Day 29 - Part #5

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

A Bodie Carol
by Ancasta
(continued)

Out?  Great.  Fucking fantastic.  Bodie just wanted to go back to sleep.  He couldn't help but think he stood a better chance of that staying in his own flat, near his own couch and bed, than strolling down some dreamscape street on his way to Doyle's.

 

"Bodie, shift yourself.  We haven't got much time."

 

"Coming, dear," he murmured, trailing obediently after Charlie.

 

"You won't need a coat, mate," Charlie tossed over his shoulder as he reached for the door.  "Not where we're going."

 

Not given any time to ponder that odd remark, Bodie watched his front door open, not to the hallway outside his flat, but to Doyle's residence.

 

"Nifty trick," he said softly, peering over Charlie's shoulder and into Doyle's entry hall.  "Convenient."   After both men had stepped inside, Charlie closed the door and locked it behind them. 

 

Bodie had always liked his partner's flat.  It was on the third floor of a Chelsea row house, which made the stairs a bit of a haul.  But the rooms were large, the ceilings tall and the lounge had a generous bay window that looked out over a small back garden.  The building dated back to the turn of the century, but had been updated over the years and well maintained.  Its hardwood floors gleamed; its plastered walls were whole and smooth.  He had sometimes wondered who Doyle had bribed to land such a gem. 

 

"You don't have to whisper," Charlie said.  "Doyle can't see us or hear us.  He's not even home as yet.  I bumped back the clock a few hours to right around the time you got in.  I want you to see how Ray spent his evening."

 

"Voyeurism, Charlie?" Bodie said, strolling around, peering into rooms and giving the place the once over.  It appeared to his familiar eye much as it ever had, Doyle's comfortable clutter giving the space a homey, lived-in appeal.  Yet without its tenant there, the flat felt hollow somehow, lonely, like a shell waiting for its center to be filled.  "Very kinky, this undercover surveillance.  Didn't know that was your scene."

 

"Only when it's for a very worthy cause," Charlie said, positioning himself in the doorway of the lounge.  "Or if I'm passing by the ladies' locker room."

 

Bodie smiled.  "Now what?"

 

"Now we wait."

 

They didn't have to wait long.  Less than a minute passed before Bodie heard what he identified as Doyle's boots plodding up the stairs, the gait measured and slow.  Something heavy was deposited on the floor outside, then Bodie heard the jingle of keys.  One was inserted in the door, jiggled and turned.  The portal opened and a very wet, very windblown Ray Doyle stepped over the threshold, his cheeks, ears, nose and hands as pink as those of a newborn.

 

"Stupid sod," Bodie muttered, taking in his partner's condition.  "Look at him.  He's half froze to death." 

 

"A night not fit for man nor beast," Charlie agreed.

Paper sacks at his feet, it looked as if Doyle had made the same decision as Bodie.  He had stopped at the market before coming home.  The only difference was instead of driving to the shops and leaving his bag in the car, Doyle had apparently done his shopping while toting his oversized duffle bag. 

 

"Why didn't he leave that monster at home?" Bodie wondered, almost to himself.

 

"He was afraid by the time he got home, dropped off his bag and set out again, the stores would be closed," Charlie said helpfully.  "It's Christmas Eve, after all.  Shopkeepers don't stay open indefinitely."

 

The duffle and grocery bags were leaning drunkenly against each other in the hall.  Pushing the door open wide, Doyle bent down and dragged his luggage into the vestibule before returning to the corridor to scoop up the shopping bags.  Bumping the door shut with his hip, he stood with his back to entryway.  Tipping back his head, he closed his eyes, sniffled, then sighed, his parcels clutched unthinkingly to his chest. 

 

"Head's been acting up on him something fierce," Charlie explained, though Bodie didn't really need to hear the words. Doyle's face alone told the tale.  "It bothers him when he moves around too much or overexerts."

 

"For Christ sake, there was no need for him to be dragging himself through the streets," Bodie said, angry at being made to feel the villain when it was Doyle who had made the boneheaded decision.  "I would have driven him home, or even to the store if he'd asked."

 

"Must not have thought the ride worth the aggro," Charlie said with a shrug.

 

Bloody hell.  Bodie would show him aggro.

 

Seemingly having rested enough, Doyle pushed away from the door and traipsed to the kitchen, his coat still on, sniffling again as he trod.  Moving as if he were sleepwalking, he put away his purchases—milk, cereal, some fruit, bread, cheese and lager.  Bodie and Charlie stood nearby, watching him unpack and get the heater started.

 

"Thought he'd wanted to cook Christmas dinner," Bodie said, remembering the menu with which Doyle had tried to tempt him.

