Discovered in the Fairylights - PROS Fic: The Hive (Part 8 of 8)

Bodie saw the armed guards walking a perimeter of the old soviet compound and knew he was too late – The Hive had got here first.

Night cloaked the movement of his team as they moved into position. They wore black clothing and had parachuted in over a mile away. That hike had been the fastest of his life, and he could still hear a couple of the men struggling to quiet their laboured breathing from keeping up the gruelling pace he'd set. His shoulder still burned where the bullet had hit him, but he pushed the pain away until it no longer existed.

Murphy and Jax flanked him, and he had never been more grateful to have them by his side. As it was, he was barely holding on to rational thought knowing Doyle was inside that building with The Hive. All he wanted to do was rush in there and get him out.

"I count nine on the outside," whispered Jax, looking through his night scope.

"Me, too," confirmed Murphy. "Three more inside moving around by the windows, but there's probably more in there."

Bodie hadn't realised he'd started to move in until he felt Murphy's big hand rest on his chest, holding him back. "Not yet," Murphy insisted quietly. "We go in together or Doyle doesn't stand a chance. Don't go getting stupid now."

Jax checked his watch and pinned Bodie with a look of understanding. "Thirty-eight seconds, Bodie. We all move in together then. You can wait thirty-eight seconds."

Bodie gave a brisk nod in answer.

They were the longest thirty-eight seconds of his life.

***

Doyle was freezing to death. He could no longer feel his hands or feet. The shivers that wracked his body were so extreme he was sure they were damaging muscle tissue. At least he could no longer feel the stinging of the dozens of shallow cuts over his arms and legs.

They hadn't even hurt him to gain information. Whatever drug Krivas had given him in the plane had made it impossible for him to keep silent about the coordinates for the location of the weapons. He wished he hadn't had a good memory for numbers, that he hadn't been able to give them the coordinates, but in the end, he'd had no choice.

And still that scarred faced bastard had cut him – tortured him.

Krivas told him that the only reason he did it was because he loved to hear Doyle scream – that Doyle had a beautiful voice.

Doyle had tried his best not to give Krivas the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain, yet in the end, he'd failed there, too.

He was naked, gagged, bleeding, and soaked with a bucket of icy water that had been dumped over his head by one of the laughing terrorists. He was bound to a metal wheeled chair in the centre of a room that most likely hadn't had a functioning heater in more than a decade. He shuddered, remembering how the men had taunted him and laughed while they'd yanked and shoved him from one to another, using their heavy boots to kick at him.

His stomach cramped suddenly. He felt so physically exhausted that even the involuntary shivers were beginning to subside. After so many hours of being mentally and physically tormented, his body didn't have the strength left to fight any longer.

Only the thought of Bodie kept him going beyond where Doyle would have surrendered. If Bodie was alive, he would be coming for him – Doyle never doubted that for a second.

Forcing himself to stay awake, he attempted to focus on anything that would interest him enough to keep his mind alert. When Bodie came, Doyle needed to be conscious. He'd need to be able to help Bodie in any way he could.

Doyle summoned up enough energy to raise his head. He glanced around the building, seeing that it was a sort of bunker made of metal plates that would have been easy to take apart and transport elsewhere. The structure and everything in it was designed to be portable.

As interesting as that might have been to Doyle at one point in his life, right now, it was the only thing keeping him from focusing on the searing cold that sank into every pore of his body. Already, he was feeling a heavy, sleepy lethargy which Doyle knew meant impending hypothermia.

Doyle's head slowly began to lower. He watched, almost in fascination, as water dripped steadily from his hair mixing with his blood to form a shallow, red pool at his bare feet. His eyelids slid down and he struggled to open them again, telling himself that he had to stay awake.

Bodie was coming.

Faith in Bodie was all Doyle had left now, and he clung to it with every ounce of strength he possessed.

Suddenly, the sound of the metal doors bursting open, followed by the sharp blast of gunfire, filled the room. Doyle didn't have enough energy left to lift his head again to see who it was, but he didn't have to – he knew.

Bodie had come for him.

***

Finally, Bodie was able to act. He easily took out four of the men who were guarding the entrance gate before the rest of the group, both CI5 and Russian Intelligence, could even close the distance. Bodie ignored the rest of the enemy guards outside, knowing his team would take them down. He had only one goal. Get inside, eliminate the hostiles near Doyle and get him out.

