waitingfordoyle
Waiting, for Doyle
by LMH
poetry:
Auden
Bronte
Shelley
Lorca
Bodie looked into Ray Doyle’s laughing eyes and wondered for the thousandth time how he had ever come to love such a man, how Luck could have favoured him at last -- and how this man, this passionate, clever and gorgeous creature, could have chosen him to make his life, their lives complete.
“Your go, mate.” Bodie was a dead man and Doyle knew it, his whole face beaming with satisfaction. He also knew that Bodie specially hated losing at darts -- though it seldom happened -- for when they played it, the stakes resulted in divertingly high damage to Bodie’s Victorian (according to Doyle) sense of correct bedroom behaviour.
“Please Ray, not the Zoo this time. It really upsets the animals -- I’m sure of it. Those baboons were looking particularly peaky after the last time we paid a call.”
Doyle’s winnings were always taken in flesh, which suited Bodie down to the ground, but the location -- the location would be up to Doyle, and there were times in the past two years when Bodie thought they’d be run in for certain. Even though they’d check it out first -- and they were very thorough -- he’d fuss and protest, useless he knew, but tried it every time, anyway.
True to form, Doyle was adamant. But Ray had no desire to put them in a risky position where they’d be discovered, and he took such enormous delight in loving Bodie in this way that Bodie could not help but be led like a lamb to the spot where Doyle wished to love him. Even so, he’d nervously cast about quick glances, trusting Ray but still worried they’d be seen, until the moment when Doyle’s kisses and whispers, and the feel of warm hands and body on Bodie’s exposed flesh, drove Bodie past caution and into a torrent of sensation, not caring about anything save the desire to give Ray pleasure, give him anything he wanted, anything at all.
Many nights they’d just lie abed, spending hour upon hour loving each other with touches and kisses and sweet, sweet words of discovery and commitment. Two years now, and they still saw no signs of tiring, finding each different way of expressing their physical love only a part of the whole utterly delightful and unlooked-for experience of a life spent in each other’s thoughts.
Although the concern of being hurt or killed arose from time to time, it did not really have much influence: their work together was a fixture in both lives. Discussion of their chances for a future came up at the beginning of the relationship, when it dawned on two young men that their lives were inextricably tied to each other’s, and they gave up without a backward glance the path of marriage and children that most men look to as the answer when searching for meaning in existence.
> > >
During a hard-earned holiday near Wells just after the close-run Ojuka case and another -- a very messy one -- right after, Doyle was slow in coming out of one of his bouts of gloomy introspection. Bodie understood these moods in Doyle and by this time also knew how to defuse the undesired performance of the Doyle temper in full dress, or else find a place of safety from which to observe. However, it appeared that Doyle was not to be appeased this time and he only got testier as the days and nights crawled by. No local attractions were of interest to Ray, his sole desire to take long, fast walks in the nearby lanes, Bodie keeping pace silently, worried now but reluctant to force an explanation.
At last, as their week off was drawing to an end, Bodie reached the limit of his patience and confronted his partner with one of his patented, sure-to-get-results, pleas: “Come on, Ray. Leave off, will you?”
Doyle, who had stopped some distance away and was staring into space, glared at him. “Fuck off, Bodie.”
“Nah, rather fuck you. Feeling lonely.”
No response.
He tried again. “Not been gettin’ much lately,” he said, managing to look puzzled (which he was) and sad (which he wasn’t).
“Ah, that pitiful face of yours....” Doyle was beginning to crack. Bodie knew it, and furled his brows, thereby delivering the coup de grâce.
Doyle’s warm laughter washed relief through Bodie, and he let out a long sigh as Doyle came into his arms for an embrace. “’m here, sunshine. I’m always here.”
“I know,” said Doyle, his lips not losing contact with the soft skin at the base of Bodie’s throat. “Want you always here, always safe.” He gripped Bodie’s jacket tightly.
“What is it, Ray?”
“Bodie, we came close last week, really close to having it all over. Every bit of our lives gone.”
Bodie thought of Doyle in that bastard Avery’s house, the gunshot from within and, sick at the memory of believing that Doyle had been shot by Parker, gathered him closer and buried his face in Doyle’s curls. “We’re all right now. One off, last week.”
