SUBCONSCIOUS.
D.I.A.G (discovered in a graveyard) Doyle's P.O.V
This story is to go along with one that I have written earlier. ( D.I.A.G Bodies P.O.V) which tells of how Bodie feels after his partner is shot by Mayli Kuolo.
This is Doyle's story.
My head is spinning, a feeling of nausea that starts in my stomach and works its way up to burn in my throat. I'm lying on the floor, pain racks my body. Fear like I've never felt before consumes me. Jesus what just happened? It all happened so quickly, seeing the silhouette of a woman, the Chinese girl from the art shop by the canal. The flash of the charge from the gun, the explosion of noise, the force of the bullet hitting my body, flinging me over the sofa to land here, on the floor, my life blood seeping from me and into the Indian rug, as easily as the milk from the now shattered bottle that I came in with. Another shot, this time in my back to join the pain that already ravages my inert body.
I have often wondered where I would lose my life. I guess it's something most of us have thought about in this job. Only I never thought it would be like this. I always assumed I would be on some assignment, with Bodie by my side. Shot by a cold blooded assassin, or blown up by a bloody terrorist, or some crazy extremist doing it for the 'good of the cause'. But… not here... not now... not like… this. Not by a woman with a pair of almond eyes.
It's quiet, the ringing in my ears subsiding gradually, the sounds from everyday life returning. I hear a voice, high pitched, the lady from downstairs? something about a burglar? How long have I been here? I can't move, I feel weak, so weak. Then a sound comes from behind me, at the French doors. Is she still here Is she ooing to finish the job she started?
The Hands at my back are strong and capable. I can't see him but I know it's Bodie, my partner, my friend, my saviour. I relax a little, then everything fades into a grey shadows. A fleeting memory of a conversation drifts into my mind. The day we met for the first time. We didn't like each other much back then, when did it turn from grudging respect to deep friendship? Is this what it's like to die, to see your life before you? It's becoming darker now spiralling down to black pain free nothingness.
Gradually I become aware of a siren and I open my eyes, I'm still alive then? I see his face etched with tension and worry. I try to smile, to reassure, but he just shouts at me, wanting to know who did it. I understand his anger. Wouldn't I feel the same in his position?
A shot in the arm, morphine I think, as I become drowsy and drift off in to a land of soft grey clouds and strange dreams. Time passes but it has no meaning now.
Suddenly I'm aware of a floating sensation. I look down and see my body on the operating table, bright blinding lights. The doctors are working on me, removing the bloody bullets that threaten my life. An alarm sounds and now they're shocking me. I am not afraid. It's surreal, do I want to die?... I don't know. I hear a voice in my head "Well if you don't know, you can't do can you?" I feel a jolt and I'm back in the land of the barely living.
I'm hovering between this life and the next. A soft glow fills the room it must be night. The pillow is soft under my head, a dull ache in my chest, tubes, wires and a constant bleeping. Something in my mouth and tubes up my nose, and an overwhelming feeling of despair. I've had enough, I want it to stop. Darkness descends again. I dream of a funeral, mine, I realise with a shock! Bodie is there standing at my shoulder. He's smiling but inside his heart breaks.
I wake, he's here, I feel his presence strongly though he makes no noise, I try to open my eyes and fail, my heart beat skips and the ECG goes into overdrive for a few seconds. I feel him take my hand squeeze my fingers, hear his voice "Please Ray… don't do this to me" hear the catch in his breath the emotion in his voice and I know he cares. Then I know with all clarity that I have to fight. He's already lost so much, so many people and I can't add to his misery. I know if roles were reversed that I would feel the same. And for the first time since this nightmare started, I sleep a healing resting sleep.
Later I become aware of voices coming from the direction of bottom of the bed. One a rich broad Scottish accent not shouting but forceful and determined to be obeyed, the other defensive then finally submissive. The door closes softly and I feel slightly bereft. I force my eyes open to find Cowley hovering anxiously over me. His eyes meet mine, "Rest now laddie rest". His hand brushes my brow, cool fingers lifting the curls that have stuck with sweat in the warmth of the room. It feels good, it must be cold out. Then I desperately want to be outside in the cold chilly autumn air, to run and kick the leaves in the park. To live to fight another day and whatever that may bring.
My decision is made.
THE END