As he rushed towards the building, Bodie glanced to his left to see that Murphy was right beside him. The two of them burst through the metal doors, shooting anyone who wasn't Doyle. Three men fell before the enemy had a chance to return fire. One man ducked for cover behind a metal partition and another sprinted across the room towards Doyle.

That was when Bodie nearly lost it right there. Doyle, tied to a chair, naked, a pool of blood glistening beneath him.

It was like staring at Nicolas' dead body all over again. Beaten. Tortured.

Dead.

Bodie nearly doubled over in pain, fighting the urge to vomit. No! his mind screamed. This couldn't be happening again. There was no way he would be able to survive losing Doyle.

The day that Nicolas had died, a monster had been born inside of Bodie. Over the past two years, Bodie had fed that monster a constant diet of guilt and grief and regret. The monster had grown, swelling inside of him until there was little room left for the man he used to be.

Doyle had somehow found the man who was hidden away and breathed into him a spark of hope – of life. But now, staring at Doyle's damaged body, everything left that was human in him died, screaming in torment. All that remained was the monster, prowling inside him, waiting for the chance to strike. He was going to take out every one of these sodding bastards and pray he died in the process.

A bullet whizzed by his head, and if it hadn't been for Murphy jerking him out of the way, it would have hit its mark.

"Get a grip," Murphy growled, using his larger body to shield Bodie's from gunfire. They were pressed into a little alcove by the door, which was their only cover. "Doyle's alive. Look, he's shivering."

Bodie peered around the corner, needing to see for himself. An enormous sense of relief washed through him when he noticed the shallow rise and fall of Doyle's chest.

"I'm going after him," Bodie told Murphy.

"Right," Murphy replied and gave Bodie the cover fire he needed as he raced across the room towards Doyle.

Behind him, he heard the pained grunt of the man who had taken shelter behind the partition. Bodie didn't doubt that it was Murphy who had taken him down. He was almost at Doyle's side when suddenly someone jumped out from behind a filing cabinet and used Doyle's body for cover, pointing a pistol directly against Doyle's temple. "Stop," the man said.

Bodie stopped immediately, boots skidding over the concrete floor. His arm instantly came up to train his weapon on the man. He stared at him, waiting for an opening when recognition flared bright in Bodie's mind. The face was horribly scarred, but he had no doubt who this was. "Krivas," he snarled.

"Hello, Bodie." Krivas smiled, causing the scar along his cheek to stretch into gruesome ridges. "How nice to see you again."

"I thought you were dead." Years ago Bodie had heard rumours that his once old friend turned enemy had been killed when he'd tried to double-cross a gang of gun runners in the Congo.

"No. I'm very much alive."

"Not for long." Bodie grinned menacingly, his gun hand remaining steady, waiting for Krivas to make a wrong move.

"Now, now, is that any way to speak to a friend?" Krivas stepped a little more to the side, crouching low, putting himself completely behind Doyle, dispelling Bodie of any chance at a clean shot. "I knew you'd come back for this one." Krivas stroked the barrel of the pistol up and down Doyle's cheek. "Especially since you were a little too late the last time. I rather enjoyed my time with your Nicolas. You should have heard him scream, such a beautiful, beautiful lad."

Bodie felt nothing at Krivas' words. No fear. No anger. Only a frigid calm of knowing that he was going to feel this man die. He was going to take Krivas' life with his own bare hands and make sure, without any doubt, that Krivas could never hurt another person ever again.

"You and I have some unfinished business," Krivas continued. "You see, I was in that building two years ago. The one you blew up. That fire nearly did me in, but I managed to escape."

Bodie tossed his gun to the side, the weapon hitting the ground with a metallic clatter, and he spread his arms wide. "Here I am then. Let Doyle go, and I'm yours."

Behind him, Bodie could feel Murphy tense. They'd been mates too long for Bodie not to know that Murphy was thinking that he was being a complete berk for giving himself up like this.

A malicious grin lit Krivas' eyes and he ordered, "Tell your friend over there to put down his weapon and back off."

"Do what he says, Murphy. Get out. I can handle this."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bodie was able to see Murphy lower his gun, yet he made no move to leave. "Don't be an idiot, Bodie. He's going to –"

"Get out!" Bodie yelled.

