It had been a lovely evening. If ever a man looked in love, it was Bodie. Doyle, currently between girlfriends, looked at his partner and Laura across the dinner table and shared their joy. Bodie deserved some happiness. They'd had some tough assignments of late and hadn't had much time or energy for socialising let alone keeping up a relationship or forming new ones, but they'd been promised some leave soon. Bodie had thought about taking Laura to Cornwall for a week's holiday. It would do them both good. As Doyle had got to know Laura he felt that she would be good for his partner - she shared his same daft sense of humour, coming from the north as she did, and was a tough and confident woman, running her own business. Doyle had heard a rumour that Cowley was checking her out. If the rumour were true, Doyle was glad that he hadn't been given that assignment. He was still mortified about how his previous attempt at trailing Bodie's former love had turned out. It took months to repair that particular bridge of sighs. Although Laura wasn't aware of what these men did for a living - 'security' could cover anything from a night watchman to James Bond - she didn't push for details; another thing in her favour.
After dinner they sauntered across the car park. Bodie would drop Doyle off home. Laura had more or less taken up permanent residence at Bodie's flat. As they approached the car, Doyle saw something flash across his peripheral vision. His reaction was quicker than his intellect. He didn't know what it was, just that the 'it' seemed dangerous. He yelled and pushed Laura instinctively out of harm's way. Bodie had gone on ahead. He turned back at Doyle's yelling above the screech of car tyres. Laura appeared to scream at the same time. As he headed back their way, it was already too late and all over. A car had hit one or both of them. It then veered towards Bodie, gathering speed again. Bodie lept out of the way with a fraction of a second to spare. The car then lost control and smashed into a parked saloon. The passenger staggered out of the car almost immediately and Bodie was about to get up to remonstrate when he noticed that the guy had drawn a gun. Whatever the crash, it had been deliberate. The man headed towards his friends and, although seemingly concussed, was about to finish off the job they'd come for. Bodie quickly slipped the small pistol from his ankle harness and aimed deliberately.
"Freeze!" he yelled.
The gunman didn't know where the shout had come from, Bodie was still on the ground, and looked about. He didn't give the guy a chance to work things out; he felled him where he stood. The agent got to his feet and checked the driver. There was no sign of life there. The passenger he knew was dead. Bodie didn't miss. He then looked across the car park. A number of people had gathered but were keeping well out of the way. They didn't know if more bullets were going to come flying. "Get back!" Bodie yelled at them, and they obeyed like sheep. A man, perhaps the manager, shepherded them back into the restaurant. Bodie pocketed his gun and stood staring down at the two people he would have given his life for. They looked very dead, sprawled across the tarmac. Bodie seemed frozen in amber. His legs just didn't seem to be receiving signals from his brain any more. Somewhere in the far distance a siren was heard. It got louder. Perhaps it was the scream of the siren as the ambulance arrived at the scene that broke the spell. Bodie managed a few steps forward as the vehicle parked up. He was cradling his girlfriend as the paramedics dropped beside him with their equipment. It didn't take them long to declare her dead at the scene. They headed for the gunman until Bodie diverted them towards his friend. He didn't hold out any hope there either, but Doyle had more priority than the enemy - dead or alive.
Bodie was bundled into the ambulance with the two casualties. A further ambulance had been called to deal with the other two men. The police and Cowley met them at the hospital. The Controller saw two stretchers being brought out - one covered, the other not. Doyle was still alive. Bodie followed behind. He looked as though he were already in the depths of hell. Cowley said nothing but put his arm around his very shaken operative as the police followed the stretchers. He led Bodie to the canteen and left him there with a cup of tea while he found out about Doyle. Quarter of an hour later he returned. Bodie hadn't moved, though he had finished his tea. Cowley brought some more.
"The consultant says that Doyle has concussion and a soft fracture of the collar bone. Bruised from head to foot, but he'll be all right, Bodie. Tell me what happened."
"She's dead isn't she? Laura. She's dead."
Cowley didn't have to tell him. Ambulance crew didn't swaddle a casualty like that if there was any sign or hope of life.
"The doctor said she had an embolism and could have died at any time. She wouldn't have known."
Bodie sighed as he tried to come to terms with her death. "I don't know what - well I do, but not why."
"Take your time," said the Cow, holding on to his patience with his finger nails. He had a lot of work to do back at base.
Bodie took a deep breath and started again. "We, the three of us, had a meal out and were heading home - well we hadn't got as far as the car - when I heard Doyle yell and Laura scream. It all happened in an instant. This car headed right for them, then for me, then ended up wrapped round some other cars. The passenger got out to finish us off but I got to him first." Bodie hung his head. It was as much as he could manage.
"Did you recognise the gunman?"
Bodie shook his head.
"Did you see the driver?"
Bodie nodded and said that he didn't recognise him either. Cowley hoped that the finger-prints would tell them something.
"Do you want to see Doyle, or should I take you home?"
"I'd like to see Laura."
Cowley was more concerned with his agents and getting on with the job of finding out who the assassins were. However, Bodie deserved to be indulged a little longer and Cowley took him to the mortuary. He allowed Bodie time to be alone with her, using the opportunity to phone base to check on progress. It was very early days and nothing conclusive had come in yet.