“Maybe. But I’ve been thinkin’ that maybe it’s not. Maybe we won’t see our pensions, maybe there won’t be the golden oldies home for us where we’ll have to take turns using a mini-crane to get a leg over.” He looked up and smiled a bit, trying to lessen the effects his tormented thoughts were having on his mate.
But Bodie was not to be swerved. “Why’re you doing this? We can’t take on like this at every turn or we’ll have to clear out of CI5. Is that it? That what you want? Want to leave?” He was prepared to follow Doyle to the ends of the earth. They both knew this as clearly as they knew Doyle would do the same for him.
“Yes. No. Dammit I don’t know! No -- I don’t want us to leave. We both have a few years left in the A Squad and we do our jobs bloody well. We do work that wouldn’t get done if we weren’t there. No -- we have to stay.”
“Well then, what have you been carryin’ on about, mate?”
“Was thinking...was thinking if I was to be killed....”
Bodie felt cold fear run through his spine. “No! Don’t say any more! Don’t want to hear it Ray. Please, Ray!”
“Bodie, I almost bought it in that cellar. If I had -- don’t interrupt! -- I have to say this to you now! If I had, you’d have done something wild. Even though we’ve discussed this before. No stupid moves -- we agreed! But you’ve, we’ve changed. You’ll end up killing yourself or letting someone do it for you.”
Caught up in the horror of the thought of life without Doyle, Bodie could not speak.
“Well Bodie, I don’t want that for you. I want you to live. If something happens to me you’ve got to live.”
Bodie wanted to shout so loud that Ray’s words would be gone, wiped even from his memory. Prepared to fight, he stared down into blazing green eyes, and realised that Doyle was angry, furious in fact, and something else, and Bodie did not know why. Bodie drew breath to renew his protest but Ray quickly put his hand to Bodie’s mouth, his face openly showing the pain he was feeling, but he went on, “No! No! I have to tell you this -- can’t bear the thought of you dying -- not for any reason! Are you listening to me?”
Bodie was totally at a loss to know what to say, but he did know how he felt. His eyes pleaded for mercy. “Ray, Ray love, please, please don’t make me live without you,” he whispered, too weak at that moment to speak aloud.
Ray’s eyes were bright with tears. “I know what I’m asking, Bodie. I know. But promise... promise me! If we’re lucky it’ll never happen, but if it....”
“No!” He would not stay to listen to any more.
“Bodie -- hold me. Look at me! Promise. Promise me you’ll live for both of us. Promise you’ll live as long as you can. Promise!”
Everything in him said no, he could never do this. But.... Anything for Ray. Anything.
“I will.”
Ray began to weep, his tears releasing Bodie’s, and they held each other, rocking, telling each other that they’d be fine, everything would be fine, this was all stupid, next thing they’d be fainting at the sight of a gun. But their lovemaking through hat night was the wildest, most desperate and uncontrolled passion they’d ever given the other, each moment exquisite in itself, leaving them exhausted and spent for days after.
> > >
‘Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone....’
Six months later Bodie recalled that day which marked the end of their untroubled happiness. From that time, every touch became a statement of love, every embrace a treasure. They seemed to know it could not last, and Bodie wondered if they had in some way determined their own fate, the nightmare he now knew a consequence of their own creation.
He was glad of the coldness in the centre of his body, which was somehow helping him stay upright, stiffening his spine, keeping him from saying or doing anything much except sitting quietly by Ray’s coffin. His Ray. He could still feel Ray’s blood on his hands, his arms, his legs, as Ray lay against him. Cold. So cold.
‘Cold in the earth, and the deep snow piled above thee....’
Soon they’d be putting Ray in the cold ground, but that didn’t matter, couldn’t be any colder than he was already. Bodie’d held him, long after Cowley and his mates had tried to take him away. But he would not let them. They didn’t move, he and Ray, until Ray was as cold as he was, cold as stone. And then he carried Ray to the medic’s van, stayed with him through the night and the next day, until someone came to tell him they’d have to take Ray away for a bit. Cowley was there too, and others, but he wanted to stay with Ray until...he wanted so desperately to crawl into the grave with him, be with him forever, but he promised. He promised. So, he waited as near to Ray as he could, waiting, waiting. He did not know for what.