"Not without Doyle," said Murphy.

Bodie forced out a frustrated growl though he still felt nothing except the incessant prowling of that monster inside him and the pressing, urgent need to kill.

"Fine." Bodie walked right over to Doyle, making himself an easy target. Krivas immediately moved the gun from Doyle to Bodie, giving him the chance he needed to get Doyle away. He pushed Doyle's wheeled chair towards Murphy, trusting his mate to get the unconscious man out safely.

Now that Bodie was within easy reach, Krivas grabbed him around the throat with one arm and pressed the cold muzzle of his weapon against the side of Bodie's head.

Bodie forced himself to feel nothing.

He watched as Murphy cut away Doyle's bonds and carefully lift him from the chair. Doyle's body dripped red, which Bodie could now see was more water than blood. He wanted to feel relief, but couldn't. If he let go even that much, the torrent of emotions screaming for release would burn him alive.

Once he saw that Doyle was safely on his way out of the building, Bodie deliberately let his monster free. It howled in delight. It took over his body, giving him nearly inhuman speed.

With one hard backward jab of his elbow, Krivas' weapon went flying and skittered across the room. Bodie spun around. He had Krivas pinned down on the concrete floor, with his hands around the man's throat, squeezing tight, watching him die.

Bodie still felt nothing. No sense of victory. No joy. Nothing.

When he could no longer feel the beat of Krivas' heart beneath his fingertips, Bodie let go. But just to be sure the man would not come back from the dead again, Bodie retrieved his weapon and put two bullets into the bastard's body. Only then did he turn around and walk away.

He found that Murphy hadn't left as he'd been told. His mate was standing guard over Doyle, who was sitting partially slumped against the wall with Murphy's coat wrapped around him. Murphy's weapon was at the ready and Bodie understood that Murphy had stayed close to watch Bodie's back.

Bodie turned his attention to Doyle. Even though Doyle's head was tilted to the side, resting on his shoulder, Bodie could tell that he was still conscious enough to see him. His green eyes were bright with fear and revulsion, staring, in shocked silence, at the man Bodie had just killed.

Doyle had seen the whole thing.

Had seen Bodie kill with his bare hands.

Bodie knew that Doyle hated violence, and after what he'd just witnessed, Bodie was sure that Doyle would have no choice except to hate him as well.

Fury rose up in him and he did his best to stomp it down. He had to keep hold of his emotions for Doyle's sake. Had to get him out of here safely.

As Bodie crossed the room, watching Doyle, he could tell that Doyle was getting weaker by the second. Could see the strength draining from him with every shiver of his body. Still Bodie refused to allow himself to feel anything. Not yet. Not until Doyle was safe and warm.

Once he was at Doyle's side, Bodie reached out for him only to have Doyle flinch away from his touch. That small movement was confirmation of everything Bodie had feared. Doyle had seen him kill with his bare hands and in doing so, Bodie had lost him forever.

***

Slowly Doyle rose up to consciousness, feeling blessed warmth covering his body. He was too exhausted to open his eyes, but he could hear familiar voices in little snippets of conversation. He could also smell Bodie's spicy scent as his lover warmed him using his own body.

"... he's freezing... need to keep him warm..."

"... going to be okay." That voice was Bodie's, though it didn't sound right. It sounded flat and cold.

"... injuries aren't severe... worried about hypothermia..."

As he became a little more cognisant, Doyle struggled desperately to find enough strength to speak. "Sorry," he whispered. "Tried not to tell them the coordinates. I tried –"

"Hush, now," said Bodie, speaking into Doyle's ear. His voice still seemed odd, yet at that moment, Doyle didn't care. It was Bodie and they were both safe now. "You didn't do anything wrong."

As the warmth continued to engulf him, it made his entire body feel lethargic and sleepy. Not fighting it, Doyle closed his eyes, quickly drifting off.

The next time Doyle woke, he was in a bed. There were hands moving all over him and a plastic mask covered his nose and mouth. He tried to move and groaned when pain shot through him. Everything hurt. Even his skin felt like it was being prickled by hundreds of needles.

"Give him something for the pain," demanded Bodie. Bodie was close, Doyle could tell, but he couldn't get his eyes to open so he could see him.