 

"Not for just himself," Charlie said.  "A meal like that is meant to be shared.  Who wants to go to all the bother for only one bloke?"

 

Groceries stored, Doyle returned to the entryway.  Shrugging off his jacket, he hung it on the coat rack, then leaned over to pick up his duffle.  Before he could grab hold of its straps, however, he swayed and stumbled, losing his balance.  Only by throwing out his hand and pressing his palm to the wall was he able to keep himself from falling.

 

"Ray--," Bodie said, taking a step towards him.

 

Charlie reached out his arm, blocking Bodie's path like a tollbooth gate.  "You can't help him, mate.  This happened hours ago."

 

Doyle stood there for a moment, hand braced against the wall, his head bowed, before muttering, "Shit."  Slowly adjusting his stance, he pulled himself upright.  "You can stay there till morning," he told the troublesome bag, and headed slowly towards the bedroom.

 

Bodie and Charlie trailed behind him.

 

When Doyle reached the bedroom, he dropped wearily onto the bed, tugged off his boots, then unceremoniously flopped over onto his side, reached back and wrapped the bedspread around himself.  Closing his eyes, he sighed and shifted beneath the covers until he got comfortable, his hands tucked under his chin like a child.

 

"His hair is soaked," Bodie observed with a frown.  "He's going to ruin his bedding, not to mention catch a chill.  He should get out of those clothes."

 

"He wants to take a shower and change," Charlie said.  "But he's got to wait for the hot water, doesn't he?"

 

Doyle's body was just beginning to relax, his breath turning deep and even, when a knock sounded at the front door, jolting him back to awareness.

 

"Who the hell is that?" Bodie wondered, annoyed on Doyle's behalf.

 

At first he thought his partner might ignore the summons.  One bleary eye opened, yet Doyle didn't roll free from his cocoon. 

 

"Raymond?  Raymond, are you home, dear?" called a voice from the hall.  "I thought I heard your door."

 

"Mrs. Perry," Bodie murmured, identifying the visitor as Doyle's neighbor, a sweet-tempered OAP who lived at the other end of the hall.

 

Apparently, Doyle recognized her voice as well.  He blinked once, then again.  Aware now, if not particularly alert, he tossed back the covers and rolled onto his back.  Taking a deep breath, he hoisted himself out of bed.

 

Padding to the front door in stocking feet, Doyle opened it to find an apple-cheeked, gray-haired senior with an ample bosom, and nearsighted blue eyes.  Clad in a blue velour tracksuit and slippers, she peered up at Doyle over her half glasses.  What she saw did not please her.

 

"Oh good heavens!  Whatever happened?"

 

Bodie could see Doyle consciously draw himself up taller and paste a smile on his drawn features.  "Nothing to worry about, Mrs. P.  Had a slight accident at work.  Be good as new before you know it."

 

"You certainly don't look good as new now," Mrs. Perry said, brow furrowed in concern.  "If I had known you were feeling poorly, I would never have troubled you."

 

"It's no trouble—" Doyle protested.  Bodie believed him.  He knew Doyle was genuinely fond of the old bird.

 

"Let me be the one to decide that," Mrs. Perry said, patting him on the arm.  "You go take some aspirin and put yourself to bed.  You look terrible.  I'll figure out some other way around my problem."

 

"If you could have done that, you wouldn't have come to me, now would you?" Doyle said, taking hold of her shoulders to keep her from leaving.  "Come on.  Tell me what's wrong, love."

 

She hesitated a moment longer, clearly torn as to what she should do.  Then, sighing, she said, "I need a bit of help with my tree.  The lights have gone out.  I'm wondering if perhaps Arabella got underneath and pulled something, or if a maybe a bulb blew.  I can't figure out what's wrong."

 

"I'll come take a look," Doyle said.

 

"Let's tag along," Charlie suggested.

 

Bodie nodded and followed in his wake.

 

Mrs. Perry's home was of a similar size and layout as Doyle's, only her lounge lacked the bay window.  Filled wall to wall with comfortable furnishings, chintz prints, and tasseled throw pillows, the space was cheery and almost overpoweringly feminine.

 

"There it is, dear," she said to Doyle, directing his attention to the evergreen in the corner.  Towering over an assortment of brightly-colored packages, and fairly dripping with tinsel and ornaments, the bushy pine stood, dark as the West End on a Sunday.  "Work your magic."

 

"I shall try."

 

Crossing to the tree, Doyle knelt down carefully, as if still minding his head.  Once settled, he lifted one of the lower branches and ducked beneath.  Without warning, a sleek tabby came hurtling out from in back of the tree.  Awkwardly trying to scramble out of the cat's way, Doyle tumbled over onto his behind, grimacing at the impact. 

