their jobs would allow. Perhaps they should just back right off and hope that six months, or even a year would help them learn to live with it.

When Bodie spoke to him again at the end of the day, he didn't mention lunch with Elena. The conversation remained on work and as he left, Cade realized he hadn't seen Bodie smile again since that first moment in the morning.

It was only as he was on his way home that he noticed he hadn't smiled either.

***

As Bodie drove up the long avenue and caught his first glimpse of the house, he let out a low whistle. Doyle had certainly made some interesting friends in his long and chequered career. Sir David Lowe was a banker from a long distinguished family. Four generations back had built this house, more recently added to by David and his father. Now, the mansion stretched out among glistening green gardens littered casually with ancient oak and spruce. He even had his own private golf course on the south side of the building.

Tires scattered gravel as he parked in the shade alongside a few other expensive vehicles. There was a man to greet him and show him inside and this time he controlled his reaction to the high painted ceilings after Giotto, the gilt framed Holbiens along the passage and the Ming China in the cabinets. With a quiet word of announcement, he was shown into a parlour facing the golf course where twenty or so people turned to welcome him. Sir David introduced him to a few others before bringing him up to Doyle -- or Cade as he had to remember now.

Musn't call him Ray. Must call him Alan. Have to remember. That's all gone now. Nothing left but the pain. This is Alan and Alan can't afford to love Bodie.

No matter how much Bodie loves Alan.

A glass of white wine was pressed into his hand and he turned his attention to Doyle for a moment, taking in as much as he dared before gazing out of the window. Gentle conversation flitted around him but he was largely deaf to it. In the three weeks since he'd last seen Doyle, he'd thought of nothing else in his spare hours. Now that he had something to fill them with, they suddenly, after so many years, seemed much longer and much emptier.

Never know what you've got till it's gone.

Twice.

"I didn't think you'd come." Doyle said evenly, turning to stand beside him, his gaze ostensibly ranging over the lawn bathed in morning sunlight.

"Why not? I don't work all the time -- that's your job, not mine."

"Yeah?" Doyle smiled, "I never thought Cowley ever took time off."

"That's because Cowley didn't trust anybody to do his job when he wasn't there."

"And you do? I thought you didn't trust anybody."

"I don't." Bodie flickered a glance at Doyle before adding. "Except you."

"Then why did you come?"

"Why do you think?"

He felt Doyle's gaze on him but didn't turn. Fortunately, Sir David announced that lunch was served and the exodus split the two of them up. Bodie found himself cornered by a beautiful blond and used it as an excuse to stay away from Doyle. Damn him -- he'd bloody come all this way so he could see Doyle and now he couldn't bear to talk to him.

But the blond was good company and over lunch, he deliberately worked to make himself relax and enjoy the day. Seated around a long table, Sir David made little effort to govern the conversation -- rather he seemed to prefer to hear the opinions of the influential people in his company. The conversations flitted from one topic to the other but Bodie noticed Doyle taking little part in any of them. Right up until somebody asked him about the drugs program.

It was extraordinary. As though he simply stepped into another persona, Doyle changed visibly. He warmed to his topic, choosing his words carefully to gain the maximum effect. Questions were thrown at him, some of them quite hostile -- but he fielded them all, never losing control of the discussion, never ignoring an important point, always appearing to listen and consider any opposing opinion. Without ever expressing any certainty about anything, Cade nevertheless gave the impression of believing deeply in what he was trying to do, his passion for his cause obvious to everyone at the table. Once again it seemed obvious that with his quiet determination, Cade had won a few more supporters without even realising he was doing it.

Sir David turned the conversation to something else, keeping Cade involved -- and Bodie continued to watch without ever becoming involved. He found he could talk to the blond without losing track of where Cade was, what he was saying -- even though they sat at opposite ends of the table. For his part, Cade never once looked at Bodie and for that, he was glad. This was hard enough as it was.

But, god, it was wonderful to watch him! To just be in the same room with him, breathe the same air, listen to that voice, see those green eyes in so many different moods.

Ray had changed over the years. Some of the changes were fundamental, others more subtle but strangely, none of them detracted from the man. Instead, they appeared more as an enhancement to the character he'd been so attracted to years before. They added a depth to Ray that mere time could never give.

The fire that had always burned inside Ray had perhaps lost the worst of its fireworks, but instead it was now a permanet glow of bright coals, bringing warmth to more people in the process. Ray had been right in one way -- Doyle no longer existed -- but neither did Cade. No, it was more that Ray lived on in this Cade -- as Alan lived on in this Doyle. Somehow, over the years as he'd grown, Ray had managed to make himself more than the sum of this two parts -- and with a belated twinge of regret, Bodie realized he was hopelessly in love with both of them.

After coffee, people wandered outside. The majority sauntered off in the direction of a small outbuilding where Sir David kept his golf equipment. Something of an obsessive on the subject, he kept shoes and clubs and balls and everything, often holding these lunches mainly as an excuse to get people over to play. Bodie wasn't so keen. Instead, he found himself standing on a portico, gazing down at a fountain surrounded by a low wall. Tiny neat hedges bordered a circular path around the fountain before heading off into bigger trees and something of a small wilderness. Feeling the sun on his shoulders, Bodie took a few steps down towards and turned back to look at the elegant mansion. With his eyes on the ornate porticos and the lead lined roof, it was a moment before he realised he wasn't alone. Ray wandered towards him, a knowing smile on his face.

"Grandeur or decadance, Bodie -- what do you see?"

"I," Bodie shrugged, "see both."

Doyle nodded, shooting a glance of his own towards the house. "I didn't think you'd want to play golf."

He couldn't help it; he smiled. "Oh? And why not?"

Doyle came down the stairs beside him, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. Together they made it down to the fountain. "Nothing so tame for you."

Bodie risked a glance around -- they were entirely alone. Then he turned his attention to the man beside him and for the first time, took note of every aspect from the light tan trousers to the deep green sports shirt. That hair was still too short -- but perhaps a little longer than the last time he'd seen. The face, so damned beautiful, so captivating, was tanned from the long summer, the green eyes light with the afternoon sun. Doyle appeared wholly relaxed and totally at home.

"What about you?" Bodie asked, coming to a halt before the fountain. "I would have thought golf would be good for your career."

"Oh, I play every now and then."

"Any good at it?"

Doyle glanced sideways at him, a half-smile, half-grimace on his face, "Sir David refuses to play with me now."

Bodie had to laugh. "So was it you who got me the invitation?"

"What? Here? Oh, no mate, that wasn't me. Sir David wanted to meet you -- and so did a couple of the others."

"And you had nothing to do with it?"

Doyle laughed, "Christ, Bodie, I'm not Machievelli. David asked me if I thought you would come. I said it was unlikely knowing your schedule. He asked me to try and persuade you -- but then you accepted and I didn't need to."

"But why should he ask you to convince me?"

Doyle sat on the low wall and looked up at him, "I told him we're friends. He knows how important you are and the fact that, in some ways, going from 6 to CI5, you've come in from the cold. He likes to be a bit of a power broker, introducing all the right people to all the right people. During the week, he plays with money, on the weekends, he plays golf. Basically he's harmless."

Bodie nodded, "And I'll bet you're on excellent terms with fifty Sir Davids."

"Well," Doyle shrugged, "you can't be a Chief Constable without rubbing shoulders with his kind. Don't dismiss him, Bodie. It's men like Sir David that make things happen higher up. The politicians are the short haul players. It's the corporate managers, the high rollers that make all the big plans. If you want to get something done, show somebody how they can make a profit out of it and they'll be on your side."

Bodie nodded again, folding his arms, "So, how can you make your drugs program into a money making venture?"

With a snort, Doyle replied, "Not sure I can -- but I can make it look like it is -- or rather, a means by which people can stop losing money -- the same thing in the long run. What about you? I've heard you've been having a few problems?"

Bodie shrugged and glanced away: it was just like Doyle to know stuff nobody outside the squad would know. Time to change the subject, "Has Elena come back safe and well?"

There was a long pause before Doyle replied, "She started back at classes this week. The house seems full and noisy all of a sudden. I'd gotten used to being alone again."

Unable to stop himself, Bodie's gaze returned sharply to Doyle - but he didn't pursue his first line of thought. No. That was off limits. Forever. "What's she like?"

Doyle's eyes took on a light he'd never seen before. It was nice. "Funny, vivacious, full of the passion of youth. She'll make a damn fine lawyer one day -- though how she finds the patience to do the work never ceases to amaze me. I..."

"What?"

Doyle looked up, "I would like you to meet her. It just might make it..."

"A bit easier?" Bodie replied softly. As if anything could.

"Something like that."

Bodie could only nod, knowing exactly what Doyle meant. "Yeah, well, maybe one day. But not yet."

"I understand."

God, why did every conversation they had these days, end up like this? Down in the doldrums. Bodie hated it. Hated knowing that he couldn't make Doyle really smile any more, couldn't do anything to break down that perpetual wall of isolation Doyle carried around with him everywhere. That protection he needed to keep the secret of his past. Bodie knew all about it now and Doyle shouldn't have to remain quite so isolated. There were things he needed to share and Bodie wanted to do that sharing, wanted his shoulders to be the ones to lighten the burden. Christ, why should Doyle have to do the whole thing on his own? Couldn't he have a chance at a little peace, a little trust? Bodie knew everything; Doyle didn't need to pretend with him -- and yet, here they were, trying to build a friendship that could never be as it was simply because, of necessity, both of them had to deny a vital part of themselves in the process. They lied to each other with every word -- even though it was the truth that kept the lie before them.

Did it have to be like this? Wasn't there some way they could have what they wanted -- and be together at the same time?

"I see you made a friend at lunch," Doyle said into the silence.

Bodie glanced down to see Doyle watching his feet. Bloody great idiot. As if Bodie could seriously contemplate being with anybody the way he felt at the moment. Nevertheless, it might give him an angle he needed. "Yeah, well, you know how the ladies love the charm."

It worked. Doyle glanced up with a grin. "It's the power they love, Bodie, not the face."

Well, you love this face, Bodie replied silently. Out loud, he added, "But it's the charm that kills them. C'mon, let's give this golf thing a go. After your brave claim about your friend, I have to see just how good the Doyle aim is after all these years."

Doyle nodded and stood up. "Obviously I don't need to play you at golf to see how the Bodie ego is going after all these years."

Bodie laughed outright and together they walked towards the small hut. By now, everybody was out on the greens, at various different stages of their games. The hut was empty and Doyle led Bodie inside.

It was a little dark after the sunshine and Bodie had to let his eyes adjust -- and he let out another low whistle. Along one wall was a rack, floor to ceiling, with shelves with golf shoes of all sizes. On the opposite wall were three sets of clubs in neat roller carts -- space for another dozen empty beside them. Umbrellas and a battery powered buggy stood against the remaining wall. "This guy really is obsessed, isn't he?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. Here, let's get you some shoes. David won't have street shoes on his greens." Doyle began wandering along the rows, checking the sizes as he went. He pulled out a pair, knelt down and placed one alongside Bodie's right foot. Not happy, he put them back and took out another pair. He tried again.

Bodie, couldn't help but laugh at the situation. "Now this is one for the tabloids, sunshine."