He felt the IV in the back of his hand being joggled, then whatever they'd given him for the pain started doing its job and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

The third time he resurfaced, he heard faint noises around him, the sound of men talking in hushed voices.

"Bodie?" Doyle croaked.

The whispers stopped and immediately he felt a warm, callused hand grasp his own – Bodie.

Bodie was here.

Doyle sighed in relief. He was safe now.

***

Bodie refused to leave Doyle's side for two days. He was tired and hungry and ached all over, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave. Not even the thought that as soon as Doyle woke up, he'd look at Bodie with revulsion.

Murphy stepped into the hospital room, his large body filling the doorway. He approached on silent feet, eyes taking in Doyle's condition in one thorough, sweeping glance. "He looks better today," Murphy said as he stepped up to the bed, across from Bodie.

"Yeah. Think he is. Although it's hard to tell under all those bruises."

"You should get a shower, mate. I'll sit with him while you're gone, if you'd like."

One side of Bodie's mouth twitched. "That your subtle way of telling me I stink?"

"A lot." Murphy flashed him a smile. "If you want Doyle to have anything to do with you when he wakes up, I suggest you clean the mud off your boots, shower and put on fresh clothes."

Bodie looked back down at Doyle. He was so still and pale under all the cuts and bruises that every time Bodie saw him, his gut twisted into a tight knot. He'd nearly lost Doyle. The thought still shook him to the core every time it passed through his mind, which was about every ten seconds. Bodie did his best not to think about it, but the room was quiet and Doyle's injuries were constant reminders of how close Bodie'd come to losing him. How close Doyle had come to ending up just like Nicolas.

"I'll leave in a while," Bodie said, carefully stroking his fingers along Doyle's cheek.

Murphy nodded in acceptance, grabbed a chair and brought it closer to the bed. He settled into his seat with the patience of a man who had no plans of going anywhere soon. "What are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?" Bodie asked. "I'm going to sit here until Doyle wakes up."

"And then what?"

Bodie looked up, met Murphy's patient gaze. He knew what his mate was asking and a bleak emptiness filled his chest.

As much as it hurt him, Bodie knew what he had to do. He had to walk away from Doyle. Had to give Doyle a chance for a real life – one without the threat of violence looming over him every day.

Thanks to CI5 and Russian Intelligence, they had killed all the members of The Hive in that compound. However, he could never be certain that there weren't other members out there. Hiding. Waiting to strike again. To come after Bodie – after Doyle. There was no way in hell he'd put Doyle through all that again. The man deserved to be happy, and Bodie truly wanted him to be happy. He loved Doyle enough to walk away so that he could be. Cowley had promised him that Doyle would be relocated some place where he'd be safe. Where he could start a whole new life.

For himself, Bodie planned to go into hiding so deep that no one would ever be able to find him. Not even bloody Cowley. He was going to leave the country, crawl into some jungle so thick it would swallow him whole. He'd disappear and Doyle would finally be safe from the taint of violence.

"That's not what Ray wants," Murphy said, as if hearing Bodie's silent thoughts. "That's not what you want, either."

"You don't know what I bloody well want?"

Murphy nodded his dark head. "Yes. I do."

"Okay, Mr Observant," Bodie glared at him, "what do you think I want."

"Doyle."

"Some fortune teller you are. Anybody'd want Doyle. He's sex on legs."

"I'm not talking about sex, Bodie. I'm talking about more than that. Commitment. Love. Forever."

Bodie shook his head. "I can't. Already tried that. You know how it ended."

"What happened to your bloke wasn't your fault," Murphy said gently. "Besides, Doyle isn't Nicolas. If you can't see that, then perhaps you don't deserve him."

"I didn't deserve Nicky, either."

"You're talking rubbish, Bodie."

"Look, Murphy. I know Nicolas loved me. Don't tell me what I already know."

"Suit yourself, mate, but Doyle seems like a good sort. And I think two years is long enough to punish yourself."

The only punishment that fit his crime was to die the same way Nicolas had – tortured, cold and alone. The thought of what his dead lover had gone through made his eyes sting with tears and he lowered his head. He still loved Nicolas and always would. How could he dishonour him by putting another innocent man in harm's way because he was selfish enough to want a second chance at happiness?

