Chapter 42

"You all right, Ray?" A warm hand had stayed on Doyle's upper arm.

Green eyes were blinking rapidly. "Bodie?"

There was a squeeze to his bicep. "Right here, mate. You dozed off somewhere between the PM's speech and the oil prices." The dark-haired man had seen his friend's heaving breast and had decided to wake Ray up.

"The car or the cottage?"

Ray averted his gaze and didn't reply to his soft question.

Bodie stayed quiet for a moment, and then Ray saw him stand up and walk around the bed to look out from a window. The bleak late-winter sun shyly touched the pale face, and suddenly Ray was seeing a face and figure which were somehow familiar, yet new. With a pang of guilt the startled man realised that during these weeks he had not paid attention to the changes in his mate, being too immersed into his own pains and fears.

Bodie had lost weight. Not a pound or two, but a stone or two. That, and the shortness of his hair – Ray had never seen his hair trimmed as short as it was now, to accompany the shaved area, almost a half of his head – made the man look years younger... no. It would have made the man look years younger, if there wasn't the paleness, and the small facial creases betraying history. The white sling was in striking contrast with the black clothes, as was his paleness. And to his shock, Ray realised another thing: Not once had he asked Bodie if he was all right. Chrissake... Shame filled him.

"The barrow." His voice was husky, quiet. Bodie stayed silent, but a tiny, unconscious nod told Ray that Bodie had heard him. "You?"

Bodie still stayed silent, until Ray saw him take a deep breath. "The fall into the river. Last night, right when I was falling asleep. But it's not the worst." Ray saw the man turn away.

"What is then?" He was sure he wouldn't get a reply. And Bodie hid his face from him.

When Georgie screams. When he screams and screams and screams and I can't reach him. But it's not Georgie who screams, it's you... And in the car, your cold wet face and cold, wet, not breathing mouth... Bodie squeezed his eyes shut.

"What is, Bodie?" To his astonishment, Ray heard worry and gentleness in his own voice.

That was what made the bigger man reply. "Can't pick up one. Pretty nightmarish the whole fucking business..."

Ray saw the man take another deep breath, then force his shoulders relax. "Yeah, that's true." Yeah mate... that is so true. Yet you got me out of there. You got me and Georgie out of there, mate... but to what price? And... "Are you out of there, Bodie?" It took a fragment of a second before Ray realised he had asked it out loud, and he saw his partner's back go rigid, before the man slowly turned, and looked back at him.

I will be, once I see you take a step on your own two feet.

"I will be. As always." As always, you will get on your feet, Ray.

"As always."

"Another milestone reached, I see." Mr Cowley nodded approvingly at the sight of the end of Doyle's bed finally lifted so that the patient was in more or less sitting position. "Must feel like nice change, eh, Doyle?" The agent gave him something that might be interpreted as an effort to smile.

"Yeah, I guess I should be happy 'bout this. To be able to see a little more of the floor and not only the ceiling."

The Controller took himself a chair. "Aye... frustrating, must be, to try and accept these small steps. Especially for someone with your infamous patience, Doyle."

Now, that was a genuine little smile.

"Ach, before I forget. These are from Betty, maybe not quite worth a bottle of malt but could be healthier for you under the circumstances."

There was quite a big paper bag filled with assorted dried fruits, and Ray's eyes lit up as the sweet mixture of scents made his mouth water. "Ah these are great, thank Betty a million for me, will you, sir? Bodie brought me chocolate filled with liquor and those bloody hawks confiscated all of it before I got the first one in me mouth... I demanded a receipt for it."

The Scot chuckled. "Ach well, you'd still better inform nurse Newton about that too. But don't be too cross with the nurses, you are still getting such strong medication that they must have an order to play it safe with you." He opened his coat and leaned back a little, and for a few minutes they updated each other about the latest developments, and the Controller was content when he heard that the doctors had finally dared to remove the drain tube and most of the stitches from Doyle's back.

Something seemed to be bothering the agent though, yet he seemed to be hesitant to open his mouth. "Now, is there something you want to talk about, Doyle?"

The old man seemed relaxed, and Ray still wondered whether he should ask or not. "It's Bodie, Sir." Worry overcame everything else.

"What about him?" Despite the relaxation, the old man's gaze had sharpened.

"Have you been talking to him lately, Sir?"

The Scot shook his head to offered fruits. "Not since I took him home from here. We talked a little on our way but it was mainly about the kitten. What about Bodie?"

Doyle was frowning and put the bag aside. "He was here today... Can't help thinking that he's not doing as well as he lets out, the bloody mule that he is..."

So... even Doyle had noticed that. The older man took a breath before replying anything. "Aye. As far as I know, considering his injuries he's doing quite all right, medically speaking. And the orthopedics said the operation had gone well. But I've noticed that Bodie is not quite himself. I've seen that many times though, and nowadays they even have a name for it, PTSD it's called. Post traumatic stress disorder, and I can't help wondering for how long Bodie has managed to avoid it, with all he's been through in his life."

Doyle seemed to be instantly relieved. His chief sounded so matter-of-factly, not a hint of scorn in his voice. "It's different from that King Billy incident, sir. Maybe because now he's injured himself too and can't work."

The Scot nodded. "Aye. I've noticed he's lost his appetite, by the looks of him, and is more quiet in company. It was young Lennox who first alerted me about Bodie's moods, which I find remarkable as he didn't even know Bodie before the accident. And definitely his forced idleness is not doing him good. But it can't be helped, it's a plain fact that he's not capable of working at the moment."

The Scot took a deep breath and gave his agent a very piercing look. Ach, this moment is as good or bad as any, and Doyle seemed to be quite lucid. He would need to confront Bodie also about Doyle, of course... but...

