Friday 4th January - Quiz the Second!
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discoveredinaljThe second part of today's post, also on behalf of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
noblesentiments is another quotes quiz - one to banish the post-Christmas, back-to-work slump and blues!
As with Quiz the First, there will be screened comments (including my own this time *headdesk*), a deadline of 7.00am GMT (Lads' Time) on 7th January - that's Monday - and a prize for the most correct answers - a bound copy of The Christmas Special 2007 zine, with all the lovely art by Crimson.
***
1.
Hot.
Summer in the city.
Doyle rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing when his hand came away soaked with his own sweat. Wiping his damp palm on his trousers, he leaned back in the car seat and eyed the street around with him a baleful glare. London was a haze of sweltering sunshine, droplets of humidity frying on the sidewalks. The air was heavy with it, not a single breeze stirred the molten atmosphere. And final confirmation of the utterly unseasonable heat wave was his partner's concessions in dress and manner.
Always dapper and cool, Bodie had actually given up on his normal elegance of dress, and was giving his partner competition in sloppy wear. ……………………………………………………
Sweat pooled unpleasantly in the hollow of Doyle's throat, then began to trickle down his chest. He rubbed at the spot, but only succeeded in spreading the moisture further. His own light green shirt was stained with sweat, the material clinging limply to his flesh. He pulled at it, grimacing with distaste, wishing for about the thousandth time that afternoon that the CI5 pool motors had the luxury of air-conditioning. No such hope, though, and he could imagine the scowl on Cowley's face if he'd actually had the balls to ask for it.
***
2.
At least the day is fine, he consoled himself, as he left the car parked half on the pavement out of the narrow road. The earlier cloud cover had lifted and the late summer sun shone warmly onto the playing grounds. Doyle went straight to the milling group of spectators, his eyes scanning the field.
He spotted Bodie almost at once, bat in hand, standing a little away from the others. A man came up behind him and gave him a slap on the shoulder, his mouth moving. Bodie produced a perfunctory smile and turned back to the field, his face losing all expression.
If Doyle had doubted his motivation in coming here, he conceded to the rightness of it at that moment. Everything fell back into place; his sense of well-being was restored. Like we're attached, he thought uselessly, observing the lift of Bodie's head as dark, hooded eyes travelled over the families and friends that edged the field. Even from here, Doyle could see the slight tightening of lips and the dismissive toss of head before the unrewarded gaze fell to the grass.
There was a knotting in Doyle's stomach as he realised that Bodie was looking for him. He'd been passed over due to the cluster of people standing between them. Foolishly aware of his accelerated heartbeat, Doyle skirted the crowd, muttering inane apologies as he tried to avoid those who unintentionally blocked his passage, and finally, came to a place where he was in clear view of the players awaiting their turns.
Several minutes passed, notable for some feverish activity on the playing ground and the appreciative response of the watchers, before Bodie repeated his search. Doyle willed his partner to find him, standing with studied indifference, arms folded across his chest, the bulk of his weight borne by one leg. There was a thrill of gratification as Bodie's entire demeanour altered at sight of him; quiet pleasure suffused the handsome features and a tiny grin drew the corners of his mouth upward. Doyle smiled back, and then laughed out loud. Bodie grinned harder, as though they had exchanged some ridiculously inappropriate joke.
***
3.
Bodie glanced at his watch, still able to read it clearly in the light of the long summer evening. 17.36. He sighed, completely unimpressed with the situation and the length of the evening ahead. An abandoned farmhouse in the bowels of the Suffolk countryside and some Bulgarians who may or may not be showing up with dodgy weaponry they may or may not be selling to some other Bulgarians, was not his idea of an urgent cloak and dagger mission. He looked over at Doyle in the passenger seat and felt relieved it wasn't a solo op. A bit of golly-baiting would pass the time nicely.
He picked up the binoculars and gestured at the handset. "Bit brusque, isn't she? Cowley's new mouthpiece."
"She turned you down nice and sharply. Was a thing of wonder."
"All right, mate. I didn't see her leaping over my corpse to get to you, either."
"Didn't ask, did I?"
"Coward."
They exchanged a look of perfect complicity. Doyle smiled, one of his rare ones.
"You may be right, there."
***
4.
Doyle had stopped reading a newspaper some months before, but you couldn’t miss the front pages. Rows of crouching coppers behind shields - in broad daylight - under the headline “CAN THIS BE BRITAIN?” Doyle knew full well that it could. How was Garrett these days? Smug? Or sad? He no longer felt the urge to talk to her about the riots. In fact, he no longer felt anything about the riots except exhaustion.
London was holding steady. God knows why - the summer was as long and hot as you could wish for. A lot of the Met’s IRUs were being sent up north. Bet they’d set up even more when this was over.
***
5.
It was the cycling trip to Wales that did it.
And I realise that statement needs clarification. It had been a glorious July, the kind of summery weather you only dream about in England nine years out of ten. Ray and I had been working together for four years or so, since Cowley teamed us in '75, and we'd long since outgrown our initial--and somewhat juvenile--determination to dominate and prove the other bloke a dick-headed wimp. Not to say that we hadn't tried--we had. 1975 was a trial for us both, and that we didn't get to Christmas hating each other's guts was probably a pretty good indication of the way things would go eventually. I think we both had a little growing up to do, like mountain rams, bashing their heads together for the fun of it. Sooner or later it just starts to hurt, and you learn when to quit.
***
6.
Bodie managed to get parked in Mayfair and they walked down to Piccadilly through the rich summer night, air alive with passing perfumes and the spectrum of food-smells produced by hundreds of restaurants at their busiest time. Stepping out in their best, the two of them created a certain effect, and Bodie felt more than one admiring glance pass over his skin like a pleasant vibration. Doyle, his mind fixed on the evening to come, was oblivious to the attention they were getting. Pacing down the length of the Burlington Arcade, its opulent brightness making a small parade of the walk, Bodie wondered how the snatched looks might change if he reached out and put an arm around the lean, silk-clad shoulders or narrow waist. Touched just where his shirt disappeared beneath his soft leather belt. Or let his lhand drop to the frankly-beautiful arse in its spray-on cords –
***
7.