He couldn't.

He loved Doyle as much as he'd loved Nicolas. Perhaps more. He'd never thought it would be possible to love like that again, but he did, which only made it that much harder to walk away.

It also made it that much more necessary.

"It doesn't matter what I want," Bodie said to Murphy.

"Fine. Let's just say you're right about that. What about what Ray wants?"

"Doyle hates violence. He saw what I did to Krivas. And I saw the way Doyle looked at me when I reached for him. Pulled away, he did. Flinched as if I'd hurt him."

Murphy stared at him with a look that told Bodie the man thought he'd lost his mind. "Bloody hell, mate, I would have pulled away, too. You have no idea what you looked like back there, do you?"

At Bodie's bewildered frown, Murphy continued, "You were covered in mud and your face streaked with paint. There were spots of blood smeared on your clothes and skin, and you had this feral gleam in your eyes that had even me scared you'd gone over the edge. You'd just killed a man with your bare hands and you looked like you were ready to do it again. Doyle probably figured you'd gone a little crazy. Hell, I thought the same thing until you calmed down."

"Doyle should have known I'd never hurt him. The fact that he didn't only proves that he really does see me as a violent man."

Murphy rolled his eyes and gave a snort of disgust. "Think, man! I doubt he even recognised you in his condition! And, furthermore, he's a civilian. Give the man a break. Unless you're just using that as an excuse not to try to make things work with him."

"Sod off, Murphy."

Murphy sighed and stood. "Stop being such a blooming berk, Bodie. It doesn't suit you. You love Doyle and you'd best let him know it before it's too late. Don't walk away. You'll regret it."

Bodie sat beside Doyle for a few more minutes, watching him sleep. He finally rose and left the room. Passing Jax in the hallway, he didn't acknowledge his friend, but hurried out. He had to be long gone before Doyle woke. Before Doyle had to lay eyes on Bodie, on what he was, what he'd done.

And, coward that he was, Bodie had to be gone before Doyle woke so that he wouldn't have to say good-bye.

***

A light shake to his shoulder woke Doyle. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find Jax and Murphy standing over his bed. He blinked a few times to bring his vision into focus then asked, "Where's Bodie?"

Jax's jaw clenched in anger and Murphy regarded Doyle with an even, blank stare.

"He's leaving," Murphy said. "For good. I don't know whether or not you want to stop him, but you need to decide right quick. He's got a three-minute head start. Once he's gone, none of us will ever be able to find him."

Fighting down a moment of panic, Doyle said, "He's leaving? Why?"

"He doesn't want you to end up like Nicolas did," said Jax.

Doyle was still a little groggy, but he forced his mind to clear and take stock of what he'd heard. He knew that Bodie felt guilty over his lover's death. Likely over what had happened to Doyle as well. He also knew that Bodie was a sodding idiot to think it was his fault.

Doyle looked from one man to the other. "I have to stop him."

"You sure about this?" asked Murphy. "You need to think about what you're saying and be completely sure. Don't toy with him, Doyle." That last part was a warning, as clear and menacing as they got.

"Bloody hell, mate. Of course I mean it!" He glared from Jax to Murphy and back to Jax again. "Which one of you can run faster?"

Jax grinned brightly, vaulted over the end of the bed in a casual, graceful leap and was out the door in a heartbeat.

Doyle carefully began to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position. "Just don't stand there, Murphy. Help me get up."

"You're in no shape to be getting out of bed. Let Jax bring Bodie back here."

"You really think Jax will be able to drag him back if he doesn't want to come?" Doyle threw back the covers, trying not to rip the IV out of his hand.

"Right." Without another word, Murphy helped Doyle out of bed to stand on unsteady legs.

Stripping a blanket off the bed, Murphy wrapped it around Doyle's shoulders. "As much as Bodie would enjoy seeing your naked arse sticking out that silly hospital gown, I doubt he'd enjoy sharing it with others."

Doyle chuckled. He started to unhook the tube from the IV, but Murphy stopped him. "You need that." Taking the bag from the metal stand, Murphy handed it to him. "Hold onto that with one hand and hook your other arm over my shoulder." Once Doyle was situated, Murphy wrapped an arm around Doyle's waist, holding up some of his weight and they made their way out the door.