 

"Arabella!" Mrs. Perry scolded, scooping the feisty feline into her arms and looking deep into her kitty-cat eyes.  "Bad girl.  Very bad, surprising poor Raymond that way.  You're no help at all.  Now get out of the way and let the man work."

 

Smiling sheepishly, Doyle did just that, peering beneath the tree and through its branches, checking connections and jiggling bulbs.

 

"My son and his family are coming by tomorrow after early services," Mrs. Perry said, sitting in an overstuffed armchair watching him, Arabella perched on the chair's arm.  "We'll open pressies and have some breakfast before we head to their home for the rest of the day.  What are you doing tomorrow?  Any big plans?"

 

"Not really," Doyle said, his face hidden by pine branches.  "Didn't know I'd have it off till this morning.  No time to make plans."

 

"You do work the oddest hours," Mrs. Perry murmured, her hand trailing down the cat's back.  Bodie knew for a fact she had no idea what they did.  "I suppose with your being away you didn't have a chance to get a tree or anything."

 

"'Fraid not," Doyle said, wiggling further beneath the tree.  "Nothing to put under it anyway."

 

"No presents?" Mrs. Perry said as if scandalized.

 

"Not for me," Doyle said.  "Bought one for my mate, though."

 

"That nice Mr. Bodie?"

 

"That's the one."

 

Doyle had bought him something?  He had joked about it in the car, but Bodie hadn't taken him seriously.  When had he shopped?  Why?  In the past, their way of exchanging gifts had been to shout each other a round at the local.  What would make Doyle break with tradition?

 

"I'm pretty pleased with it, actually," Doyle said, backing out from under the tree to sit cross-legged before it.  "We were in a secondhand shop a few weeks back, talking to a gra--…a colleague, and Bodie saw this robot.  Silly little thing, gray metal with red plastic feet and pincher hands, Japanese made.  They were all the rage when we were kids.  Apparently, they're collectibles now."

 

"I think I know the ones," Mrs. Perry said with a nod.  "They're remote controlled, aren't they?"

 

"Not this one.  You turn a crank and its arms and legs move," Doyle said.  "Its balance isn't too great, tends to keel over after a couple steps.  But it's got little radar thingies on its shoulders that turn and a grill for a face.  Bodie loved it.  Said he'd wanted one as a kid, only his mum hadn't bought it for him.  I went back the next day and got it."

 

Bodie knew the toy, remembered the exact conversation.

 

"Will you look at that?  My god, I haven't seen one of these in years."

 

"One what?"

 

"A mechanized robot.  Do you remember these?  They're brilliant."

 

"Oh, yeah.  I think one of the lads down the street had something similar.  Funny looking little guy.  The robot, that is.  Not the lad."

 

"I wanted one so badly.  Asked for it for Christmas one year.  Wound up getting shirts and socks instead.  Nearly broke my heart."

 

Bodie had never thought Doyle would pay him any mind.  Had never dreamed his notoriously tight partner would plop down collectors' prices for a bit of whimsy.

 

"Well at least you'll be getting together with him then," Mrs. Perry said, seemingly pleased by the notion.  "Exchange pressies and such."

 

"Maybe after the holiday," Doyle said, rising from the floor, his eyes avoiding hers.

 

"Is your friend away for Christmas?" Mrs. Perry asked, standing as well.

 

Doyle smiled, small and tight.  "Far, far away."

 

No, he wasn't, Bodie wanted to shout.  He was right there.

 

"Oh, that's so sad!"

 

Bodie couldn't agree more.

 

"Listen, Mrs. P., everything seems to be plugged in all right," Doyle said, plainly—at least in Bodie's view—changing the subject.  "Might it have been a fuse?  The wiring in these old buildings isn't all it could be.  Maybe something overloaded."

 

"That's an excellent idea.  Let me show you where the box is, dear," Mrs. Perry said, taking Doyle's arm and drawing him away.

 

"That's how it starts, you know," Charlie said as Bodie and he watched the other two walk towards the kitchen.

 

"How what starts?" Bodie asked.

 

"The doubts."

 

Bodie sighed.  "Speak English, mate."

 

"All right," Charlie said, turning to face Bodie, his hands in his pockets.  "With a bird, it might happen when a bloke is late or forgets to call.  With a man, it could be when his girl has a headache or wants him to meet her parents."

 

Bodie shook his head, utterly confused.  "I have no idea what you're on about."

