Waiting.
He is pacing the corridor anxiously, hands deep in his pockets, his head lowered staring at the floor, raising it sharply every time the door opens or a medic approaches. And with each passing minute he grows more desperate. I can only begin to imagine what he is going through. I try to stop his restless pacings from my chair with "Bodie, sit down!" as a stern order but it has little effect. He only views me with surprise as if realising I'm still there. His sharp eyes cannot hide his worry and not for the first time do I marvel at their relationship. It has gone far beyond my initial hopes when first I placed them together. And today, as if I needed proof, their closeness is all too evident. I shake my head imperceptibly as a medic leaves Doyle's room and Bodie has all but pounced on him. His voice is lost in the general hubub of the busy corridor but I don't need to hear the words to know the questions. The doctor is smiling, his reassurances make Bodies's head and shoulders drop momentarily, relieving some of his concerns. He is asking again glancing anxiously to the room and a nod from the medic's head is all I can see as I watch the scene. Alone, Bodie hesitates, preparing himself as if the lonely hours have not given him enough time suddenly.
He has forgotten me, not that I truly believed he ever know I was there. His whole thoughts and feelings are for his partner alone. From where I sit I see the deep breath he is taking to steady himself and then he is gone, slipping into the room with silent cat like stealth.
Relief courses through me as I stand shakily and walk the few paces to the window. Through half closed blinds I watch as he approaches the bed. Doyle is half propped up on pillows asleep, his ashen face turned towards him. Bodie takes his warm but lifeless hand in his and then he is pulling up a chair. For now there is only him and Doyle and I can only leave them to the solitude he demands.