The breeze that wafts through the small flat is fresh and full of promise. It drifts through each room of musty flat with a certain springtime determination to make everything seem that much brighter, that much more rejuvenated.
………………He loves this time of year; everything all bustling and busy, life getting ready to start again, after shuddering to a halt sometime in mid-October. The effect spring has on people is magic; every sort of new beginning becomes instantly within reach, no matter what terrible things might have been done that past year. Bodie can't help being cheered by it - who knows what could happen between now and winter? Springtime questions everything, sets everything up for the taking, ready to change and transform. Everything outside is so new and green you can barely look at it without wincing in appreciation, and everything inside is whirling and growing in power, brimming with potential, ready for blooming...
***
8.
The stars of mid-summer were wheeling about the pole, and Bodie spared them a glance as he handed his tired horse to the boy who came running from the stable to meet him. He had been on the road for two weeks, and there was little pleasure in being home again, for he was the bringer of bad news. There would be no alliance with the Fen, the warlike tribe in the north; and beyond the Black Hills the elves were restive, their elders counselling war.
***
9.
In the distance to his right, on the opposite side of the cemetery, was a tall stone cross, stark white against the blue sky. Standing in front of it was Bodie, and the man from the photograph. As Doyle watched, half-hidden in the shadows, they began to stride back through the gravestones towards him.
The man was tall, taller than Bodie, and he walked with a long confident stride. He was older, Doyle guessed, late thirties, early forties. He wore a suit, casual but with the line of expensive, good tailoring. And he was good looking. Dark hair, an even face, an elegance of movement--he had bearing. He had.... Doyle hesitated. There was something more, something...what did they call it? Elan. He had élan. Even from so far away he could see it, just as the other tourists turned towards the two men together, drawn by such intangible force passing close by them.
The men turned abruptly between another row of headstones, walking away from Doyle's vantage point, the sun on their backs. There was nowhere Doyle could go without stepping into the open, no way he could get closer without them seeing him. And although he had every right to be there, although Bodie had after all brought him, Doyle found that he did not want to be seen, did not want to interrupt them. They stopped in front of one of the graves, stood looking at it. For a moment they were still, and then the man turned to Bodie and began to speak.
***
10.
“Can I have that in writing?”
He inclined his head towards her, cool, defiant. “Yeah.” It was out. The sky was still there, and the sun set in it. And Ray Doyle was out there waiting for him, on a day when summer began.
“Have any damn thing you want. In triplicate. Can I go now?”
And that was it.
Another file closed.
He even reached out, boldly, and shook her hand. Then the door slammed on him and she could hear his footsteps for a little while, down the staircase and away. She had the maddest urge to leap on her chair, to fling open the window, to take up precious piles of paper and hurl them into the air.
…………… They were together. Whole. Alive.
The swallows were still flying in the sky. And the summer: about to begin.
***
11.
All in white he seemed taller, bigger, more the heroic figure Doyle had always fancied. Long, clean, lines, powerful shoulders, and a lovely, firm, curving bum. Doyle stared at the muscular rump, enjoying the way the sun shone off Bodie’s shoes, accentuating the positive…..Now Bodie had come back to where Doyle could see him, and from this angle, the breeze was man’s best friend. With every minor gust, Bodie’s shirt billowed, revealing the slight curve of chest…….
***
12.
"Short, blonde, and curvy" was the description Nancy had given of her friend. That was more or less true, Bodie thought, although "short, blonde, pregnant and cranky" would have been more to the point. She had looked at them like they were something pale and squidgy that had just crawled out from under a rock. Bodie supposed she would have looked at any man that way, given this summer's heat wave and how very pregnant she was. Nancy had quickly made her apologies and left with her.
***
13.
They stood there on the steps of the Trevi fountain, each with a lire coin in their hand, looking at the blue water, the dazzling white marble, the thronging holiday crowds. Then Doyle drew back his arm, let gently fly with his coin: it twisted through the air, glistening in the strong sunlight and fell with a gentle splash into the water. Bodie did the same, the coin describing an arc through the air before it fell. Bodie had a good eye for such things; he reckoned that if he could dive beneath the surface his own coin would be as near to Doyle’s as it could be, perhaps even atop it. And Doyle turned and grinned at him, acknowledging without words the little feat of skill, and Bodie watched his hair change colour as the sun drifted in and out of clouds, and the patterns of moving water rippling across the green of his eyes; and into his mind came the thought, curiously exact and complete:
I’m going to fall in love with you. And you won’t fight.
***
14.
He fell asleep as suddenly as he’d started crying. Just... couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.
When he woke it was dark and it was raining - plump, warm summer rain. He hadn’t drawn the curtains in here, and the trails of water shone orange on the window-pane, reflecting the street-light.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he was, rising too quickly from a dream, disoriented by the cool smoothness of paper against his bare arms. His mind fumbled with memories of bedrooms, some long past, and while it did so, he was the Doyle of those times, and Bodie didn’t exist. Then he focused on the armchair by the window, and he knew the place, and the time.
He rolled onto his back and started to push himself into a sitting position, meaning to turn on the bedside light. There was a crackling sound beneath him, and his heel slipped on the duvet. He had been lying on the letters.
***
15.
He laughed with her, but escaped as quickly as possible back onto the promenade. A stretch of road had been blocked to traffic and he drifted with the throng, eventually reaching a small fun fair. He grazed his way along a line of food vans, buying a pie from one, chips and a can of lukewarm, sickly sweet fizzy drink from another. He watched the dodgems for a while, but his heart wasn't in it. Fairs weren't all that much fun on your own. He wondered where Doyle had got to. Probably found himself some susceptible bit of fluff to spend the evening, maybe the night, with. Someone who was happy, in the town's holiday atmosphere, to take a good-looking 'civil servant' to bed and who wouldn't ask awkward questions in the morning.
