Waking up hadn't been pleasant, and Doyle's effervescent mood hadn't helped. The mop-haired agent had apparently been awake for hours - had he ever slept? His extremely grumpy - and sore - partner had groaned, opened one lazy blue eye, then shut it instantly.
"Come on, sleepyhead, it's Christmas! Up and at 'em!" Doyle bounced on the edge of the bed, nearly spilling the tray of food in his hands.
"Go away!" Bodie commanded, refusing to even open his eyes. A heavy weight plopped in his lap with a clatter, and the warm, tangy emanations stimulated his nostrils. He twitched despite himself...that smelled like... he opened his eyes the slightest amount possible, and glared downward through a field of eyelashes. It was...
His eyes bolted open, and his hands snaked out from under the blankets to check the reality of the tray in front of him. Eggs and sausage and a mound of hot buttered toast, and steaming coffee to boot. Irrepressible hunger was hard to deny, and Bodie seized at the banquet before him. Yet, even as he hurriedly forked it into his mouth, he refused to look up at Doyle, a quick darting glance enough to read the open satisfaction and radiant amusement on his partner's face. Starving Bodie might be, but there was no way he was going to cope with a bouncy Ray Doyle this early in the morning.
Still, he laid quick waste to the breakfast, and finally brought his eyes up as he sipped at the coffee. Doyle was still grinning at him - God, the man's mouth was going to have cramps from staying too long in one position. Bodie growled at him, trying to ignore the sense of well-being that a good meal always gave him.
"So whats this all about, then?"
"It's Christmas!" Doyle replied, still smiling inanely.
Bodie shrugged, his entire manner symbolizing a defiant "so what." Doyle was unabashed, he grabbed up the tray, barely allowing Bodie time to rescue his unfinished cup of coffee, and bustled out of the bedroom. At the doorway, he turned and commanded over his shoulder.
"Out of bed with you now, we've got a busy day ahead!"
Bodie reacted instantly, those words hitting a well-trained signal. He groaned. Work, bloody 'ell, he'd at least hoped for one day spent in bed. This damnable holiday could at least give him that much! Muttering imprecations under his breath as to the parental origins of a certain Scottish Major, he hurried to the bathroom and showered briskly. Then he rummaged through his drawers, finally selecting clothes for comfort over style, a pair of dark cords and matching v-neck sweater, and a warm brown-leather jacket to complete the ensemble. He was easing his shoulder holster on when Doyle returned.
"What are you doing?" Doyle demanded, coming up to breath on his neck.
"What do you think I'm doing?" Bodie replied crossly. "We're called in to work, aren't we? Gotta wear my gear..."
"Work?" Doyle dropped the word as though it was contaminated. "What ever gave you that idea? Got the whole day off, we do. And we're bloody well going to take advantage of it too."
Bodie's jaw dropped, his eyes sparked. He turned and gave Doyle a fierce glare. "You said we 'ad a busy day..."
"Yup, we do. But not work, you dumb crud. Now come on, I think I found a place that still has a couple trees available." Doyle seized Bodie's arm and gave a mighty tug.
The bigger man stumbled, his mind still behind their movements, but catching up fast.
"'Eh, wait a minute. You mean I got up for nothing!! I could've...what do you mean a tree?"
"A Christmas tree, silly," Doyle enunciated carefully, still dragging his partner through the flat.
Bodie stopped short, his heels digging in. The weight of his coming to a halt threw Doyle off-balance, and he stumbled backwards into his partner's body. Bodie took hold of him automatically, steadying body against body. Doyle leaned quite willingly against him, but Bodie's mind was elsewhere.
"No way!" he protested. "It's too late!"
Doyle proceeded to give the bigger man a quick hug, then hurried on towards the door. Grabbing for his coat, he argued over his shoulder.
"Nah, never too late. Come on, the shops are only open in the morning, so we 'ave to 'urry if we're goin' to get the stuff we need. Just like you to leave it 'till the last possible moment."
"Oh no...no...no..." Bodie was still protesting as Doyle literally dragged, pushed, and shoved him out of the apartment.
By the time they returned to the warmth of Bodie's quiet apartment, the broken window gaudily patched with towel-draped cardboard, Bodie was in an utter daze. He knew how much energy his partner could distill when he put his stubborn mind to a task, but he'd never been drawn through quite so wild a whirlwind. Doyle had dragged him to a tree farm, four grocery stores (only one of which was actually open), and had forced his way into a pair of closed department stores, making shameless - and totally illegal - use of his CI5 identification. Bodie had gone along with the little bugger out of pure amazement, wincing silently as his arms were piled with assorted stuff.