"Eh?" Doyle murmured, concentrating on what he was doing.

"CI5 Controller has Chief Constable on his knees, kissing feet."

A rumble of husky laughter filled the small hut as Doyle rose, his head shaking. With one shoe, he slapped Bodie's behind -- none too gently at that. "You must learn to take these things seriously, mate, or Sir David will never invite you back."

"But I am being serious," Bodie replied, deadpan. "If the shoe fits?"

Another laugh and Doyle turned back to the rack. "For your feet - or your ego? Dunno if they make them that big." Deliberately, Bodie crowded close, peering over Doyle's shoulder. "I want a pair of green ones. I won't play if I can't wear green shoes. It's my favourite colour. Only green shoes."

Doyle's shoulders were shaking -- and then suddenly he grabbed a pair and turned swiftly, pushing them into Bodie's chest. "There, a pair of green shoes, as ordered." He was gazing up at Bodie then, his eyes dancing, a smile on his face -- which Bodie matched--

For a long, long moment time stood completely and utterly still. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe. He knew his smile had gone -- for his expression was mirrored in Doyle's abruptly sober eyes. The seconds ticked away as they stood close to each other, silent, the air full of tension. Desperately, Bodie tried to fight it, warning his body not to react, to forget who this was, to take the shoes and step back -- but at the same time, his heart was screaming at him to simply wrap his arms around the man and hold him tight. Never let him go.

Never let him go.

And what would Doyle do if he did? Push him away? No. At least, not judging by the look in those emerald eyes. Wanting and waiting, afraid and bold, all at the same time. A hopeless conjunction of fear and anticipation glazed Doyle's eyes dark and velvety, shortened his breath. Still, they stood there, saying nothing, letting the silence compound.

Finally, Bodie could stand it no longer, his whole being twisted around a stroke of fate he no longer had any will to resist. He hissed in a breath, his chest ached. He formed words, short and harsh and from his gut.

"I want to kiss you."

"No." A wisp of air, no more, from wanting lips that barely moved.

"I know, but I still want to kiss you." Unconsciously, he found himself leaning towards Doyle -- as the other man moved towards him. The ache inside threatened to flood every fibre of his being, drowning the fractional self-control that kept his hands to himself.

He wanted to -- but knew he couldn't. Wanted to pull Doyle to him, chance somebody coming in and seeing them, damn the country, the whole universe. Wanted to hold that face and kiss it, let them be one again as they had always been destined to be. But he couldn't. Not even once. Couldn't even entertain the idea. Things were bad enough as it was -- but if he so much as touched Doyle, it would become insufferable...

Would become? Hell, it already was!

With a moan, he tore himself away. Four quick strides and he was out of the hut and into the sunshine. He didn't wait, he simply kept walking, knowing Doyle wouldn't call him back, knowing there would be excuses of some sudden work made for him. He had to leave. He couldn't do this any more. Wasn't sure he'd ever been able to do it. It was impossible. Just as impossible as their being togther.

More so. For if they were together, they could face anything. Separate, they couldn't even face each other.

No, there had to be another way.

***

Cade stowed his things in the back of the landrover and glanced over his shoulder as Sir David came up to say goodbye.

"A pity you can't stay on for dinner. After the golf today, I should think it will be a bit of a party."

Cade gave him a smile, practiced, smooth and seemless. Nothing to indicate the darkness inside him, a darkness he feared now would overflow and seep out from every pore. Odd that nobody but Bodie had ever been able to see it. "I'm afraid I have things to do at home, and tomorrow I have meetings from 7am. Need to get a little sleep."

David nodded and stood beside the car, glancing idly over the sleek lines. "A pity Bodie had to leave so soon. I was hoping to see him show his hand at golf. I'm surprised you managed to talk him into it."

Again, Cade kept the smile on his face by sheer willpower. "He was sorry to go -- but you know how work is with us law enforcement types. Never wholly predicatable, even less so with him."

David glanced at him then turned to view the house in the evening light, the remaining guest cars parked in orderly lines. Pursing his lips, he frowned slightly, "I wonder..."

"What?"

Shooting a quick glance at him, David continued, "Do you think he's the right man to be running CI5?"

Without hesitation, Cade replied, "About the only man, I think. Especially with his background."

"Have you known him long?"

They'd prepared a response to this question, knowing nobody would believe the way they spoke to each other was the result of only a few month's acquaintance. "We met a long time ago, briefly. It was through work. Didn't meet up again until the conference three months ago."

Not necessarily content with this response, David kept his gaze level. "How well do you know him?"

"About as well as anyone. Why?" This was an odd set of questions coming from this man. Where were they leading -- and what trap was being set for him?

For a moment, David appeared to be making up his mind about something -- then he formed a reply, "Look, I don't want to speak out of turn and I know you won't repeat this, especially as he's your friend -- but did you know he's not... I mean, he isn't... straight?"

It was a few seconds before Cade understood the question. Unconsciously, his jaw dropped a little and David hastened to explain.

"I'm sorry. It's not exactly a state secret and I'm not implying the man has unsavoury habits with young boys or anything. Nothing of the kind. I just wondered if you knew."

Finally, Cade could speak, "Why?"

David shrugged, appearing a little uncomfortable, "Well, it's just that he was watching you so carefully at lunch -- and well, you were in the cabin with him and then suddenly he left." A little cough preceded the next inevitable statement. "I couldn't help wondering if he... had behaved inappropriately."

If this had been any other day, Cade would have laughed -- but he didn't even bother making the attempt. It would look too forced and David would be suspicious. Instead, Cade shook his head, opened the driver's door and put the keys in the ignition. "No, David, Bodie did nothing inappropriate, believe me. It's like I said earlier; I was finding him some shoes and he got a call on his mobile, calling him back to London."

"But he was watching you."

"Yes, I suppose he was." Cade paused, selecting some truth to cover the lie. "I probably shouldn't tell you this but Bodie has never once openly discussed the drugs program with me. He was at the conference, has been kept up to date with the latest developments -- but we've never actually talked about it."

"And you think he's preparing to oppose you?"

"I hope he isn't -- but that doesn't mean he won't. I don't need to tell you how important it is that I have the support of someobody in Bodie's position."

"He couldn't bring the program to an end, could he?"

"No -- but he's a man of action, not words. He prefers to take the hard line -- one of the things that makes him the perfect man to run CI5. But as such, the idea that we would ignore some drug dealings in order to focus on others goes against everything he believes in."

"So, what can you do?"

"Convince him otherwise." Cade shrugged and got into his car, pulling the door closed and winding down the window. "I'd rather he supported the program than have it foisted upon him."

David nodded, standing back a little, "Well, I hope you weren't offended by what I said."

"Of course not. Actually, it's rather nice to think you were concerned for my virtue."

With a laugh, David waved. "Have a good trip home -- and next time, you must bring Elena with you."

Cade nodded and pulled out onto the drive. It took him little more than an hour to get home but by then it was dark. Elena was in Nottingham for the weekend so he had the place to himself -- and he was glad. He needed a little time, a little space to himself. He needed to find some thing, some thought, words to say to himself that could make the afternoon go away.

It hadn't -- not on the whole drive back. Over and over it replayed in his mind; the words before lunch, feeling Bodie's eyes on him through the meal, the difficult conversation beside the fountain, Bodie's admission on the subject of Elena -- and then, more than anything else, the moment in the cabin.

He knew now, as he'd known in those long agonizing moments, that if Bodie had kissed him, he would have done nothing to stop it.

Bodie had always been an attractive man, beautiful and dark, charming and elegant with that ever-present hint of danger lurking behind those vivid blue eyes. Doyle had been attracted to him for a year or more before they had ever got together. And three months ago, he'd gone through it all again -- but today, in the cabin, it hadn't been the physical that had frozen him to his spot. Just seeing the longing and the pain in Bodie's eyes had done that. Feeling it burning though his own soul had only made it worse.

No, he had been a fool to think they could go back to being friends -- and in six months, or a year, they would be no better. In fact, they would only be worse.

Leaving only one light on in the living room, he wandered out onto the portico with a glass of red wine. The air was cool but sweet, the last of the roses giving out perfume to drift on the cloudless night. He sat on the low wall, letting his feet dangle over the edge to brush the tops of the lavendar bushes. Before him stretched the garden, too little used. Behind him sat the house, too big for him alone, even for Elena. Too big and too empty. Around the edge of the garden stood the real reason why he'd bought the place; tall elms and oak, between which sat smaller bushes. A wall of privacy he had known he would need. His neighbours couldn't see him and he couldn't see them.

A wall of privacy. A wall of trees. All to protect him from the world outside. But what was going to protect him from the world inside?

In all the last fourteen years, he'd been happy to pay the price for taking on Alan Cade's life. He'd been proud to carry on where his friend had left off, fulfilling a destiny that had been manifest in the character of the man he'd known in those six short months. And he'd done so much with it all. Alan would have been proud.

Even though now the price was getting so high he could no longer see the end of it.

Bodie was gone and he wouldn't come back. He'd seen what he wanted and knew it was being denied him by a series of circumstances neither of them could change. A few more meetings like that and they'd start fighting, arguing about things that didn't matter because they weren't allowed to talk about the things that did.

God, how he'd wanted Bodie to kiss him!

But it would have been a disaster. Even if they'd not been discovered, they would have held on to each other, then formed some plan to get away from the place without questions being asked. Then Doyle would have brought Bodie back here and they would have gone to bed together and they would have both regretted it afterwards and yet the very next time a similar occasion happened, the same thing would ensue and between these flashes of desperation, would be darker, deeper wells of black regret and hideous fear, wondering if they would be found out, watching the papers, the news, for any word. Each time they would promise each other that it would be the last time -- but they would know it couldn't be because there was no end to it. There was no point at which they had stopped loving each other, stopped wanting each other. It would just go on and on without ever finding a mark at which to find peace.

And Bodie wouldn't do it any more. Wouldn't play the game of innocence, continue to pretend there wasn't anything more between them. Doyle had seen it in his eyes as he'd turned to leave the cabin. Bodie had reached his breaking point -- and then passed it. There was no going back -- and no hope of going forward.

It was a terrible thought, but in so many ways, it had been easier when they'd both believed the other was dead -- not better, but easier. A shadowy past was a simple thing to deal with in comparison to a sharp and bitter present.

He sipped his wine and held the glass between both hands, gazing out at the darkness beneath the trees. Only the faintest brush of light glowed across the lawn, enough to bring a little shape to certain features, but no more.

So how could he learn to live with it now? If only there was somebody he could dare talk about it with. If only there was somebody he trusted that much -- as much as he trusted Bodie. But there was nobody. That in itself was part of the problem. Did Bodie have anybody he trusted? Would he find a way to live with it? Or would it continue to burn away inside him, eating at the things he'd spent so much time carefully building up. He'd changed so much over the years, deepened as a person, developed strong convictions, found a means of focussing that blistering determination. All to the good. Bodie had done so well out of a collection of events that would have destroyed most men. But Bodie had done it and he had survived. He'd come out the other side without being bitter and hating the world. It had been a long struggle for him, so didn't he deserve something better now? Couldn't he have what he wanted now, after it had been taken away out of sheer spite?