***

Bodie had almost made it to his Range Rover when he saw Jax barrelling towards him. He guessed that Jax was coming to try to stop him from leaving. There was, however, a small, terrified part of him that worried that something may have happened to Doyle. He hesitated and it was in that moment's dithering that he ended up flat on his back on the grass in front of the hospital's car-park.

Adrenaline flooded his system. He shoved Jax off in a rush of strength and jumped to his feet. Pulling back his fist, Bodie took a swing only to have Jax dodge it. Jax then grabbed hold of Bodie's wrist, twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him face first onto the bonnet of his Rover. "Bloody hell, mate." Bodie struggled to get free. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to stop you from making a huge mistake," Jax replied, still keeping pressure on Bodie's arm so he couldn't get up.

They continued to tussle with each other until a firm voice ordered, "That's enough!"

Bodie froze at the sound of Doyle speaking and looked over his shoulder at him. Doyle was being held up by Murphy, wrapped in a white blanket and carrying his IV bag against his chest. His face looked even more pale and bruised in the bright sunlight.

"Get off me," Bodie growled at Jax and immediately the man let him up.

Bodie's first instinct was to rush to Doyle's side, but he bit back the urge and planted his feet a good two yards away from him.

Green eyes fastened on him and the look of utter betrayal that shone in Doyle's eyes was like a punch to Bodie's gut. "You were just going to leave?" Doyle asked furiously.

At that moment, Bodie wanted to thump Murphy, knowing he was the one who had told Doyle that. "I have to, Doyle. It's for your own good."

Doyle's mouth tightened into an angry line. "I'm a grown man, Bodie. Fully capable of deciding what I want and don't want. If you're leaving because you don't care about me, then go, but don't bloody well try to tell me that it's for my own good!"

The effort of shouting at Bodie seemed to visibly sap the strength from Doyle and he slumped against Murphy, resting his head against the man's chest.

Without a second thought, Bodie hurried over the grass. He took Doyle from Murphy, careful of his battered body. Doyle held himself rigid and uncertain. Of course, Bodie couldn't blame him. He'd hurt Doyle's feelings and probably a hell of a lot more than that.

"I think you owe me an explanation as to why you were leaving without even saying good-bye," Doyle said, holding onto Bodie.

Bodie refused to meet Doyle's eyes, because he knew that look of betrayal was still twisting Doyle's face. It made Bodie ache deep in his gut for what he had to do to him. "Let's get you back in bed. We'll talk there."

"Murph and I will stand guard at the door," offered Jax in a cheerful tone. "Just in case Bodie decides to sneak away again."

Bodie growled, but made no comment. It was too cold for Doyle to be outside in just a flimsy hospital gown and a blanket. Tucking Doyle against his side, Bodie ushered him back inside the warm building.

***

Bodie said nothing as he returned Doyle to his bed and hung the IV bag back on the metal stand. Once he was done, he put some distance between them, pacing back and forth at the end of the bed.

"Well?" Doyle asked. His voice sounding strained. Tired. Hurt.

Bodie wanted to slam his fist into something. He felt trapped. Caged by guilt and responsibility. He knew what he had to do. It was just so bloody hard finding the strength to walk away from Doyle now that he was awake.

Not daring to look at Doyle, Bodie opted for staring at the square floor tiles at his feet. "We can't be together. It's too bloody dangerous for you. You nearly ended up dead. There's no guarantee it won't happen again. And there's no way of knowing if every member of The Hive is dead." The image of Nicolas' dead, battered body flashed through Bodie's thoughts. "Cowley is going to find a safe place for you. Where you can start a new life. It's for the best."

"Don't you think that should be my decision? I'm pretty smart and have been known to make an informed decision on my own upon occasion," Doyle said, his tone sarcastic.

"Not this time."

"Why not? Don't you trust my judgement?"

"Damn it, Doyle! It has nothing to do with judgement."

"Oh, I get it now," Doyle said bitterly. "This is just your way of telling me that you're not interested in seeing me any more. You shagged me and now you're done. Is that it?"

Anger seethed inside Bodie at Doyle's crude, completely mistaken words. "No! That's not it."

"Then if you're not trying to blow me off, why were you running away?"

"I can't let you get hurt again."

