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discoveredinaljToday is a "first-foot" type of story and how words affect us. Hope you all have had a wonderful holiday season!!
Last Words, First Words
by krisser
Acting on a most reliable tip procured by Mr Cowley five days into a multi-man stakeout, CI5 surrounded the remote nondescript farmhouse outside Cambridge. Leaves rustled lightly beneath their feet as agents move stealthily closer using whatever cover was available to shield their approach. Once in place, upon Controller Cowley's order, the agents converged, weapons drawn.
Agents Bodie and Doyle moved silently to each side of the back door. Bodie watched Doyle's fingers as he counted down their entry. On three, Bodie smashed open the door with his foot. Both men rushed in. The coordinated entry was flawless, then all hell broke lose.
Gunfire erupted, bullets flew dangerously about, and frightened men ran heedlessly in to the fray; many were shot by their own men.
Bodie and Doyle cleared their area and exited the way they had entered. Amid the hail of gunfire, two men ran out on their heels, not to intercept them, but to escape the onslaught within. Bullets hit them in the back nonetheless, one man dead before he lay sprawled on the ground, the other was barely alive, rasping and coughing up blood. Bodie moved closer to relieve him of any weapon.
As Bodie made to stand, the young man grabbed his arm. "I'm dying, aren't I?" Frightened eyes beseeched an answer.
The flip retort vanished when Bodie looked at the scared young man. He squatted down beside him. "Yes, lad, I'm afraid you are."
The young man shut his eyes as tears fell. "I never told 'em . . . never said I love you. I was scared and now Sean will never know." His voice grew fainter with each word. "I had chances, but never took 'em."
Bodie leaned in closer to catch the last bit and held on to the dying man long after life left the body. His last words echoed about in his head. They’d struck a chord and resonated deep behind a door that had been firmly locked. Now, with a few words, there was a hammering at that door he had worked so diligently not to remember.
Bodie shook his head to break the spell. The lure was powerful, but lamenting what-ifs was counterproductive to functioning proficiently. Bodie looked around, the blood and carnage surrounding him should be enough to banish that very type of thought. He stood and joined his partner without looking back.
The CI5 cleanup crew swept in and lived up to its name once again. Bodie and Doyle were ordered back to headquarters to finish reports and conduct interrogations.
They made quick work of the remainder of the burgeoning terrorists, who had been unsure just whom they wanted to blow up. They had the means in plenty, but no clear target.
Doyle shook his head. "Now they will have the time to figure it out."
"Indeed, a long stay at Her Majesty's pleasure." Bodie would have said more but was interrupted by the arrival of Mr Cowley.
"Good work, lads. I expect to see you bright and early on the second." Mr Cowley announced as he passed them in the corridor.
Two sets of surprised eyes followed him as he headed to his office. They looked at each other and set about to make haste in completing the reports.
"Take the bikes out tomorrow?" Doyle suggested as they closed their lockers.
"Sounds good." Bodie nodded in agreement. "What time?"
"Nine o'clock. I'll have brekkie in."
Bodie nodded again, even muesli sounded good, he was so tired at the moment. "You're on."
They headed for their motors and home.
---------------
He woke unsettled by dreams he didn't even try to remember. They had left him with a feeling of not quite impending doom. A carefree day on the bikes with Doyle was just what he needed to feel normal once more.
They rode southeast and ended up on the Dover coast. Takeaway fish and chips were eaten with the cliffs in view. Bodie relaxed as he reflected on the joy and contentment he felt at that moment.
He listened as Doyle rabbitted on about bike engines, but his thoughts drifted to the dead lad and his sorrow at remaining silent. Missed opportunities. Bodie cocked his head. Was this such a time for him?
His thought process was rudely interrupted as leaves rained down upon his head.
"Wool-gathering much?" Doyle asked with an unusually innocent expression.
"Something like that." Bodie smiled ruefully.
"Anything important?"
Did Bodie detect something odd in his partner's tone? Nah, probably not. "Nothing at this time."