The fair's atmosphere was changing. Almost all the family groups had gone and the crowd that was left was young and rowdy. A handful of louts in leather jackets hung with chains, considerably the worse for wear, started an argument with another group of young men. Punches were exchanged. Bodie avoided the melee and walked off. He could have taken on the lot of them with one hand tied behind his back but it wasn't worth the aggravation. Instead, he headed back to the hotel and bed.
***
16.
[I must be honest and admit to cheating here because the following quote is not from a story but a drabble, and I have quoted the entire drabble because I love it and I’m quite hard to please when it comes to drabbles].
The sun burned when you were out in it too long, everyone knew that. Bodie knew that. He felt the heat across his skin, soaking in, felt it running with his blood. Straight to his core.
Too late to come into the shade now, the damage was done. He had spent his days basking, had turned his face, his body, his world to the glorious shine of it, and now it was his.
Here they lay, tangled together across the bed, and with every movement their skin enflamed each other anew, and the summer night burned slowly through to day.
***
17.
Anyway, what with one thing and another it was well past 16:00 when we finally set sail back for Paros. With McCain sulking and griping and being a champion snotty-nosed brat, neither Ray nor I felt much like singing. So Ray concentrated on the scenery and our prisoner, and I concentrated on my navigating... and Ray.
The first shot didn't register on my ears as being anything more than a funny 'whoosh' of air. Think I subconsciously decided it was some weird Mediterranean insect, or maybe a seagull taking potty shots at us. You see, Ray was leaning way over the side, jabbering on about this honest-to-god shark that was cruisin' alongside us. His voice was up a full octave with excitement, and the way those jeans of his were bobbing about and moulded to his fanny... Well, lordy, sometimes I wonder if he spray paints 'em on. They sure don't leave much to the imagination: whether he's coming or going, the view is n-i-c-e!
The second bullet left me in no doubt whatsoever as to its being anything but a bullet. Not too many bugs travel at 850 metres/second. Not too many bird turds drill a neat hole through three quarter inch planking when they hit.
***
18.
He slowly got to his feet and walked across the sand. He came up beside Bodie, crossed his arms against his chest, and looked out at the ocean. "The reason I worked so hard to come back," he said carefully, continuing to stare straight ahead, "was because of you. I did it for us, for the partnership. I was afraid that if I didn't make it back to the top, that you wouldn't want to go down with me. Cowley would put me on all the slower ops, and you'd be bored out of your skull in no time. I thought you'd want out, want to be in on the big stuff, either alone or with a new partner. And I couldn't stand the thought of not being with you, and that's why I drove so hard." He paused, looking down at his own bare feet. He wasn't used to making speeches, and certainly wasn't used to making confessions. It wasn't easy for him to tell Bodie how much he needed him. "If I'd known how you felt...about not wanting to be in the thick of things any more...oh, christ." It was too damned ironic--him pushing harder than he ever had to do the job, for Bodie's sake, and all the while Bodie didn't want it. He let out another sigh and looked back out at the water. "All those months we spent talking, finally getting to really know each other well, and we damn well forgot to say the most important things."
***
19.
I sat drowsily under a tree the next day, well away from our usual place of work. Where I was situated the shaded woods met the long grass of a meadow, alive with butterflies and bees at work on the wild flowers of late summer. It was quiet, beautiful and secluded. If he wanted me, he'd have to find me. I drank noisily from a small flagon of cider, thirsty from a hard morning's work.
A twig snapped behind me, alerting me to his approach. I closed my eyes and waited for him to speak. He took a while and I wished I could see his expression.
Eventually. "Are you going to lie there all day pretending to be asleep?"
"'S nice, after a heavy meal and too much cider." I lifted the flagon again and purposely mistimed myI aim. Some of it reached my mouth - the rest dribbled down my chin, ran down my neck and soaked into my already stained shirt.
He stared at me, his eyes wide in apparent disbelief. "How much of that have you had?"
***
20.
He'd been in this position before, of course: waiting to find out if Bodie was living or dead. But this time he couldn't help thinking about another summer night, another heat wave, another partner. Syd Parker had died on a night like this, shot down by a villain as PC Ray Doyle had waited downstairs. Doyle had been drenched in sweat that night too, his uniform shirt clinging to his back, his slightly too long for regulation curls plastered to the nape of his neck. Even all these years later, he could still remember hearing the first gunshot, could remember running up the stairs, truncheon clutched uselessly in his hand, heart pounding in his chest. He could remember bursting through that door and finding Syd's body, and Fitch's, in the flat. Could remember how gutted he'd felt, even as his training had taken over and he'd pursued Bill Haydon to his home. Syd's death had hurt Doyle, hurt him badly, but how much more would Bodie's death wound him. Syd had been a good partner, a mentor, a friend, but Bodie was everything to him: partner and friend; protector and responsibility.
Lover.
***
21.
It had been Doyle's idea, this: hot day, too many recent hours spent sweltering in an office, or a car; why not get away from it all, spend their day off by the sea? Bodie, disdainful ex-paras supercool hero type, had scorned the idea -- in principle. In practice it appealed enormously to his nature (and he suspected Doyle was perfectly aware of that) his spirits lifting irrepressibly the moment they got out of the car and surveyed the gritty-sanded beach, the almost-blue water, the pier with its peeling faded paint, and the rocks and the hamburger stalls which were all part of the British seaside scene -- it had a kind of beauty about it, flawed and tarnished and cheapened in a way a Greek beach never was however crude the rusticity of its tavernas; but beauty it was, none the less. Along the curve of the seafront were shops flagged with the colourful gaiety of beach paraphernalia, bright-painted beachballs hung up in nets, plastic inflatable toys; and shops to sell nothing but lurid sticks of rock in every shape, size and colour imaginable; amusement arcades with flashing neon signs everywhere one looked, and along the beachwall, heavy iron telescopes, remnant of a bygone age when pleasure was a simpler matter. Bodie breathed in the scent of ozone, candy-floss and seaweed, and was happy.
noblesentiments is another quotes quiz - one to banish the post-Christmas, back-to-work slump and blues! As with Quiz the First, there will be screened comments (including my own this time *headdesk*), a deadline of 7.00am GMT (Lads' Time) on 7th January - that's Monday - and a prize for the most correct answers - a bound copy of The Christmas Special 2007 zine, with all the lovely art by Crimson.
