Tribute
Rating: K+ (Well, there is a mild swear word… XD
Fandom: CI5 the Professionals
Disclaimer: Definitely not mine, though I wish it was. No money made from it either
Author notes : Here is a little tiny piece of fic that popped into my head when I was on the train at the beginning of the week, I just had to get it out of my head to continue to work on my commissions ^^ Sorry for the mistakes, I'm my own beta reader and not a native English speaker.
Summary: Doyle and Bodie have to prepare the perfect epitaph for their boss' funeral.
"We are all here today to share our grief…
Doyle straightened his black jacket. Bodie would be there of course, a few minutes earlier than him, pristine and mourning as the new head of CI5.
Together, they would have to face all of their colleagues, all of Cowley's enemies and allies, the bureaucrats… but worse, his relatives, and their own voices, reflected by the echo of the church.
They were scheduled to speak before everybody else, giving their boss his last eulogy… As his two best agents. The ones who had been the closer to him.
His is a terrible loss, and though we never had the chance to call him friend… We will miss the man, the leader, we all here cared about…
The ceremony would be solemn. With military officials, hypocrisy, flags… Maybe rain. Doyle hoped it would not rain. Too cliché… Cowley wouldn't appreciate that….
He was a good man. He believed in the truth, in a better world, and cared about all of us. Even if he didn't show it often. We were his boys. He would always back us if anything happened…"
"Something I won't do any more if the two of you don't get back to work immediately and stop saying these stupidities!"
The Scot's accented voice stirred not so gently Bodie and Doyle from their whispered procrastination.
"But Sir… we were being nice to you!" Protested Doyle, his cheeks reddening.
"It doesn't matter. And being nice to me would be to finish this paperwork!"
With that, Cowley returned to his work, closing his office door.
"Bloody Cow…" muttered Bodie, taking an armful of empty forms and throwing them on his desk. The two friends began working silently, fearing their boss' wrath. Said boss who was now reading reports with a glass of scotch.
They all might have looked angry, but the three men's smile, one secret and two broad, betrayed their real feelings.
Fin
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