"Just as I suspected, you've confirmed there's nothing going on up there." Doyle pointed to Bodie's head.
"Get off." Bodie laughed as he brushed Doyle' hand away. And, yet, he was still haunted by the idea of a missed opportunity.
They pocketed their rubbish and headed the bikes back to London. More takeaway at Doyle's watching a Bond film marathon filled the rest of the day. After agreeing to a morning run, Bodie packed it in early, still tired. It was hard work keeping things quiet in his brain.
--
On the third time around the cemetery, Bodie felt his reserves kick in and he didn't have to concentrate on the movement. Which left time to think. . . not top of his list this morning.
Why couldn't he remain content with what he had? Why had those words the dead bloke uttered taken such root in his head? Why was that damn hidden door emerging now all of a sudden? Bodie ran harder to out-run the complicated questions that had no clear answers.
They rounded out the morning with a meal at the pub. They shared a ploughman's and oblique shop talk. Well after midday, Bodie prepared to leave.
"Where are you off to? Forgot a sudden meet-up with a bird?" Doyle inquired.
"Nah, it's the night I have a drink with me SAS mates. We meet up each year at this time. You can come if you like." It was the first time Bodie had extended the offer.
Doyle half-smiled. "Nah. Have a lot of catching up to do. Besides, after a few pints your lot will make up the stories."
"But we're on for tomorrow, and it's New Year's Eve, right?"
"Oh, yeah, ya big kid."
Bodie was not at all put out by the comment. "Ta."
--------
New Year's Eve day started early. His getting royally pissed last night didn't block the odd dreams. Reminiscing with his old mates had been raucous and fun. But the damn pensive thoughts had been lurking in the back of his mind nonetheless. They reared their ugly heads all through the night, but always too tenuous to grasp while awake.
Awake he was. A long walk in the cold air might be just the thing. Bodie bundled up and headed for the closest park. Winter had taken its toll and the trees stood bare. The only leaves were brown and dry beneath his feet.
He knew that this all came back to the words whispered in sorrow from a dying man's lament. Silence, fear and missed opportunities seemed to be the theme. He was unsure that he could bury it away this time. Unsure if he should even try. So, it was time to face them. . . his thoughts.
Bodie pondered opportunities missed in expressing . . . what exactly? Feelings or declarations, of course. He wasn't that thick-headed, just a master at evading the obvious when it threatened his ordered life. Emotions of all sorts were complicated by their very nature. Lots of histrionics, and pouting, and grand snarkiness. Bodie chuckled to himself, that all sounded like what he already had to put up with from his partner. The blood roared in his ears and he shook his head to clear it.
He'd made a life-long practice of avoiding that very thing. But the dying lad had seemed so forlorn that he had stayed silent in the face of death and only whispered the words of love to a stranger.
Bodie leaned back against the closest tree. Would he be content to go to the grave with nothing spoken aloud? The creaking hinges of that metaphorical door echoed in his head. What was it that needed to be said aloud?
Bodie took in a deep breath not noticing his frosty exhale as he walked further into the park.
When Doyle had been shot in the heart – the fear still gripped tightly in his chest on the memory. The recuperation had been fraught with anger, tension, and fear leaving a mark each day. But the golly had persevered and they made it. He'd never said a word about how proud he'd been of Doyle's daily effort Doyle made to regain his strength.
He made a promise to himself that he would speak of the importance of their partnership. The door stayed closed and the unsettled feeling remained.
---
A good meal, good wine and making merry took them close to the new year. When Doyle said he was tired and called it a night before the stroke of midnight, Bodie thought he should say something, but Doyle had given him an easy out. He closed the car door and waved.
He trudged up the stairs because his chicken heart didn't merit the lift. Missed opportunities indeed. He stomped into his flat, angry with himself. He paced back and forth, unsettled with the thoughts of words unsaid. They'd only leave him alone if he dealt with the missed chance to speak.