1.
Hot.
Summer in the city.
Doyle rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing when his hand came away soaked with his own sweat. Wiping his damp palm on his trousers, he leaned back in the car seat and eyed the street around with him a baleful glare. London was a haze of sweltering sunshine, droplets of humidity frying on the sidewalks. The air was heavy with it, not a single breeze stirred the molten atmosphere. And final confirmation of the utterly unseasonable heat wave was his partner's concessions in dress and manner.
Always dapper and cool, Bodie had actually given up on his normal elegance of dress, and was giving his partner competition in sloppy wear. ……………………………………………………
Sweat pooled unpleasantly in the hollow of Doyle's throat, then began to trickle down his chest. He rubbed at the spot, but only succeeded in spreading the moisture further. His own light green shirt was stained with sweat, the material clinging limply to his flesh. He pulled at it, grimacing with distaste, wishing for about the thousandth time that afternoon that the CI5 pool motors had the luxury of air-conditioning. No such hope, though, and he could imagine the scowl on Cowley's face if he'd actually had the balls to ask for it.
2.
At least the day is fine, he consoled himself, as he left the car parked half on the pavement out of the narrow road. The earlier cloud cover had lifted and the late summer sun shone warmly onto the playing grounds. Doyle went straight to the milling group of spectators, his eyes scanning the field.
He spotted Bodie almost at once, bat in hand, standing a little away from the others. A man came up behind him and gave him a slap on the shoulder, his mouth moving. Bodie produced a perfunctory smile and turned back to the field, his face losing all expression.
If Doyle had doubted his motivation in coming here, he conceded to the rightness of it at that moment. Everything fell back into place; his sense of well-being was restored. Like we're attached, he thought uselessly, observing the lift of Bodie's head as dark, hooded eyes travelled over the families and friends that edged the field. Even from here, Doyle could see the slight tightening of lips and the dismissive toss of head before the unrewarded gaze fell to the grass.
There was a knotting in Doyle's stomach as he realised that Bodie was looking for him. He'd been passed over due to the cluster of people standing between them. Foolishly aware of his accelerated heartbeat, Doyle skirted the crowd, muttering inane apologies as he tried to avoid those who unintentionally blocked his passage, and finally, came to a place where he was in clear view of the players awaiting their turns.
Several minutes passed, notable for some feverish activity on the playing ground and the appreciative response of the watchers, before Bodie repeated his search. Doyle willed his partner to find him, standing with studied indifference, arms folded across his chest, the bulk of his weight borne by one leg. There was a thrill of gratification as Bodie's entire demeanour altered at sight of him; quiet pleasure suffused the handsome features and a tiny grin drew the corners of his mouth upward. Doyle smiled back, and then laughed out loud. Bodie grinned harder, as though they had exchanged some ridiculously inappropriate joke.
3.
Bodie glanced at his watch, still able to read it clearly in the light of the long summer evening. 17.36. He sighed, completely unimpressed with the situation and the length of the evening ahead. An abandoned farmhouse in the bowels of the Suffolk countryside and some Bulgarians who may or may not be showing up with dodgy weaponry they may or may not be selling to some other Bulgarians, was not his idea of an urgent cloak and dagger mission. He looked over at Doyle in the passenger seat and felt relieved it wasn't a solo op. A bit of golly-baiting would pass the time nicely.
He picked up the binoculars and gestured at the handset. "Bit brusque, isn't she? Cowley's new mouthpiece."
"She turned you down nice and sharply. Was a thing of wonder."
"All right, mate. I didn't see her leaping over my corpse to get to you, either."
"Didn't ask, did I?"
"Coward."
They exchanged a look of perfect complicity. Doyle smiled, one of his rare ones.
"You may be right, there."
4.
Doyle had stopped reading a newspaper some months before, but you couldn’t miss the front pages. Rows of crouching coppers behind shields - in broad daylight - under the headline “CAN THIS BE BRITAIN?” Doyle knew full well that it could. How was Garrett these days? Smug? Or sad? He no longer felt the urge to talk to her about the riots. In fact, he no longer felt anything about the riots except exhaustion.
London was holding steady. God knows why - the summer was as long and hot as you could wish for. A lot of the Met’s IRUs were being sent up north. Bet they’d set up even more when this was over.
5.
It was the cycling trip to Wales that did it.
And I realise that statement needs clarification. It had been a glorious July, the kind of summery weather you only dream about in England nine years out of ten. Ray and I had been working together for four years or so, since Cowley teamed us in '75, and we'd long since outgrown our initial--and somewhat juvenile--determination to dominate and prove the other bloke a dick-headed wimp. Not to say that we hadn't tried--we had. 1975 was a trial for us both, and that we didn't get to Christmas hating each other's guts was probably a pretty good indication of the way things would go eventually. I think we both had a little growing up to do, like mountain rams, bashing their heads together for the fun of it. Sooner or later it just starts to hurt, and you learn when to quit.
6.
Bodie managed to get parked in Mayfair and they walked down to Piccadilly through the rich summer night, air alive with passing perfumes and the spectrum of food-smells produced by hundreds of restaurants at their busiest time. Stepping out in their best, the two of them created a certain effect, and Bodie felt more than one admiring glance pass over his skin like a pleasant vibration. Doyle, his mind fixed on the evening to come, was oblivious to the attention they were getting. Pacing down the length of the Burlington Arcade, its opulent brightness making a small parade of the walk, Bodie wondered how the snatched looks might change if he reached out and put an arm around the lean, silk-clad shoulders or narrow waist. Touched just where his shirt disappeared beneath his soft leather belt. Or let his lhand drop to the frankly-beautiful arse in its spray-on cords –
7.