Doyle didn't even want to think about Willis and what Bodie might or might not have done to him. Whatever it was, Bodie wasn't going to tell him -- and he knew he was better off not knowing. But it seemed that, despite the death of the man so long ago, he would win in the end. He had struck out to hurt Bodie, had tried to get him killed -- twice. Now, long after it no longer mattered to anyone, the legacy of his hatred was a life of pain for the only two people left who remembered.

Two lives destroyed for the price of one. Three, including Marikka.

No. The truth was, there was no answer, no glib words to make anything different. He would live with it simply because he had to and for no other purpose.

"They won't kill us, you know?"

The voice intruded on his thoughts so softly that at first, he thought he'd imagined it. He didn't turn for fear that he had and that it wasn't Bodie who wandered towards him from the darkness of the trees on his right. He hadn't heard so much as a twig break.

"They'll survive. So will we."

For long moments, Doyle just listened to the voice, a shriek of relief flooding through him with a swiftness that almost made him dizzy. Bodie hadn't gone. He was here! Then the words began to sink in and Doyle turned his head a little to see the shadowy shape waiting a dozen feet away, familiar face touched by the light from indoors.

Bodie was smiling. "In the long run, they'll get the idea."

Swallowing, Doyle gathered himself a little. "Bodie, what are you talking about?"

"Can't say I think too much of your security here. You've grown a bit slack over the years. I've been within firing distance for twenty minutes or more and you didn't hear a thing. That's what happens when you don't have me around to watch your back."

Unable to stop staring, Doyle took in a short breath, wholly caught by the soft gentle voice, the cool and casual elegance, the simple presence of the man. "I... thought you'd gone back to London."

"Yeah, well I was going to -- was on my way -- and then I thought, fuck it."

A small involuntary laugh escaped Doyle before he continued, nervous, pleased and yet, terrified all at the same time, "What are you doing here?"

"You know you've been sitting there for an hour?" Doyle could just see an eyebrow lift -- and then Bodie was coming towards him, climbing each step to the portico slowly. Doyle didn't move as Bodie came behind him and stood close. "You know as well as I do why I'm here."

"I'm not a mind-reader, Bodie," Doyle replied, half afraid to turn around, way too afraid to say more.

Then Bodie moved until his legs pressed against Doyle's back. "We tried it your way, the safe way -- but it didn't work. Now we're going to do it my way."

Strung up high above it all, Doyle couldn't really take this in. "We are?"

"Yeah." Bodie replied, determination reeking from his few words. "We are."

Doyle pulled in his bottom lip -- but couldn't stop himself leaning back against Bodie's warmth, his strength. But then, hadn't he always done that -- in the past? Wasn't that what he'd lost, fourteen years ago? His rock? Idly, a hand brushed against his cheek, caressed the side of his neck and he turned his head into it as Bodie continued talking, his voice soft again.

"We've both worked for this country almost our entire adult lives. We've been out there on the firing line, putting our lives in danger, willing to sacrifice our futures in the cause of theirs. We deserve something back."

"Like what?"

"Acceptance."

"Bodie... you can't be serious." Doyle's voice came out as a trembling murmur but he was held utterly in Bodie's thrall and felt no desire to climb out of it. He needed to go on feeling Bodie's presence behind him, those cool fingers on his face; a caress so gentle it threatened to melt him.

"I am serious, Ray. Deadly serious." Bodie paused before adding, "There's no point continuing this charade, sunshine. We're just going to keep tearing ourselves apart. I don't know about you but I can't take a repeat of today. We are already together -- we'll always be together. Keeping our lives separate is a mistake neither of us can afford, let alone live with. We've been doing this for too long. We've forgotten why it's important to love somebody. For all that we've each achieved with our careers, unless we can have each other, we don't really have anything at all."

"But that's just... philosophy. It means nothing out there."

"So?" There was an edge to Bodie's voice now. "See, I went along with your decision because I respected the risk you take -- and for that matter, the work you do and how much it means to you. But you were -- and still are -- looking at it from a worst-case viewpoint. There's no guarantee anybody will ever find out about us -- and there's equally no guarantee that it will all blow up and be a mess."

Doyle couldn't listen to this; it was all too tempting to believe in the dusky light of night -- expecially with Bodie so close -- and too impossible to predict in the cold light of day. He couldn't afford hope; losing it would cleave him in two. With a sharp sigh, he twisted around, forcing Bodie back. He swung his legs back over the wall until he could look up at the man. "We've been through all this before, Bodie. You know I want us to be together -- but I can't risk everything I've worked for. I couldn't put Elena through the tabloid circus it would become."

But Bodie was just shaking his head, a light smile on his glorious face. "You're still assuming it will all work out badly. Now I know we took your line because my way is irredeemable -- but the point is, we should try. We just need the courage to pursue it."

Frowning Doyle shook his head, "What are you talking about?"

Bodie sat beside him, their shoulders lightly touching. Carefully, he reached out and took one of Doyle's hands, held it loosely between his own. "Your radical drugs program has almost reached critical mass -- probably has already. In another month or so, there'll be figures on the table - facts you will have had nothing to do with directly. Other minds are already attached to it and support for the idea is growing from so many quarters that before long, you will no longer be the only one speaking up for it. If you fall, if the papers do make a martyr of you, the program will be able to speak for itself, and other voices will rise to champion it. It can't be broken if they take you out."

Eyes wide, Doyle could only say, "How do you know this?"

"I told you; there's very little that happens in Whitehall that I don't know about. So far the beavers have been content to sit back and watch, expecting it to fail and being happy to let you go down with it if it did. But now it's obvious it won't fail and they're champing at the bit to get involved, catch a bit of the glory themselves -- be seen as the one vital link in the chain that really got the thing off the ground. All Europe is watching. They want that kind of stuff written under their names in Who's Who. You've worked hard, Ray and you deserve the success and the credit -- but if anybody finds out we're together, it will be in their interests to keep it quiet."

"And if it isn't?"

"The work will still go on. You might not be allowed a part in it -- but it will survive. That's what you really care about, isn't it?"

Bodie was studying him with grave eyes and Doyle could only nod. Despite all his reservations, what Bodie was saying was pretty much true. A brief smile brushed over Bodie's mouth before he continued. "So our only other real problem is Elena. You'll have to tell her about us. I can't come up here and spend the night with her around wondering what's going on. I know you love her and she means a lot to you. I wouldn't do that to her. So you'd have to tell her. How do you think she'll take it? Finding out her father is in love with another man?"

Half a laugh escaped Doyle as he shook his head. What was it about Bodie that gave him this gift of sweeping aside all unnecessary considerations? More to the point, why wasn't he fighting it harder? "I have no idea. But Bodie, you can't really mean all this. My career will be as good as over if the papers find out."

"They might not. If we're careful, we could keep it secret for months, perhaps even years. Who knows what might happen in that time?"

"But if they do, they'll crucify me -- and you -- and Elena, Eastland Constabulary, everything." He had to pause to breathe carefully. Too much fear was warring inside him. Fear of what might be -- and what could be. "And if they find out... if they go after me..."

He couldn't finish -- but he didn't need to. Bodie watched him carefully with those blue eyes he loved so much. Gently and softly he said, "What if they find out your other secret?"

Doyle nodded mutely.

"They won't."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do."

"How?"

"Because there is no secret any more."

"What?"

Bodie lifted his eyebrows and smiled lightly. "You've always had a rather charming ability to underestimate me. What do you think I've been doing over the last three months, eh? Watching your back, that's what."

"Bodie..."

"It's actually quite a simple thing to go back and check records, pull up old case files, switch copies of fingerprints and the like. It's actually frightening how easy it's been to cover your tracks. I saw you'd done a bit already, back when you first left Liverpool. I just finished the job. Now, they can hunt as long as they like, they won't find a thing you don't want them to find. I even doctored your dental records -- your old ones. I buried it all amongst a big review of CI5's past history. I can get away with it because I used to be in the squad and then had fourteen years away. I was just catching up on stuff I'd missed -- all to do my job better, of course."

"Of course," Doyle murmured faintly. For some reason, the night had changed colour, the air held a different scent and all of it trembled with possiblity. "You did that? For me?"

"Ray," Bodie dropped his voice, and his smile along with it. His expression took on a hardness seemingly directed entirely at himself. "Fourteen years ago, I couldn't fight to keep you. I wasn't given the chance. But I cannot now, nor ever will let Willis have the last word. I'm older and wiser now. I know what I have to do and believe me, I'm prepared to make any sacrifice to keep you in my life. I'd even resign if I thought it would do any good."

Doyle stared, his mouth open. Then, overwhelmed, he dropped his gaze to where their hands were entwined together. "Jesus, Bodie!" Was all he could say.

"The only real problem, as I said, is how Elena will take the news. Especially since she won't be able to tell anyone about it. That could only make it worse. From what I've read, kids sometimes need a bit of counselling. If it does become necessary, I could always ask Kate to talk to her."

"Kate?" Doyle looked up. "Kate who?"

"Kate Ross. She's... er..."

"What?" Doyle could hardly bear to hear the answer.

"A friend. A good friend. I trust her completely."

"How completely?"

"Well..." Bodie tilted his head a little, an engaging grin hinting around his eyes, "I haven't told her I'm in love with you -- but it's only a matter of time before she guesses something is going on."

"How much time?"

"Not a lot. She's very perceptive. But don't worry about her. Like I said, I trust her. She's a friend."

Kate Ross? Bodie's friend? "But how..."

"I'll tell you all about it another time. But I do need to know what we should do about Elena."

From absolutely nowhere, a rumble of laughter erupted from Doyle, low and satisfying. Bodie just watched him, a quizzical frown on his face. Eventually, Doyle shook his head, taking in a huge lung of air before letting it out in a noisy sigh. "Christ, Bodie, you are incredible! Do you know, you've always made decisions for both of us? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you're still doing it now."

"What do you mean? I've never made any decisions about us without consulting you first."

"No? You were the one who put your arm around me that first night, fourteen years ago. You leaned forward first to kiss me. You decided to make it love, to make it lifelong. You decided we should keep it a secret from Cowley even when Willis threatened you. You decided to make a pass at me at the conference even though you knew it was a bad idea."

"Ray," Bodie warned, "This isn't the same at all."

"Isn't it?" Doyle smiled and shook his head again, "Do I look like I'm complaining?"

Bodie raised an eyebrow at that, one corner of his mouth going up in tandem. "No. Does... that mean... you'll ... that you're saying yes?"

Doyle swallowed, "I won't lie and say I'm not scared."

"I know." Bodie became utterly still, holding Doyle's gaze without urging. "But you will say yes, won't you?"

His insides fluttering like a bed of leaves in an autumn wind, Doyle found himself nodding, parts of him inside already flying away, "I'll probably regret it -- but I don't want to regret saying no."

Bodie's reply was a huge smile, his hands squeezing Doyle's and for a long minute, he said nothing at all. Then he pulled in air and let it out with vigor. "Then in that case, I'd better get going."

"What?" Doyle almost jumped. "Now?"

"I have to get back. It's eleven now. It'll take me three hours to get home and I have a 6am training session I have to attend."