 

"It's not knowing where you stand, innit?" Charlie said.  "You get into a relationship, any kind of relationship, and you establish a pattern, a way of being together, so one half of the couple knows what to expect from the other and vice versa."

 

"Doyle and I aren't a couple," Bodie said, thinking back to when he had told Doyle nearly that exact same thing.

 

"'Course you are," Charlie said, dismissing his argument.  "Closer than any marriage, a CI5 partnership."

 

"How would you know?" Bodie questioned.  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't recall your ever working exclusively with any one partner."

 

"I've got eyes, don't I?" Charlie said.  "You think I couldn't see what it was like when a pair really clicked?  The way two people could operate as a single unit.  Two become one—just like what they say before the groom kisses the bride."

 

"Really?" Bodie said mockingly.  "So tell me—in Doyle's and my case, which is which?  Because I have to tell you, I don't think I've got the hair to wear a veil."

 

"Drop the jokes and just listen a minute, would you," Charlie implored.  "None of that matters, Bodie.  What's important is trust."

 

"Doyle and I trust each other," Bodie said with certainty.

 

"Yeah," Charlie said.  "You do.  Only now you've given Ray a reason to second-guess himself.  He's always believed he'd know which way you were going to jump.  But today…today you surprised him.  He never saw that little scene coming."

 

"That's easy to fix," Bodie said calmly.

 

"No, it's not," Charlie said, shaking his head.  "Because that sort of thing won't only happen once.  These feelings you have won't simply go away.  You'll keep wanting him, won't you?  Wanting him and denying him.  Denying you both.  Do you really think Ray won't notice?"

 

All at once, the tree lit up, dozens of tiny bulbs twinkling merrily from the needled boughs.

 

"Oh, Ray!  Come look!  You've done it," Mrs. Perry cried from the doorway, beaming with delight.

 

Ray came to stand behind her, looking in on the lounge, a genuine smile lightening some of the fatigue shadowing his face.  "Looks real nice.  You did a good job, Mrs. P."

 

"I believe that's my line," she said, stretching up to give him a peck on the kiss.  "Thank you, dear."

 

"My pleasure," Doyle said, his hand on her shoulder.  "Let's go back in the kitchen and I'll show you what switch I flipped in case it happens again."

 

Bodie watched the pair go, thinking about what Charlie had said.  Could he hide his feelings from his partner, pretend all was as it had been before?

 

Was he that good an actor?

 

"Every time you take a step away, Ray will eventually have to do the same," Charlie said, his voice soft, but unrelenting.  "He may fight you at first.  Fight for you, for what you two have.  But he'll know you're keeping something from him.  And one day he'll leave, just as he believes you're leaving him."

 

Bodie felt his insides twist and sink.  He didn't want that, didn't want to watch Doyle walk away.  Yet it seemed he was doomed to such a fate.  It didn't matter if he spoke up or not, either way Doyle would go.

 

"I don't know what to do," Bodie admitted quietly, frowning, his eyes narrowed in thought.

 

"Why don't you sleep on it?" Charlie said, his voice kind. 

 

Reaching out, he pressed his fingertips to Bodie's forehead.  Bodie felt a rush of warmth roll through him, emanating from the spot.

 

"Happy Christmas, mate," Bodie heard Charlie say.

 

"Good-bye, Charlie," Bodie murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

 

Then he fell into a deep and blessedly dreamless sleep.

 

*******

(to be continued)

Comments

[myrebelcat.livejournal.com]

Aw! Poor Doyle, poor Bodie!

I love the way Bodie uses humour as a shield and a weapon. And I like the way the consequences of his actions are being so clearly drawn out for him.

I also very much like your handling of Doyle - the fact that he's not complaining or angsting. He's just doing what's got to be done. I could clearly imagine the look on his face in this line:

Ray came to stand behind her, looking in on the lounge, a genuine smile lightening some of the fatigue shadowing his face. "Looks real nice. You did a good job, Mrs. P."

Must read more!

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

Oh, good! 'Poor Doyle, poor Bodie' is what I was going for. *g* I'm hoping I got the voices right. Seems to me Bodie usually defaults to humor when faced with a difficult situation. Usually, Doyle is the only one who can cut through that.

[msmoat.livejournal.com]

Very nice, and not exactly what I was expecting. *g* That's good. I like this glimpse Bodie has of Doyle's life when he's not there. It's perfectly normal, but...Bodie needs to be there. A lovely section. I like Mrs. P, too, and Arabella.

More, please!

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

Okay, now I'm curious. What =were= you expecting? *g*

I wanted Ray to be unhappy without Bodie, but I couldn't help but think he would wind up "soldiering on". What I really needed to have happen was Charlie's comments about wedges being driven into a relationship and the revelation about Ray buying the robot.

