It had been a heavy fire-fight but CI5 got the better of them. Doyle bagged the last one, who fell backwards from the bridge into the lake with a howl and a splash. Doyle rushed across the bridge and, before anyone could stop him, dived in. Bodie yelled to his partner but was too late. Bodie sighed in frustration. Doyle was one of the few people Bodie knew who'd try to save the life of someone who was trying to kill him. That conscience of his would be the death of him one day. Bodie trotted down to the water's edge knowing that he'd have to help out his daft partner. Sure enough, Doyle had the sniper in a life-saver's headlock and was making heavy going towards the bank, not knowing whether his man was alive or dead. Bodie waded into the icy water and was up to his knees – as far as he felt prepared to go – before he could relieve his partner of the casualty. He heaved the man onto the grass as Cowley came over to them, seeming to ignore Doyle who made his own unsteady way onto dry land. He sank to his knees gasping for air. He looked across at Bodie who was examining the man for wounds, or signs of life.

Bodie met his partner's eyes to answer the unspoken question. "Shoulder wound. I think the bullet's still in." Then Bodie shook his head at Doyle in exasperation, although he knew in his secret heart that he wouldn't have let the man die either. Doyle staggered to his feet as Cowley helped to drag the heavy man across Bodie's shoulders in a fireman's lift. They all trudged off to the safe house.

Fortunately it wasn't far and Bodie tossed the man onto the large kitchen table as though he was a side of meat. Doyle stripped off his sodden jacket and washed his hands quickly and the men stood to one side as he assessed the casualty. Bodie looked over his partner's head at Cowley on the other side of the table and they exchanged smiles. This was Doyle's world. True to form, Doyle explained what he needed. That he was soaked through and chilled to the marrow seemed to have escaped his notice; his focus was completely on the casualty. Before starting work, he asked Cowley to put pressure on the wound while ensuring that the house contained his requirements. He even managed to improvise on sutures. Bodie was content to let his partner take the lead and to fetch and carry for him. Doyle scrubbed up quickly. The safe house only had the basics – field surgery wasn't expected – but it was sufficient for their present needs. Cowley then took a back seat. It wasn't often that he witnessed partnerships at work and he was intrigued. Doyle murmured his instructions and requirements without looking up from the body and Bodie was there for him, providing bowls of this and that, swabs and so on. If Cowley could purr, he'd be purring. He kept quiet and continued to watch. Eventually the bullet was dug out and the wound plugged. Doyle was satisfied that he'd done all he could. After dressing and bandaging the wound, the three men carefully carried the casualty to the living room – it being too difficult to drag him into a bedroom. Bodie went upstairs to see what clothing had been supplied, but came down to say that nothing would fit such a big man as this. He hadn't returned empty handed though and had brought down with him blankets and pillows. Doyle stripped the casualty and rubbed him down roughly with a blanket before wrapping him up for the night.

"I'll take first watch," he said, already settling himself in an armchair.

Cowley and Bodie protested together reminding Doyle that he was soaked, in case he hadn't noticed. Bodie added that the clothes upstairs should fit him, and had changed into dry socks and trousers himself already. Cowley ordered Doyle to take a shower and go to bed despite the early hour. Doyle knew when he was outnumbered and allowed himself to be persuaded to be sensible.

"See what you can do with the car," Cowley ordered to Bodie as his partner disappeared.

They had arrived to a shoot-out and ended up playing dodgem cars with the gang before exiting the cars altogether for a show down once the cars ground to a halt under the fusillade. So Bodie went to investigate what was left of anything. There wasn't much. He went into the garage to see what tools he could use to salvage something from the wreckages. He was more at home here than in Doyle's medical world.

While his agents were busily deployed, Cowley set about the food cupboards and fridge. He was pleased to see that they were fairly well stocked in the basics and there was some mince in the freezer. Being a bachelor and an Army man, Cowley could concoct a meal from very little. Bodie eventually came in freezing cold and said that the light was making it now too difficult to continue.

"You'll be getting hyperthermia, man," admonished Cowley. "Get yourself upstairs and into a hot bath."

Bodie was only too pleased, on this one occasion, to follow orders. His keen nose wasn't derelict in sensing a pleasant smell coming from the oven as he passed by. He went back into the bedroom to see what other clothes were left which he could use. Doyle was fast asleep. Bodie knew that he was worn out. He'd pulled some late shifts and hadn't had Bodie's luxury of a recent week's holiday. As he was showering he wondered whether he should wake up his partner for what smelt like a very tasty dinner.