When Bodie finally allowed himself to look into Doyle's eyes, he couldn't miss the determination in that green gaze. Doyle wasn't going to make this easy on him, not that walking away could have ever been easy.

Doyle regarded him with a hard stare. "And who's to say that if you leave I'll be safe? You said that my life would always be at risk. That I'll always be in danger. It's something I'm going to need to learn to live with so I can protect myself."

"You'll be safer without me around." Bodie's voice was sharp with resolve.

"So, what you're saying is that even though I'll still be in danger, if you're not around, at least you won't be the one responsible if I get killed. Your hands will be clean. You won't have to worry about feeling all that guilt that you've felt over Nicolas' death."

Something primal and frightening rose up inside Bodie and he could feel his eyes burning with rage. "You're not going to get killed! Ever!"

"You can't guarantee that, Bodie. No one can. In fact, I could be driving me motor and be smashed flat on the motorway. And you know what? There wouldn't be a bloody thing you could do to stop it. Nothing! Just like there was nothing you could have done to keep Nicolas alive."

"It's not the same thing!"

"It's exactly the same thing! You weren't there and Nicolas was taken. What if he'd been killed in a car crash because you weren't there to go to the shops for him? Or, what if he'd slipped on some ice and died from his head being bashed in because you weren't there to walk him to work every day. You can't be everywhere, Bodie. You can't be responsible for everyone. It's not your job to keep everyone alive."

Part of what Doyle was saying hit home, but Bodie refused to dwell on it. He had to make Doyle understand. "I never wanted to keep everyone alive. Just the people I love. Which isn't many. It shouldn't have been too much to ask."

Doyle's eyes widened and he asked quietly, "Are you saying you're in love with me?"

"No. I can't say that." And he couldn't. He couldn't admit to loving Doyle and give anyone who might be listening a weapon to use against him – a reason to hurt Doyle.

"I see. Well, I have no such problem." Doyle's voice softened. "I love you, Bodie. I want to be with you – regardless of the risk."

The words sang to Bodie's soul. Made what was left of his heart ache in desperation to hear them again. Doyle loved him. He didn't deserve that love, but, oh, how he wanted it. "I'm not worth that kind of risk."

"You're wrong. Even knowing what I do now – knowing what would happen, if someone gave me the choice of whether or not to go back and do it all again – the time with you, and the torture at the end, or no time with you at all – I'd gladly do everything the same way again. No regrets."

Doyle wasn't lying. Bodie could see that in his eyes. It made his gut clench. How could Doyle love him that much? Him, a violent man who had made so many mistakes. "You can't mean that."

"You dumb crud," Doyle said fondly. "Of course I mean it. Those days we had together were worth every single cut and bruise, every single second of fear that I suffered. You're an amazing man, Bodie. You're worth every bit of suffering."

"There's been too much suffering in your life because of me. Don't say you're willing to take that kind of risk again."

Doyle reached for his hand. It was only then that he realised that he was standing by Doyle's side, as close to him as he could get without climbing up on the bed with him. Doyle's fingers felt cold and Bodie automatically wrapped them between his hands to warm them.

Doyle's voice was soft, but no less demanding when he said, "Why? Because then you'll no longer have an excuse to run? Because you'll have to face the fact that I love you and am willing to be with you even if it means I die?"

"I won't let you die." It was a promise.

"It's not your choice. Never was."

Was it possible that Doyle was right? That he had no control over life and death?

He'd killed. He'd protected people from harm. Didn't that give him control? "God, Ray. Don't do this to me."

"I'm not doing anything to you, love, except show you that your life doesn't have to be about guilt and trying to make up for a crime you didn't commit. You can have a second chance at happiness if you want it. All you have to do it take it."

He wanted that more than anything. Craved a second chance, but did he deserve it? "I don't know if I can. What if it happens all over again? What if you die like Nicolas did?"

Doyle's fingers slid over Bodie's palm, soothing him. The fire in Doyle's voice was gone; however his words burned all the same. "What if that doesn't happen? What if you let yourself love me, and in forty years from now we're sitting in our back garden, drinking lagers and watching the sun set?"

Bodie released a groan; the image of him spending his life with Doyle had him nearly doubling over with longing.

When Doyle next spoke, his voice was thin with weariness. "It's up to you, Bodie. You can shut down and disappear, or you can let yourself live. Whatever you choose, I'll still love you. I will never regret loving you."