When he was finally allowed to collapse on the sofa, his arms ached, his shoulders hurt, his sides felt like someone had been using them as a punching bag. Well, actually, someone had, he suddenly remembered. A small stab of guilt hit him then, as he recalled his untoward explosion of the night before. He took a sneaking glance up at Doyle, who was busily maneuvering the tiny, slightly crooked pine tree into just the 'right' position in the corner. Bodie really did feel badly about the previous evening, and he couldn't help noticing the stiffness of Doyle's body and the bruises that purpled his right forearm.
"Bloody hell," Bodie swore under his breath, every nerve in his body wanting to deny all of this, especially his untoward loss of control. Bodie never lost control - unless it was in the process of pounding some well-deserving bastard into the pavement. But not like this - not bleeding all over his partner. He felt suddenly sick to his stomach, and curled up into a surprisingly small ball on the couch for such a big man.
It took Doyle a while to finish his appointed tasks, but the moment he turned and saw Bodie, he was across the room in an instant.
"Bodie?" he asked in a voice, soft with tenderness.
Bodie ignored him, came unraveled with a fierce burst of motion and hurried in towards the kitchen.
"Dinner time yet?" he inquired gruffly without turning to look at his partner.
Doyle frowned at Bodie's back, struggling manfully with the urge to seize the irritating sod, dump him on the floor, and sit on him until he finally *talked.* Biting at his lip, Ray forced himself to wait, storing up the questions itching at him for the much promised later. In the meantime, food was a wonderful distraction, especially for Bodie, and the process of making the large meal turned into an extremely pleasurable game.
Bodie was an inveterate pest in the kitchen, especially when Doyle was cooking, and it was a long-standing habit for Bodie to attempt to steal as much as he could from the preparations. Doyle was a sharp hand with a mixing spoon, and he gave Bodie a few good whacks, gaining wide-eyed, childlike pouts in return. Finally, he set Bodie to chopping up vegetable for a salad, and was able to finish basting the turkey.
That had to cook for a long while, so Doyle dragged Bodie into the sitting room, a platter full of biscuits and cheese in tow, and they curled up with the TV. One station was showing a long run of old black and white movies, and they watched a couple straight through - Bodie finally beginning to relax enough to do some particularly horrible imitations. Doyle was caught between the intensity of his relief and his disgust at the attempts...but his amusement won him over, and he ended up collapsed in a hopeless fit of the giggles. Not that he could resist pounding Bodie with a cushion - and that precipitated a wild pillow fight.
But at last, it was time to eat, and Doyle was more than satisfied by his partner's appetite. Actually, he did his fair share of damage, and felt supremely happy and extremely bloated by the time they were finished. He let them both lay back for a little while, suckling at some eggnog, before hustling Bodie into the kitchen for cleanup. As usual, Bodie protested vigorously, then set about the tasks laid out for him with characteristic efficiency.
When everything was spotless and shiny enough to pass Doyle's critical eye, he pushed Bodie back into the living room and settled him down on the couch. Bodie sprawled out, feet propped up on the coffee table, his blue eyes falling shut.
Doyle smiled happily at him for a moment, sat down beside him and gave him a shove.
"Eh, wake up! Still gotta open presents, don't we?"
"Presents?" Bodie came abruptly alert. He turned a pair of wide, dark-lashed sapphires on Doyle. "But..."
He stopped short. He hadn't bought anything for Doyle, unless you counted the joke gifts they'd exchanged before Doyle left to visit his family. He gave him a suspicious glare, but the curly-haired moppet was smiling, his own bright green eyes twinkling with mischief as he tossed a flat, rectangular package at Bodie.
"Go on, open it!" he demanded.
"But..." Bodie repeated, ducking his head as he admitted softly, "I didn't get you anything."
"That's OK, and who said you didn't? Gave me today, didn't you? Best Christmas I've had in years!"
Bodie didn't manage a reply to that piece of sentiment, especially since they'd spent the last four Christmases working, either holed up in some stinking hole or worse yet, out on the cold streets getting shot at. Still, it was a nice thought, and it warmed a small corner of his insides.
