Bodie's Day

Ray was being 'nice'.

Fingers white-tight around the steering wheel, Bodie risked a cautious glance at the passenger seat before returning to glare at the rush hour traffic in front of them. Under normal circumstances - when running twenty minutes late due to Bodie over-sleeping - Ray'd be spitting feathers and profanities in equal quantities by now. But this morning, he was being 'nice'. Nice with a capital N. No insults, no aspersions on Bodie's parentage, no long diatribes about the benefits of a decent night's sleep when it came to getting up in the morning. Nothing. Just a polite smile, an enquiry after Bodie's health and then nothing. Even Oxford Street chock full of suicidal Christmas shoppers wasn't rattling his eminently rattleable partner.

It was... frustrating. What was the point in stealing a few extra minutes under the covers if it didn't get a rise from the target audience? Fighting was a close as they'd ever get to the activity Bodie really fancied with Doyle, and this morning he wasn't even getting that.

With the same twisted determination that made him poke his tongue in a painful tooth, Bodie tried a less subtle approach. "We're gonna be late," he said with a smug grin, certain of the reaction. "You should've woken me up earlier."

"Eh?" A pale, pensive face turned towards him, eyes bruised with lack of sleep. Bodie's heart leapt into his mouth. Was Ray ill? Was that what had driven this normally irascible man into silence? He had been looking peaky recently. And there'd been fewer double dates and lads' nights out. Then there were those odd absences; evenings when Bodie'd dropped round on spec only to find Ray's flat empty and no explanation offered as to where he'd gone. The doctors, maybe? It would explain why Ray seemed to have something on his mind.

Should he ask? If Ray wanted him to know, wouldn't he have said something?

Then again, if he was ill, maybe he didn't want Bodie sticking his oar in. It was private, being sick. Though Cowley'd have to know. And the doc at HQ. And if it was that bad, it was bound to effect Ray's performance in the field and that made it Bodie's business!

Annoyance now overwhelmed concern. "You alright, mate? Nothing you ought to be sharing?"

If anything Doyle managed to look more distanced. "Dunno. You busy tonight?"

"Why?"

"Was thinking we could get a take-away. Eat round my place."

Fuck. He was ill. His heart?

The doctors might have given Ray a clean bill of health after he was shot, but with damage like that, maybe something had gone wrong?

Worry raised its fist, battering Bodie's temper into submission, and he swallowed thickly. It was going to be a long day.

*

"All I'm saying is, dwelling on it isn't gonna help."

Bodie almost choked on his bacon buttie. This was not the Ray he knew and loved. Where was the breast beating guilt? The nail chewing worrier? The man who'd blame himself for anything given half a chance. Not that either of them were to blame for Frankie getting blown away, but that hadn't stopped Ray before.

"I mean, it's all part of the job, isn't it. Live by the sword, die by the sword and all that."

That was an argument Bodie was more than familiar with, but he'd never expected to hear it from Ray's lips. Ray might live by that belief - you had to, to work for CI5 and stay sane - but he didn't vocalise it, and why he was choosing to do so now made cold chills run up and down Bodie's spine. The next words out of Doyle's mouth made the chills freeze solid.

"Anyway, we could end up getting hit by a bus tomorrow."

Or dropping dead from a heart attack.

Bodie checked his watch. Ten forty.

She was blonde, leggy and as about as desperate for Ray as any woman Bodie had ever met. He wasn't even getting a look in; those brown eyes had time for no one but the man beside him - who was completely ignoring her less than subtle come-ons.

"Didn't fancy her then?" Bodie asked when they escaped back to the car.

Ray shrugged. "She was alright."

"Alright? Christ, mate, she all but stripped and threw herself at your feet!" And if Ray was on the clock, Bodie reasoned, what better way of spending his last few months than screwing every willing bird he could lay hands on?

Course, if their positions were reversed, it wouldn't be the girls Bodie'd be chasing, but his scruffy, devotedly womanising, partner.

"It just feels a bit... I dunno, cold? I mean, I don't even know her."

Bodie snorted and revved the engine, before pulling away. "Oh I think she'd've been more than happy to get to know you, sunbeam."

Silence. Which lasted until they hit the north circular. Then Ray shuffled round in his seat, stuck one foot up on the dash and said, "Don't you get fed up with it?"

"With what? Birds?"

"No. Well, yeah. Chasing them anyway. A new one every week or so. I mean, I know Anne was a mistake, but wanting that with someone. Something special. Someone to share your life with."

It was all Bodie could do not to pull over and gather Ray into a tight hug. As it was, his voice came out a bit choked, even as he tried for levity. "Got me, haven't you? I'm special." He illustrated his point by crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out, playacting that normally made Ray chortle with glee.