‘He was my North, my South, my East and West....’
At some point Cowley took him home, so that he could get cleaned up and look tidy, and then he was allowed to go back to stay with Ray. Wanted to do Ray proud, now more than ever. But Ray was always proud of him.
People came in, others got up and spoke, he did not know what they said but finally understood that this must be a funeral service. Sometimes he heard Ray’s name. He only wanted to be left alone with him. To hold him just once more.
‘My working week, my Sunday rest....’
People were standing about, endlessly talking. Bodie noticed a man turn away from a group to look at him; he did not speak, and Bodie wanted to ignore him. But, he would not be rude to anyone who had come to see Ray, so he turned towards the man to see who it was.
It was Ray, standing there before him.
His vision darkened briefly, and then he saw Ray coming towards him, looking odd, different, saying something to him. Bodie was overcome with relief and joy -- this had been a nightmare and everything was all right. Ray was here with him now. Everything was all right....
He started to go towards Ray, laughing, calling his name, and Ray quickly came up to him, spoke to him, was saying things he did not understand. Ray looked worried, upset, and Cowley came over to speak to him and to Bodie. Bodie could not absorb what they were saying, but knew that somehow Ray would make it right, explain to Cowley, take him home and love him, he needed Ray so much but could not find the words to make Ray listen to him.
“Let’s go home, Ray. Please let’s go now.”
Ray sat down with him, held him. He felt the warmth of Ray’s arms about him and knew for certain that this was not a cruel dream. But Ray looked so sad, confusing Bodie. Everything was all right now. Wasn’t it? Another man came, spoke to Cowley, and took something out of the leather bag he had with him. He felt the sting of a needle. Cold, it was cold too. But Ray would warm him. Soon he would be warm again.
The room darkened, and he slept.
> > >
belovèd Night --
Swift be thy approaching flight,
Come soon, soon!
Bodie stood at the door of Alan Cade’s house. Life had settled into a pattern of sorts, but it had taken him eleven months to get this far. Now his feet were unable to take him back to his motor, yet he could not find the will to knock. He’d come to deliver a bequest, a sextant, from Ray to Alan Cade, a relic from their common grandfather’s dubious Maritime career. On the drive to Eastland, and until he reached this point, he’d been certain he would be able to carry the meeting off. Certain that he’d not again act like a fool in front of this person who looked so much like....
No! He drove his head into his hands and slumped against the door. Oh God, he had to go, leave, run far, so far he’d never see another living being. Ray, I’m so sorry Ray. Please...please help me. Can’t stand any more. So alone. Wanted to do this for you. Love you so much. Never want to see another face ever if it’s not yours. Not one! Miss you...miss you...miss you....
Eventually the world came back into focus, though he did not know how much time had passed. He found himself sitting, leaning against the door, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Bodie?”
“Ray?” No, but he could not stop himself from saying it.
Nor could he bring himself to look up, though he felt Cade’s hands helping him to his feet. “Come in, Bodie.”
Bodie let himself be led, blind from tears and anguish, to stand in the entrance hall, unconsciously rubbing and hugging the parcel he had brought with him, the last of the messages that he had been given to carry out for Ray.
They stood together in the silence of the house, the only sound Bodie’s occasional gasps for air, while the light slowly faded. Finally, Bodie came to understand where he was, and thought perhaps he might never have to move again, that he could just stay here in the quiet, just quiet, waiting.
The atmosphere changed around him when Cade seemed to come to a decision. He moved closer to Bodie and put an arm around his shoulder, steering him away from the door and into a room.
“It’s good to see you. I was hoping you’d ring or call in.”
Bodie could not think what to say.
“Please, sit down.” And he walked with Bodie towards a sofa.
Bodie sat. Incapable of initiating speech or movement or thought, he did nothing more. Cade turned and sat down somewhere away from him, he could not see exactly where without turning his head, but not too close. He did not sense impatience or any kind of pressure so he continued to stare at he knew not what, did not care to know.