Bodie looked at the time. It was close to midnight - could he do it?
One man's last words could be his own first words in a new year, a first foot offering. Why he'd let Doyle leave was beyond him, fear most likely. But that was done with. He'd follow him home with his first foot offering. He grabbed a bottle of fine wine and headed for the door. He pulled it open with resolve and purpose only to find Ray Doyle leaning up against the side of the wall. His expression was of one idling away time until the next bus was to appear.
Doyle smiled brightly at Bodie, who stood gobsmacked at the sight before him.
"I know it would be better if I were a tall, dark-haired male, but hopefully mousy brown will do."
Bodie tried to take hold of himself, but this all seemed surreal on the heels of making such an important decision. He cocked his head to the side and answered honestly, "Mousy brown suits me just fine."
Doyle reached inside his pocket and pulled out a shiny coin. "A silver coin for good luck." He flipped it over to Bodie and he picked up the bag at his feet. "Bread and whiskey. I was just waiting for midnight."
Bodie's unsettled feeling vanished as the door in his head was flung open, and the worry of missed opportunities faded away. He saw a new future in Doyle's eyes.
"I've got a sprig of holly that could be used as mistletoe," Bodie offered with a sweet, genuine smile.
Doyle moved forward and Bodie pulled him across the threshold. Bodie pushed Doyle up against the wall and kissed him senseless. When they finally broke the kiss, their eyes exchanged promises that their bodies showed proof to back the claim. Their lips met once more.
Without lifting his lips, Bodie used his foot to close the door behind them.
fin
Title: Last Words, First Words
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
krisserci5
Archive to Pros Lib: Yes
Genre: Slash
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Many, many thanks to my beta . . .really!
Last Words, First Words
by krisser
Acting on a most reliable tip procured by Mr Cowley five days into a multi-man stakeout, CI5 surrounded the remote nondescript farmhouse outside Cambridge. Leaves rustled lightly beneath their feet as agents move stealthily closer using whatever cover was available to shield their approach. Once in place, upon Controller Cowley's order, the agents converged, weapons drawn.
Agents Bodie and Doyle moved silently to each side of the back door. Bodie watched Doyle's fingers as he counted down their entry. On three, Bodie smashed open the door with his foot. Both men rushed in. The coordinated entry was flawless, then all hell broke lose.
Gunfire erupted, bullets flew dangerously about, and frightened men ran heedlessly in to the fray; many were shot by their own men.
Bodie and Doyle cleared their area and exited the way they had entered. Amid the hail of gunfire, two men ran out on their heels, not to intercept them, but to escape the onslaught within. Bullets hit them in the back nonetheless, one man dead before he lay sprawled on the ground, the other was barely alive, rasping and coughing up blood. Bodie moved closer to relieve him of any weapon.
As Bodie made to stand, the young man grabbed his arm. "I'm dying, aren't I?" Frightened eyes beseeched an answer.
The flip retort vanished when Bodie looked at the scared young man. He squatted down beside him. "Yes, lad, I'm afraid you are."
The young man shut his eyes as tears fell. "I never told 'em . . . never said I love you. I was scared and now Sean will never know." His voice grew fainter with each word. "I had chances, but never took 'em."
Bodie leaned in closer to catch the last bit and held on to the dying man long after life left the body. His last words echoed about in his head. They’d struck a chord and resonated deep behind a door that had been firmly locked. Now, with a few words, there was a hammering at that door he had worked so diligently not to remember.
Bodie shook his head to break the spell. The lure was powerful, but lamenting what-ifs was counterproductive to functioning proficiently. Bodie looked around, the blood and carnage surrounding him should be enough to banish that very type of thought. He stood and joined his partner without looking back.
The CI5 cleanup crew swept in and lived up to its name once again. Bodie and Doyle were ordered back to headquarters to finish reports and conduct interrogations.
They made quick work of the remainder of the burgeoning terrorists, who had been unsure just whom they wanted to blow up. They had the means in plenty, but no clear target.