"Well..." Doyle was lost for a second. "Just come inside for a moment."

"Oh no," Bodie shook his head vigoursly.

"I just want to hold you for a moment. Jesus, Bodie -- you promised me a kiss this afternoon and I'm sure as hell not going to do it out here."

"And I'm not going inside."

"Why not?"

"I don't trust you."

"What?" Doyle almost laughed at the feigned look of seriousness in Bodie's beautiful eyes.

"Nope. I may have been the one who always made the decisions for us -- but you were always the one who got us into bed."

"Always?"

"Well, okay, perhaps not always -- but my self control has already reached and passed its limits today. We get inside closed doors and I know I'm going to miss my training session."

"Oh?"

"I'll turn up late, without an excuse, bleary eyed, relaxed, shagged out and blissfully happy. It will take my team about a quarter of a nanosecond to work out why. It's going to be hard enough to cover my good mood as it is. Besides, I have my reputation as a complete bastard to consider. I don't want to give them a head start on the gossip. They'll have all the time in the world to work out that it's not some good woman who's worked the miracle -- but a wonderful, bad tempered, beautiful golli who really should grow his hair a little longer because the man he loves really wishes he would."

Doyle actually blushed and laughed at the same time -- but he didn't care any more. He was seized with a strange and unfamiliar desire to get up and do a bit of shouting and dancing about -- a desire that for some reason, didn't seem even remotely at odds with the serious and grave life he led as the Chief Constable of Eastland. Oddly however, he managed to contain himself. "But I do want to just kiss you."

"Yeah? Just once?"

"Well, no," Doyle laughed, unable to resist Bodie's charm, and finding no damn good reason why the hell he should, "perhaps not just once."

"And there lies the road to hell." Bodie pursed his lips, successfully restricting his smile only to his eyes. "No, anglefish, we'll just have to contain ourselves for a bit longer. Now; tell me what we're going to do about Elena."

We? Our problem? God, this was going to happen! Scrambling his thoughts together, Doyle nodded. "Well, she'll be away Monday and Tuesday then she's back at class for the rest of the week. I know she's planning to study here on Saturday and then she's down in London from Saturday night for two weeks studying the magistrate's court. If you come up for lunch on Saturday, you can meet her."

"Will you tell her before then?"

"No -- and I won't tell her afterwards either. I just want her to meet you, get to know you a bit first. I'll tell her later, when she knows who I'm talking about."

"If you're sure."

He nodded, "Yes. That's the best way."

"If you say so." With a nod, Bodie got to his feet, not letting go of Doyle's hand. "You'd better show me to my car. I'm not sure I can see further than your face at the moment."

"And I can see further than yours?"

Bodie grinned and Doyle stood. Hand in hand they went down the stairs slowly, then onto the lawn. They took the path around the house where tall trees stood on either side.

"Bodie?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you stay Saturday night?"

"You want me to?"

"God, I could hit you sometimes."

"Yeah, but you don't -- no matter how much I deserve it -- and that's why I love you."

"Then you will stay the night?"

"Well, I won't promise something with work won't crop up in the meantime -- but yes, I'll stay. Sunday too, if you want."

"I do."

They walked slowly, so very slowly, Doyle could hear every footstep with senses hightened almost to painful levels. How would he last for another week?

Because it would be just one week.

And after that? "Bodie?"

"Yes, love?"

"How are we going to manage it?" Other thoughts intruded on his peace, bringing his feet to a halt. He turned and faced Bodie. "Your schedule is worse than mine. We're both on call 24 hours a day. When are we going to see each other? I don't want to be snatching a few minutes here, a couple of hours there. God, this is going to be impossible!"

Suddenly, he was pushed into the shadows and up against a tree, Bodie's arms around him, holding him. Then hands came up to cradle his face tenderly. In the darkness, Doyle could see nothing, but his mind's eye filled in the details. Then Bodie's head lowered and his lips met Doyle's, lightly caressing, tingling, promising. Then harder and Doyle opened to let him in, kissing him back with a fierceness that took his breath away. He closed his eyes and let himself drown, let his body absorb the reality of the moment; heady and intoxicating. His heart pounded in his chest, his arms held Bodie and never wanted to let go.

When their lips finally parted, he remained where he was for a moment, his eyes still closed, his breathing still harsh. He didn't want the moment to end.

"You okay?" Bodie whispered against his cheek.

"Better than in my whole life."

He felt Bodie smile against his face. "Yeah, me too. Now I want you to listen, and listen carefully. We will find time for us. I'll come up here, you'll go down to London. I have a safe house near the coast we can spend time in, away from prying eyes. We'll go away together, we'll talk on the phone. We'll make it work because we want to. I don't want to ever hear you say that again. Do you understand me, Ray?"

"Hell, I know, Bodie. I'm just scared I'll lose you again."

"I know, love, I know. It's not going to be easy and there'll be plenty of times when we want to be together and we can't..."

"Like now."

"Yeah. But we will make it work. We'll put aside Sundays from now on and build from there. We'll need to see what works as we go. Promise me, Ray."

"I promise. But you can't keep calling me that."

A low chuckle rumbled in Bodie's chest. "I know -- but trust me, I'll never use that name except when we're completely alone. I'll call you Alan if I have to -- but to be honest I don't care what I have to call you. I know who you are, inside, and I love you whatever your name is."

Then Doyle brought Bodie's face close and kissed him deeply and lingeringly, drawing Bodie in and then giving him back. Yes, they could make it work -- and they would because they wanted it -- and most importantly of all -- they needed it.

"Till Saturday, then," Doyle murmured against Bodie's lips.

"Yeah," it was Bodie's turn to sound rough and husky. Carefully, he disentangled himself and drew Doyle back onto the path. They turned the corner of the house and stopped beside Bodie's car.

"Ring me when you get home? So I know you got back in one piece?"

"It'll be 2 in the morning."

"So wake me. It never used to bother you before."

Bodie grinned, "Then don't get all grumpy when I do." Giving Doyle's hand a final squeeze he got into his car. "I'll see you on Saturday."

"And Bodie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I know. Just make sure you remember that."

And then he was driving away and turning into the road. Doyle watched him go without moving, listening to the last noises of the engine in the quiet night. Long after the last had drifted away, he turned and went back inside. For the first time since he'd bought the place, the house didn't feel empty at all.

***

Bodie was exhausted by the time he got home and let himself into his flat. As he walked through, switching on lights, he couldn't help noticing how different everything looked. This morning, it had all looked the same as it always had -- and now it didn't. What had changed? Nothing had been moved, there'd been no break in.

Or was it that Bodie had changed rather than the place where he lived.

No. He didn't live here any more. He lived up north, in Eastland.

The smile that grew stayed on his face as he had a shower and got ready for bed. He was tired but he knew he wouldn't sleep until he made the phone call. He finished everything quickly, set the alarms and locks then climbed into bed, lying back with his mobile phone in his hand; that was unfortunately the only way he could guarantee their calls would never be intercepted. With the press of a single button, he dialled Doyle's number.

Two rings only -- and there was a groggy voice huskily replying. "Bodie?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Thank god."

"Why?"

Coming a little more awake, Ray's voice cleared a little. "Well, other people do ring me in the middle of the night but it usually means some kind of emergency. It would have looked nice if the first thing I said was your name."

Bodie grinned, "So why did you?"

"Was dreamin' about you."

"Oh? Nice dreams?"

"Not telling."

Bodie chuckled, "Oh, that kind of dream." Despite his weariness, several parts of his body responded to the image that fluttered across his thoughts briefly. Damn the distance! Then again, it only proved he'd been right to leave when he did -- not that he needed such evidence. It had taken the last shreds of self-control he'd had available to him to leave Ray standing in his driveway.

"I didn't say that. It was all very innocent."

"Okay -- but be sure I'll wrest the truth from you on Saturday."

"You can try."

Bodie laughed outright. "The battle is half the fun."

"What's the other half?"

"You, my sweet, you."

His laughter bubbling down the phone, Doyle said, "God, you're an idiot, Bodie. Go away and let me get some sleep. Some of us have to work, you know."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, love."

And it was. The very best night of all.

***

It was all he could do not to go all out for the meal. All week his idle thoughts had strung together one potential menu after another, each only to be discarded as too obvious, too much, too unusual. He'd always enjoyed cooking and Elena knew that, but she would also think it a little strange that he would put so much effort into making a meal for somebody who was only supposed to be little more than a casual acquaintance.

In reality, it wasn't until Saturday morning that he actually made the decision -- while he was at the market, gazing at the selection of foods arrayed before him. He'd got up early so he would have the best choice but in the end, decided upon only one complicated dish and the rest little more than a couple of eastern salads. Bodie liked eastern food, he knew that much. But then again, it was a long time since he'd cooked for Bodie -- had his tastes changed?

For long minutes he waivered at the market -- but then he saw the time and made a snap decision. Striding around the market he bought all he needed and took off home. Elena was already up when he returned, sitting like a fluffy bear in the kitchen, hair a mess, eyes only half-woken up. He kissed the top of her head as he passed then began to put some things away, leaving out the stuff he would need first.

"How many people are coming for lunch today?" Elena murmured with one eye open.

"Oh, we're in that kind of mood this morning, are we?" Doyle replied with a smile, putting some fresh-brewed coffee on. "Haven't you got some study to do before then?"

"I did most of it yesterday. I have an essay I need to review before I hand it in. I was kinda hoping you'd look at it for me. God, I wish I didn't have to go to London tonight. I could do with a week's holiday."

"Well, why don't you go and have a shower now, get dressed, then bring your essay down and read it to me while I cook. Then we can go over it together." He turned and faced her as he said this -- and she sat up, brightening visibly.

"Yeah?"

"Go on. The coffee will be ready by the time you come down."

She paused only long enough to flash him one wonderful smile -- and then she was gone with the speed of youth. Laughing to himself, he turned back to the bench and began chopping vegetables.

It wasn't long before Elena came back, wet hair around her face, eyes alight, arms full of papers. He made a space for her at the table, poured her a cup of coffee and put his mind to the work. Damn, but she was good -- especially for someone still so young. The essay had a few minor flaws but basically, it was a damned sight better than anything he could have written -- even with his twenty-five odd years experience with the law. Two hours later, having gone over it four times, Elena got up and refreshed the coffee pot. Doyle was ready to take a tray out of the oven but when he put it on the bench, he realized she was watching him.

"I guess the reports on the drugs program must be pretty good."

"Oh?"

She shrugged, "Well, you've been in such a good mood all week, I figured they had to be. I don't want to pry -- I know you've got to keep it all pretty secret until you can make some kind of announcement."

A good mood? Was that what this was? Even though he'd tried so hard to damp it down? Well, she was his daughter and they had been living together off and on for over two years. He shouldn't be surprised.

What would she say? If he told her the truth? There was no way he could bring himself to hurt her -- but how could he avoid it? But perhaps it wouldn't work out that way.

He realised he hadn't said anything and covered it with a smile and a shrug, turning back to his work. "Let's just say I'm more optimistic than I have been since I stood up at the conference."