He closed his eyes briefly. He'd wanted to stay locked in his safe, emotionless box, but Doyle wasn't going to let that happen. The man was tearing away every single one of his barriers and forcing him to give his soul room to breathe. To grow.

As Bodie looked into Doyle's eyes and saw his boundless potential for love, a quiet sort of peace settled over him. From one heartbeat to the next, Bodie felt freedom from guilt was possible. That freedom to love was right in front of him, waiting for him to say the word. Doyle made him see that he'd been looking for what he needed in the wrong place. He needed forgiveness, but not from Doyle or Nicolas, but from himself.

So he did.

He let go of all the should haves, would haves and what ifs and gave himself the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he hadn't done everything right in his life, but he always worked to get the important stuff right. He knew now, without a doubt, that when Nicolas had died, he'd known that Bodie loved him, because Bodie had always made sure that Nicolas knew through both word and deed.

Nicolas' death was in the past. Bodie was finally ready to let go of all the pain and guilt and anger he'd kept bottled up inside for so long. As he released all those feelings, he began to remember the good times he'd shared with Nicolas – the happy times that he hadn't been able to recall amid all the guilt and shame.

They had loved and laughed and lived. Bodie would keep those thoughts in his mind in remembrance of the wonderful man that Nicolas had been.

He would live the life that Nicolas would have wanted him to live. He'd let himself have the happiness that he'd found with Doyle.

Covering Doyle's hand with his own, Bodie willed Doyle to understand what he couldn't figure out how to say. "God knows I'm not good enough for you. I'll never be good enough for you. But I want you. Want us to be together. Right now. I know a place we can go, a place where we'll both be safe, where no one will ever find us. Where we can start over – just you and me."

Doyle's eyes widened and he squeezed Bodie's hand. "You want us to be together?"

"Yes." Bodie grinned. "I want to make you happy – to keep you safe."

"Is that why you want us to be together? To protect me? I don't want to be a duty or a burden to anyone, especially not you."

"I do want to protect you, but that's not all."

"Then why?"

Doyle was going to make him say it. He didn't want to. Didn't want to put his heart out there like that, all open and vulnerable for Doyle to see. He wanted to keep that part of him safe. As long as he didn't say the words, if Doyle happened to refuse him, Bodie could walk away with at least his pride intact.

But as Bodie looked into Doyle's hopeful green eyes, he knew that if he didn't take the chance and say it, he might lose Doyle forever.

To hell with his pride.

He wanted Doyle.

Taking a deep breath, he looked Doyle directly in the eyes and took a chance. "Because I love you, Ray. Don't want to be without you. I want to go to bed with you at night and wake up by your side in the morning. And I want to sit in that back garden with you in forty years. I want all of that with you."

Doyle was silent for a long moment, as if trying to decipher what Bodie had just said. At the lack of response, Bodie began to worry, yet before he could say anything, Doyle grabbed hold of his shirt and yanked him down. Doyle didn't let up until Bodie's mouth met his. Doyle kissed him like he'd done back at the cottage – so sweet and full of love that there was no way even a berk like himself could miss it.

Bodie pulled away a little, his pulse racing, his breathing faster from just a few kisses.

"I suppose I could be convinced to put up with you," Doyle said with a smirk.

Bodie grinned. "I think I can convince you."

Mindful of Doyle's bruised face, Bodie kissed him gently. He felt Doyle smile against his lips, then heard the tired sigh as Doyle's eyes slipped shut. Bodie straightened up. "Going to go and chat up Murph and Jax. Be back in a few." He gave Doyle a peck on the forehead. "You know, if this wasn't a hospital, I'd be in bed with you in a flash. Can tell you need a good cuddle." Bodie brushed his fingers through Doyle's hair. "Not letting you get away. I'll tie you up in the cellar if I must."

Doyle chuckled. "I'm not going anywhere. But a bit of rope and bondage sounds like fun. Give me a few days and I'll be happy to oblige."

"I'll hold you to that." Bodie laughed as he tousled Doyle's hair. He kissed Doyle again, marvelling at his good fortune in having this amazing man in his life. If Doyle thought he deserved a second chance, who was he to argue?

After all, Doyle was the smart one.

THE END