Doyle shook his head. "Now they will have the time to figure it out."
"Indeed, a long stay at Her Majesty's pleasure." Bodie would have said more but was interrupted by the arrival of Mr Cowley.
"Good work, lads. I expect to see you bright and early on the second." Mr Cowley announced as he passed them in the corridor.
Two sets of surprised eyes followed him as he headed to his office. They looked at each other and set about to make haste in completing the reports.
"Take the bikes out tomorrow?" Doyle suggested as they closed their lockers.
"Sounds good." Bodie nodded in agreement. "What time?"
"Nine o'clock. I'll have brekkie in."
Bodie nodded again, even muesli sounded good, he was so tired at the moment. "You're on."
They headed for their motors and home.
---------------
He woke unsettled by dreams he didn't even try to remember. They had left him with a feeling of not quite impending doom. A carefree day on the bikes with Doyle was just what he needed to feel normal once more.
They rode southeast and ended up on the Dover coast. Takeaway fish and chips were eaten with the cliffs in view. Bodie relaxed as he reflected on the joy and contentment he felt at that moment.
He listened as Doyle rabbitted on about bike engines, but his thoughts drifted to the dead lad and his sorrow at remaining silent. Missed opportunities. Bodie cocked his head. Was this such a time for him?
His thought process was rudely interrupted as leaves rained down upon his head.
"Wool-gathering much?" Doyle asked with an unusually innocent expression.
"Something like that." Bodie smiled ruefully.
"Anything important?"
Did Bodie detect something odd in his partner's tone? Nah, probably not. "Nothing at this time."
"Just as I suspected, you've confirmed there's nothing going on up there." Doyle pointed to Bodie's head.
"Get off." Bodie laughed as he brushed Doyle' hand away. And, yet, he was still haunted by the idea of a missed opportunity.
They pocketed their rubbish and headed the bikes back to London. More takeaway at Doyle's watching a Bond film marathon filled the rest of the day. After agreeing to a morning run, Bodie packed it in early, still tired. It was hard work keeping things quiet in his brain.
--
On the third time around the cemetery, Bodie felt his reserves kick in and he didn't have to concentrate on the movement. Which left time to think. . . not top of his list this morning.
Why couldn't he remain content with what he had? Why had those words the dead bloke uttered taken such root in his head? Why was that damn hidden door emerging now all of a sudden? Bodie ran harder to out-run the complicated questions that had no clear answers.
They rounded out the morning with a meal at the pub. They shared a ploughman's and oblique shop talk. Well after midday, Bodie prepared to leave.
"Where are you off to? Forgot a sudden meet-up with a bird?" Doyle inquired.
"Nah, it's the night I have a drink with me SAS mates. We meet up each year at this time. You can come if you like." It was the first time Bodie had extended the offer.
Doyle half-smiled. "Nah. Have a lot of catching up to do. Besides, after a few pints your lot will make up the stories."
"But we're on for tomorrow, and it's New Year's Eve, right?"
"Oh, yeah, ya big kid."
Bodie was not at all put out by the comment. "Ta."
--------
New Year's Eve day started early. His getting royally pissed last night didn't block the odd dreams. Reminiscing with his old mates had been raucous and fun. But the damn pensive thoughts had been lurking in the back of his mind nonetheless. They reared their ugly heads all through the night, but always too tenuous to grasp while awake.
Awake he was. A long walk in the cold air might be just the thing. Bodie bundled up and headed for the closest park. Winter had taken its toll and the trees stood bare. The only leaves were brown and dry beneath his feet.
He knew that this all came back to the words whispered in sorrow from a dying man's lament. Silence, fear and missed opportunities seemed to be the theme. He was unsure that he could bury it away this time. Unsure if he should even try. So, it was time to face them. . . his thoughts.
