Together.
The small group of agents surged as one up the stairs, weapons in hand with George Cowley bringing up the rear. Murphy raised his foot and slammed it forcefully against the wooden door. As it shattered and splintered inwards the men rushed in only to be brought up short. The sudden stillness of his men ahead of him found Cowley pushing his way through them to the front. He gasped as if in sudden pain at the scene before him. The dead body of Doyle sat in blood drenched clothing against the wall beside his lifeless partner, his arm draped around the other man's shoulder. He still had a gun hanging limply between his fingers, Bodie's discarded on the floor next to him.
Time seemed to stand still in the frightened air. Shock registered in each face as they stood immobile staring at the bodies in the aching silence that twisted its steady path around every man standing.
Murphy was the first to break from the spell that had them all held and he stepped forwards quickly to crouch down and press two fingers against the neck of Bodie. The gentle drop of his head was all that was needed to confirm to the waiting audience what that they had already guessed. Although he knew it was pointless Murphy felt for a pulse in Doyle and then shook his head. As he stood again several of the operatives began to move slowly away, heads bowed, each man suddenly haunted by their own mortality. This could so easily have been any one of them.
And through all this Cowley stood motionless, open mouthed in utter disbelief, barely blinking, his grey startled eyes remaining on his fallen men. How had this happened? They had just been making routine enquiries, following up on some leads. How could he have lost them both? It didn't seem possible. He wanted desperately to believe that this was some awful nightmare that he would wake up from except that this was like no other nightmare he had ever had before. Everything seemed too frighteningly real and an almost tangible stench of death hung in the air, a smell he was all too familiar with. His heart raced at the reality of the scene.
Murphy stood beside his boss and glanced at him unsure of how to proceed, unsure of what to say. He looked back at the lifeless figures of his colleagues, his friends.
"At least they were together, Sir." His voice was barely a whisper but to Cowley it seemed loud in the silence of the room cutting through to his stunned senses but still he could not fully comprehend the words.
"Together?" he said vaguely as he tore his gaze away to look searchingly at Murphy.
"Yes, Sir, at least they were together, you know….at the end….when it happened. Seems somehow right,what they would have wanted."
Cowley let his eyes rest on Bodie and Doyle again as the last of the agents drifted in soundless procession from the room. 'Together? Yes.' he thought distractedly. 'Hadn't that always been the way with these two? I paired them years ago and from that day on they'd worked largely together and had become my greatest team. Murphy was right, if they were to lose their lives then they would rather lose them together.' In dazed disbelief Cowley finally broke away from the spot he'd seemed rooted to. He crouched down beside Doyle to gently brush a hand through the dead man's hair finding it odd that he should be recalling how at one time the curls were short and tight but now, over the years, lay long and loose giving the hardness of his face a softer look.
"Oh, my boy." he uttered despairingly, feeling tears welling in his eyes. "What happened here?" He took in again Doyle's right arm resting along Bodie's shoulder. Had it been placed there in the dying moments of their lives, placed in comfort, in solidarity, in the knowing that they weren't going to survive this one? Cowley could only guess.
Feeling he had aged ten years in the last five minutes Cowley got up and moved to drop down wearily beside Bodie. He smiled remembering the times the two of them had locked horns. Pig headed and stubborn but always the ultimate professional. He reached out his hand to brush gentle fingers against Bodie's cheek with great affection, shuddering at the sight of the huge dark red stain that had grown across the man's shirt. His skin was still faintly warm to his touch and it was almost too much for the older man to bear. These were his men, his best men. By God, someone would pay for this.
"Yes, Sir."
The voice behind him startled Cowley and when he turned he saw Murphy standing ashen faced in the chill that had crept into the room and realised he'd voiced his last thoughts aloud.
"I… I thought you had gone." he said, utterly broken hearted and finding it hard to grasp reality.
"I just went out to the lads, Sir." Murphy replied,his concern now growing for his boss. The old man seemed shocked and broken. "I hope it's alright but I've told them to start making inquiries, not that they needed much telling. Everyone's mad keen for justice."
"Aye."
"I've….erm…. called for an ambulance too, Sir."
"Right….yes….good." Still dazed the Scot stared at the man before him and it suddenly seemed to snap him sharply from his reverie. His men needed him, there would be time enough later for him to give himself over to the grief that had been threatening to swallow him.
"Thank you, Murphy. Get yourself off and keep me advised of any developments.I'll wait here for the ambulance."
"Actually, Sir, if it's all the same with you I'd like to stay." Murphy said hesitantly, his eyes drifting over the bodies of his friends. He didn't want to leave them, it didn't seem right. As the distant sound of sirens rode the air he expected his boss to bawl him out. Instead Cowley studied Murphy briefly with unusually soft eyes and Murphy read in them the man's understanding. And in the cold emptiness of the room and without a word both men stood staring, watching, waiting trance like as if caught in some nightmare dream…..together.