"Doyle's asleep," Bodie opened as he re-entered the kitchen. "Shall I wake him? He's very tired." He hoped that the heavy hint would register. It did.

"Message received, Bodie," Cowley said, laying the table. "I know I've been pushing him. He's due a fortnight when this is over."

"A fortnight?! You only gave me a week," Bodie spluttered.

Cowley smiled. They were such children! "And you can have an extra week," Cowley agreed, shaking his head, a smile twitching his craggy features. Bodie had to trust that he'd remember this conversation when they returned to base. "And how's the patient? – I mean the sniper, not Doyle."

Bodie had rather forgotten him but had the grace to look contrite. After checking, he reported back. "Sleeping like a child."

The dinner was relaxed and Cowley agreed to take first shift in watching over the man. Bodie trailed upstairs into the second bedroom before remembering that he'd taken the blankets and pillows for the casualty. He had a choice. Either he could lie on the mattress and hope he could get to sleep in the cold, or he could share Doyle's blanket and body heat. It was a close run thing, but common sense took over and he unceremoniously shoved his partner to one side as he got in, head to stocking foot, taking Doyle's pillow with him. Doyle barely stirred at this invasion of his space and warmth. That should have warned Bodie but he was too tired to think beyond his own weariness. Cowley came upstairs to rouse one of them to relieve him of guard duty after several hours of tending the bedside – or the couch-side. He switched the light on and saw the pair of them curled up asleep like Babes in the Wood. It was too cruel to disturb them. Or, to put it another way, Cowley didn't fancy the idea of moving one out and sleeping with the other! Somewhere in the night Bodie had commandeered most of the blanket. Cowley tried to wrest some of it back from him for Doyle's sake. In the harsh light he noticed that his agent was looking rather flushed. He put his hand to Doyle's temple. He was certainly running a temperature. Better let him rest till morning at least. Wearily Cowley turned the light off, sighed tiredly, and went back downstairs for more guard duty.

Cowley and his prisoner were asleep when Bodie came down in the morning. He left his boss to his slumber and made some porridge. He too had noticed Doyle's fever.

"Cup of tea, sir," Bodie said, shaking Cowley's shoulder gently.

He looked confused for a moment before realising where he was and that he'd been caught out sleeping at his post. Before he could try for an excuse, Bodie generously ignored the dereliction. "He," he said, pointing to their casualty, "seems in a better state than Doyle. Hardly the sleep of the just, sir, but his pulse and temperature seem reasonable to me. I've made some porridge."

Before Cowley could respond, Bodie returned to the kitchen. Sheepishly, Cowley gained his feet and checked the man himself. Bodie was right, he looked well considering. As if in response, he began to stir.

"Stay where you are," Cowley ordered firmly.

Hearing his boss's voice, if not his words, Bodie re-entered the living room. "He's coming to," Cowley announced. "Keep an eye on him."

"Breakfast's on the table, sir."

Later Cowley brought Bodie breakfast as the agent kept up guard duty. "Feeling up to eating?" Cowley asked the man abruptly.

He struggled to a sitting position, with a lot of gasps and no help from his captors, and said he thought he might try something. Feeling his dressings, he asked who the doctor was.

"The guy who you tried to kill yesterday," came Bodie's dry comment.

"He's done a bloody good job," the man said sincerely, rubbing his shoulder.

"We employ the best to provide the best," Cowley said grandly.

Oh, very good, thought Bodie. Can we get that slogan printed on our business cards?!

The man tried to get up to go to the loo but suddenly realised that he was completely naked under the blankets. Bodie generously offered him a bucket, and kept out of sight until he'd finished. Meanwhile, Cowley took breakfast in bed to his operative – the first time in CI5 history – but Doyle was too deeply asleep to grasp this momentous occasion. Cowley came down again looking worried and ordered Bodie to have another go at getting them on the road as soon as possible. He'd keep an eye on their guest.

"What about Doyle?" Bodie whispered. He didn't want the man to know that they had a second casualty on their hands. CI5 business was none of his business.

"What about him? He's got a chill that's all. I've left him with tea and porridge and he can get up when he's ready."

Cowley seemed to think that this was a Christmas bonus and a promotion rolled into one, but Bodie silently worried as he trudged off to reassemble a car from various parts.

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