But not today. Today it elicited a heavy sigh.

Maybe Ray couldn't have sex anymore? Wasn't it supposed to be bad for your heart?

Bodie cast his mind back to when his uncle had his heart attack. No nookie for six months, the dirty old man had complained, more worried about keeping his mistress than with Bodie's aunt crying in the waiting room.

And without sex, chasing girls was a bit pointless. Made everything a bit pointless.

Except a relationship with that special someone.

By two in the afternoon Bodie had taken refuge in the VIP lounge and had his head buried in The Sun. He might have agreed to face his demons that night, but for now an ostrich's outlook on life had something to recommend it.

"It's not about dieting, it's about restraint."

Bodie raised his newspaper another few inches and cringed. Ray might be talking to Anson, who'd finally stopped smoking and was now piling on the weight, but that didn't stop Bodie's conscience prodding at him. He wasn't good at restraint. It was all those years with nothing but bushfare. Honestly. And if Ray brought it up, that was exactly what Bodie was going to tell him - conveniently forgetting to mention the lengthy sojourns in Cape Town and Dakar, complete with wine, women, song and bloody good food.

And if he was about to drop dead, why was Ray worrying about restraint anyway?

"You know, your body'll thank you in the long run. Living a healthy lifestyle's good for the heart."

Oh.

The newspaper dropped enough for Bodie to see the expression on Ray's face. There was an edge of desperation to it. Like you'd expect from someone who knew he had little time left and wanted to see all his mates right before he went.

Well, Ray could try all he wanted with Bodie. It wouldn't work. Without Ray, Bodie's heart would fail too.

It had to be the job. In any other line of work, Ray'd probably have years left. Reasoning thus, Bodie cornered Ray after the six p.m. briefing and played his trump card.

"I reckon we should retire."

Ray nearly dropped the file he was carrying. "What?"

"Retire. Get out of CI5 before-"

"I thought you loved this job?"

"I thought you hated it."

The chair creaked when Ray threw himself down in it. "What the hell made you think that?"

Because Cowley said so when you were busy dying in the hospital. "Well it stands to reason." Bodie grabbed the first excuse that came to hand. "You hate killing."

For some reason it was this that finally garnered him a belly laugh. "Hate the thought of innocent people dying more," Ray replied through a chuckle, shaking his head as though Bodie had just cracked a joke. Then his face became more serious. "Tell you what, if we're both still here in a year, we'll pack it all in and go raise roses in Cornwall. How does that sound?"

Like heaven, Bodie thought, but only because you'd be there. But he couldn't say that. Instead he wrinkled his nose and said, "Roses? Get right up my hooter, roses do."

Ray laughed again, standing up and landing a chummy slap on Bodie's shoulder. "Let's face it, mate, we'll be lucky to make it anyway. We're the OAPs on the squad now."

The dusting of grey hairs at Ray's temples testified to that. More so the awareness of mortality in his eyes. For Bodie it was akin to looking in a mirror and seeing his future. Foreknowledge of the bleak desperate sadness his life would be without Raymond Doyle at his side.

Eight in the evening found them on Ray's couch, Chinese plated up on their laps and the match on the telly. But for once the food didn't go down easily and the football failed to amuse. Bodie felt like he was the one under the death sentence, not Ray, though if you didn't know it, you'd not have said he was sick tonight.

Complaining loudly about the referee, Ray was sitting forward in his chair, fork waving in the air as he made his point, pleasure writ large on his face. And all Bodie could do was stare hungrily at him, starving for every moment they had left together. No restraint for him. Not where Ray was concerned. He devoured every gesture, every swear word thrown the ref's way, every shared glance and smile, all the while wondering if this time would be their last.

Finally the match was finished and so was the meal. Ray took the crockery out to the kitchen leaving Bodie to forage for drinks. He found half a bottle of whisky in the cabinet and splashed no more than a finger full into Ray's glass - alcohol consumption was bad for the heart. For himself, he poured a double and, reckoning he might need more, stashed the bottle by his chair for later. Thus fortified, he waited to face the pronouncement he was sure was coming.

Ray frowned when he came back through and noticed his drink. "Tide out, is it?" he asked, picking up the glass and peering into it sadly.

Now was as good a time as any, Bodie thought, taking the plunge. There was no point mincing words. "Gotta be careful with alcohol. It can do funny things to some people's bodies."

He was met by an amused look. "It's been a while since one whiskey had that sort of effect."

"That wasn't what I was on about and you know it." Unable to sit still any longer, Bodie leapt up and headed for the window. "You don't have to say it, sunshine." He pressed his palm to glass, staring blankly out at the dark street. "It's your heart, isn't it."