The breeze that wafts through the small flat is fresh and full of promise. It drifts through each room of musty flat with a certain springtime determination to make everything seem that much brighter, that much more rejuvenated.
………………He loves this time of year; everything all bustling and busy, life getting ready to start again, after shuddering to a halt sometime in mid-October. The effect spring has on people is magic; every sort of new beginning becomes instantly within reach, no matter what terrible things might have been done that past year. Bodie can't help being cheered by it - who knows what could happen between now and winter? Springtime questions everything, sets everything up for the taking, ready to change and transform. Everything outside is so new and green you can barely look at it without wincing in appreciation, and everything inside is whirling and growing in power, brimming with potential, ready for blooming...
8.
The stars of mid-summer were wheeling about the pole, and Bodie spared them a glance as he handed his tired horse to the boy who came running from the stable to meet him. He had been on the road for two weeks, and there was little pleasure in being home again, for he was the bringer of bad news. There would be no alliance with the Fen, the warlike tribe in the north; and beyond the Black Hills the elves were restive, their elders counselling war.
9.
In the distance to his right, on the opposite side of the cemetery, was a tall stone cross, stark white against the blue sky. Standing in front of it was Bodie, and the man from the photograph. As Doyle watched, half-hidden in the shadows, they began to stride back through the gravestones towards him.
The man was tall, taller than Bodie, and he walked with a long confident stride. He was older, Doyle guessed, late thirties, early forties. He wore a suit, casual but with the line of expensive, good tailoring. And he was good looking. Dark hair, an even face, an elegance of movement--he had bearing. He had.... Doyle hesitated. There was something more, something...what did they call it? Elan. He had élan. Even from so far away he could see it, just as the other tourists turned towards the two men together, drawn by such intangible force passing close by them.
The men turned abruptly between another row of headstones, walking away from Doyle's vantage point, the sun on their backs. There was nowhere Doyle could go without stepping into the open, no way he could get closer without them seeing him. And although he had every right to be there, although Bodie had after all brought him, Doyle found that he did not want to be seen, did not want to interrupt them. They stopped in front of one of the graves, stood looking at it. For a moment they were still, and then the man turned to Bodie and began to speak.
10.
“Can I have that in writing?”
He inclined his head towards her, cool, defiant. “Yeah.” It was out. The sky was still there, and the sun set in it. And Ray Doyle was out there waiting for him, on a day when summer began.
“Have any damn thing you want. In triplicate. Can I go now?”
And that was it.
Another file closed.
He even reached out, boldly, and shook her hand. Then the door slammed on him and she could hear his footsteps for a little while, down the staircase and away. She had the maddest urge to leap on her chair, to fling open the window, to take up precious piles of paper and hurl them into the air.
…………… They were together. Whole. Alive.
The swallows were still flying in the sky. And the summer: about to begin.
11.
All in white he seemed taller, bigger, more the heroic figure Doyle had always fancied. Long, clean, lines, powerful shoulders, and a lovely, firm, curving bum. Doyle stared at the muscular rump, enjoying the way the sun shone off Bodie’s shoes, accentuating the positive…..Now Bodie had come back to where Doyle could see him, and from this angle, the breeze was man’s best friend. With every minor gust, Bodie’s shirt billowed, revealing the slight curve of chest…….
12.
"Short, blonde, and curvy" was the description Nancy had given of her friend. That was more or less true, Bodie thought, although "short, blonde, pregnant and cranky" would have been more to the point. She had looked at them like they were something pale and squidgy that had just crawled out from under a rock. Bodie supposed she would have looked at any man that way, given this summer's heat wave and how very pregnant she was. Nancy had quickly made her apologies and left with her.
13.
They stood there on the steps of the Trevi fountain, each with a lire coin in their hand, looking at the blue water, the dazzling white marble, the thronging holiday crowds. Then Doyle drew back his arm, let gently fly with his coin: it twisted through the air, glistening in the strong sunlight and fell with a gentle splash into the water. Bodie did the same, the coin describing an arc through the air before it fell. Bodie had a good eye for such things; he reckoned that if he could dive beneath the surface his own coin would be as near to Doyle’s as it could be, perhaps even atop it. And Doyle turned and grinned at him, acknowledging without words the little feat of skill, and Bodie watched his hair change colour as the sun drifted in and out of clouds, and the patterns of moving water rippling across the green of his eyes; and into his mind came the thought, curiously exact and complete:
I’m going to fall in love with you. And you won’t fight.
14.
He fell asleep as suddenly as he’d started crying. Just... couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.
When he woke it was dark and it was raining - plump, warm summer rain. He hadn’t drawn the curtains in here, and the trails of water shone orange on the window-pane, reflecting the street-light.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he was, rising too quickly from a dream, disoriented by the cool smoothness of paper against his bare arms. His mind fumbled with memories of bedrooms, some long past, and while it did so, he was the Doyle of those times, and Bodie didn’t exist. Then he focused on the armchair by the window, and he knew the place, and the time.
He rolled onto his back and started to push himself into a sitting position, meaning to turn on the bedside light. There was a crackling sound beneath him, and his heel slipped on the duvet. He had been lying on the letters.
15.
He laughed with her, but escaped as quickly as possible back onto the promenade. A stretch of road had been blocked to traffic and he drifted with the throng, eventually reaching a small fun fair. He grazed his way along a line of food vans, buying a pie from one, chips and a can of lukewarm, sickly sweet fizzy drink from another. He watched the dodgems for a while, but his heart wasn't in it. Fairs weren't all that much fun on your own. He wondered where Doyle had got to. Probably found himself some susceptible bit of fluff to spend the evening, maybe the night, with. Someone who was happy, in the town's holiday atmosphere, to take a good-looking 'civil servant' to bed and who wouldn't ask awkward questions in the morning.