Their next port of call was Doyle. He was in a private side ward and still unconscious but at least the doctors were confident that he was likely to stay in the land of the living, with no lasting damage. Cowley was quietly relieved when Bodie said he'd like to stay by Doyle's bed for a while. Squeezing his shoulder in paternal support, Cowley left to get on with his enquiries. In the solitude of that private room Bodie wept for Laura, knowing that his mate was too deeply asleep to see and the nurses too busy with other patients to interrupt. When he'd recovered a little he got up to go home but bumped into a consultant who was on his way in. The doctor saw that Bodie had been crying and, misunderstanding, guessed he was a close relative of his patient - his brother perhaps.
"Mr Doyle will be all right, sir. A nasty concussion, shock and a hairline …"
"Yes," Bodie said irritably, "I know." He was embarrassed that the doctor could see he'd been weeping.
"There's a relative's room down the corridor if you want to stay there for a while," he said kindly.
Bodie hesitated. He had a great reluctance to go home but, frankly, didn't know where else to go. "Thank you," he said, accepting the doctor's invitation. He left the man to his patient and went quickly down the passage in case anyone else caught him. He flung himself onto the bed and cried himself to sleep.
Sometime in the night Doyle woke. It took a while for him to work out where he was and why. Those last few moments in the car park were beginning to come back into focus to form a continual loop in his head. A nurse came in to check his vital signs and make notes on her clipboard. For something to say to distract his mind, he asked the nurse if he'd had any visitors. He didn't know how much time had elapsed. She said that two people had been in. She thought they may be father and son and described them. Doyle smiled as he recognised them as being the Cow and Bodie, and relief too that Bodie was alive and, perhaps, well. Of Laura, he had no news yet. The nurse then surprised Doyle by adding that she thought Bodie had been resting in the relatives' room down the corridor and may still be there. Doyle was all too familiar with the geography of the hospital and wondered why Bodie was holed up there. It wasn't near Intensive Care or near the women's wards. Perhaps the relatives' rooms there were full. In any case, Doyle reasoned with relief, Laura's still alive then or Bodie wouldn't still be here.
Satisfied with her readings, the nurse messed with the bed covers as nurses do, and then left. In the quietness Doyle stared at the ceiling for a while, fighting the drugs which were plugging his mind with cotton wool. He was tired of reliving the car park scene, so decided to find out about Laura for himself. With great effort and pain, he dragged himself out of bed. He only had on pyjama bottoms and hadn't been given a sling - the medics didn't expect him out of bed yet. How little they knew their patient! The corridor suddenly seemed a hundred miles long as Doyle dragged his wobbling legs along it. He ducked into a sluice room as he heard the clipped and confident footsteps of a medic. Once the corridor fell quiet again, he resumed his epic journey. He was drenched in sweat and shaking by the time he reached the door to the relatives' room. He didn't remember the hospital being this big! Entering, he saw Bodie stretched out on the bed, an arm thrown across his eyes. Doyle didn't want to disturb him and turned to leave. However, his exhausted body had other ideas. He had to cling to the doorframe to stop himself sliding to the floor. He just managed to drag himself onto a chair before he collapsed altogether, gasping for air and fighting to remain conscious.
Perhaps Doyle had made more noise than he intended, perhaps Bodie's inner alarm had detected a presence, but in any case Bodie slid his arm away and gradually opened his swollen eyes. He rolled his head to see who his visitor was. Maybe this room was now needed for real relatives? He was as surprised to see Doyle as he would have been to see the tooth fairy perched at the end of the bed. He blinked and rubbed his eyes to see if he were hallucinating. No, the image of Doyle was still there. His face and skinny torso were black with bruises.
"Sorry to disturb, Bodie," Doyle gasped softly, "I didn't want to wake you. Don't know why I came actually." Doyle now felt stupid as well as frozen to the core.
"You're meant to have concussion and a broken something or other."
"Yup," Doyle agreed not very helpfully. "I'll wander back when I've had a breather. Just wanted to know that you and Laura were ok, I guess."
Bodie stared at him for a while. "Laura's dead," he said bleakly.
It was fortunate that Doyle was sitting down. His eyes grew wider. "Christ Bodie, I'm so sorry. I thought that's why you were still here."
Bodie felt on the edge of tears again. He didn't want to be reminded; he didn't want to discuss it; he didn't want to think of Laura ever again. If he buried her memory, then perhaps the pain would stop. He didn't want even Doyle to see the rawness of his emotions so got up to go. Doyle rose with him and simply wrapped his arms around him, nearly passing out with the pain. He bit deeply into his bottom lip to stop himself whimpering. Oblivious, Bodie held him for some time until he got control of himself.
Pushing him away gently, Bodie said shakily "Do me a favour, mate."
"Name it."
"Next time you hold me, for God's sake put some clothes on first!"
Doyle had forgotten that he was nearly naked. He grinned. "Not shy are you?"
Ignoring him, Bodie got practical. "You're shaking like a skinned rabbit." He took off his jacket and put it round his mate's freezing shoulders. Doyle was trying to ignore how cold he was but he shrugged himself awkwardly into the jacket, sucking the warmth from it which made him shiver even more.
"Can you make it back?" Bodie asked anxiously. He was grateful to be distracted from thoughts of Laura.
"Going to carry me?" Doyle suggested, not knowing how far to push Bodie into a cheery mood. Now was not the time for jokes.
"Might 'ave to," he said, shoving his partner gently in front of him.
Doyle knew that Bodie had a long way to go. He'd been down the bereavement road himself and knew how hard and long it was. There were plenty of landmines and potholes. Just when you thought you'd come to the end of it, you realised it was just a bend in the road and more grief followed. But there was an end, or at least an acceptance. Time would guide the weary traveller and support him till the pain was numbed into submission. And Doyle would be there at Bodie's shoulder every step of the way.