When it was quite dark, Cade left the room and the sound of tea-making noises coming from somewhere a long way off intruded into the silence. Presently he saw that Cade was kneeling at his feet with a tray, and he was speaking. “Bodie? Bodie? Would you like a cup of tea, something to eat?”
Bodie did not know.
Cade placed the tea tray away from him and put his hands on Bodie’s. The sounds of the rustling of the paper wrapping startled Bodie and he looked down, focussing on the package. He relaxed his grip on the box.
“Ray....” No. What good were words now? But...Ray wanted him to do this. He started again. “Ray’s...he wanted...he wanted....”
He raised his head and looked at Alan Cade for the first time in nearly a year. He saw Ray Doyle’s beautiful face, but he also saw pain in the soft green eyes, pain for him and perhaps for Cade as well. For an instant, anguish, fresh and keen as the first a year ago, washed through him. Still, Bodie wanted to find some words to drive away that look in Cade’s eyes. “Ray’s gone. He’s gone.” They could not possibly be the right words -- as though they could explain something he did not understand himself. But he knew nothing now. Nothing at all.
Cade nodded, and closed his eyes.
“I’m still here.” He did not know why he was, and then, when he did remember, for an instant hated the reason for his cruel fate. “Still here...and I have to give this to you. Ray’s family.” It would have to do.
Cade seemed to understand and gently placed his hands on the parcel and took it from Bodie’s shaking hands.
The futility of his hopes, of the folly in even allowing himself to wish for release, overcame him as the parcel left his possession. Bodie wanted to snatch it back, and with it snatch it all back: his love, his life, the joy they had found in each other. Wanted to find some way to stop the never-ending pain of drawing breath. Wanted somebody to tell him how he could stop and not betray his promise to Doyle. He did not know how he was going to leave the house, how to get out of this impossible situation, and he had no idea what to do next.
He wished Cade would leave him alone, and somehow he could become invisible and disappear in the dark, to a place where even his thoughts could never reach him again. He cried out in an agony of longing for that dark place, but no sound left his lips.
‘Pack up the moons and dismantle the sun....’
He felt arms go around him, holding him firmly to a strong body, surrounding him in living warmth, the scent of warm human male filling his nostrils. The shock from the contact, but more from the certain knowledge that came with it: that Ray Doyle was no more, would never exist again physically, would never hold him like this, set loose in Bodie a frenzy of panic-filled, directionless fury. He was aware that he did not really want to hurt anyone, but Cade did not release him as he struggled to his feet. The fury within him felt all-encompassing, giving him the power he thought to destroy the world if he wished, and he wondered how it was that Cade still held him fast.
The silence grew slowly in his consciousness, until the only sounds were that of Cade breathing, and himself.
Cade regarded him carefully for a while and then said, “Stay on a bit, will you? It’s very private here, and you can rest.”
He guided Bodie up the stairs and into a small bedroom. He hesitated a moment, then turned the covers down on the bed and came back to stand in front of him.
“Want to wash up? Bathroom’s next door.”
When it was evident that he was going to get no response, Cade slowly and gently removed Bodie’s outer clothing and shoes and put him into bed. He went out and came back with a flannel. He washed Bodie’s face and hands, covered him carefully, turned off the light and went out, leaving the door slightly ajar.
‘Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood....’
Bodie stared into eternity for a time and, eventually, slept.
Alan Cade returned to Bodie’s room later in the night, the even breathing assuring him that Bodie was asleep at last. He tidied the clothing away and stood for a while, contemplating the holstered gun. He picked up an eiderdown, made himself comfortable in an armchair, and then settled in to wait.
> > >
Daylight. Where? He did not want to move, but through one opened eye could see across the small room. A pair of jeans-covered legs was partly hidden by a blanket. Cade. He’d been a fool to come here. But he’d had to do this last task for Ray, and then he’d.... He began to feel angry with himself now, because he didn’t know what to do, and ashamed, that he could have fallen so low. It was better when he couldn’t think, didn’t care. Cowley had kept him busy with op after op that required long hours with no time to dwell on the unthinkable. He sensed Cowley was exercising patience with him, convinced that soon he’d be back to his old self, when Bodie knew it was useless, all over for him, he’d failed, failed to live for Ray, was caught in a torment that he could not escape, saw no way to escape.