For one split second, there was something else in her eyes, some shadow of doubt -- but then she nodded and began packing up her things. "I'm really sorry I didn't go to Africa with you. We never seem to spend any time together. Not like this. But you're always so busy and I've always got my head stuck in a book."

Doyle stopped, glanced at her, then stood before her, wrapping his arms around her. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"Sure." Her voice was muffled against his shoulder but her body was stiff against his.

"But?"

"Why don't we do this more often? Have people over for lunch? I've got a few friends at college who would love to meet you... and I'd like to meet some of the people you work with some day. You know, so I know who you're talking about. I know I've met Sean and Rose and Dianne."

"Well," Doyle paused, going very carefully, "you'll get to meet Bodie today."

"But you don't work that much with him, do you?"

"No, not really." She lifted her head to look at him and he kissed her forehead. "But you are right. I do work too hard and I don't do enough of this sort of thing. So I make you a promise. From now on, you pick me out the odd day here and there, and we'll do something. I don't really mind what -- even if I have to put up with your friends picking my brains for an afternoon."

Elena giggled at that and shook her head. "I'll make you sorry you said that."

"I can take it. Now, you go and get your things together. I still have the table to set before our guest arrives. Oh, hell -- I forgot desert!"

Elena picked up her things and paused by the door, "I can go out and get something, if you like?"

"Er... yes." Quickly he scribbled down a short list, handed it to her and watched her go. He would keep his promise, he knew that now. Bodie was right -- all these years they'd forgotten why it was important to love someone. Well, he would remember from now on -- and not just Bodie, either.

He was clearing up when he heard the door bang shut. Grabbing what he needed, he went into the dining room and began setting the table. He was just finished when the doorbell rang. It couldn't be Elena -- she'd taken her keys with her or she wouldn't have been able to drive.

Wiping his hands on a tea towel, he went into the corridor and opened the door. He was grinning like an idiot before he realised it. Bodie stood before him, two packages under his left arm. He wore a powder blue soft cotton shirt which only made his eyes more luminscent. His dark hair was cropped short as always, the rest of him immaculate. Dazzingly georgous. However, the smile on his face could only have been described as tentative.

"Relax," Doyle said after a long moment. "She's not here."

Bodie rolled his eyes and held out his packages. "These are for you. One's to have with lunch -- the other isn't."

Doyle stepped back and let him in, closing the door behind him. Bodie stood in the hallway, glancing in the direction of the other rooms as though expecting trouble. Doyle couldn't help grinning; to think Bodie was reduced to such nerves on account of a nineteen year old girl was more than he could bear. That Bodie would be so anxious about making a good impression on his daughter was wonderful.

"Where is she?" Bodie murmured as Doyle put his packages down.

"Just gone out to get me something. She'll be back in five minutes."

"So, we're alone?"

"Yeah."

Bodie changed then, turning slowly and Doyle's insides did a backflip. Bodie stood close, put a hand beneath Doyle's chin and immediately Doyle brought their lips together. The touch was exquisite and turned Doyle's stomach to jelly. Bodie kissed him with such sweetness, Doyle couldn't hide his own reaction, his own longing, his own eagerness. But for all the promise held beneath it, the kiss was remarkably chaste -- not long -- but also not brief -- and for the length of it, Bodie did nothing more than hold Doyle's chin.

When they parted, Doyle's heart was beating fit to cause an arrest. He opened his eyes to find Bodie smiling at him. "That was worth the wait."

Doyle smiled, shaking his head. He took a step back -- not wanting to -- but having no choice at the moment. He picked up the packages. One of them was obviously a bottle of wine. The other was a black leather case, about a foot square. He opened it up to find a piece of familiar electronic equipment.

"What's this?"

"A bug detector." Bodie replied deadpan. "There's no need for us to be caught without a fight, is there?"

"A bug detector?"

"When was the last time you had this place swept?"

"I don't know. A while."

"Good. I'll do it later, when Elena's gone. Just so we're sure."

Nodding, Doyle put the case into the hall cupboard and led Bodie down to the kitchen. Suddenly he felt a bit awkward, not really sure what he was doing now that the man had actually arrived. In a strange way, this felt like a... date. They'd never been on a date before. Not like this.

"Stop it, Alan, you're making me nervous."

Doyle glanced back at Bodie standing by the other kitchen window, his arms folded across his chest, his face the essence of relaxation - and he had to laugh.

It was going to be alright.

***

Bodie had had a lot of practice deliberately impressing people. He did it with ease, enjoyed it but knew all along there was something of the actor involved and those with more than a little perception usually saw right through him. Kate had been like that.

Which was why he didn't even bother with Elena. Besides, he had a feeling that if she saw him like that, as some ego-boosted glory seeker, she would be very upset to find her father in a relationship with him. No, despite his instincts, he played it very cool, giving her the opportunity to draw him out rather than trying to charm her. As a result, by the time they got to coffee, they were both enmeshed in a heated discussion about civil rights and police carrying guns.

Like a trouper, Doyle stayed clear. He clarified, added background, nodded and agreed when necessary -- with either of them -- but basically, he kept to the sidelines, displaying an awesome ability to sit on the fence Bodie had never quite noticed before. At first, he'd been a little irritated by it -- but he couldn't help noticing the pride with which he watched his daughter successfully bait Bodie, and again, how Bodie successfully avoided a multiplicity of traps. After the first hour, he found he was actually enjoying himself.

Of course, Doyle's food was excellent as usual. If anything, the years had made him a better cook than before. He couldn't wait to get Doyle down to the flat in London and show him how he had learned to cook over the years. Perhaps not quite a spectacular as this -- but good enough.

Long after the last of the coffee was drunk, Doyle got up and began clearing plates. Finishing off her last rejoinder, Elena collected a few and followed her father into the kitchen. Rather than help, Bodie continued to play the guest and, with his wine glass in hand, he wandered out onto the portico to enjoy the afternoon sun.

***

Doyle stacked the plates into the dishwasher only because he didn't want to have to do it later. Elena handed one after another to him, silent now after her long discussion with Bodie. It had gone well. Much better than he'd hoped. Bodie had done him proud, allowing her to see him as he was and not the shallow charmer he showed to the world as a kind of wall of security. Bodie had made one more sacrifice for him -- the list was getting very long indeed. He only hoped he could make it worth the trouble.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

Elena's voice dropped a little, "How well do you know Bodie?"

"Fairly well. Why?" He straightened up and began to put more coffee on. But her next words brought his movements to a halt.

"I don't like the way he looks at you."

Slowly he turned to see her eyes locked on his, frail concern hedging a deeper worry.

"You don't like him?"

"No," she shook her head, glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were alone, then continued, "it's not that. Actually, I do like him. He's very interesting. It's just that..."

Half afraid to ask, Doyle murmured, "What?"

"Well... it's hard to put into words -- but he looks at you like... he... kinda owns you."

Doyle frowned.

Hastily, Elena came closer, raising her hands. "No, that's not what I mean. I'm sorry, I mean... well..."

Keeping himself tightly reigned in, Doyle nodded, infusing his voice with the calm certainty she always responded to. "It's okay, love. Just tell me."

Elena nodded, "Okay, but it's going to sound weird. Bodie... well, he looks at you like... like... he... likes you. A lot."

"A lot?" Doyle only just stopped the words from becoming a squeak.

"Like..." Elena went on, drowning now in embarrassment. "Like he... loves you or something."

Doyle clamped his jaw down tight and took in a deep breath. Elena was looking up at him, watching every single inflection on his face. Should he tell her? Let her go from one misery to another?

Hell, there was no point now in trying to draw it out. She'd guessed enough to make further hiding impossible. Easing out his frown, he took in another breath and spoke, hardly raising his voice. "Bodie."

It was a few seconds before Bodie appeared. He'd obviously been outside. He came to the kitchen doorway and stopped, his gaze going from Doyle to Elena and back. Doyle kept his eyes on Elena as he said, "Sorry, Bodie, turns out you're not as good an actor as you thought. You've been found out."

From the corner of his eye, he could just see one of Bodie's mobile eyebrows raise slightly. Bodie knew.

But it was Elena he gave all his concentration to now. Over the space of a few seconds, her eyes widened -- then darted to Bodie -- before coming back to Doyle. Her mouth opened but it was a moment before she said anything.

"You... knew?"

Doyle nodded, "Yes."

"And you... don't mind?"

"That he loves me?" Doyle shook his head, a faint smile on his face -- which he quickly removed. "No."

Again she frowned, shooting another glance at Bodie who remained -- wisely -- still in the doorway. Turning back to Doyle she murmured, "You... you're... Dad! You can't be serious!"

He sensed Bodie tense in the doorway but didn't address it. He hoped Elena didn't react too strongly or Bodie's natural desire to protect Doyle could ruin it for all of them. Instead, Doyle raised his hands in a gesture of quiet, keeping his expression calm and composed, his voice level despite the fear rattling around inside him. "I didn't expect you to guess so quickly. I was hoping to tell you in a couple of weeks, when the moment was right."

"The moment? Are you joking?" Elena backed away from him a few steps, until she could see Bodie without turning. "You... you two are... together, right? I mean, tell me if I'm jumping to the wrong conclusion. I wouldn't want to get it wrong."

"No," Doyle replied evenly, "you're not wrong."

"But, Dad," she frowned again, shaking her head with incomprehension. "You've never... been interested in men, have you?"

The self-doubt in her voice was not something he could ignore but he also didn't dare approach her. She would only feel trapped. Instead, he opted for the only thing open to him; the truth. "Sweetheart, I want you to understand what's happened. Please, sit down. I 'll tell you whatever you want to know."

For a second, he thought she would refuse. Then she nodded, "Does he have to be here?"

"Yes," Bodie replied before Doyle could. For some reason however, the reply seemed to calm Elena a little. Absently, she pulled up a chair and sat. Doyle sat beside her, Bodie opposite.

For long minutes, Elena stared only at her hands -- then eventually, she looked up, not at Doyle, but at Bodie. "You love my father?"

"Yes."

"Are you sleeping together?"

Bodie blinked once then nodded.

"Is this some kind of casual fling?"

"No."

"Are you sure he loves you?"

"Positive."

Silence a moment, then she added, "You must be crazy."

"For loving him?" Bodie tilted his head, "Yes, I suppose I must."

"You know what I mean!"

"Yes, I do."

"And you don't give a damn about his life here, his career?"

Bodie's eyes took on a hard glint and Doyle swallowed, unable to still the fear rumbling inside him. But he could say nothing. Bodie had to do this on his own.

"I give a damn about everything your father is involved with. That's what being in love is."

"But you're prepared to risk everything he's achieved so you can be with him?"

Doyle groaned but Bodie was prepared. "I'm prepared to risk whatever is necessary to make him happy."

"But they'll crucify him!"

"No, they won't. I won't let them."

"Oh, yeah, and how can you stop it? When word gets out..."

"It won't. The only three people in the world who know about it are sitting in this room."

"God, how can you of all people be so naive?"

Bodie kept his calm, shook his head slowly and sat forward to fold his hands together on the table. "Alan and I have been through the whole thing a dozen times. There is a way we can be together and not risk his career. The only real, genuine risk he has to live with -- is losing you in the process."