Ray felt his throat go dry in an instant when he understood what the old man said to him.

"Doyle... I need to talk with you about Bodie's possible future in CI5."

"Sir... isn't it my future in the squad which is more at risk?"

The Controller looked at Doyle a little surprised. Not because of the question, as it was a fair one, but because of the tone. He had deliberately formulated his question to Doyle in a manner which would provoke a genuine reaction – that wasn't too hard, Doyle was Doyle and the man's middle name could be Reaction – but he had more expected to witness anger, than this... quiet anxiety, especially as he got a clear impression that it wasn't anxiety or worry over Doyle's own position, but over the one of his partner.

So... he hadn't been wrong. Something had happened between the two.

"Now, Doyle, I'm a realist. It will take months before we can make any decisions about you. And to be honest, whatever the outcome of your recuperation, you still are the one of the two of you with more options. You are still basically a policeman, and used to routines other than being in action all the time. Bodie is a soldier. The only reason for him to tolerate being behind any desk is that he is not allowed to skip it, to be able to get the next assignment." There was edge in the old man's voice. "And let's face it: He too has had his share of injuries. Not always as immediately life-threatening as yours, but for example his shoulder will not survive another crash, not necessarily even breaking through a door. Third time would not be lucky to him anymore, the doctors made that clear. And neither he, or you, are getting younger, Doyle. Whether you like it or not, even if you would still recuperate back to the field this time, both of you, your time on the field will be limited. And these injuries you got now, probably took the limit closer by years rather than by months." Doyle seemed almost shocked, but he would probably be honest in his replies... so the Controller continued.

"And with his uncaring attitude, I have hard time imagining him doing anything else for the CI5. You have pretty much been the only reason why he has chosen to stay even this far."

There was silence.

"I wanted to talk about this with you first, Doyle, before taking it up with Bodie, so that I could get to hear your honest personal opinions without Bodie's influence. You have the most... intimate knowledge of the man, after all."

Now there was a flash in agent's eyes. "Intimate, what the hell do you mean by that? Do you think we're gays or what?"

The Scot sighed. "Intimate as innermost and private, Doyle. It's one of those words with multiple meanings. If the two of you had been lovers, you would have killed each other years ago already, and I would have kicked you out, as the two of you would have made life a misery for everyone around you. Well you do that more or less even now, damned hecklers that you are, but I definitely wouldn't have tolerated any lovers' fights added to the usual trouble you two give me." That left Ray blinking for a while before he found his tongue again.

"Bodie is not uncaring."

That made mr Cowley raise his eyebrows. "Coming from someone who regularly complains about exactly that, I have it quite hard to believe your comment." Now, this was turning interesting. Doyle had given an impression of sincerity.

"Well yeah, I know. But... I have often... misinterpreted him. Let him fool me. He wants to show he doesn't care. But he does. He showed that there, in the house."

The Scot hemmed. "That he cares about you, Doyle, that's imminent, he wouldn't have worked with you so long if he didn't. But that doesn't say he would care about CI5 or his work." Again the agent's eyes flashed. Good.

"You wouldn't say that if you had heard..." Ray swallowed, suddenly uncertain, not willing to break the trust his mate had shown him.

"Heard what, Doyle?" The man stayed silent. "Now, Doyle, what is it?" He allowed his voice a little friendlier. "I'm not interested in too many details. But I'm interested in the essential."

The green eyes met his again. "We talked there. Talked quite some, as I couldn't sleep, too scared of... everything."

Ray expected to see... scorn, pity, anger, on that face. But all he saw was the man turning to take a little water. "Considering the circumstances, if you hadn't been frightened you hadn't been human. Do you want to have something to drink?" Again, Ray was surprised, and accepted the offered glass of water with a straw.

"I may be quite a lot more tough-skinned than your average man, Doyle, but that doesn't mean I would expect my men to be robots. Escaping death by a whisker and facing permanent injury in the middle of nowhere, the way you did, for most, "scared" wouldn't have covered a fragment of it. Now, what is it that you wanted to tell about Bodie?" Maybe re-phrasing the question would help Doyle to speak without compromising confidentiality, as the Scot expected most of those talks had been of the most private kind; he was ready to respect that, at least to a degree. And indeed, it seemed to help.

"He's... dunno, maybe people have expected him to act cold. And it's become a habit to him. A cover, shield. But he cares. You should have seen how he took care about Georgie, after Georgie came to take care of him, I mean, came to brush his head on him and cleaned his temple... and when Georgie got hurt there at the slope, where he had followed Bodie when Bodie went to check the road."

Ahh... a big man's instinctive response to a small cat's instinctive friendliness. So Bodie was not immune after all, and seemed to really have a strong protective trait in him. The things kittens could do... the Controller carefully hid his fond smile and made a mental note to buy a pole where the little tiger could use his claws. The sofa wasn't quite ideal for that. Or his leg.

"And he... well, he appreciates the Squad. There's a lot he could do outside field service, sir. He is selling himself cheap, but he's smart. Ok he can be a bastard, but so am I..." Staring at his glass, Doyle missed the genuine surprise on his superior's face. Doyle wasn't usually among the first to admit his own weaknesses, despite his guilt-trips. "I mean, given the motivation, he could learn more. And he could teach. Goddammit the way he used his head there..." Doyle was shaking his head, with a look of admiration on his face.

Aye... food for thought, here. "Well then, and what would you suggest as his motivator then?" Mr Cowley didn't really expect for an answer, but got it nevertheless, instantly.

"Feeling of being needed. Of making a difference."

The old Scot was still deep in his thoughts when he got to detaching the purring kitten from his long coat.