He pressed his face into the pillow, trying to drive all thought from his mind, desperate to find a way to stop this ridiculous weakness, fighting panic when he knew there’d be no way out, no way to finish this unless he did the one thing Ray forbade him to do.
He heard Cade get up from the chair and the bedsprings lowered beside him. He felt a warm hand on his back, gently rubbing, then the hand smoothed his hair. Feels good. His body slowly relaxed and his mind seemed to clear, and when he lifted his head the room came back into focus.
Bodie turned and looked into Cade’s extraordinary green eyes -- he caught his breath, so like Ray’s but lighter, clearer -- and openly revealing Cade’s desire to help. He had to look away, thought he might not be able to look at Cade again, always seeing Ray instead, but realised that now that his mind was his own he must say something, explain somehow.
He looked up. Like Ray, but older, softer, different. His throat began to clench and ache, and before it could stop him from speaking he blurted, “Sorry. No excuse for this carry-on. I seem to’ve been losing control. Can’t understand it. Better get home.” He gathered himself to get up, but Cade put a hand out to stop him.
“Why don’t you stay here for a few days? Get to know each other better.” Bodie did not speak, so he went on quietly, “Haven’t managed to get to many of the family gatherings since coming to Eastland. Ray always spoke of you. Wanted us to meet. He’d planned to bring you here for a visit, but it turned out there was never a time when we were all free.” He looked sad; Bodie saw his loss and wanted to comfort him.
“Didn’t know about you really, Ray never said,” Bodie mumbled.
“I know. He wanted to surprise you.” Cade smiled at the memory.
Bodie found that he could smile too, a little. “He loved that -- seein’ me all slack-jawed.”
They looked at each other warmly, in the way of two people who share the same pleasant memory.
“Stop on for a while. You don’t have to go back to London just yet, do you?”
“No -- but....”
“No buts, Bodie. There’s lots of room. You can do what you like here. You know what my job’s like, and I might be called away at any time. But you could stay. Be a bit of a change for you.”
“You don’t know me really.”
“Same for you. But it’s obvious that we both need to find some sense in all this. And Ray loved you so much that I... I’d like us very much to be friends.”
Bodie couldn’t keep tears from filling his eyes. He tried to blink them back, but they flowed as though from a source outside his own body, and he pressed his face into the pillow so that he could hide his shame.
Cade seemed to understand. He rubbed Bodie’s back for a moment or two, and leaned down to say quietly, “Breakfast in half an hour. See you then.”
> > >
Peace. He was at peace. Safe and warm, and he did not have to do anything at all. Cowley had rung through and left a message that the op he was working on had gone sour; CI5 would stand off a while to let things calm down. In the meantime, Bodie was to take some leave -- nothing for him to do just now at HQ except the endless routine of information gathering. So he stayed on, sleeping dreamlessly, reading, walking through the wooded hills near Eastland, then joining Alan for meals when the Chief Constable was free from duties.
They talked mostly about Ray, in the long evenings after dinner. Alan asked about life at CI5 and for the first time Bodie could utter Ray’s name without losing his voice to grief. He spoke of their life together: girlfriends in the early days, cases bad and good, and even of Doyle’s futile attempts at cookery lessons for an uncoöperative Bodie, which not infrequently resulted in Doyle threatening to stuff the inedibles into Bodie via an entrance not provided for in nature. On those occasions Bodie would be properly, and wisely, repentant until The Temper was no longer in evidence. Cade was amused but not surprised to learn that Ray’s incendiary disposition had taken on a persona of its own in the halls of CI5 where, when Doyle was in full flight, only Bodie and, of course, Cowley, would go near.
They spoke only of the past. At no time did Cade ask about Bodie’s plans for the future. At no time did Bodie offer any indication that he was aware life existed beyond that moment.