Turning the colorful package over in his hands, he raised it to his ear and shook it roughly.
"Eh, take it easy on that!"
Turning up his best suspicious glare, Bodie eyed Doyle over the top of it. "So what is it?"
"Well, open and find out!" Doyle retorted, his manner suddenly drawing in on itself. That sobered Bodie instantly, and he attacked the wrapping with suddenly shaky hands. The thin paper gave way easily to reveal a small picture frame, and he turned it up to the light to catch a better sight of the photo within.
He blinked in surprise, coming face-to-face with himself and Doyle, both grinning shamelessly. Bodie's elbow was propped on Doyle's shoulder, both men were gripping drinks raised in drunken salute. They looked ... happy ... unbelievably at peace with themselves and with the world. When...?
And Bodie didn't realize he'd spoken the question aloud until Doyle answered him.
"Cole's going away party, remember?"
Memory struck, the good and the bad of it, and he nodded. Doyle reached out to tap his hand.
"Not our fault Cole went bad, or that Cowley almost got into trouble. Got 'im out of it, we did!"
Bodie grinned, nodded. "Yeh...was kind of funny, in a way, wasn't it? Us tracking down Cowley like that!"
Doyle chuckled. "Yeh - and you bugging his motor." They both shared a laugh at that memory, then Bodie turned a solemn gaze on his partner.
"Thanks." The word was almost whispered, so soft it could hardly have been heard, but Doyle was able to read it as much as hear it, and he smiled warmly, toothily, delight lightening up his eyes.
"You're welcome." And with a burst of sudden good fellowship, he leaned forward and squeezed Bodie into a hug.
Bodie hugged Ray right back, burying his face into a tangle of curls, enjoying the hot feel of his friend's body pressed against his own. It felt so good, more right than anything had in a long time, it felt...
His head jerked up, then his body followed, nearly leaping to the other end of the sofa. Left abruptly bereft, Ray stared after him with open-mouthed surprise. The silver-framed picture was left abandoned between them.
"Bodie...what's wrong?" Doyle essayed gently.
Bodie shook his head, forced a smile that didn't touch his wary eyes.
"Nothing," he insisted. Then picking up the picture, he settled it onto the table, balancing to stand upright against the metal bar that swung out from the back of it. Fingers traced the top of it, darting quick, then drew back as though burnt.
"Well, we'd better call it a night." Bodie said, his eyes averted.
Doyle took a deep breath, then moved in closer. They weren't going to call it a night be any possible stretch of the imagination, not until he got some answers.
"Bodie..."
"Don't Ray," Bode warned, his entire body tensing. But Doyle was not going to be dissuaded.
"Talk to me, Bodie...Please!" he urged, creeping closer until they were almost touching hip to hip. Bodie flinched away, Doyle followed, seizing hold of his arm. "At least look at me..."
Doyle just about regretted asking that when Bodie turned towards him. That handsome face had settled into a look of such open anguish, the dark blue eyes appearing more as bruises within the pale, luminescent skin than as windows to his soul. But windows they were, and the fear that leached through them struck Doyle harder than any punch in the stomach could have.
"Oh Bodie...won't you please tell me what's wrong!" Doyle was pleading now, desperate. His fingers clutched at Bodie's arm. "What's happened? Is it something I said..."
"No." Bodie tried to get up, but Doyle yanked him back down.
"Doyle, for God's sake, let it alone."
"No, I won't. I care about you, damn it! Why won't..."
"Don't say that!" Bodie's interruption was savage, torn from somewhere deep inside, it erupted out of him.
Doyle was stunned. He tightened his hold on Bodie's shoulders. "Why not? 'S the truth? After all the years we've spent covering each other's backs? You're my partner, and my best friend, and I..."
"Don't!" Bodie yelled again, curling up in on himself; he was trembling openly now.
"Don't what?" Doyle demanded, insistent know on getting to the bottom of this. "Come on Bodie...I want an answer. You owe me one, you close-mouthed bastard. What's got into you?"
"Just don't say you care about me. It might just be OK if you don't say it."
"What?" Doyle was dumbfounded by that piece of idiocy. He dropped into silence for a moment, his mind tumbling over itself.
"Bodie, I don't understand. Why shouldn't I say it? I mean, I know it's not the kind of thing us macho men say to each other, not mostly, at least, but it's Christmas..."