Elena's eyes widened at that and slowly she turned to look at Doyle. Her mouth opened once, shut, then opened again. "But I'd never... oh, Dad! How could you think that I'd throw you out because of... him!"

"I didn't." Doyle replied softly. "But I didn't want to hurt you. I know this has come as a shock to you."

"No kidding!" An involountary, bitter laugh escaped her and then she turned in her chair so she could face him properly. "Look, I just have to know, or I'll be worried he's done something horrible to you: have you ever felt this way about other men? I mean, have you always been like this or is it something new?"

For a moment, Doyle couldn't control his reaction. He shook his head, rubbed his hand over his face and came up with a weak smile. He couldn't tell her the whole truth -- but enough of it to make sense for her. "Yes, I have occasionally been attracted to men over the years -- not that I ever did anything about it. But the truth is, I met Bodie a long time ago, before you were born. We..." he paused, shooting a glance of confirmation at Bodie before continuing. "We were together for a brief time. Then we lost track of each other and both of us put it in our past. There'd never been any men before him. But when Bodie and I met again, well, I suppose you could say it was love at first sight."

"Oh, Dad!" Elena huffed but didn't look away. "You're not going to tell me you've been waiting for each other all this time?"

Doyle raised an eyebrow and turned to Bodie. The other man was sitting there with one of his infamous smiles -- not needing to say a word. "Yes, I suppose I am. What's wrong? I thought it was the young who liked romance."

"Jesus, Dad, be serious!"

"I am," he turned back to her. "I'm not sure I've ever been more serious about anything in my entire life. Bodie and I have spent the last three months trying to find a way to live without each other. Last week we realized the futility of it. You're the first to know."

Elena frowned, pinning him with a searching gaze, "I know this is what you're supposed to be saying to me -- which is why I'm saying it to you. Are you sure this is what you want? For all that Bodie seems to think he's superman--"

An involountary chuckle escaped Bodie.

"--I need to know that you want this. That this is what will make you happy. If you are happy, I can live with it -- even if it does make the papers. I... don't want you to be alone for the rest of your life."

Doyle took in a deep breath and took her hands in his, "Sweetheart, I love Bodie. I've always loved him and whether we're together or not, I'll love him till the day I die. I don't know whether we'll be happy together -- maybe we won't. We could just end up being miserable. I can't foretell the future. But there are two things I won't do. One is hurt you. The other is to pass up the chance that it might make me happy. Can you understand that?"

A small smile lit her eyes and she nodded, "Yeah, I get that. But Jesus, did he have to be a man? And the head of CI5 as well?"

"Well," Bodie said into the silence, "I can't do anything about the former, but if necessary, I can change the latter."

Elena turned to him with wide eyes, "Are you serious? You'd give up your career for my father?"

"A small price to pay."

"Bloody hell!"

"Yeah," Doyle murmured, smiling at Bodie with all the love he felt in that moment, "and him such a tough guy, too."

Elena was silent a moment -- then burst out laughing. She got to her feet, shaking her head. "I can see exactly what's going to happen. That's what that promise was about this morning, wasn't it? You're going to give yourself a life now because Bodie is going to force you into it? You're going to stop working so hard so you can get some time together, learn to relax, get out of the office a bit more. I just hope I still have a part in there somewhere."

"If you want it?" Doyle replied, standing, not sure how to take this. "I don't want you feeling uncomfortable around Bodie. I mean, if he's staying here, staying the night, you know... I don't want you to think that... I do want you to be around. Will it? Make you uncomfortable if he's here? Knowing we're sleeping together?"

Elena glanced from Doyle to Bodie and back again. She gave a slight shrug. "I honestly don't know, Dad. But I'm not going to make some horrible big fuss about it. You just let me know if you don't want me here, okay?"

"Elena, you live here as much as you always did. Having Bodie here isn't going to change that. I made that promise this morning with you in mind, not him. But you're right; our decision prompted the promise. I've seen a lot of things in a new light over the last three months. But if it makes you uncomfortable..."

"Oh, Dad!" Elena grouched, "Stop worrying. Yeah, I guess it'll be strange for a while -- but I can live with it. Not being able to tell my friends my father has fallen in love at last will be hard, but I'll get by. There's just one thing I have to say though."

"What?"

"Not to you, to him." She turned to Bodie and met him eye for eye. "You hurt him, desert him when it gets tough or in any way do anything to harm him or his reputation and I swear you'll wish you'd never met him."

Bodie, strangely, just nodded. "Warning taken."

Elena waited a moment longer then turned back to Doyle, "Look, I have to get going. I've got to be in London by seven and I'll be late if I don't go now. I wish I could stay and talk longer but..."

"We'll talk when you get back. Call me tomorrow."

She nodded, hovered in the doorway for a moment, then disappeared down the hall, shouting, "I'll just get my bags."

Feeling suddenly drained, Doyle reached out for the back of a chair, sagging a little. For a moment there -- several moments, in fact, he'd thought he might lose her. But, little imp that she was, she'd taken it mostly in her stride -- though he was sure there would be more forthcoming after she'd had a chance to absorb it. Well, there was always Kate Ross if she was needed.

"You okay?" Bodie murmured, pushing back his chair and standing. "You look like you've been through a wringer."

"You mean I haven't?"

Bodie chuckled and came around the table. He put his hand on Doyle's and brought it to his lips. "I love you."

"Oh, Bodie," Doyle sighed and willingly fell into the arms Bodie held out. The warmth and security he felt there was like nothing else in the world. He wasn't sure he could live without it now, even if he had to. He gave those sensuous lips a brief kiss then simply stood there looking at the man. "You were pretty good there, answering some tough questions."

"I've had a lot of practice." Bodie tried to shrug it off but there was just enough residual tension in his shoulders for Doyle to feel.

"I was proud of you, how you spoke to her and everything. I've never seen you do that before."

"Maybe you just weren't looking, sunshine. Now, how about we open another bottle and go and sit out on your wee terrace. It's too nice to stay indoors."

Doyle began to nod when he realised they're weren't alone. He went to leave Bodie's arms, but the other man held him hard, determined to keep hold. Doyle blinked, but gazed into Elena's eyes nonetheless. Only after a few seconds did Bodie finally release him. Elena's expression was quizzical.

"I'm sorry," Doyle began -- but she didn't let him go on.

"No, it's okay. Actually, I think it makes it better. You look... right together. Is that weird?"

"God, I hope not," Bodie replied with a laugh.

Elena grinned and went up on her toes to kiss Doyle's cheek. Then abruptly she threw her arms around him and he held her tight. She turned to go, then went back to Bodie. "Well, come on, give me a hug, too. That's what families are supposed to do, isn't it?"

"Dunno, never had one before." For a second, Bodie was thrown completely -- then he gave in to the steamroller that was Elena and swept her up in a big hug. He set her down a little breathless and she gazed up at him with witchery in her eyes.

"And if you think I'm gonna call you Mom, you've got another thing coming."

She tried to make a quick exit, but Bodie was too fast for her. The flat of his hand hit her behind and she squealed. With a laugh, she dashed down the passage and out the door, flinging a final farewell into the air as though it were a school hat at the end of term.

***

For a long time, Bodie did nothing but sit and listen to the crackle of the fire and the gentle rattle of wind against the french windows. The day had stayed warm but the moment the sun had gone down, the tempreature had dropped like a stone. Ray had lit the fire some time after eight but since then, Bodie had lost track of time. With the windows closed, the curtains drawn, they had curled up on the sofa, sipping port and just being quiet together.

Bodie wasn't sure he'd ever felt like this before. It was an odd sensation. For hours now he'd been aware of it creeping up on him from behind, elusive, untouchable. Long after the tension of Elena's discovery had drained from him, he'd begun to relax and that's when it had begun.

But was it something physical? The kitchen was cleaned up. He'd swept the house looking for bugs -- and finding none. He'd shown Doyle how to use the device so he could check for himself on a weekly basis. The locks and alarms were set, the answering machine on. But really, there was nothing there that he didn't have at home.

Well, with the exception of the man who had an arm around him. Bodie was stretched out on the sofa, his head against Doyle's shoulder, listening absently to the gentle thud of the heart beneath the flesh. So quiet, here. So peaceful. It was quite possible that if he could, he might never want to leave this spot, this room, this sofa.

These arms.

Yeah, that's what this was: peace.

For the first time in... how many years? Ever? Had he ever felt this peace before?

What about when they'd been together, fourteen years ago?

No. Not like this. Sure, they'd spent many hours just like this, watching telly, or simply talking, stretched out together on the sofa, or bed -- or even floor. But there was something about this that made it different. Maybe it was the years or maybe it was simply because they'd had to fight so hard and for so long to have this that made it the more precious and the more welcome.

He felt Doyle shift beneath him to take another sip of port. Without thinking, Bodie smiled, tilting his head up to look at that beautiful face. Doyle met his gaze with half-closed eyes.

"And what are you thinking about?"

"Nothin'," Bodie lied.

"Yeah? So why are you smiling."

"Nervous tick. Always get it when I'm happy."

Doyle's eyes opened a fraction, in surprise. "Are you?"

"Yeah. You?"

Doyle nodded. "Now the worst is over with Elena. Of course, I still have to pass the test with Kate."

"Oh, don't worry about her. I told you I trust her."

"Yeah, but she knows you. And she used to know me. She's no fool. What do I do if she starts probing?"

"She can't find anything."

"But if she's looking, that'll mean she's suspicious."

"Then, perhaps we should tell her about Cade now and be done with it."

"No."

Bodie frowned and sat up a little, putting his glass down. "What's wrong?"

Doyle bit in his lip and shook his head. "Something got lost along the way, Bodie. Something I never really talked about -- but I have to say something now. But I don't want to ruin this."

With a smile, Bodie replied, "You can't. Go on."

Carefully, Doyle sat up properly and Bodie sat with him. "It's why you have to make sure you call me Alan -- not Ray. Oh, I know you have to sometimes and if we're in bed, I don't really mind. But the rest of the time... Well, you don't know how hard it is for me to be him."

"But you're not him. You're you."

"No, I am Alan Cade -- in every sense of the word. But when I'm alone with you, I'm me -- whoever that is. Sometimes I find myself getting confused about what I'm supposed to be doing and saying. And I can't afford to be confused. Not when other people are around."

"So, I'll call you Alan."

"And I can't tell Kate. Not outright. You don't know how much effort it takes to be Cade. So many things I have to suppress. If I have two people who know, that will double the risk I might slip one day. I know you've buried the evidence of it -- but it only takes suspicion to ruin everything. And then I'd have much more to worry about than the world finding out I'm sleeping with a man."

Bodie nodded and put his arm around Doyle's tense shoulders, pulling him close. "I understand."

"I'm sorry. I know she's your friend but..."

"And what if she guesses?"

Doyle looked up at that. "Is that likely?"

"Well, she'd done a dozen phyche tests on you in CI5. I should think she'd have a head start. I'm not saying she will -- but I think you should be prepared in case she does."

"I'll think about that. Worry about it when the time comes." Doyle emptied his glass and leaned back into Bodie's arms. "Hey, you were going to tell me how you became friends with Kate."

