Archive of Our Own

Doyle was disgusted with himself, and ashamed, and determined. He was spying on his partner. All very well for Cowley to tell him to keep an eye on him: he, Doyle, was spying on his partner and – say it – lover, like a cheap private detective in some tacky divorce case.

How had it come to this? He’d known there was something on Bodie’s mind these last few days. It had started when Bodie had nearly run the car into that passing limo, although the reason hadn’t registered with Doyle at the time. Sitting outside the pub he’d been abstracted – normally attentive to Doyle’s jokes, if only to depress any pretensions to humour, Bodie had missed the ‘nudes’ joke completely.

Then opting out of the double date Doyle had set up – they were tentatively trying to work out what was happening with this relationship of theirs, and double dating was somehow safer than going out on their own. The problem was, Doyle wasn’t sure any more that they both wanted the same thing. It wasn’t something blokes talked about, so it was hard to tell if Bodie felt the same way he did. 

They’d been slowly working it out, Doyle thought. They’d progressed from a quick tension-relieving fuck after a dangerous op to deliberately spending nights together, and the pleasure was way over that which Doyle had found with any bird so far. But neither of them seemed ready to commit to anything further. Well, Doyle thought he was, but he didn’t know – really know – what Bodie felt. And there was still the whole issue of keeping it quiet, and sneaking around so that no one knew. He hated that.

Speaking of which, here he was in Holland Park, lurking behind the shrubbery with a bloody camera, watching his partner talking to some East German actress – whom he’d obviously known very well in a previous life.

Why would they meet here? Doyle stole cautiously up to the side of the building. Bodie was deep in conversation, and the woman was playing up to him, throwing her head back in laughter. It looked like Bodie’s instincts were still intact, though – he gave a swift glance around, as though he felt the weight of Doyle’s gaze. Doyle melted into the rough undergrowth outside the remains of the old Jacobean house.

He couldn’t hear much of what they were saying. His partner’s voice was low, and although he could hear the woman’s throaty laughter occasionally, he didn’t know what they were talking about.

They were on the move again. He sidled up to the gates and peered through.

Yes, there they were, deep in conversation. It was odd, though – Doyle had expected Bodie to be all over the woman. After all, she was beautiful, glamorous, exotic, and she was hanging on Bodie’s every word. There was space between them however, and Bodie was gazing into the distance again rather than into the woman’s eyes.

They’d moved on from the open air theatre now and the gates were shut, closed and barred. And wasn’t that just symbolic, Doyle thought grimly. All right, concentrate.

He’d lost them again. Oh no, there they were – it looked like they were on their way out of the park now. He crouched down behind the bench, ostensibly re-tying his shoelace.

Why Cowley wanted pictures, Doyle wasn’t sure. How did it help, to send him out with a camera? Speaking of which, the bloody autofocus on the lens was playing up. Doyle thought Bodie was looking remote and withdrawn, but it was hard to focus the telephoto lens right and check his partner’s expression at the same time. He wondered what they were talking about. Bodie didn’t look as though the love of his life had returned. And now she wasn’t looking so thrilled either, a change from her former sparkling, flirty attitude. 

They were out of sight now, heading for the park gates. Yes, they’d gone. Doyle stood in the bright sunshine, his lonely shadow mocking him from the pavement.

What was he going to do about Bodie? If he wanted Marikka, there was no future for Doyle with Bodie at all. And yet was there any sort of future? Could two CI5 agents have any sort of relationship?

Doyle groaned, and headed off to report to Cowley. He’d have to be careful what he included and what he left out. The Old Man wasn’t daft, and if he thought Doyle was involved in any way there’d be hell to pay.

dbdbdbdbdbdbdb

Much later, after the whole sorry debacle was over and Doyle was massaging the bruises on his chest where Bodie had thrust the rifle at him, it came to Doyle that Bodie hadn’t seemed to be enjoying any of the last few days. Obviously, he’d felt betrayed by everyone, including his partner, and thinking you were being framed for something you hadn’t done was… well, Doyle didn’t know how he’d have reacted. But Bodie had disappeared for a day and was still very withdrawn. Doyle didn’t know whether to broach the subject or let it alone. Eventually, Bodie’s miserable demeanour was too much for Doyle to take, and he tackled the subject head on.

 They were cooling down after a silent run along the riverbank at Battersea.  He stopped and grabbed his partner by the arm, turning the other man to face him.

‘What do you want, Bodie? Do you want to call it a day? End the partnership?’

He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He knew, or was fairly sure, that he felt more for Bodie than Bodie did for him. It would be quicker, cleaner, easier in the long run to make a clean break. The ache in his heart was a physical thing, and yet he held Bodie’s gaze, challenging him.

‘No! I thought… I thought you wanted this. Us.’

‘Yeah, I do, but what do you want? I can’t go on like this. D’you want a laugh? Nothing happened with those birds the other night. I just didn’t want them. All I want…’ his voice tailed off. Finish it, Doyle, he thought fiercely. Just bloody say it.

‘All I want is you, Bodie, and if you can’t say the same, then I reckon we’d better end it now.’ Bridges burned, he looked away down the river.

Bodie moved to stand beside him.

‘Y’know when I was in the hotel room with Marikka?’

Doyle made a noncommittal noise, wondering what Bodie was about to say. Bodie looked over at Doyle, checking he was listening.

‘I was almost glad when they burst into the room.’

‘Glad? Why?’

‘I couldn’t get it up. There we are, rolling around on the bed, she’s gorgeous and wearing nothing but a towel - and I can’t get it up. Didn’t know what to do.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s never happened before.’

‘So what are you saying?’

‘Look, Ray, when I saw Marikka at that hotel, it took me right back to years ago. I had a real thing for her then. This seemed like – I dunno, another chance.’

Doyle was silent, miserable. Bodie touched him lightly on the arm, pleading.

‘We met up in that hotel, and all the doubts came back. When I looked out of that window and saw you, I realised what I was doing.’

‘And what was that, Bodie?’ Doyle’s voice was harsh.

‘I didn’t want – hell, what I wanted was you on that bed, not her!’

Doyle looked around hastily, but they were alone on the embankment.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So what now?’

‘Now?’ Bodie smiled, and it was genuine this time, the strain of the last few days dissipating as he looked at his partner.

‘Now, Raymond, my son, I suggest we stop for a pint at that pub behind us, and then…’

‘And then?’

‘Then I reckon we go home and work this out together.’

‘Yeah, and we can check out your little problem.’ Doyle had a self-satisfied smile on his face.

‘What little problem?’

‘Well, you just said you couldn’t get it up. Might be an issue there.’

‘Oh, come on, those were special circumstances! I wasn’t feeling myself…’

He tailed off as Doyle burst into laughter.

‘I didn’t mean – oh, come here, you bastard…’

They headed for the pub, bickering all the way. There would be problems with Cowley, no doubt, but that was for tomorrow. Now was for them.

dbdbdbdbdbdbdb