Bodie pondered opportunities missed in expressing . . . what exactly? Feelings or declarations, of course. He wasn't that thick-headed, just a master at evading the obvious when it threatened his ordered life. Emotions of all sorts were complicated by their very nature. Lots of histrionics, and pouting, and grand snarkiness. Bodie chuckled to himself, that all sounded like what he already had to put up with from his partner. The blood roared in his ears and he shook his head to clear it.
He'd made a life-long practice of avoiding that very thing. But the dying lad had seemed so forlorn that he had stayed silent in the face of death and only whispered the words of love to a stranger.
Bodie leaned back against the closest tree. Would he be content to go to the grave with nothing spoken aloud? The creaking hinges of that metaphorical door echoed in his head. What was it that needed to be said aloud?
Bodie took in a deep breath not noticing his frosty exhale as he walked further into the park.
When Doyle had been shot in the heart – the fear still gripped tightly in his chest on the memory. The recuperation had been fraught with anger, tension, and fear leaving a mark each day. But the golly had persevered and they made it. He'd never said a word about how proud he'd been of Doyle's daily effort Doyle made to regain his strength.
He made a promise to himself that he would speak of the importance of their partnership. The door stayed closed and the unsettled feeling remained.
---
A good meal, good wine and making merry took them close to the new year. When Doyle said he was tired and called it a night before the stroke of midnight, Bodie thought he should say something, but Doyle had given him an easy out. He closed the car door and waved.
He trudged up the stairs because his chicken heart didn't merit the lift. Missed opportunities indeed. He stomped into his flat, angry with himself. He paced back and forth, unsettled with the thoughts of words unsaid. They'd only leave him alone if he dealt with the missed chance to speak.
Bodie looked at the time. It was close to midnight - could he do it?
One man's last words could be his own first words in a new year, a first foot offering. Why he'd let Doyle leave was beyond him, fear most likely. But that was done with. He'd follow him home with his first foot offering. He grabbed a bottle of fine wine and headed for the door. He pulled it open with resolve and purpose only to find Ray Doyle leaning up against the side of the wall. His expression was of one idling away time until the next bus was to appear.
Doyle smiled brightly at Bodie, who stood gobsmacked at the sight before him.
"I know it would be better if I were a tall, dark-haired male, but hopefully mousy brown will do."
Bodie tried to take hold of himself, but this all seemed surreal on the heels of making such an important decision. He cocked his head to the side and answered honestly, "Mousy brown suits me just fine."
Doyle reached inside his pocket and pulled out a shiny coin. "A silver coin for good luck." He flipped it over to Bodie and he picked up the bag at his feet. "Bread and whiskey. I was just waiting for midnight."
Bodie's unsettled feeling vanished as the door in his head was flung open, and the worry of missed opportunities faded away. He saw a new future in Doyle's eyes.
"I've got a sprig of holly that could be used as mistletoe," Bodie offered with a sweet, genuine smile.
Doyle moved forward and Bodie pulled him across the threshold. Bodie pushed Doyle up against the wall and kissed him senseless. When they finally broke the kiss, their eyes exchanged promises that their bodies showed proof to back the claim. Their lips met once more.
Without lifting his lips, Bodie used his foot to close the door behind them.
fin
Title: Last Words, First Words
Author:
krisserci5Archive to Pros Lib: Yes
Genre: Slash
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Many, many thanks to my beta . . .really!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 11:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 11:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 12:05 pm (UTC)Happy Holidays to you too!
First Footing
Date: 2015-12-30 02:15 pm (UTC)We have another superstition, which says the people who are with you at New Year will be with you for the rest of the year. So if you don't want someone to leave your life in the coming year, you have to make sure you are in contact with them (ideally in the same place, but 'phone calls are acceptable) to see in the New Year. So the last thing you'd want is for them to be out of the house at the stroke of midnight.
As for prosperity, you never give the gift of a purse without money it in, lest it always remain empty.
no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-31 03:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-01 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-02 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-09 09:37 pm (UTC)Lovely, thank you! I love the idea of finding Doyle waiting for midnight on the doorstep - lucky Bodie!