Oh, oh. With indecent haste, Bodie's quiet peace shattered and there was nothing left but tiny shards around his feet. Rather predictably, Doyle instantly sensed something was wrong.

But to tell him now? Was that such a good idea?

And to keep it from him would be to make another lie.

Doyle hadn't moved, but his voice spoke volumes, "Bodie? Whatever it is, you'd better tell me now."

"Okay. But I warn you, you're not going to like it."

"Go on."

"Well," he could prevaricate all he liked, but in the end, he would just have to come out with it. "You remember when I made that pass at you?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, it wasn't the first time I'd done something like that."

"I didn't think it had. Keep going."

"Well," Bodie swallowed, unsure now more than ever. "After I got back to England and found out you were dead, I... er -- well, needless to say, I was a trifle upset. Anyway, it took me a long time before I could look at anybody -- and then when I did, I found I was looking for you."

Doyle turned, leaving the closeness of Bodie's embrace a little. "What does that mean?"

Raising his eyebrows defensively, Bodie continued, "Every now and then, I'd go looking for you. In clubs and bars. I'd... find somebody who looked like you and..."

Doyle was silent before supplying his own answer, "Take them home with you?"

"Not exactly -- but you get the gist."

Doyle's eyes never left his. "Why?"

Suddenly restless, Bodie looked away, "Dunno, really. Kate caught me at it one night, in a club in Soho. She dragged me outa there and back to her place. We talked all night and basically... I told her everything. She understood and I guess... became the only friend I had -- I could afford to have. Because she'd known you, you see?"

"But she didn't stop you doing it?"

"How could she? Didn't do it that often. I mean, the going home part. Maybe a dozen times over the years. Truth was, there aren't that many men in the world enough like you. Suppose that's why I never settled with any of them."

"And it was only men who looked like me?"

"Yeah. Silly, eh?"

"But why do it? I mean, if it wasn't just male companionship -- alright, sex, you wanted. If it wasn't just any man. Why look for me? When you believed I was dead?"

"Maybe because in the back of my mind, I thought that if I looked long enough and hard enough, I would find you. And of course, the weird thing is, I did." Bodie ran his fingers through his hair. "Jesus, Ray, I don't know. I'm sorry. I should have told you before."

He would have got up but Doyle got hold of his hand and forced him to stay where he was. "Why only men who looked like me, Bodie? Why?"

Bodie took in a breath, flashes of memory crowding in on him, memories of another sweet night when he'd taken the Chief Constable of Eastland to bed in a quiet room by the east coast. A man he'd not recognized for who he was -- though he should have. "I... wanted you back."

"Yes?"

"But I also... wanted to forget you." Doyle caught in a breath but said nothing, forcing Bodie to continue. "I wanted to be with you but the only way I could do that was to be with those others -- and at the same time, I could try and erase from my memory how you felt, sounded, tasted and smelt. I wanted to put you behind me -- but I kept failing. Every time I went to bed with a man, I could only think of you. Kate," he paused here to stop his voice from shaking, "Kate said I had a psychosis. I laughed at her but I knew she was right."

"And... what about women?"

"Oh, there were plenty of those. In every size shape and colour. They were as necessary to my image as the other was to my sanity. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

It was a moment before Bodie could look up into those hazy green eyes, "That night at the retreat. I should have known who you were. Hell, I know now why you wanted the light out and everything and we've been over that as much as we need to -- but the thing is, if I hadn't tried so hard to forget what you were like with the lights out, I might have remembered. I should have remembered. I..."

"What?" Doyle's voice was little more than a whisper.

"Wouldn't have been so cruel to you the next morning."

"And why were you?"

"Because... hell, because you stood there looking so damned wonderful, completely happy and totally content that what we'd had the night before was nothing more than a one-night-stand!"

"But that was what you'd wanted, wasn't it? What you'd always done? With those before me?"

"Christ, Ray! Don't you understand?" Bodie turned on the sofa, facing Doyle squarely. "I'd spent fourteen years looking for you -- and then found you in the guise of another man! I didn't know it was you -- but it sure felt like it at the time. I thought I was going mad. And, Jesus, I felt so damned guilty because I was falling in love again and it wasn't you. I didn't think I'd mourned you long enough. I didn't want to love anyone again. But I couldn't help it -- and yet you didn't seem to give a damn about me, about what I wanted. You just shut me out and gave me what you thought I wanted. I lashed out and I'm sorry."

"Ssh," Doyle murmured, placing a finger against Bodie's lips. "I know you're sorry. And it's just as much my fault for not asking -- but my problem was, I couldn't afford to have a relationship with you because you would find out who I was. I couldn't afford to feel anything for you, to let you close enough. God, it was bad enough just going to bed with you. You have no idea how scared I was -- or how little control I had in the end. It was callous of me to do it in the first place -- since I had some idea of how you would be feeling. But I just kept telling myself you couldn't possibly still love me. It was only when we were in the middle of it that I realized I'd made a big mistake. That's why I told you I understood it was a one-off. So you wouldn't have to go through it again."

Bodie frowned and shook his head, "But I still should have remembered enough of you to be able to tell. Christ, Ray, I was inside you. How could I not remember? If I hadn't been so damned determined to forget you, I might have."

Doyle shrugged, brushing the backs of his fingers against the side of Bodie's face, "And how could I be upset to find out that, in your own way, you've been faithful to me all these years?"

"Faithful?" Bodie was thrown completely, his raging emotions halted by a single word. Oddly, the shadows of that wonderful peace began to infringe upon him again, just outside his vision.

"Yeah," Doyle leaned forward and touched his lips to Bodie's cheek, soft and pliable. "We both did the same thing but in opposite ways. I never slept with another man -- except for that one night with Cade -- and that was in memory of you. You slept with as many men you could find who looked like me. That sounds a little twisted -- but a lot like faithfulness to me."

"And you're not angry?"

"No."

"No?"

"No." Doyle's hand snaked inside Bodie's shirt and brushed against his skin, making him shiver. "You once told me, guilt is a luxury only the rich can afford. Well, neither of us has grown so successful over the years, we can honestly call ourselves rich. Bodie, I love you. We both made mistakes, we both did things we regret. Let's let the past die now. Let's make the present work."

With that, Doyle leaned closer and kissed him, lingering over each lip, sending flashes of delight and expectation all through Bodie's body. Without thinking, Bodie pulled him closer, then drew him down until he was lying beneath Doyle, the kiss continuing.

After a long breathless moment, he gazed up at Doyle with a distracted smile; just watching those incredible lips drove most thoughts from his mind, "Don't you think we should go upstairs before this gets too involved?"

"Nope," Doyle shook his head, undoing Bodie's shirt buttons, letting his lips follow his hands down Bodie's chest. "I want to make love to you right here. The curtains are closed, doors are locked, we've checked for bugs, Elena's gone and won't be back for a week. More importantly, I'm here, I love you and I want you right now. If I wait till we get upstairs, I might change my mind."

Bodie just simply had to laugh. How could a man argue with logic like that? Especially when there were hands working their way down to his tender regions. Bodie gave in and stretched out, already growing hard with Doyle's efforts. With some pushing and squeezing, he found himself naked, Doyle almost so, their clothes draped over different parts of living room furniture. By the time he noticed, he didn't give a damn. Doyle's lips worked on him like fire, burning him up. But more than anything, it was the simple joy of being able to do this at all that brought him close to the edge. And sitting beside that joy was the peace he'd taken so long to notice.

Peace with Doyle beside him, making love to him.

When they came together, the joy exploded into a thousand tiny suns, each drifting down through the haze of peace. Like a soft blanket, it wrapped itself around them and kept them warm while they slept where they lay.

***

The constant drone of traffic out the window held the superficial level of Bodie's attention. He leaned his elbows on the sill and watched the city traffic grind past, the air filled with smells of so many cars and people, all squeezed together in such a tiny space. London had been overcrowded since Roman times and didn't appear to be changing any time soon.

Icy cold air filled his lungs and made his fingers go numb but he didn't move from his position. Waiting for the phone to ring had never been one of his best loved passtimes, but today, after hours of pacing up and down, of trying to find other things to do to fill in the horrible gap, he'd lost patience completely. His phone was no more than three feet behind him. He would get to it before the first ring had finished -- when it finally decided to ring.

As though caught on a perpetual treadmill, he again mused at what Ray would do if the response was as he hoped. The possibility of sheer fury was always there, in the foreground. The temper that always lurked beneath the surface of his mecurial lover, would find plenty to play with if everything went to plan -- but that was always assuming Ray would actually work out what Bodie had done. If he didn't, there was still the question about how he would react. Fortunately, there was no time for him to go to Norwich, no time for Ray to speak to him face to face, none at all with which to postphone the answer.

A flurry of March wind caught a sheet of newspaper and tossed it along the cold street. Even from two floors up he could read the large black headlines of a few days ago. He didn't need to get closer to know what the story was about. The only story that had occupied the papers, both tabloid and broadsheet, for the last few weeks.

Ray had called him about it -- almost daily. In the six months they'd been together, this was the first time they'd not seen each other for a whole three weeks and Ray had been worried. Worried about the long break -- but more so, worried on Bodie's behalf. Not that Bodie could explain anything, of course. No. This had taken too long to set up, too much effort to keep under wraps. There was not a soul alive who had any idea of what he'd done, nor for that matter, why. If Ray guessed, so be it -- but if he didn't, Bodie had no intention of saying a word.

And what if Ray said no?

Bloody treadmill. Why did he always come back to that question?

Because it was the most important.

If Ray refused, then all the plans, all the sacrifices he'd made would all have been for nothing.

No. Not for nothing. For Ray. Always for Ray. Never anyone else, not in a long, long time.

And this last six months had been hardest on him. Day after day, week after week, watching over his shoulder for that unfamiliar face in the bushes, the glint of sunlight off a camera lens, reading the papers every morning with a brush of fear for what he might find.

Of course, he'd tried to hide his worry from Bodie and whenever the subject came up about the press cottoning on to their relationship, Ray had done his best to change it. But Elena, taking Bodie's side on the matter, had spoken to him at great length about how Ray was when Bodie wasn't around. The pressure was getting to him and they all knew it.

The worst thing about it was, that that single consideration aside, neither of them had been happier. It was of course, always hard to part after only a day or so together -- and there had been the most wonderful week at his house on the coast to look back on. Seven days without anybody else around at all. Seven days of blissful peace and quiet when they'd been able to love and talk and be themselves. Hours spent running along the rocky beach, or sitting by the fire. Nights -- and days spent in bed, slowly making love, getting to know each other again, allowing the passion to build, reinforcing it into the present. There'd been so much time to catch up on, so many years to sweep away -- the one week had given them a lot back, but it had been too short.

About fourteen years too short.

And afterwards, Ray's nerves about discovery had only frayed the quicker. Word came back to Bodie, via his extensive grapevine, of Alan Cade's friable moods, his impatience with things he'd always been content to leave, his complete disinterest and distrust in anything to do with the press.

He'd tried to hide -- but for twenty years, Bodie had known the ins and outs of that shuttered mind. Ray could run, but he could never hide from Bodie. Not any more.