I'm glad you liked Mrs. P and Arabella, though. Being a cat owner myself, I know how likely it is for the little buggers to zip out of nowhere. Poor Ray. ;-)

[msmoat.livejournal.com]

What =were= you expecting?
Oh, you know, angst and loneliness. *g* Which you put in there--but in a more understated way than I was expecting. Then you went on into the neighbor part--which I love, but that was unexpected. I love the "soldiering on" concept--naturally--and you did that very well. I also wasn't expecting the really huge angst-fest later on, with the Ghost of Christmas Future. So, in looking back, this was perfect, really. A necessary...stillness, if you will, before the plunge into horror.

And then the glorious reprieve. *g* I really liked, too, how you transitioned into Christmas Future--it was close enough to "real" for a niggle of doubt...maybe this *was* real, and you were breaking the Dickens pattern...? *g* Again, well done.

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

I thought maybe folks might forget there are actually four ghosts who visit Scrooge. I had actually forgotten about Marley until I started writing this (and so, went and reread the original tale) and I'd thought maybe, just maybe, readers might think Keller was actually the Ghost of Christmas Past, so doubt would exist as to whether or not Ray was dead.

Reading through comments, it seems as if most of you are smarter than that. *g* Still, it was worth a try!

[callistosh65.livejournal.com]

I agree with all the above. Nothing too dramatic worked really well here- Doyle's life without Bodie is just...well, a life without Bodie. Off to 6 now!

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it's not a section where lives change, but it kind of works (at least I hope it does!) as a bridge for what's to come. This dividing up the story into sections gives it more importance than I think it would have if you were reading the story as a single file.

[byslantedlight.livejournal.com]

Bodie just wanted to go back to sleep. He couldn't help but think he stood a better chance of that staying in his own flat, near his own couch and bed, than strolling down some dreamscape street on his way to Doyle's.
I love it - love the gentle comedy that just slips calmly through the story, just like the eps, just like them...

And oh, Bodie watching Doyle - and I do agree, Doyle just getting on with it, even though his heart is breaking... well he would wouldn't he... Makes it so much more affecting when it's subtle like that...

(And sorry, I keep interupting your reading too... *g* Well if you will post in so many ever-so-effective parts! Which is a great touch, of course, whether you planned it or not it really works well. Keeps us desperate for the next bit. *realises she's rabbiting on when she could be reading the next bit - gaaah!)

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

Oi! I wish I could pretend I planned it. I was so =bloody= annoyed last night. It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to post. I kept having to chop everything up. I don't *think* I did anything wrong. But if you know of a workaround, please do holler!

[byslantedlight.livejournal.com]

But if you know of a workaround, please do holler!
Ack! Absolutely! You should have said! (Don't ya love people who say that..?!)

If you'd still like me to, I can put it up at palelyloitering for a while, and link to it from dialj. That's how I did my last couple of fics, cos they were too long to go up as one too! Lemme know!

Now, I'm just popping back to the scarey madman who's with our Bodie... and where's Ray? Eep!

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

That's so sweet. Thanks. Actually, it's been up a day at this point, so I don't really see the need. Maybe for the next story (the next story?!). Hopefully by then, though, I'll have a site of my own.

P.S. Pauline, who I'm trading as many emails with as you, says hi and that she =so= owes you an email.

[byslantedlight.livejournal.com]

Hopefully by then, though, I'll have a site of my own.
Oh - good, better best... *g*

P.S. Pauline, who I'm trading as many emails with as you, says hi and that she =so= owes you an email.
Hee - and there was me thinking I owed her one... Say hi back and... or else I could shut up and let you read... *g*

[byslantedlight.livejournal.com]

PS - just did the whole character-y count thing. Lj must have been being a bastard when you tried to post, cos you should have been able to put it up in two parts. Except that I loved it being in seven parts, so maybe Lj just knew how fab it would be this way... *g*

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

Argh. Seriously?

I tried to cut it into "chunkier" chunks, but it was a no go.

I'm not kidding when I tell you it took over an hour for everything to get up. I was cursing like a sailor.

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

Hee! I just finished. Now I need to write you a real note.

[(Anonymous)]

This is working so well, everything is hanging together so nicely. This is such a treat, so glad I saved it to read all in one go! As callistosh65 says above, I also I like the fact that Doyle’s life without Bodie is just a life without Bodie, no more but much less. On to the next!!

MB x

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

I'm so very, very happy you feel the story held together. Have it get broken up into =seven= bits had me rather worried. I didn't know if it would flow as I had hoped. It sounds like the posting didn't really affect you. Yay!