Days passed, and his world moved gently away from endless night as the desperate need to escape his own thoughts lifted. Bodie occasionally wondered at the brief respite given, he thought, by some kind Fate, soon to be over; but even so he let himself fall gratefully into the calm, knowing that he had to pull himself together, for when he stepped out of this dwalm he’d be alone once more.
It was coming up for evening, and Bodie drew in a deep breath while stopping to look at the countryside, so beautiful even in winter, before going back to the house. The air was dank with the decay of winter, and fresh with the wet scent of snow. Bodie thought the combination exceptionally fine. Whatever he was waiting for seemed to be approaching -- he felt the frozen grip within him loosening and he wanted now to speak to Alan, instinct telling him that Alan could help. He was hesitant, thought to put it off. But, that was never his way, and he hurried on.
He found Alan sprawled out on a sofa, reading some dryish-looking book. He sat down on the floor beside him, not knowing how to start, waiting for Alan to speak.
“Need something?”
“Think I’ve been...off me ’ead.” He laughed a little, embarrassed.
Alan’s face grew gentle. “You’ve had cause.” He put his book down.
Bodie turned his face away. “Ray wouldn’t let me go with ’im.” ‘Stop all the....’ Ah, that hurt too much still. Better to keep away -- but, he owed it to Alan, and Ray, to speak. “Stay on and see things through. Didn’t know how I could. Couldn’t, not really.”
“You are here today.”
“These past few days, ’ve felt like I was breathing for the first time in a century. Like I’d been holding my breath, or something. Funny.”
“Not funny.”
“No.”
Alan put his hand on Bodie’s shoulder. “You didn’t want to live on after him, did you?”
“He...Ray knew...but he made me promise. Wouldn’t talk about it after that. Begged him, but it was no good.” Deep breath. “Why’d he do it?”
Alan sat up and looked at Bodie’s bowed head. “Wish to God I could tell you. But I do know you were more important to him than anything he’d ever had, and I knew him all his life. He was bursting with joy whenever he spoke of you.”
When Bodie did not comment, he went on. “There was a time, when he was a lad, that we spent a lot of time together. His mum and dad sent him for visits, hoping I’d help sort him out. I was still sorting myself out, just starting my career, and really didn’t want some wild kid to deal with. Too smart for his own good -- and Lord was he wild. Don’t know how he didn’t fetch up behind bars.
“Any road, we ended up teaching each other more than either of us thought possible, and we never lost touch. He was so happy with you, Bodie. You gave him everything he hoped for, and more.” He sighed. “And I miss him too, a great deal.”
Bodie turned to him then, grief overpowering reticence, and Alan pulled Bodie up beside him, held him close as Bodie’s tears soaked through his jumper and shirt, Bodie’s kneading hands at his back digging through the fabric he was gripping with unconscious strength.
Though the words were distorted, Cade knew what he was saying. “Don’t want to live without him, Alan. Never wanted to!”
Alan felt tears approaching, but knew this was not the time to allow himself the indulgence. He waited some while, until he knew he could be heard. “Ah Bodie. You know, you don’t have to keep your promise to Ray. He’d understand. He’d never want you to be in this kind of pain, if you can’t find some reason to it all.”
Bodie thought about that. A reason? Only one. Whatever Ray wanted, still, always. “I promised, I promised him, and I will do it.... He’d be ashamed of me if he knew. I’m ashamed of me.” He was calming now. “Just needed to rest a bit... just a bit....”
“Bodie, you can’t go on in this way. You cannot possibly be doing your job properly and you know that’s dangerous to yourself, as well as to others. What has Cowley said to you?”
Bodie straightened up and looked out the window. “Nothing much. I work solo, mostly.”
“Ray should not have done this. You should not have agreed. I loved Ray, almost like a son, but what was he thinking of to expect this from you? It wasn’t fair, was it?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know.” ‘Have I forgot, my only love, to love thee?’
No. Never. He wished... he wished....
Suddenly, so suddenly that he had no time to stop it, push it back, he wanted, needed to be free, to escape, before it was too late. He had not thought of his .38 since arriving at Alan’s home, and regretted it with a depth that catapulted him to his feet.
Where is it? He ran from the room.