"No, you don't understand..." Bodie cried out, hugging at his arms, as though trying to shrink into as small a space as possible. Doyle reacted instantly, he reached out and hugged Bodie tightly, ignoring the man's immediate struggles to get free.
"Then explain it to me," he urged into Bodie's ear, his breath stirring the ebony curls on Bodie's neck.
Bodie shook his head. Doyle simply hugged him harder, and Bodie finally gave in with a sound terribly reminiscent of a whimper.
"If you say you care about me, you'll get killed." The words were barely a whisper, but they dropped like a bomb between them. Doyle jerked, his head bolted up.
"Wha...Bodie...you..." Ray stammered, his mind reeling. Suddenly everything made a terrible kind of sense, all of it came clear. His partner's behavior, not just this past night and day, but for the past several years. "Oh God, Bodie..." Doyle abruptly tightened his grip on the other man's shoulders, pushing up to try to pull as much of him into the embrace as he possible could.
Bodie shivered, then struggled to get free. "'S not such a big deal, Ray. Just don't SAY it, OK. Things will be all right then."
"Bodie, that's silly! I'll feel it whether I say it or not."
"But if you don't say it, then maybe you'll still be alive. Not like..."
Bodie trailed off there, not wanting to name the ghosts that stood over his shoulder. But Ray was past letting anything remain unspoken.
"Like Marikka...and the girl Krivas killed..." and he took another stab at it, "like Claire...but she lived..."
"Yeh - just barely," Bodie replied, the normality in his tone a sheer pretense.
"Oh Bodie..." Ray began again. "None of that was YOUR fault. You have to know that?"
"Wasn't it?" Bodie mumbled.
Ray pulled the dark head into the crook of his shoulder, stroked the satiny strands with a tender hand.
"No, it wasn't. Look...I know how you feel. God only knows I'm an expert at guilt." Ray chuckled bitterly. "My mum was an expert at instilling that quality in her kids. But there's a limit, Bodie. You couldn't control Krivas, or the bomber, or Willis' mob. You didn't make any of it happen, you have to KNOW that!"
"I do...sort of...but it's still...it's just safer if you don't take chances with it. You know..." But Bodie had relaxed slightly into Doyle's embrace, and his breathing had evened out just a little. Doyle nuzzled the side of his head, struggling for every advantage.
"Maybe, but it's stupid to let might-be's take away the few good things you 'ave in this life."
Bodie was silent for a moment, then he responded, his voice muffled against Doyle's shoulder.
"What do you mean?"
Ray squeezed Bodie one more time, then pulled away, tugging at Bodie's head until they were looking straight into each other's eyes. "There are no guarantees, Bodie. I can't promise you that either of us will live to see tomorrow, much less next week. Especially given our crazy way of making a living. But that's exactly why you HAVE to say you care NOW, while you've got the chance. It won't make dying any more likely, really it won't, but if - God forbid - that does happen, at least you'll know you said it! At least you won't have that additional regret on top of everything else."
Doyle really meant this, and his eyes drilled into Bodie's, trying to communicate the importance of it. Bodie was hesitating, years of certain anguish still haunting him. So the older man smiled, leaned forward and kissed his friend's forehead. "Just think about it, will you?"
Bodie paused, then nodded solemnly. "OK." He could promise that much at least, and he did feel strangely light, as though a massive weight had been lifted off his chest. He felt almost as though he could have floated away, if Doyle hadn't been there holding him down. He closed his eyes, feeling suddenly very, very tired. Doyle gathered him close again, and Bodie snuggled into his embrace.
He didn't know if Doyle was right; he still balked at tempting fate by speaking aloud the emotions that ran through him, but Bodie was more than content to steal this moment from life. Shutting his eyes, he drifted in shelter of Doyle's arms.
Ray leaned his cheek down on Bodie's head as a tear stung the corner of his eyes. Damn it, he hadn't expected this. And he still wasn't sure how to cope it, or with the groundswell of his own emotions. Dragging out this painful confession from his friend had thrust him into the realization that "care" was hardly a strong enough word to describe his feelings for the difficult, contrary, beautiful man cradled in his arms. But if Bodie freaked out so badly at the sound of "care" then that other word could drive him far far away. So Doyle would have to hold it silent for now, take what he had for the moment, and let it grow.
Until he could finally look into the impossibly blue eyes and say the words that had blossomed so suddenly and irretrievably within his heart. Three simple words.
The End