The fair's atmosphere was changing. Almost all the family groups had gone and the crowd that was left was young and rowdy. A handful of louts in leather jackets hung with chains, considerably the worse for wear, started an argument with another group of young men. Punches were exchanged. Bodie avoided the melee and walked off. He could have taken on the lot of them with one hand tied behind his back but it wasn't worth the aggravation. Instead, he headed back to the hotel and bed.
16.
[I must be honest and admit to cheating here because the following quote is not from a story but a drabble, and I have quoted the entire drabble because I love it and I’m quite hard to please when it comes to drabbles].
The sun burned when you were out in it too long, everyone knew that. Bodie knew that. He felt the heat across his skin, soaking in, felt it running with his blood. Straight to his core.
Too late to come into the shade now, the damage was done. He had spent his days basking, had turned his face, his body, his world to the glorious shine of it, and now it was his.
Here they lay, tangled together across the bed, and with every movement their skin enflamed each other anew, and the summer night burned slowly through to day.
17.
Anyway, what with one thing and another it was well past 16:00 when we finally set sail back for Paros. With McCain sulking and griping and being a champion snotty-nosed brat, neither Ray nor I felt much like singing. So Ray concentrated on the scenery and our prisoner, and I concentrated on my navigating... and Ray.
The first shot didn't register on my ears as being anything more than a funny 'whoosh' of air. Think I subconsciously decided it was some weird Mediterranean insect, or maybe a seagull taking potty shots at us. You see, Ray was leaning way over the side, jabbering on about this honest-to-god shark that was cruisin' alongside us. His voice was up a full octave with excitement, and the way those jeans of his were bobbing about and moulded to his fanny... Well, lordy, sometimes I wonder if he spray paints 'em on. They sure don't leave much to the imagination: whether he's coming or going, the view is n-i-c-e!
The second bullet left me in no doubt whatsoever as to its being anything but a bullet. Not too many bugs travel at 850 metres/second. Not too many bird turds drill a neat hole through three quarter inch planking when they hit.
18.
He slowly got to his feet and walked across the sand. He came up beside Bodie, crossed his arms against his chest, and looked out at the ocean. "The reason I worked so hard to come back," he said carefully, continuing to stare straight ahead, "was because of you. I did it for us, for the partnership. I was afraid that if I didn't make it back to the top, that you wouldn't want to go down with me. Cowley would put me on all the slower ops, and you'd be bored out of your skull in no time. I thought you'd want out, want to be in on the big stuff, either alone or with a new partner. And I couldn't stand the thought of not being with you, and that's why I drove so hard." He paused, looking down at his own bare feet. He wasn't used to making speeches, and certainly wasn't used to making confessions. It wasn't easy for him to tell Bodie how much he needed him. "If I'd known how you felt...about not wanting to be in the thick of things any more...oh, christ." It was too damned ironic--him pushing harder than he ever had to do the job, for Bodie's sake, and all the while Bodie didn't want it. He let out another sigh and looked back out at the water. "All those months we spent talking, finally getting to really know each other well, and we damn well forgot to say the most important things."
19.
I sat drowsily under a tree the next day, well away from our usual place of work. Where I was situated the shaded woods met the long grass of a meadow, alive with butterflies and bees at work on the wild flowers of late summer. It was quiet, beautiful and secluded. If he wanted me, he'd have to find me. I drank noisily from a small flagon of cider, thirsty from a hard morning's work.
A twig snapped behind me, alerting me to his approach. I closed my eyes and waited for him to speak. He took a while and I wished I could see his expression.
Eventually. "Are you going to lie there all day pretending to be asleep?"
"'S nice, after a heavy meal and too much cider." I lifted the flagon again and purposely mistimed myI aim. Some of it reached my mouth - the rest dribbled down my chin, ran down my neck and soaked into my already stained shirt.
He stared at me, his eyes wide in apparent disbelief. "How much of that have you had?"
20.
He'd been in this position before, of course: waiting to find out if Bodie was living or dead. But this time he couldn't help thinking about another summer night, another heat wave, another partner. Syd Parker had died on a night like this, shot down by a villain as PC Ray Doyle had waited downstairs. Doyle had been drenched in sweat that night too, his uniform shirt clinging to his back, his slightly too long for regulation curls plastered to the nape of his neck. Even all these years later, he could still remember hearing the first gunshot, could remember running up the stairs, truncheon clutched uselessly in his hand, heart pounding in his chest. He could remember bursting through that door and finding Syd's body, and Fitch's, in the flat. Could remember how gutted he'd felt, even as his training had taken over and he'd pursued Bill Haydon to his home. Syd's death had hurt Doyle, hurt him badly, but how much more would Bodie's death wound him. Syd had been a good partner, a mentor, a friend, but Bodie was everything to him: partner and friend; protector and responsibility.
Lover.
21.
It had been Doyle's idea, this: hot day, too many recent hours spent sweltering in an office, or a car; why not get away from it all, spend their day off by the sea? Bodie, disdainful ex-paras supercool hero type, had scorned the idea -- in principle. In practice it appealed enormously to his nature (and he suspected Doyle was perfectly aware of that) his spirits lifting irrepressibly the moment they got out of the car and surveyed the gritty-sanded beach, the almost-blue water, the pier with its peeling faded paint, and the rocks and the hamburger stalls which were all part of the British seaside scene -- it had a kind of beauty about it, flawed and tarnished and cheapened in a way a Greek beach never was however crude the rusticity of its tavernas; but beauty it was, none the less. Along the curve of the seafront were shops flagged with the colourful gaiety of beach paraphernalia, bright-painted beachballs hung up in nets, plastic inflatable toys; and shops to sell nothing but lurid sticks of rock in every shape, size and colour imaginable; amusement arcades with flashing neon signs everywhere one looked, and along the beachwall, heavy iron telescopes, remnant of a bygone age when pleasure was a simpler matter. Bodie breathed in the scent of ozone, candy-floss and seaweed, and was happy.
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Date: 2008-01-04 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-07 09:26 pm (UTC)And it was a lovely story, thank you.