And so Bodie had begun to plot and plan, scooping up current events and problems along the way, framing things together in a Machievellian manner Cowley would have been proud of. Yes, Bodie had done well, and he could afford to admit to himself, that he'd had two good teachers: Cowley -- and Willis.

It would be the most delicious of victories if he could win this one. To win it on his own terms. All it really required was a phone call.

And Ray's response.

Bodie rubbed his hands together and gazed up at a bleak winter sky. The days were just starting to get a little longer now but even so, the night still came down too quickly. He'd promised to meet Ray in Cambridge this weekend. They'd booked rooms in a discrete B&B. Somehow, he had the feeling that they wouldn't make it that far.

He let out a big sigh. There was the other worry he could think about for a while, to make a change. Kate. She'd absorbed the story of his falling for Cade without a murmur, expressing only a little concern that both men be prepared for what might happen -- and only fueling Ray's worry more. Aside from that, she'd largely left them alone. Ray had been very careful never to be alone with her and Bodie knew that in reality, Ray was doing all he could to avoid Kate altogether. They'd had dinner at Bodie's flat a couple of times largely because Bodie didn't want to shut her out, knew that if she saw the two of them were happy, she wouldn't worry so much. But on both occassions, Ray had been so nervous of saying the wrong thing, of giving too much of himself up to her preceptive gaze, he'd hardly said a word, clamming up almost completely until the woman had left them.

Bodie had tried talking to him about it but it was useless. And what could he say -- in reality? Every day of his life, Ray walked a tightrope, balanced carefully between two hopelessly connected lies. If one of them were discovered, he was positive, the other would be as well. He was convinced the consequences would be catastrophic -- so much so, that lately, Bodie had begun to question the wisdom of their being together at all.

Not that he would ever give Ray up, no. But six months ago, in the last brush of summer, it had seemed so right for them to acknowledge their relationship, learn to live with it, enjoy it -- and damn the papers, the whole world. Ray had trusted him and, to be fair, he'd been right. It wasn't the world that bothered Ray -- it was his own conscience. He felt guilty that he was perpetuating another lie and somewhere along the line, if Bodie didn't do something about it first, Ray would find a way to trip himself up, thereby fulfilling his own dire predictions.

Either that, or he would tell Bodie that their relationship would have to end. That wasn't a guess, either. Bodie had seen the signs, knew enough about this Doyle to know what was coming, somewhere down the line. Another six months of this kind of stress and Ray would crack. And that, above everything else, was the one thing he would not allow.

So Bodie had put his plans into action, letting them run their full course and now, as he settled on the window ledge, his knees against the radiator, all he needed was that one phone call and he would be ready for the final step.

As long as Ray didn't say no.

***

Cade came up the stairs with his eyes on the papers in his hands, while Rose spoke quietly beside him. He nodded a few times, once again amazed at how he could read and listen effectively at the same time. Rose was talking about an incident in the Parks last night, the papers told him of the latest figures on the drugs programs running concurrently in different parts of the country.

At last, it was the evidence he needed. But how to capitalise on it was another matter. There was only so much he could do in his position. The rest would be up to others.

Rose finished speaking as they arrived at the landing before his office. He thanked her for her report, gave her a few instructions she didn't really need then glanced up at Dianne who stood waiting to speak to him. As Rose walked away, Dianne nodded her head in the direction of his office.

"Mr Crimmond is here to see you, sir."

Cade frowned, "There was no meeting scheduled, was there?"

"No, sir. He called about twenty mintues ago to say he would be here in ten. You left instructions not to be disturbed in your briefing so I asked him to wait."

"Good job," he gave her a superficial smile -- but couldn't help wondering what the Man from the Ministery was doing here unannounced. Nigel almost never left the confines of London if he could help it. Their dealings almost always were completed over the phone. With a nod, he turned for his office and went inside to find Crimmond relaxed in a chair by the meeting table. He glanced up as Cade entered.

"Good afternoon, Chief. I trust your briefing went well?"

"Thank you, yes." Cade went around his desk and slotted the papers inside a file where Crimmond wouldn't be able to see them. "To what do I owe the honour? Not like you to come crawling out from under your rock in the middle of winter."

As usual, Crimmond only gave one of his unamused smiles at the small jibe. They'd had four years to work out how their relationship would function -- and, for all that Cade didn't much like some of the things the civil servant did -- nor why -- he had concluded that the other man wasn't so bad, and a hell of a lot better than some he could mention. Still, he always felt a little needling was required before they got down to business. Besides, he wanted to call Bodie with the lastest figures -- and see how he was doing.

He'd tried his best to find out if there was actually some kind of political plot bubbling away in Bodie's background -- but all he ever met were deadends. All he did know was that Bodie was in trouble and on the hour, he pondered the advisability of him simply going down to London himself to find out what it was. Besides, he missed the rotten bastard. Three weeks was too long in anybody's book -- and after fourteen years apart, each day had seemed like an eon.

Then again, perhaps Crimmond was here because of Bodie.

The thought settled him immediately, especially when it was followed hard by another thought, even more worrying: had Crimmond come to tell him the secret was out? Had someone found out about him and Bodie?

Keeping his face composed, he left his desk and came to the table, sitting opposite Crimmond. "Well? It must be something serious or you wouldn't have come in person."

"It is," Crimmond nodded, his face giving away nothing at all. "However, before I tell you, I must stress the confidential nature of what I'm about to say. Things have been placed in motion and they must needs follow a particular course. If you speak to anyone about this before the right moment, you could ruin everything. Most particularly, the press is to know nothing about it until tonight."

"What's happening tonight?" Cade asked, too confused to begin to guess what was really going on.

"That will become evident." Crimmond rested his hand on the table, drumming his fingers lightly and fixing a clear gaze on Cade, open and yet giving nothing away at all. His voice quiet, he said, "Before I begin, I need to know the nature of your relationship with Andrew Bodie, head of CI5."

***

Bodie had his hands buried beneath his armpits to keep them warm -- so when the phone finally did ring, he actually had some feeling left with which to pick up the receiver.

"Bodie." He said, short and clipped, knowing he was holding his breath.

The voice on the other end sounded a little faint, as though the speaker didn't really want to be making this call. "Oh, right, you're there. I wasn't sure if..."

"Get on with it, Donald. I haven't got all day."

"Yes, I know." A pause, then, "Look, Bodie, I did my best but... I'm sorry, the news isn't good."

As the man began to postulate some more, wriggling on the line like an apolegetic trout, Bodie, his fingers warming more with each second, slowly began to smile.

***

Cade didn't respond for a second. He even managed to stifle any reaction at all bar the sudden thumping in his chest. He was amazed when Crimmond didn't instantly leap up and order an ambulance for a Chief Constable obviously about to have a heart attack.

Allowing a small frown to form, Cade replied, "In what respect?" Good response, non-comittal, giving nothing away, assuming nothing. Came from so many years of lying.

"I understand you met him the first time some years ago?"

"That's right." Again, no reaction shown other than mild interest. Good. Keep it up.

"But you have only really got to know him in the last year. He was at your conference on the coast was he not?"

"Yes." Then, as though he would normally do under any other circumstances, he leaned forward slightly, "Look, Nigel, what's this about?"

"Would you say you were friends?" Crimmond ignored his question and followed his own train of thought, his gaze never wavering from Cade's face.

"Yes, I would. Why?" Heart pounding even harder now -- but he had to know, the suspense was killing him.

Crimmond raise a single eyebrow, "You've seen quite a lot of him over the last six or so months."

"Is my social life under some kind of scrutiny?" Cade asked acidly, knowing he no longer wanted to hear the answer.

"Not as such, no. But you know I have to keep my eye out for all sorts of things." Crimmond stopped drumming the table and folded his hands together on his lap. "What I really want to know is -- do you think you could work with him?"

For a second, Cade thought he'd misheard. The frown that crossed his face was completely involountary -- though perfect for the moment. "What?" was all he could manage.

"Do you?"

Crimmond was obviously not going to give an inch until Cade first gave an answer. So he did, understating the situation far more than the other man would ever know, "I think I could. Again, why?"

Nodding slowly, Crimmond took in a deep breath, ready to talk now, "You will know that for some years now there have been some moves within the more liberal corners of Whitehall, to do away with CI5 altogether. There's always been a kind of attitude that the squad uses tactics that are far too heavy handed. Under the direction of George Cowley, there had been a few delicately balanced moments. One in particular when one of his agents, Raymond Doyle, was reported to have deliberately hit and accidently killed the younger brother of a famous boxer. The enquiry which ensued was both public and condemning -- but enough to convince the government that there was indeed a real need to keep the squad's funding in tact."

Cade only nodded. What else could he do?

Crimmond continued, "Then Cowley died and Sir Lionel took over. For the first few years, he seemed the best man for the job but after a while, his health began to suffer and in turn the squad suffered with it. The edge Cowley had given it had gone, leaving it somewhat like a toothless tiger, all muscle but no bite. Again, the question was raised about the continued existance of an otherwise thorny protusion in the side of our country's law enforcement. Which is exactly why Andrew Bodie was brought in. His long career as an active agent first in CI5 and then in MI6 gave him the best background we had on hand."

"But?"

Crimmond shook his head, "No buts. Bodie does the job and does it well -- as good as Cowley at his finest."

It was all Cade could do not to smile proudly at that; Crimmond didn't compliment anything much at all. Such praise for his Bodie was praise indeed. "But there is a problem?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, you, rather indirectly I might add, have unwittingly contributed to it. But at the base of the problem lies Bodie himself - and the fact that he does indeed do his job very well."

Cade leaned back in his chair, his concerns about unwelcome revelations put aside for the moment. This was about Bodie -- and he wanted to know everything. "So far you've only managed to confuse me. Come on, Nigel, get on with it. Why should Bodie doing a good job be a problem?" Just a little of the famous Cade irritation.

"Because he does it too well -- in a political atmosphere that has recently begun to change its attitude on the subject of drugs."

Cade's eyebrows rose at that. "Go on."

"Bodie has been approached a number of times but all to no avail. He is determined to continue down the track CI5 has always followed; hit hard and fast and take no prisoners, so to speak. However, now that your drugs program has begun to show such promising results--"

How did Crimmond know that?

"--there are noises being made to take some action."

Noises? Cade blinked, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. Had Bodie been right all along? "What kind of noises?"

"The kind that make things happen." Crimmond paused -- entirely for effect. "In tonight's budget speech, the Chancellor for the Exchequor will announce the formation for the long-awaited National Crime Division."

"Christ!"

"Exactly. We've all been waiting for it so long we thought it would never happen. The precise areas of its brief are still to be negotiated -- but one thing for certain is that CI5 will be included as one department within it. What I have come here to ask you, Alan, is if you would be willing to head the new Division."

***

Bodie put the phone down and sank into the chair behind him. For the life of him, he couldn't wipe the damned grin off his face. At some point over the following few mintues, his secretary came in and handed him some messages, a few files and something else he didn't pay any attention to, but she could have done so singing and dancing for all the difference it made to him.

After a while, he turned back and glanced at the phone. He had a small bet running: would Ray do exactly what he'd been told not to do - and ring Bodie? If he did, then it was certain he'd guessed what had happened. If he didn't, this particular secret was safe -- and would remain so.

But f