Cade was startled by Bodie’s actions, but when he heard him going into his office, then running up to the bedroom, his heart sank. He knew what Bodie was intending to do and, although he believed totally in his right to do it, he also wanted Bodie to have a chance to reconsider his decision, once this moment had passed.
He bolted up the stairs and entered the bedroom as Bodie was digging through the chest of drawers. He flew at him, struggling with the larger man. Cade was strong, but no match for Bodie who, wild to be done with it before he had to think again, caught him in an unyielding grip and flung him across the room.
“Christ! Oh, Christ! Alan? Alan?”
Alan opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor, jammed between the wall and a chair. Bodie shoved the chair aside and was checking him for injury, obviously shocked, tears still falling, and gasping for air, muttering to himself the while.
Alan took a breath. No pain. Took another. “Well, help me up then.”
“Oh Christ, Alan, sorry, sorry. Please, I’d never want to hurt you,” said Bodie as he helped Cade hobble to the bed. He stared down at Cade, his hands rubbing his face, waiting for the verdict.
Cade sat for a few minutes, waiting for his head to clear, then said, grim, “I’ll forgive you, Bodie -- if you do the same for yourself. For being alive.”
Bodie gazed at Alan, his face now expressionless, and said nothing.
“Ray wanted you to live. I know that ‘difficult’ is a ludicrous word to use here, but you must do it. And -- and I want you to, as well, not only for Ray’s sake but for mine too. You’re family now. Always.”
Still no response.
“Will you?” He held out his hand, his eyes intent on Bodie, willing him to free himself from his unbearable burden.
Bodie steeled himself to think of Ray. Superstitiously, he feared that he had somehow destroyed his love with his craven act and searched through memories and emotions -- and it was all there still -- constant, impervious, true. He took a deep breath and looked at Alan, to whom he owed so much, for accepting him, and for his help though, in the end, Bodie truly understood now that only one thing mattered, only one reason kept him alive: Ray wanted him to live, had trusted him to keep his word.
He would. He would wait.
Bodie accepted Alan’s hand, knowing that he could do this, and repeated his vow:
“I will.”
They sat together silently for some while, exhausted and relieved. Cade relaxed, now that Bodie was safe, and Bodie began to feel some energy returning to him, finally able to see the way clearly, his will and actions under his own control at last.
Then, because he had to know, Cade asked, “If you had found your gun, would you have used it?”
Bodie frowned, and winced at the thought. “Dunno.” But he owed Alan as much of the truth as he knew. “Perhaps. But I’m all right now, Alan. Think it’s time for me to go back.”
“You can stay here as long as you like, you know.”
His face pale and swollen, Bodie smiled his thanks but shook his head. “Can’t hide here forever. The Cow wouldn’t like it.”
Alan snorted. “Cowley would open a CI5 division right here on my doorstep if he thought it'd help you.”
Bodie sniffed, and dug about for a handkerchief. “Nah, ’s too cheap. He'd make me commute.”
They laughed a little at the thought of Cowley and his canny ways, and got up to start dinner.
> > >
Bodie closed the door to his office. It would be an hour or so before the first shift of secretaries would be in, starting up the machinery that kept CI5 running efficiently, and Cowley would not be in at all today, obeying the medicos’ warnings at last, leaving more and more responsibility with his deputies. Bodie welcomed the added duties, grateful to be able to increase his contribution to CI5’s work.
The sun was just up, casting a strong reddish-gold glow, and he needed no light. He sat at his desk and picked up the framed photograph, warming at the memory of the day it was taken. Ray was smiling at the photographer. Who took it -- was it Jax? He and Ray had only been lovers for a matter of weeks, and Ray was glowing with love, gentle and sweet with it. Not often he’d let anyone see him looking like that. And as for himself -- cocky bastard -- he was looking very pleased and proud, and pretty soft himself. Ah Ray....
He was not happy, did not expect that, though he knew that he could go on with a measure of peace, for himself, and for Ray.
Never forgetting, keeping Ray in his heart and in his thoughts, waiting.
Waiting.
it will rain on my soul
all night and
all day.
my feet will want to march
to where you are sleeping
but I will go on living.
WARNING:DEATH