Answers to Quotes Quiz
Date: 2008-01-05 03:45 am (UTC)2. Trial Run by Ellis Ward
3. All in the Pelvis by Callisto
4. Heat Trace by Helen Raven
5. Pushbike Song by Jane
6. All These Years by Angelfish
7. Stand Still by Alicia
8. The Hunting, Book 1 by Jane
9. Of Sunshine and Cemeteries by Slantedlight
10. Wonderful Tonight by Sebastian
11. ????
12. Four Days in August by Snarkyllama
13. Et In Italia Ego by Sebastian
14. Heat Trace by Helen Raven
15. Gods and Goddesses by KWS
16. Sunlight by Slantedlight
17. Survival by Melanie Athene
18. Summer's End by Alexandra
19. Cider With Bodie by Lizzie
20. The Sweat of His Brow by P R Zed
21. B & D By The Sea by Sebastian
Re: Answers to Quotes Quiz
Date: 2008-01-07 09:32 pm (UTC)Thanks again for joining in the fun.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 12:35 pm (UTC)3 Squee'd loud and long when I saw this. 'Tis 'All In The Pelvis' by Callisto, i.e, me!!!
4 Not totally sure, but is this 'Heat' by Lainie Stone?
9 'Of Sunshine and Cemetaries' by Slantedlight
10 'Wonderful Tonight' by Sebastian
13 'Et in Italia Ego' by Sebastian
19 'Cider With Bodie' by Lizzie
.. and 15 and 19 are driving me nuts because I know them!!
And that's all I'm afraid.
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Date: 2008-01-07 09:34 pm (UTC)Cheers, Callistosh.
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Date: 2008-01-05 09:40 pm (UTC)8. The Hunting Book One by Jane, maybe?
10. Quite confident about this one, the end of Sebastian's Wonderful Tonight.
13. Grateful for the Italian clue in this quote, I'll suggest Et in Italia Ego.
19. Cider with Bodie, by the fantastic Lizzie.
21. B&D Beside the Sea. Sebastian has been my saving grace in this quiz, it seems!
So, a very poor performance, and I clearly need to read and re-read a lot more! But I'm so looking forward to the answers, and finding out where some of these are from!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-07 09:45 pm (UTC)Me too! I *must* widen my reading.....seriously, I think we must both be dedicated Sebastian fans? And well done for knowing The Hunting...
Thanks so much for your support and enjoyment!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-05 10:55 pm (UTC)5. damn, I don't remember the title - but I have at least read this one! The whole thing's a flashback to when they first got together, which at one point involves a fall off the bike (Doyle, I think). And at the end when the reader is back in the "present" I think they're about to go back to Wales for another break.
8 - no chance I'd get this one; no offense, but it's got elves in it.
9. Of Sunshine and Cemeteries by a certain Slantedlight!
10. The ending of Wonderful Tonight by Sebastian (one to savour with sufficient time and emotional fortitude - but that's a hell of a payoff, hard-earned and all the sweeter for it)
12. Damn, I've read it. Clearly need to do some re-reading!
13 Et in Italia Ego by Sebastian (grrr sequel grrrr)
15. Gods and Goddesses by KWS (very fond of this one, and the sequel Underworld)
16 Sunburn by Slantedlight (lovely. just gorgeous)
17. I think this is the one where they get marooned on a tiny Greek island and have to eat gull's eggs and nearly die of thirst and eventually Ray decides to swim for it so of course Bodie follows him and they just make it and the end is them getting discovered by some fishermen on the beach.
18. Damn I really have to do some re-reading. I know I've seen this. Aaargh.
19 Cider with Bodie, by Lizzie (have to re-read Cider with Rosie too!)
21. I'm not quite sure, but I suspect this may involve suntan oil and a beach hut (after some swimming and pinching these blokes' beach ball for a bit). Not to be confused with an empty seaside tea-room in winter, which is quite a different matter. Though both have their good points .... hmm, compare and contrast .... seaside themes; you'd have to include the one where they sleep on the beach because the car radiator leaked and there was bottles of home-brew in there (similar to Old Stingo) ... actually they seem to get up to quite a lot of adventures on beaches, considering they're London based!
Oh dear, no biscuit again - only 13 even attempted out of 21! Woe woe gnashing of teeth etc. On the other hand, when the answers come out there will be reading to do, so this is a good thing.
Thanks for more quizzy puzzling!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-07 09:52 pm (UTC)And thanks so much for your enjoyment of more quizzy puzzling!
Quiz the Second! - Pros Story Quotes
Date: 2008-01-06 03:19 am (UTC)1. Midsummer's Musings - Part One by by Jennifer Lyon
2. Trial Run by Ellis Ward
3. All in the Pelvis by Callisto
4. Heat-Trace by Helen Raven
5. The Pushbike Song by Jane (of Australia)
6. All These Years by Angelfish Archivist
7. Stand Still by Ailcia
8. The Hunting (Book One, Part I) by Jane (of Australia)
9. Of Sunshine and Cemeteries by Slantedlight
10. Wonderful Tonight (Part Two - Wilder Justice) by Sebastian
11. Sticky Wickets by M. Fae Glasgow
12. Four Days in August (Or: Snapshots from Two Gay Rats on Honeymoon) by Kiwisue
13. Et In Italia Ego by Sebastian
14. Heat-Trace by Helen Raven
15. Gods and Goddesses by KWS (Kiwisue)
16. Pros Drabble - Sunburn by Slantedlight
17. Survival by Melanie Athene
18. Summer's End by Alexandra
19. Cider With Bodie by Lizzie
20. The Sweat of His Brow by PR Zed
21. B & D Beside the Sea by Sebastian
Must add, though, that I absolutely adore the Pros quotes quizzes. I'm a fiend for trivia quizzes of all sorts, and adding in Pros is a particular delight. And
Thanks, this was great fun!