For a second there was nothing, then he felt Ray's hand on the middle of his back. A warm welcome presence which, under other circumstances.... But that wasn't to be. It was too late to even hope for that now.

"You know?" Gentle, almost. Enquiring.

Bodie shrugged, still absorbed in his morbid thoughts. "Enough to make anyone a bit peaky, isn't it."

"A bit peaky?"

"Yeah. Bound to put off your oats. Make you a bit... queer."

"Queer."

"You know. Sick."

Silence.

An odd feeling crept up Bodie's spine - and it wasn't Ray's hand which had suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. No, not that. Rather the atmosphere which had developed a distinct chill. All of it emanating from Doyle's direction.

Definitely erring toward worried, Bodie turned around, only to discover Ray gone. For a second he couldn't move, ridiculous thoughts about angels and Ray having actually dropped dead in the kitchen bouncing around in his brain.

A loud crash followed by muttered curses put that fear to rest.

"Doyle?" he called out.

"What?" Irascible. Ray's normal voice.

Bodie followed it, and found his partner wrestling with what looked like some sort of ornamental padded mat. "What're you doing?"

The mat got bundled into a ball and unceremoniously shoved into a bag. "Chucking this out. What does it look like?"

But irascible was not the same as loony. "Why'd you want to do that now? We were halfway through a conversation about you..." Bodie gritted his teeth and pushed the word out. "Dying."

For the longest second Doyle didn't move, and then his legs appeared to sag and he collapsed face down over the bag, shaking. Convinced he'd brought on some kind of terminal episode, Bodie lunged to catch him, managing to get an arm underneath and turn him tenderly to lie on his lap.

"Ray?" God, his eyes were screwed shut, his face going purple, and he wasn't breathing. "Ray!" Searching frantically for a pulse, Bodie tried to get into a position where he could give mouth to mouth. A rapid flutter in Ray's neck proved there was no need for heart massage at least. Had he swallowed his tongue? Bodie stuck his fingers in to check, only to have them soundly bitten as Ray whooped in huge lungs full of air, and began howling with laughter.

Of all the reactions Bodie'd been expecting, this really wasn't it. Honestly, you tried to have a heart to heart - no pun intended - with the man you loved, confide the fact that you knew he was dying, and he laughs at you?

Shoving Ray off his lap and onto the floor, Bodie beat a retreat to the bed, quite prepared to sulk for the rest of the evening in the wake of such inconsiderate treatment. But Ray was having none of it. Still sniggering, he crawled after him, scaling the side of the bed and flopping down next to Bodie, wiping the tears from eyes.

Bodie treated him with the contempt he deserved and kept his eyes glued on the wardrobe, the least offensive thing in the room. Dying or no, he expected some consideration for the emotional pain he was suffering.

Eventually the bellows of laughter diminished into intermittent snorts and a still shaky hand patted Bodie on the thigh in a vaguely apologetic fashion. Bodie pointedly moved his leg. Sadly the hand didn't follow. They lay there in silence for several minutes, the bed only periodically quivering from the after-effects of Doyle's hysteria.

Bodie would have liked to stay there all night. In Ray's bed. With Ray beside him. Though different circumstances would have been preferable. Finally, when he couldn't stand it any longer, he heaved a sigh and said, "Better get going. Got an early start tomorrow."

Rather than let him escape, Ray caught his wrist, tugging him back onto the bed, saying, "C'mere."

Refusing would have seemed churlish. And while Bodie was quite prepared to appear childish on occasion, he drew the line at churlish. "What? Found a bit of dignity you haven't tattered yet?"

"Stop being a prat, Bodie."

"Me! A pra-"

Ray's lips tasted of whisky. His skin, rough with bristles, made Bodie's chin burn. He smelled of alcohol, and sweet and sour sauce, with faint undertones of sweat. Not the most enticing of scents, but it was wonderful. Made even more by Ray pulling him close, closer, until there was nothing between them but the clothes they wore. Clothes that even now they were fighting to remove.

Buttons flew. Zips unzipped. And below was skin. Warm, naked skin.

Bodie's entire world moved to his fingertips. Yes, Ray was touching him, but it was his hands on Ray's skin that held him bewitched. How many years of looking? How many times wondering? And now he was there. That fur under his hands, as softly wiry as he knew it would be. Muscle-clad ribs heaving beneath his palms, each breath a harmony in heat against his neck. Thighs, strong enough to push Ray's body to the extremes CI5 demanded, hooking him in, holding him tight.

They moved as one, Ray leading the way with Bodie following, echoing each grind and thrust, each hungry kiss. Fear, dignity, worry; they all melted away. Nothing existed but the two of them, together. Flesh against flesh. Minds in concert. Reaching blindly for the attainable and finding it, together, in rush of sticky, tepid warmth.

It took a while for sense to return, time filled with more Ray-flavoured kisses, but when it did, it was all Bodie could do not to panic.

"Ray?" he said, knowing full well that his voice was thick with worry and reawakening arousal. "You alright? You didn't... overdo it, did you?"

"For God's sake, Bodie." Ray pushed him flat with a huff, leaning over him and scowling down. "I am not dying, okay?"

"Not...?"

"Dying."

"But...?"

"I don't know where the hell you got that idea, but there's nothing to it. My heart's fine."

"But...?"

Ray talked over the top of him. "Except for having fallen for you, you dumb crud."

And they said romance was dead. "Fallen for me?" Bodie beamed, all worries about imminent death banished by Ray's declaration.

"Heads over heels, old son."

Bodie's grin got sillier.

"`Course if I'd known you'd get a hold of the wrong end of the stick, I'd have said something earlier."

"Wrong end...?" And apparently he couldn't think straight while he was smiling.

"That..." Ray waved his hand, "performance in the living room."

"But I thought-"

"I know that now. But then I thought you were taking the piss. All that stuff about being queer and sick."

"Oh." That made a horrible kind of sense. "And all I meant was-"

"That you thought me heart was on its last legs." Ray collapsed with a huff. "For God's sake, Bodie, do I look like I'm about to pop me clogs?"

At this precise moment? No. He looked tousled and bruised lipped and gorgeous enough to eat. "You were a bit pale earlier."

"That's `cause I didn't get much sleep last night. Knew I was gonna tell you today and ended up getting all worked up about it."

"Why?"

Ray treated him to an old-fashioned look. "In case you put my lights out?"

"I wouldn't have."

With a small shrug, Ray rolled over onto his back. "Didn't think you would. But it was still a chance."

One that Bodie hadn't had the guts to take. "Glad you did."

"Did what? Oh, told you, you mean? Had to, didn't I. Was ruining me concentration. Every time I tried doing a kata, I'd end up thinking about you instead and falling over me feet. Master Ito didn't half tear me off a strip or two."

Bemused, Bodie could only listen and nod in the right places.

"It was him who dug it out of me. Sat me down and made me think it through `til I realised what was going on. Then he said, 'tell him.' 'Only by being true to yourself can you find the truth of who you are'. Or summat like that anyway. I think I'd lost the plot by that point. Was bloody terrified I'd find myself only to lose you. But then I was doing some reading, and it was obvious I had to tell you today."

"Today?" The eighth of December. "Chicken innards say it was auspicious, did they?"

"No, but it is the day you're supposed to reflect on the Eightfold path."

Bodie frowned, genuinely confused. "I thought that was all about renouncing worldly pleasures."

"Yeah. So?"

"Ray, we had sex." The grin was back. It appeared to be attached to certain memories. Could be a bit inconvenient, that.

"What? You ever heard of tantric sex?"

"Tantric sex? That wasn't tantric... " He might be daft but even he could tell when Ray was winding him up. Eventually. "Daft sod."

Ray chortled and ducked Bodie's playful punch. "Had you going for a moment. Nah, I had to tell you today, not just because of the kata thing, though that is true and it was Master Ito that sorted me out. But it's the day." Rolling onto his side, Ray propped himself on his elbow. "It's your day, mate. Bodhi Day. When you think about your life and how you're living it and try your best to be true to what you believe. And you know something else?" He came closer, so close that Bodie could feel his lips, taste his breath. "I couldn't wait for you a second longer."

right perspective/Right Views means to keep ourselves free from prejudice, superstition and delusion... and to see aright the true nature of life.

right intention/ Right Thoughts means to turn away from the hypocrisies of this world and to direct our minds toward Truth and Positive Attitudes and Action.

right speech/Right Speech means to refrain from pointless and harmful talk... to speak kindly and courteously to all.

right conduct/Right Conduct means to see that our deeds are peaceable, benevolent, compassionate and pure... and to live the Teachings daily.

right livelihood/Right Livelihood means to earn our living in such a way as to entail no evil consequences. To seek that employment to which can give our complete enthusiasm and devotion.

right endeavour/Right Effort means to direct our efforts continually to the overcoming of ignorance and craving desires.

right memory/Right Mindfulness means to cherish good and pure thoughts, for all that we say and do arises from our thoughts.

right concentration/Right Meditation means to concentrate on the Oneness of all life and the Buddhahood that exists within all beings.

The End