Re: Quiz the Second! - Pros Story Quotes
Date: 2008-01-07 10:06 pm (UTC)you have a knack for choosing such evocative quotes (in your rec posts and quizzes) that I inevitably end up rereading the source stories, which is never a hardship - though it does play havoc with deadlines.
Wow! Thank you so much for describing the quotes as 'evocative' - that's praise indeed considering how much Pros you've read. And I'm so pleased to see that the quotes have inspired you enough to to back and reread old favourites.
Thanks *very* much for taking part and for doing so well!
Re: Quiz the Second! - Pros Story Quotes
Date: 2008-01-08 06:01 pm (UTC)With less of the temper tantrums and arguing with the umps, I hope. *G*
I've always done an enormous amount of rereading; it's one reason that I find it nearly impossible to part with books. But with the sheer volume of Pros stories (mind you, there's always room for more, especially from certain authors!) it can take longer to revisit certain stories than I'd like. One of the joys of proper recs and reviews - those that live up to their promise, like yours - is that they bring good stories back to the top of the rereading list.
Thank you again for the quizzes. 'Tis a testement to the power of Pros and the temptation of trivia that I was lured from my sickbed to work the quizzes - and I thoroughly enjoyed them both!
Re: Quiz the Second! - Pros Story Quotes
Date: 2008-01-08 10:05 pm (UTC)I wasn't sure at what kind of level to pitch the questions - if what was obvious/hard for me would be too easy or hard for other people. Anyway, I hope it gave some enjoyment to the participants! Thanks, again.
Re: Quiz the Second! - Pros Story Quotes
Date: 2008-01-08 11:14 pm (UTC)Anyway, since the thought of more quizzes makes me happy (and takes my mind off my imminent demise *g*), I offer up further encouragement. You know that you could easily assign different points depending on how hard you felt a question was. It would make tallying totals a bit more difficult, but not too bad. That also allows you to include questions that fen at all levels of obsession can enjoy without frustrating those at either end of the spectrum. *g*
Re: Quiz the Second! - Pros Story Quotes
Date: 2008-01-09 12:37 pm (UTC)You know that you could easily assign different points depending on how hard you felt a question was. It would make tallying totals a bit more difficult, but not too bad. That also allows you to include questions that fen at all levels of obsession can enjoy without frustrating those at either end of the spectrum.
That's an interesting idea but I'm not sure how I would be able to determine or judge fairly what other people find hard or easy. Some questions seem obvious to me because I've read certain, favourite stories many times and they've almost become second nature, but that won't apply to other people who may not have read the same stories once let alone many times. I suppose it requires objectivity on the part of me and the participants but I don't think that's possible in this context. Hmmmm, potentially an interesting exercise, though!
Re: Quiz the Second! - Pros Story Quotes
Date: 2008-02-09 10:40 pm (UTC)After a terrible delay, I finally have your prize all printed up - could you email me your address so that I can post it off? I'm at slantedlight at googlemail dot com. So sorry it's taken so long - hope you enjoy it when it arrives.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-06 11:41 am (UTC)1. Doesn't sound familiar...
2. Does sound familiar, actually...
3. Sounds very familiar! "All in the Pelvis" by Callisto. {love the Bulgarians!}
4. No idea...
5. Nope...
6. Something I actually read quite recently, "All These Years" by Angelfish
7. Has to be "Stand Still" by Ailcia (love the bit with the curls)
8. No idea...
9. Has to be "Of Sunshine and Cemetaries" (one of the most memorable stories ever)
10. The Kate Ross one... The end of "Wonderful Tonight"
11. Don't know, but sounds interesting...
12. Another favorite, "Four Days in August" by Snarkyllama
13. Definitely something I'd like to read once I know what it is....
14. Sounds like "Heat Trace" by Helen Raven.
15. Doesn't sound familiar...
16. Sounds great but...
17. No idea...
18. Another one to mark for reading...
19. Sounds like that nice AU... Can't remember which one, though....
20. Doesn't sound familiar...
21. Same here...
no subject
Date: 2008-01-07 10:07 pm (UTC)Thanks again for joining in.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-06 03:35 pm (UTC)1. Erm...
2. Erm II...
3. Okay, this is not a good start.
4. Heat Trace by Helen Raven - yeay!
5. Ooh... I nearly know... and I think the author's American, but... can't... quite... remember... blargh!
6. Erm...
7. Erm...
8. Oh, got to be The Hunting - the first chapter - by Jane
9. Yeay - Of Sunshine and Cemeteries - me! (How shaming if I got that wrong!)
10. Oh, Wonderful Tonight by Sebastian - love that ending! It does feel like summer!
11. Sticky Wickets, M.Fae Glasgow!
12. Erm...
13. More Sebastian - Et In Italia Ego. Lovely...
14. Oh, Heat-trace again, Helen Raven!
15. Gods and Goddesses by KWS - lovely and summery that one. And lovely! *g*
16. Hee - me again! Sunburn!
17. Ooh, I feel like I've read this one not long ago too... erm... American, recent-ish writer again, erm..!
18. Oh, I'm sure I read this not long ago too... *sighs*
19. Cider With Bodie, by Lizzie!
20. - Ooh, I think this is something recent-ish, or at least I read it not long ago, but... ack!
21. - B& D Beside The Sea - Sebastian again!
And now I want to be somewhere where the sea is sparkling at me, and the sun is positively glowing at me, and there's that smell of salt and sand and summer... darn it! I've a ticket to Alaska for tomorrow, but you know it's not quite the same... (and I'm not gonna be using it). *eyes the South of France*
no subject
Date: 2008-01-07 10:14 pm (UTC)Well, I'm really glad I made you feel summery but you're just going to have to write a fic now are you not? Now that you've conjured up that wonderful scene......
sea is sparkling at me
now that's what I mean about you.....most writers would say sparkling sea or something along those lines, but the fact that it's sparkling *at* me, well, for some reason is so much better, more effective and puts me *there* right in the scene, wanting to dip my toes.....
Thank you BSL!
no subject
Date: 2008-01-07 11:54 pm (UTC)